The Outlaw Demon Wails th-6

by Ким Харрисон

  I will not compare Marshal to Kisten, I thought as I got two plates and the tea bag caddy Jenks used as a dish. Ivy was out on a date. She was able to move on with her life. It would get better, but only if I tried. Only if I wanted it to. And I did. I didn't like being unhappy. I hadn't realized I had been until I started to feel good again.

  "Where," Marshal said into the silence as he peered under the table, "did you get such a big pumpkin? It is a pumpkin, isn't it?" the man asked, and Jenks's wings increased their pitch. "It's not one of those squash that looks like a pumpkin?"

  "It's a pumpkin," Jenks said, his pride clear. "I grew it myself between the Jamesons' plots and the Davaros statue. Out in the graveyard," he added, as if it wasn't obvious. "We're going to carve it tomorrow. Just me and the kids. Give Matalina a break."

  Matalina gets a break, and I get pumpkin guts on my ceiling. I'm sure it would start sedately enough, but it wouldn't be long before they started Pumpkin Wars, the sequel.

  "So-o-o-o," I said as I hung up the dishcloth. "How did your last interviews go?"

  Marshal edged closer when Jenks got the bag open and the scent of sweet-and-sour came wafting out. "Great." He started removing takeout boxes, and I looked up, suddenly conscious that our shoulders were almost touching. "I got the job," he said when our eyes met, and I smiled.

  "Marshal, that's great!" I exclaimed, then gave him a neutral swat on the shoulder. "When do you start?" I added, not looking at him as I turned to fuss with the food. Maybe that was too much.

  The man backed up a step and ran a hand over the new stubble atop his head. "November first," he said. "But I'll be on salary, so I can go back and forth to sell the business if I need to until classes start up after the winter solstice."

  Jenks gave me a warning look, and I scowled at him, bumping the table to make him jump when I went to get a couple of serving spoons. The scent of oil and gas blended with a witch's redwood smell, making Marshal seem like a yummy piece of northern exposure. He dressed differently from anyone I'd spent much time with, smelled different, and had somehow skipped that uncomfortable stage of awkwardness most of my dates had, slipping into my church like he belonged. Not that this was a date. Maybe that was why. I had invited him over without any thoughts of a possible relationship, and we both could relax. But I expected the easy companionship was mostly because he had helped Jenks and me when we had really needed it.

  Ivy's chair bumped and scraped as Marshal pulled it to the open spot, and he sighed when he sat down. "It was one of the oddest interviews I've ever had," he said as I rummaged for the chopsticks with my back to him. "They seemed to like me, but I thought they were going to give it to the other guy—and for the life of me, I couldn't tell why. He had developed a swim program for a high school down in Florida, but he didn't have either the dive time or ley line experience, and that's what they were looking for."

  I sat down kitty-corner to him and his eyes flicked to the chopsticks.

  "Then all of a sudden, they made a decision and offered me the job," he finished.

  "All of a sudden, huh?" Jenks said, and I shot him a look to shut him up. Marshal didn't get the job because of Rynn Cormel, but I'd be willing to bet the vampire had been leaning on the university to pick someone else until I had barked at him to get out of my life. Whereupon the university had chosen whom they wanted.

  Marshal was still looking at the chopsticks. "It was weird, like I'd done them a favor or something by saying yes." His gaze flicked from the chopsticks to me and he winced. "Uh, I'm going to need a fork."

  I laughed and got back up. "Sorry." I felt his attention on me, and feeling sassy, I picked out two forks. Marshal was dishing out the food, and it was nice being with someone who wasn't looking for anything. "You know, since Al showed up, we don't have to hang around here."

  "Rachel…," Jenks protested, and I turned, bumping the drawer closed with my hip.

  "What?" I complained. "He's not going to come back tonight. I've been on unsanctified ground this entire time."

  "And Ivy's going to have fairies coming out her ass when she finds out," Jenks said.

  I plopped down, not meeting anyone's gaze. Marshal glanced from me to Jenks, watching us between tapping rice out on our plates. Jenks waved his hand no when Marshal offered, which didn't surprise me. The small pixy wasn't happy, and his wings were turning red as he grew upset and his circulation increased. Annoyed, I set the forks clattering on the table. "He's not going to bother me anymore tonight, Jenks."

