Chapter Seven
I squinted, trying to tilt Ivy's hand mirror just so and keep the damp hair off my shoulder as I stood with my back to the bathroom mirror so I could see my tattoo. It was a sunny afternoon, but not much light made it into the old men's room that had been converted into a laundry and bath. Exhaling loudly, I dropped my hair to turn on the light.
"Hey!" Jenks complained as he darted out of the way, but I wanted to see it, too.
"What do you think?" I asked as the bright fluorescent light flickered on, and I pulled my hair back again. The mirror was foggy from my shower, and it took me a second to get the hand mirror lined up with the cleared spot, but then I eyed the back of my neck in the small mirror. Jenks's wings were a cool draft, and he hovered behind me spilling a silver dust. His hands were on his hips, a garden sword on his belt, and a dirty jacket on his back. He'd been in the garden all morning strengthening the security lines and was probably trying to get his afternoon nap in. He'd finally cut his hair, and I felt better knowing he'd gotten over that stumbling block. It had grown long in the months that Matalina had been gone, and it was nice seeing him getting back to normal.
"I suppose it's okay," he said, being of the mind that no one should subject themselves to injury for vanity's sake, though in my case, it hadn't been vanity, but a real need to show affiliation. "If you like that kind of thing."
"Okay?" I shifted to get a better look at it. "I love it. I shouldn't have waited so long."
"Sure, it looks good now." He cocked his head and tugged his garden jacket up where it belonged. "But it's going to peel soon. And what about when you're a hundred and sixty? Those flowers are going to look u-u-u-u-ugl-y-y-y when your skin gets all saggy." I frowned at him through my reflection, and he added, "Did it hurt?"
Dropping my damp hair, slick with detangler, I turned to face him. My eyes were drawn to the tuft on my collarbone. The shower water had burned, but I didn't think that's what he'd meant. "It hurt like hell," I said, meeting his gaze. "I passed out."
"You?" Jenks hovered backward until there were twin pixies in my mirror.
Nodding, I set Ivy's mirror on the dryer and looked through my drawer for my comb. "It was weird. I could take the pain okay. I could've taken more, but I passed out." Finding one, I tried working the detangler through my hair some more. "David panicked. Emojin told him that it only meant my mind was stronger than my body." Which was about par for me. It had always been that way. I was tired of people overreacting when I had a minor problem that would work itself through. So I had passed out. So what?
Jenks snickered, wings clattering as he dropped down to take a closer look at the seed tufts.
"I'm glad you got your hair cut. Did Jhi do it?" I asked.
Darting back, Jenks's face was aghast. "Jhi?" he yelped. "No. It was, uh - "
He hesitated, and I winced as I found a knot in my hair. "Who? Bis?" I guessed, the thought of the somewhat clumsy gargoyle near Jenks's head with a pair of scissors kind of scary.
"It was Belle," he admitted, his feet landing on the faucet's knob.
I looked at him, surprised. "Belle?" I thought he hated the fairy.
Jenks's wings were a bright red, fanning into motion though he didn't move at all. "She cut it for me when I got it tangled in some burrs. She said that only babies have short hair, but if I was clumsy enough to catch it on something, I needed to cut it."
"Short is probably a good idea," I said. "Fairies can't move as fast as pixies, so they don't have to be worried about snagging it. Personally, I like the way men look with long hair."
"Really?"
I glanced at him, thinking about Trent's wispy hair. His wasn't curly like Jenks's, but it had been oh-my-God silky as I had run it through my fingers. Stop it, Rachel.
"Short looks better on you, though," I said, shaking away the memory.
He squinted at me in mistrust, probably wondering why I wouldn't meet his eyes. "It won't tangle in the garden now," he said cautiously. "I don't know how the girls deal with it, but theirs isn't curly."
I switched sides, carefully going through my hair as I tried to plan my day, thinking that seeing Jenks get back to normal was a quiet relief. The tasks that Matalina had performed were slowly being picked up by Jenks's kids, and now Belle, apparently. I never would have guessed that that would happen, but maybe because she was a fairy, she could do the matronly things Matalina had done without threatening Matalina's place in Jenks's mind.
