Carry On Wayward Son Read Online Free PDF Page A

had Claire sliding into the back seat next to her. Huddled in her mother’s arms, the girl curled in tighter at Claire’s presence.
    “Hillary.” Keeping her voice quiet and gentle, Claire curbed her need to comfort. “My name is Claire. Do you remember me? I own the witch shop in Santa Luna—”
    “You’re the good witch,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder, just long enough for Claire to see the anguish in her soft brown eyes.
    “That’s right. And your mom asked me to help you. To help find out who has been frightening you.”
    “I’ll have to go back inside, won’t I?”
    Unable to stop herself, Claire gently rubbed the girl’s arm. “Can you do that?”
    “Uh huh.”
    “Hillary—”
    “It’s okay, Mom.”
    Regina grabbed her arms when she started to pull away. “I will not let you—”
    “I’m the one being haunted. I’m the one who can’t sleep cause there’s a voice whispering in my ear.” She kept talking over Regina’s gasp. “I can’t be afraid anymore, Mom—I can’t.” Turning to Claire, she wiped at the tears on her face, took in a shaky breath. “What do I do?”
    “We go inside—just long enough for whatever is doing this to make an appearance. After that, you can go, and I will take care of it. I promise you, Hillary,” she brushed the soft, damp cheek. “I promise, no matter what happens, I will take care of you.”
    “I know. That’s what good witches do.”
    Claire smiled. “How old are you?”
    “Twelve.”
    “And already wise. Your mom should be proud.” She nodded to Regina, wishing she had the power to lay a calming spell on the woman. “Are you ready?”
    Swallowing, Hillary took her hand. Regina grabbed her shoulders, panic on her face. “I don’t—”
    “It’s okay, Mom. I can do this. So can you. After what Dad pulled, this should be cake.”
    Regina let her go, rubbed at her face. “You weren’t supposed to know—”
    “Hard not to when you both screamed at each other about it. I’m twelve, Mom, not deaf.” She looked at Claire. “Can we just do this?”
    “Whenever you’re ready.”
     
    *
     
    T hey entered the house, leaving the front door open. Hillary held tight to Claire’s hand; it stirred feelings inside Claire, feelings she didn’t think she had. The desire to nurture. The need to protect, whatever the cost.
    The sparsely furnished rooms, and boxes lining the walls of the living room told Claire they had just moved in. Discovering a ghost in that new house would be an unnerving welcome.
    She didn’t feel the expected snap of cold. Bending down, she whispered to Hillary. “Did you ever feel cold, when you heard the voice?”
    “No. It’s always warm, like when you feel the sun coming through a window? Not hot, but, just—nice. The warm always came first, then the whispers, saying—” She cut herself off, tears sliding down her face.
    Claire gathered her into an embrace, her heart aching for the fear this girl had been through. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I won’t let the voice get near you again. What did it say?”
    Clutching the back of Claire’s jacket, Hillary spoke against her shoulder. “It said it wanted my life, it deserved to live my life . . .” She buried her face, shaking in Claire’s arms.
    “Hush now. You told me more than enough. Annie, I want you to take them out of—” A figure flashed past the doorway. Too solid to be a ghost. “Get them out. Now, Annie.”
    “Claire—”
    “Go.”
    She handed Hillary over to her mother, stood between them and the doorway leading to the rest of the house. Behind her, Annie spoke in a soothing voice, their footsteps moving away from her. “She’ll be okay—she knows what she’s doing. We’ll just wait for her out—”
    Claire spun when the door slammed shut. Cursing, Annie yanked at the ornate knob—and snatched her hand away with a pained cry. She stumbled backward, Regina catching her around the waist to keep her from smacking into the