  "Why? Because you didn't have Minias cart him off when your deluded sense of siding with the underdog told you he was tired and he appreciated you trusting him? Tink's contractual hell, Rachel. That's nuts. Slug nuts with slime on top. If you die tonight, it's not my fault!"

  Marshal continued to serve food, and the spicy scent did nothing to ease my tension. "Ah, Rachel? You want to go roller-skating tomorrow?" he said, clearly not liking Jenks and me arguing. It was an obvious attempt to change the subject, but my ire evaporated, and I uncrossed my arms and decided to ignore Jenks.

  "Do you know how long it's been since I've been skating?" I said.

  The pixy dropped to his empty tea bag caddy with his arms crossed over his chest, shedding silver sparkles. "According to your mom, not since you were banned for slamming—"

  "Quiet!" I said, thumping the underside of the table with my knee, but the antique ash was heavy and Jenks didn't even jump this time. "Don't you have somewhere to go? Gargoyles to spy on or something?" I complained, my face warming. They wouldn't still remember me at Aston's, would they?

  "Nope," Jenks said. His face was creased in irritation, and then seeing both of us looking at him, he forced himself to relax. "How about putting some of that sake I smell on my plate, Marsh-man," he said suddenly. It was a change of mood I didn't trust, but I'd go along with it.

  Looking chagrined, Marshal pulled a worn thermos from his jacket pocket. "It was supposed to be a surprise," he said dryly as he set it between us.

  "I'm surprised," I said as I got up to get the tiny, see-through ceramic teacups that Ceri preferred to my thick-walled mugs. They weren't traditional sake cups, but they looked better than shot glasses.

  "That will work," Marshal said as I set them down, and he filled them halfway up before carefully tipping his cup over Jenks's tea bag caddy to fill it right to the top.

  This isn't like Kisten, I thought, finding a hint of peace as I held my cup up in a toast. Jenks had never hung around when Kisten and I were together. And though Marshal was fun to look at, I was still too raw to be serious. Not having that will-he-won't-he stress to deal with was an unexpected pleasure.

  "To new jobs," he said, and we all took a sip, me holding my breath so I wouldn't cough.

  "Good stuff," I said, eyes watering and feeling the nasty stuff burn all the way down.

  Marshal set his cup down with a careful slowness, the subtle easing of his posture telling me that just that little bit of alcohol had an effect on him. But hell, sake was potent stuff.

  Jenks's wings sped up, and the soft slipping of dust ceased.

  "Thanks for letting me come over," Marshal said as he took up his fork and arranged his dinner. "My hotel room is…empty. And I could use a little normalcy after today."

  Smirking, Jenks fanned his wings, sending the scent of rice to me. "She fought off a demon with the help of Rynn Cormel. We ain't normal, Marsh-man."

  It almost sounded like a warning, and Marshal's laughter stopped short when he saw my mood go pensive. "Rynn Cormel?" he said, as if trying to figure out if Jenks was kidding him. "The vampire, right?"

  I leaned over my plate and took a bite. Good rice sticks together, but I wasn't going to use chopsticks if Marshal wasn't. "Yup," I said when it became obvious that he was waiting for an answer. "He took in Piscary's camarilla, which means he's my roommate's new master vamp, and he came over to find out what my intentions toward Ivy were."

  Sort of the truth, but the entire truth was way too embarr
assing.

  "Oh."

  It was an uncomfortable utterance, and I looked up to see his brown eyes holding an uneasy wariness—which made Jenks all the more pleased, apparently, if his wing speed was any indication. "It wasn't a big deal," I said, trying to downplay it. "He got in the way more than anything else."

  That didn't help at all, and Marshal swallowed to look ill. I sat back, gripping my plate and reaching for my sake cup. "You want to move to sanctified ground? We can watch TV or something. We have cable out there now."

  Marshal shook his head. "No. If you say the demon won't show up, I believe you."

  A snicker came from Jenks, ticking me off. I took another swallow of sake, following it with the rice and meat. It didn't burn this time, and I thought as I chewed and swallowed. This stank. Marshal wanted to take me skating. What kind of friend makes a guy hide in a church because she's afraid of demons?