I didn't quite know what to do with myself today. It was Saturday, and usually I'd be in the ever-after. The amulets that the I.S. had were either not working or they weren't telling us what they'd found. We'd probably hear nothing new until I got the amulets I'd made yesterday invoked and out to the FIB. Setting down the comb, I picked up the cream that Emojin had sent me home with and dabbed a bit on, starting with the little fluffs at my throat. Weres would recognize even this small bit as part of a pack tattoo, and humans wouldn't care. It was perfect.
Jenks noticed my wince, and he rose, wings clattering. "Does it still hurt? You want a pain amulet?"
I squeezed a small amount onto my fingertips and reached for the fluff in back. "No. I wouldn't use one anyway. Pain is apparently part of the mystique. That's why vampires don't get tattoos."
"Yeah, okay. I still think it's stupid." Jenks looked to the front of the church when the front door opened with a creak. "Scarring yourself to show you belong to something."
The familiar clicking of boot heels on the worn wooden floor echoed in the sanctuary, and I recapped the ointment. "Ivy?" I asked, and Jenks nodded. Most of his kids were still asleep, but someone was always on sentry duty, and if it had been anyone else, they would have raised the alarm.
"She was out all night," I said as I grabbed a T-shirt from the dryer and shrugged it on over my chemise. Ivy had been out when I'd come back from Emojin's. I figured she'd gone into the FIB with Glenn to check on something, and I wasn't surprised she had decided to spend the night, or morning rather, with him. I'm glad she's happy - my new motto.
Ivy's feet sounded loud in the hall, and knowing I was in the bathroom from the closed door and the scent of soap, she said, "Hi, Rachel. Is there coffee?"
Her feet continued on, and I shouted, "Just made it. Help yourself!"
A silver dust slipped heavily from Jenks, and he hovered before me, a devious smile on his face. "Excuse me."
He slipped out through the crack under the door, and I heard him exclaim loudly, "Sweet mother of Tink. Where have you been, Ivy? You stink!"
"Glenn's," she said, clearly weary. "And I showered."
"Yeah, I can tell. So tell me . . ." he started in, his voice becoming faint as they went into the kitchen. There was a thunk of something hitting the wall, and I heard him swear at her. Smiling, I opened the door, knowing that she was probably in a good mood if Jenks was needling her enough that she was taking potshots at him she knew would never land.
My pulse quickened as I padded barefoot down the dim corridor to the kitchen. I'll admit I was more than a little nervous about showing Ivy my tattoo. Weres wouldn't ink vampires since vampires turned pain into pleasure. Every so often, a vampire would start a parlor to give tattoos to their kin. It usually lasted a week before the place was torched - by vampires, not Weres. The old ones didn't like scars on their chosen that they didn't give them. I honestly didn't know where Ivy fell on the tattoo side of things. Not that it mattered, but I'd like it if she thought it was cool.
Squinting in the brighter light, I hesitated in the doorway. Ivy was standing stiffly at the sink, looking out into the garden, Jenks sitting on the overturned brandy snifter on the sill. It used to hold Mr. Fish, my betta, but had since been relegated to imprisoning the blue chrysalis that Al gave me on New Year's. I thought it had to be dead, but Jenks insisted it wasn't. I suppose he'd know.
Ivy looked good, even if she was irate: slim, comfortable, sated, and in the same clothes she'd had on last night. "I've got this under control!" she said, hushed but strident, clearly peeved at having let go of her iron-clad hold on her emotions. Jenks looked at me and Ivy stiffened, not having realized that I was there.
She turned, a faint flush on her cheeks, and tugged her short jacket closer, as if cold. "Hi," I said, wondering about the sudden flash of guilt that crossed her face. Ivy knew I didn't care how or when she took care of business. And by looking at her swift reactions I knew she had. It was pretty obvious, in hindsight, what with my leaving, her and Glenn here, and then coming back to an empty church. I was glad they got along so well. It made living with her easier.
"Hi," she echoed, giving Jenks a sharp look to shut up before she picked up a glass of orange juice. "Is that it?" she said, the glass almost to her lips.
Her eyes were on the tuft showing above the neck of my T-shirt, and I pushed myself into motion.
"Part of it," Jenks said as he rose up off the brandy snifter. "Most of it's on her neck."
Gathering my wet hair, I turned my back to her and tugged my hair clear of the tattoo. "See?" I said, head down as I looked at the amulets out on the counter, still waiting for Marshal to come over to invoke them. I'd wanted them done and out by now, but Wayde and David had sort of blown my night for me, and Marshal was on a human clock. "What do you think?"
I heard her steps come close, and then her soft touch on my skin. "It looks red," she said, and I stifled a shiver. "Did it hurt?"
"She passed out!" Jenks said, and I grimaced. But then I froze, the scent of honey and gold lifting from her like a memory. I'd smelled it before on Glenn. My neck tingled, and suddenly, I realized why Ivy was acting funny. Honey and gold and Old Spice. It all added up to one thing.
I spun, dropping my hair and staring at Ivy. She flushed and took a step back. "You . . ." I said as my hair fell into place, and she took a deep breath and turned away. Holy crap. Ivy, Glenn, and Daryl?
But by Ivy's discomfort, I knew I was right. The nymph was probably used to threesomes, being a nymph. And threesomes were common in vamp society where a savage vampire might use another person to help even things out or act like a spotter of sorts to make sure everyone made it out alive. Glenn, though . . . This was a surprise.
I couldn't help my smile. Jenks hovered between us, trying to figure out why I was almost laughing and Ivy was avoiding my eye. But what Ivy did was Ivy's business.
"Um, it's okay," I said, hoping Jenks thought I was talking about having passed out, not that Ivy had moved her relationships with Daryl and Glenn to a new level. Holy crap, what was I going to say to Glenn the next time I saw him? But I suppose if I could survive the embarrassment of Ivy and Jenks seeing my tongue halfway down Trent's throat, Glenn would survive my knowing that he and my roommate were exploring their options with a nymph.
Her back to me, Ivy looked out the window. Jenks finally landed on the counter, looking from one of us to the other. "Hey, uh, what am I missing?"
"Nothing," I said, touching Ivy's elbow to make her look at me. "Is everything okay?"
Blinking fast, she tried to smile. "Yes," she said, that same guilty look crossing her face. "It was comfortable."
I gave her elbow a quick squeeze and let go. "Good," I said, hoping she knew I was okay with this. "I'm glad."
And I was. Ivy and I had come to terms with the fact that there was never going to be anything between us other than an ironclad friendship. Ivy making ties outside me was a good thing. It was what we both wanted, and I was proud of her for moving on. And yet . . . even though I didn't want blood or sex with Ivy, much less a threesome with two of my colleagues, I couldn't help but feel ditched. Both Ivy and Jenks were moving on with their lives, and I wasn't. I was alone. Again. Right when I thought I'd finally gotten everything together.
"Comfortable?" Jenks's features concentrated as he figured it out. With a burst of gold dust, he shot up into the air. "Tink's diaphragm!" he shouted, waving his arms as he figured it out. "I don't want to know. Oh my God! Ivy! You're worse than Rache!"
Ivy leaned against the counter and crossed her ankles. "You want to can it, Jenks? Put it on a shelf for later?"
"No!" the pixy exclaimed. "I want to burn it out of my brain! Is Glenn all right?"
My back to them, I poured myself a cup of coffee. "Jeez, Jenks. It was just a little threesome. Grow up. It's what vampires and nymphs do. Glenn can handle himself. He's a big boy."
"He'd have to be!" Jenks shrilled as I turned.
"He is," Ivy said, a weird half smile on her face as she held her glass of orange juice and stared off into space.
"Shut up! Just shut up!" Jenks yelled, and I chuckled.
The front doorbell rang, and I straightened, my untasted coffee in my hand. Great. Now Jenks's kids would be up again. But before I could move, Jenks was headed for the hallway. "Thank God," he muttered, a blue dust sifting from him and looking like a weird sunbeam on the floor. "I'll get it."
"It's probably Marshal," I called after him, then looked at Ivy and shrugged. I still had six uninvoked charms to get to the FIB. If they hadn't tracked HAPA down by now, my amulets would help. Nervous, I pulled a strand of damp hair over my collarbone.