  Lips pressed, I got up, feeling the men's eyes on me as I plucked my compact from my bag and one of Ivy's fine-line Sharpies from her cup. I had a stick of yew around here somewhere, and the sake was probably a good substitute for wine.

  "Uh, Rache?" Jenks questioned.

  "I'm tired of hiding in my church," I said, thinking I'd have to get my scrying mirror out to remember what the glyph looked like if I wanted to reproduce the spell to make a calling circle. "It's right before Halloween, for crying out loud."

  "Rache…"

  I wouldn't look up. "If you want to come with us and babysit, fine. Al isn't going to show. Besides, he wants me alive, not dead. And I want to go out."

  Marshal's fork scraped as he set it down. "What are you doing?"

  "Making something I probably shouldn't." Giving up on doing this from memory, I pulled my scrying mirror out from under the island counter and carefully set it down. I harbored a guilty thought that the thing was beautiful, its crystalline lines of the symbols etched into its surface showing a sharp diamond clarity against the wine-colored depths of the glass reflecting reality in deep shades of maroon. Something this evil shouldn't be beautiful. Ceri had helped me make this one after I broke the first over Minias's head. Damn it, why is she risking her soul like this again?

  Marshal was silent as he looked at it. "That's a calling circle," he finally said. "I think. I've never seen one like that."

  Jenks looked almost cocky when the dust slipping from him turned gold and he said, "That's because it goes through ley lines to summon demons."

  I frowned, but the damage had been done. Marshal stiffened, carefully taking a bite of rice and vegetables as if it didn't bother him. Exasperated, I looked at the sake and decided I'd had enough. Of Jenks, not the sake. What is with him tonight?

  "It doesn't summon demons, just lets me talk to them." And opens a channel they can travel through. "Marshal, I'm a white witch. Really." I looked at the pentagram and winced. "The thing is, I've got a demon bent on dragging me into the ever-after, and having a calling circle gives me the option to call someone to pick him up when he shows. He's supposed to be in jail. But everything will be fine tomorrow after I go out with David and beat some sense into whoever is calling Al and releasing him to get me."

  It sounded lame even to me, and Marshal chewed his rice, his attention never leaving mine as he weighed his thoughts. His gaze flicked to the calling circle and then swung back to me. "You call it Al?" he asked mildly.

  I took a breath, deciding to give him all the drama of my life at once. If he was going to leave because of it, I wanted to know now, not after I started liking the guy. "The smut on my aura I got from using a demon curse to save my ex-boyfriend," I said. Mostly. "And the two demon marks were accidents."

  Aren't they all? I mocked in my thoughts, but Marshal had taken a sip of his drink and leaned back. "Rachel, you don't have to tell me all this," he said, and I raised a hand.

  "Yes I do." Eyeing the sake, I slammed it, wanting a loose tongue for a few minutes. "There is no way I'm going to have a boyfriend anytime soon," I said as it burned, "so if you're looking for a fast hop in the sack, you can just walk out the door right now. Actually, you should get out now anyway."

  "Uh…" Marshal stammered, and Jenks snickered as he drank the last of his sake.

  "I have a risky job," I said defensively as I put my arm flat on the table, almost flipping my plate of rice. "I love it. It might make you a target." My jaw clenched. Kisten had died because he refused to kill me when Piscary asked. I was sure of it.

  Jenks took flight, and I watched the sparkles as he landed on Marshal's shoulder and sighed. "She's such a drama queen," he muttered a little too loudly, ticking me off.

  "Shut up, Jenks," I said carefully so I wouldn't slur. I wasn't drunk, but the alcohol helped. I turned to Marshal. "I got a demon mark when my ex-boyfriend bought a trip through the lines when Al tore my throat open. I have another on my foot because some jackass pulled me through to the ever-after to give me to Al and I had to buy a trip home from another demon who is absolutely nuts and might show up at any time if she remembers me."

  "She?" Marshal said, sparse eyebrows high but accepting that.

  "I also have a couple of unclaimed vampire scars that make me susceptible to vampire pheromones," I said, not caring what he thought. "If it wasn't for Ivy protecting me, I'd be dead or out of my mind by now because of it."

  Jenks leaned toward Marshal's ear and whispered loud enough for me to hear, "I think she likes them, if you ask me."