"I like your tattoo," Ivy said as she noticed me trying to hide it.
"Thanks," I said, feeling a tingle where her eyes had been as I poured Marshal a cup of coffee in the most masculine mug we had. "Me too."
I heard the clump, clump, clump of Marshal's boots, and something in me fluttered. I had liked Marshal. He was a fun man to be around. I'd never expected to ever see him again when we'd parted, and I didn't know why I'd asked him to help me except for the fact that he was the only witch I knew on the East Coast.
"Just don't ask Ivy about her morning," Jenks said as the two of them entered.
Marshal stopped short, took off his knitted hat, showing his skull, hair clipped short for the swimming pool. Looking uncomfortable, his eyes went from me to Ivy, and then back again. "Uh, hi, Rachel. Ivy," he said, and Jenks left Marshal's shoulder to get a few drips of coffee from the coffeepot.
He looked almost the same as when I'd last seen him. His waist was just as slim, and his shoulders as wide. He still carried himself with that athletic grace that had attracted me to him in the first place. Clean shaven and wearing jeans and a sweater, he stood there with most of his weight on one foot, his hands in his coat pockets. He looked like he was in his midtwenties, but I knew he'd passed that almost ten years ago. Marshal was a ley-line witch in his prime with a good job, a good life, and it showed.
Why had I asked him to come over? Someone at the I.S. could have invoked them, even if I'd have had to stand in the lobby and beg. This had been a stupid idea. Why had he come?
Rolling her eyes, Ivy saluted him with her empty glass. "Hi, Marshal. If you'll excuse me, I need to wash my hair," she said dryly. Pushing herself forward, she headed right for him.
Marshal sidestepped, frowning as Ivy stalked into the hall and her door shut a little too hard. God, he looked good standing in my kitchen, not afraid of her. Not afraid of anything. Mostly. His hands were clenched as he glanced down the hallway after Ivy, and I remembered how they'd felt on me, the waves of sensation that crested from his touch as he drew a line through me and made me come alive.
What are you doing, Rachel?
Jenks's wings clattered in warning as he landed on my shoulder. "Rache?"
"Don't you have something to do?" I said, then smiled at Marshal. "It's good to see you. How are you doing?"
Shaking himself free from his dark thoughts about Ivy, Marshal smiled and came into the kitchen. "I'm doing great," he said, his hand out in what might have been a handshake, but it might have been half a hug, too.
I hesitated, and after a confusing moment, he awkwardly gave me a hug. I leaned into him, breathing the chlorine/redwood scent he had mixing with the damp dead-leaf smell of a cold November morning. Why had I asked him over? I wasn't looking for a boyfriend. They always tried to change me.
"You look good" rumbled through me, and I pushed backward. Jenks was scowling at me from the top of the door frame to the hall, and I ignored him.
The rims of Marshal's ears were red, and he rocked back, his hands in a fig leaf. "I can't tell you how glad I am you got your shunning rescinded," he said, his words too fast, his eyes too reluctant to meet mine. "I read all about it. I knew you could."
Then why did you leave? But I didn't say it. He'd left when I'd been almost at my lowest point. I didn't blame him, but to take up where we'd left off was stupid. He'd left once; he'd leave again.
My chest hurt, and I forced myself to keep smiling as I went to the coffeemaker. "How's the job going?" I said, my back to him as I tried to make my voice even. This had been a mistake. A huge, friggin' mistake.
"Okay. I'm not in the pool as much as I'd like to be. Too much paperwork."
I nodded, and from the door Jenks said, "Yeah, that'll kill you."
I sighed, knowing why Jenks was being rude, but unable to fault it, either.
The soft tinkling of the bell Jenks had put on his orange cat jingled, and I looked to see Rex come in. I wasn't surprised. The feline had liked Marshal. What surprised me was Belle astride the animal like a furry horse. I'd seen the wingless fairy using the cat as transportation before, but it still startled me.
Marshal's lips parted at the sight, and I handed him his cup of coffee, saying, "Belle? This is Marshal, an old friend. Marshal, this is Belle. She's staying with us now."
"Um, hi?" he said, at a complete loss. Fairies and humans didn't get along very well. Okay, fairies and any people didn't get along very well, but Belle and I got along just fine. Maybe it was because we were both damaged and trying to make our way the best we could.
The six-inch fierce woman gave Marshal a quick look, probably assessing the chances of his stepping on her by mistake. Sliding from Rex, she came forward with a bundle of fabric over her arm. "Nic-ce to meet you," she said, her voice hissing over the vowels. Her teeth were more savage than a vampire's, given her carnivore diet. Standing two inches taller than Jenks, she looked odd wearing pixy silk in what was clearly a fairy style, the blue cloth draped about her to resemble a shroud. The effect of death-warmed-over was heightened by her sallow, gaunt face. Her hair, too, was thin and pale, coming to her midback in ragged strands. If they were people size, they'd be the scariest Inderlanders I'd ever seen. At six inches and wearing a scowl that would rock Ivy back, she was still pretty scary.
"Jenks-s-s," she said, her lisp obvious. "I'm tired of waiting on you. Try it on. I have things to do."
As one, Marshal and I looked at Jenks, and the pixy rose up on a column of red sparkles.
"Belle!" he exclaimed, flushed. "I was just coming. I'll try it on in the hall."
Her black eyes bored into him, and I heard his wings falter. "Get down here and fold your wings-s," she demanded as the cat behind her fell over on her side and started to purr. "It will only take a moment."
"Yeah, but - " he started, and she bared her teeth at him.
Making a little hiccup of sound, Jenks dropped to the floor. "Belle," he pleaded. "Can't we do this later?"
"Fold your wings!" she demanded, and I made a soft sound of appreciation when she shook out the fabric and it unfolded into a vibrant, extravagantly embroidered jacket. It looked small in her hands, but I could tell it would fit Jenks perfectly.
"Oh, try it on!" I exclaimed, handing Marshal my cup and dropping to sit on the floor before them. "Belle, did you make that?"
"I did!" she said angrily. "The pixy turd won't try it on so I can size it properly!"
Jenks shrank into himself, and his wings drooped. "Aww, Belle," he complained, and Marshal hid a laugh behind a cough when the taller fairy spun Jenks around and pretty much dressed him like a sullen little boy.
"Turn," she demanded, and Jenks showed her his back, lifting his wings so she could do the ties in the back. "How does that feel?"
"Belle, it's beautiful!" I said, seeing the golds and reds swirling in unfamiliar patterns. Clearly she'd woven the cloth herself.
"It feels fine," Jenks grumbled, glancing at me like it was all my fault.
"Too tight?" she asked, and when he muttered that it wasn't, she put a foot on his backside and yanked the ties again.
"Now it is!" Jenks shrilled, struggling to reach behind him and spinning in circles. "Damn it, woman! I can't put my wings down!"
Belle was smirking, and I bit my lip so I wouldn't smile as she caught his shoulder and loosened them again. "The goddess-s-s help you," she said as she undid the ties altogether and Jenks shrugged out of it, throwing it back at her like it was a rag. "What is it with men and clothes? You think you'd rather go to war naked."
"I don't plan on going to war at all!" Jenks said, rising up an inch or so until he was looking her right in the eye. Behind him, Rex patted at his dangling feet, her eyes full and black. "And I can't go to war in that. The tails are too long."
"The tails are appropriate." Belle shook it out and draped it carefully over her arm. "That is not a suit for going to war. It's for celebrating. You won't wear it until I say you can. I can tell you're not planning on war. The lines are full of holes. I don't know how you ever survived without me."
Jenks spilled a red dust and sputtered, "I just spent all morning tending the lines. There's nothing wrong with them. Rex, knock it off!"
But Belle only smiled. "If you like it, I'll put the final trim on it and hang it in your clos-s-set. Thank you for allowing Jezabel to teach me that stitching for the wings. It's more complicated than I'm used to, but it gives wonderfully where you need it. Would you take offense if I s-sshow my sister when I s-see her again?"
"Tink's titties, I don't care," Jenks said sullenly. Belle stood there, waiting, and when I cleared my throat, he added, "Thanks. It's nice."