  "I'm trouble, Marshal," I said, ignoring Jenks. "If you were smart, you'd walk out of my church, get in your truck, and drive away. God! I don't even know why you're here."

  Marshal pushed his plate away and crossed his arms over his chest. His muscles bunched under his shirt, and I forced my attention from him. I wasn't drunk, damn it, but my eyes warmed. "Are you done?" he asked.

  "I suppose," I said, depressed.

  "Jenks, do you mind if I talk to Rachel alone?" Marshal asked.

  The pixy's expression darkened and he put his fists on his hips, but when he saw me glare at him, he sulkily flew to the door. Ten to one he was going to listen from the hall, but at least we had the illusion of privacy.

  Seeing him gone, Marshal leaned across the table and took my hands in his. "Rachel, I met you on my boat, asking for my help to rescue your ex-boyfriend from a group of militant Weres. Don't you think I know you leave a trail of bread crumbs for trouble to follow?"

  I brought my eyes up. "Yes, but—"

  "My turn," he said, and I shut my mouth. "I'm not sitting in your kitchen because I'm new in town and looking for a curvy body in my bed. I'm here because I like you. I only talked to you for a few hours on my boat, but in that little time, I was seeing you as you. No pretenses, no games. You know how rare that is?" He gave my fingers a gentle squeeze, and my gaze rose. "You never see a person like that on a date, not after a dozen dates. Sometimes, you can spend years with someone and never really know what they're like under the veneer we put on to make ourselves feel better. I liked what I saw when you were under pressure. The last thing I need is a steady girlfriend." He let go of my hand and slid to the back of his chair. "My last one was a nightmare, and I'd just as soon keep things casual. Like tonight. Minus the demon."

  He smiled, and I couldn't help but smile back. I'd been around too many guys to take his words at face value, but he was stifling a shudder born from something in his memory. "I don't want you to get hurt," I mumbled, embarrassed now. The quickest way to get a man interested was to say you weren't.

  Marshal sat taller. "I'll be okay," he said as he looked out the dark kitchen window and shrugged. "I'm not helpless. I've got a degree in low-level ley line manipulations. I ought to be able to manage a demon or two." He smiled. "Short-term anyway."

  This wasn't going well. "I'm not…I can't…" I took a steadying breath. "I'm still hurting. You're wasting your time."

  He looked at the window and the dark square it made. "I told you I'm not looking for a girlfriend. You women are all nuts, but I like
the way you smell and you're fun to dance with."

  A quiver rose and fell in my middle. "Then why are you here?"

  Marshal's eyes came back to mine. "I don't like being alone, and you look like you need to be with someone…for a while."

  Slowly my gaze dropped and then returned to his. Could I trust that? Seeing my compact, I picked it up, weighed it in my palm, then tossed it into my bag. Somehow I didn't feel like I needed to prove anything to him anymore, and the entire idea had been bad to begin with. God, no wonder I kept getting into trouble. So I couldn't go out? So what?

  "You, ah, want to watch a movie?" I said, embarrassed for having bared my soul, though it had left me feeling refreshed.

  Marshal made a soft noise and stretched where he sat, looking comfortable and content. "Sure. Mind if I bring my paper in for the classifieds? I'm still looking for an apartment."

  "Sounds great," I said. "That sounds really great."

  Twelve

  It was the softest sound of fabric sliding against leather that woke me. In a pulse of adrenaline, my eyes flashed open and my breath came fast. The scratchy softness of an afghan brushed against my face, and I sat up with a smooth, fast motion.

  I was on the couch in the sanctuary, not my bed, and the light coming in the tall stained-glass windows was bright with the sunrise. Across the coffee table, Marshal was frozen halfway to a stand from his chair. His expression was one of shock.

  "Wow," he said as he straightened to his full height. "I was trying to be quiet. You're a really light sleeper."

  I blinked at him, realizing what had happened. "I fell asleep," I said stupidly. "What time is it?"

  With a soft exhalation, Marshal sat back down on the chair where he had spent most of last night. A bowl holding leftover popcorn sat on the table with three bottles of pop and an empty bag of gingersnaps. His stocking feet spread wide, he squinted at his watch. It was analog, which didn't surprise me. Most witches shunned digital. "A little after seven," he said, his gaze rising to the muted TV and the puppets that were dancing there.