My mouth dropped open, and even Marshal shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Nic-c-ce?" Belle said, a pale green coming to color her face, a fairy's version of a flush, perhaps. "You think this is nic-c-ce?" She squinted at him for a moment with her lips closed over her long teeth. "Thank you," she said stiffly, knocking into him as she walked past the purring cat, her back stiff and her pace slow. With a little trill of sound, Rex got to her feet and padded after her.
I looked at Jenks, his feet on the linoleum as he watched her leave, then up at Marshal. "Wow, Jenks," I said as I got up. "You're a bigger ass than even me sometimes. Nice? That wasn't nice. That was exquisite."
His expression twisted up in annoyance and guilt, Jenks flew up to my eye level. "She keeps making me stuff," he said plaintively. "And she keeps trying to plant things. Nothing has even come up. The kids are laughing at her."
"Then maybe you should stop giving her bad seeds. She's trying," I said, not wanting to be too hard on him, but honestly, that had been a beautiful coat. "It must have taken her at least two weeks to make that, and you call it nice?"
Jenks looked at the hall when the cat door squeaked shut. "Actually, it was twice that if you count dyeing the thread. Um." His altitude shifted up and down. "Could you excuse me?"
I nodded, and Jenks darted off. "Belle?" I heard him shout, and my frown eased. Her kin had killed Matalina. I had destroyed their wings. And now we were all learning to get along. What was wrong with me?
"Rachel," Marshal said, and I looked up at the pure delight in his voice. "I'd forgotten how much fun you are to be around. That was a fairy, right? Why is she making Jenks clothes?"
I swallowed back a heavy sigh before it came out, wondering how this new wrinkle was going to iron out. No one could take Matalina's place, but Belle had begun to see where there was a need and did what she could. "She's keeping an eye on me," I said. "She'll murder me in my sleep if she thinks I'm going to betray her or her surviving family, now living with Trent."
Still laughing, Marshal set his cup down. Slowly his smile faltered as he realized I was serious. "Is this them?" He looked at the charms, obvious on the counter between us.
I pushed myself from the counter, feeling more space fall between us. "Yup. Let me get you a finger stick. I really appreciate this."
"Not a problem." Marshal took the tiny blade as I held it out, and he broke the safety seal with his thumb in a practiced motion. "How is Jenks doing? I talked to Glenn yesterday, and he said his wife died. Is that why Belle is here?"
The scent of redwood blossomed as Marshal massaged his finger and three drops of blood soaked into the first disk. A feeling of relief swept over me, and a slight headache I hadn't realized I was fighting began to dissipate. I'd spelled the charms right, and now I had something to use to find these bastards.
"Jenks is doing okay," I said. "He has his ups and downs, but he smiles a lot more."
"Good." Marshal looked at me, then back down at the next amulet. "How about you?"
Me? "The shunning?" I said, flustered. "Okay. It's been nice not having to go to the ever-after every week. Kind of weird. The demons think I'm dead, and I want to keep it that way." I shook my arm to show off my charmed silver, adding, "I don't even mind that I can't do ley-line magic." But I did, if I was honest.
Marshal's eyes were outraged as he straightened from over the amulets. "The coven of moral and ethical standards is making you wear that?"
"This? No. I put this on myself. You think I liked going to the ever-after every weekend?" Al would friggin' kill me if he knew I was alive. If the demon hated one thing, it was being broke.
Marshal's eyes became worried, and he looked back at the amulets. He invoked two more, and I started putting them in my shoulder bag, one by one.
"Thanks again," I said, not liking the silence. If Marshal was silent, Marshal was thinking, and that made me uneasy. "I can still do earth magic. The higher spells can tell the difference in my blood and don't invoke, is all."
He looked up as he finished the last, his expression brightening with understanding. "Oh! That's why the ones you made last year . . ."
I nodded. "Yes. I thought I'd done them wrong . . . but it's my blood."
Marshal knew I wasn't a witch - he was there the week I figured it out for myself - but I could tell by his suddenly sick expression that he hadn't really believed it. He thought that I'd taken a label to get the coven to back off. "Then you really are . . ."
His words faltered, and I slumped, tired beyond belief. "I'm a demon," I said, looking away. A demon with no demon magic. "Well, thanks," I said as understanding, and even worse, pity, cascaded over him. "I don't know any other witches I could have asked to do this. Isn't that stupid?" I tried to laugh, but it came out wrong, and the silence afterward was worse.
The amulets were invoked, and still he stood there, four feet and an entire chasm of unspoken thought between us. "No," he said softly, and I looked up, seeing his pity, his fear, and his reluctance all wrapped up in one terrible expression. "Rachel, I'm sorry this happened. And I'm glad you got your shunning removed. I didn't like the way things ended."
"Me neither," I said, backing slowly away. My stomach hurt. This was such a bad idea. I couldn't go back - this proved it - but what hurt wasn't Marshal as much as it was me grieving, letting go of the hope that I could be the person I'd always thought I was. It was going to be harder now that I couldn't pretend.
"That's why I came over today," he said, but I didn't know if I believed him. "Not because I wanted to start dating again or anything. I just wanted to see that you were really okay and not just surviving."
I leaned against the sink, wishing he would go away. I hadn't invited him over here to see if he was available, but now I felt even more alone. "I'm doing okay," I said, wishing I could say it louder.
"You're doing great!" he said, but it sounded flat. I jumped when he touched my elbow, and his hand fell away. "You're doing great," he said again, softer this time. "I'm glad that no one is telling me I can't talk to you anymore, because you are a very special woman."
My gut hurt, and I made a fist, jamming it into my side. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself." I was not going to cry, damn it.
"You deserve good things," Marshal said, but he was still wearing that damn pitying smile. "There's someone out there for you. I really believe that."
"Me, too," I lied, then swallowed the pain down where it could fester. "I'm glad you're doing okay, too. And thanks again. For the amulets." I was never going to call him again.
Marshal reached out and I shook my head, unable to look at him. The soft slap of his hand meeting his leg was loud. "Bye, Rachel," he said, and I closed my eyes so I wouldn't cry when he leaned in and gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek.
"Bye, Marshal," I said, my voice surprisingly firm, though my chest felt like it was caving in. It wasn't Marshal, it was everything else.
"I'll let myself out."
"Thank you," I said softly, and I looked up as he walked away. I took a deep breath, gazing at the ceiling as I shook my hair out. It was almost dry. I wasn't looking for someone to complete me, but having someone to do stuff with would be nice. And I didn't think I could even have that anymore.
"I have to get out of here," I said softly, feeling the walls close in on me. If I didn't do something, I'd explode in a puff of self-absorbed pity. But not with Wayde watching me. Yes, he was right that I was vulnerable without my ley-line magic. Yes, Trent was right that I was putting those I cared about at risk by not accepting my full abilities. But I was not helpless. I had survived an I.S. death threat, banshees, Weres with guns, and political witches - all without demon magic. It would've been an entirely different story last night if I had been prepared and had had my splat gun. Perhaps Wayde needed to know that.
I heard the front door shut, then stuffed the last of the amulets into my bag, sliding them next to my restocked splat gun. I was so out of here. Wayde still had my keys after driving me home last night, but I could take the bus to the FIB. He kept telling me he could keep me safe, but he wasn't taking this seriously if someone he'd never met had come into the church and left without Wayde checking him out. The Were needed a wake-up call, and I was frustrated enough to give it to him.
"Ivy?" I called out, knowing she had probably been listening to the entire conversation. "I'm going to take the bus to the FIB. I've got my splat gun and phone."
There was a hesitation, then through the walls came, "What about Wayde?"
"I think he's still sleeping," I said loudly, knowing he couldn't hear us, and not caring if he did. I'd been afraid to hurt him last night. The stakes hadn't been high enough, and I'd been showing restraint, not cowardice. Today it would be a different story.
Again the hesitation, followed by "Call me when you get there!"
I felt a surge of gratitude. Ivy knew I wasn't helpless. Feeling better, I grabbed my jacket, shuffling into it while slinging my bag over my shoulder. Phone in my pocket, I strode through the back living room to the porch door. I'd spent almost an entire year taking public transportation, and I knew the schedule. If I hurried, I could catch the next bus into Cincy - easy.
Catch me if you can, big boy, I thought as I scuffed my garden shoes on and opened the back door. I owed him a little grief for last night if nothing else.