White Witch, Black Curse
Chapter Eighteen

It had been hard staying asleep with Ivy's crashing around this morning, coming in about ten, showering, by the sound of it, and leaving an hour later. Jenks's kids hadn't helped either, flying up and down the hall playing tag with Rex. Nevertheless, I buried my head in my pillow and stayed in bed as seven pounds of kitty fur slammed into walls and knocked over an end table. I was tired, aura sick, and depressed-and I was going to sleep in.
So several hours later, when Jenks locked Rex in my room to get his kids to shut up for their noon nap, I barely heard the front door open and the soft steps pass my door. Ivy, I assumed, and I sighed, snuggling deeper under my coverlet, glad that she'd found a shred of kindness and was going to let me sleep. But no. I was never that lucky.
"Rachel?" came a high-pitched whisper, and the sound of dragonfly wings susurrated into my dream of amber-tinted fields of grain. Pierce was stretched out in them, a stalk of wheat between his teeth, gazing up at red clouds. "You can't kill me, mistress witch," he said, smiling before he vanished with my conscious thought and I fully awoke.
"Go away, Jenks," I mumbled and pulled the blanket over my head.
"Rache, wake up." There was the scrape of my drapes being opened and the harsh clatter of Jenks's wings. "Marshal is here."
"Why?" Lifting my head, I squinted through my hair at the sudden light.
The memory of steps in the hall resurfaced, and I rolled to see my clock. Ten after one. Not much of a sleep-in. The sun was bright through my stained-glass window, and it was cold. Rex was a warm puddle at my feet, and as I watched, she stretched, ending it with an inquiring trill to Jenks, now standing beside the stuffed giraffe on my dresser.
"Marshal is here," he repeated, his angular face looking concerned. "He brought breakfast. You know, doughnuts?"
I propped myself up on an elbow and tried to figure out what was going on. "Oh yeah. Where's Ivy?"
"Out pricing new refrigerators." His wings blurred into motion, and he rose, his reflection in the mirror making twice the glow. "She spent the morning at Cormel's, but she came back to shower before she went out. She told me to tell you that since you're not in the ever-after today, she got an appointment to see Skimmer at six."
Six? After sunset. Nice. I had wanted to have lunch with my mom and Robbie today, but I could postpone it a little. "I heard her come in." I sat up and blearily looked at the clock again. I didn't like that Ivy had been with Rynn Cormel, the pretty monster, but what could I say? And why does my mouth taste like apples? Leaning over, I pulled Rex across the mounds of covers to me for a cuddle hello. I liked her a lot more now that she would let me touch her.
"Are you going to get up?" Jenks added, his wings hitting a pitch akin to nails on a chalkboard. "Marshal is in the kitchen."
Doughnuts. I could smell coffee, too. "I'm not even dressed," I complained as I let go of Rex and swung my feet to the cold floor. "I'm a mess." Thank God it's daylight, or Al might come over and decide to take him, too.
The pixy crossed his arms over his chest, giving me a superior look as he stood beside my giraffe. "He's seen you look worse. Like the time you rolled your snowmobile into those fir trees. Or when he took you ice fishing and you got minnow guts in your hair?"
"Shut up!" I exclaimed as I stood. Rex jumped to the floor and went to stand under the doorknob, waiting. "And stop trying to fix me up with him," I said, fully awake and irritated. "I know you asked him to come over."
He shrugged with one shoulder, looking embarrassed. "I want you to be happy. You aren't. You and Marshal have a good time when you do stuff together, and Pierce is dangerous."
"I'm not interested in Pierce," I said, glaring at Jenks as I shoved my arms into the sleeves of my blue terry-cloth robe and tied it closed.
"Then why are you hell-bent for pixy dust on trying to rescue him?" he asked, but the severe attitude he was trying for was ruined by the smiling stuffed animal beside him. "If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't have hurt yourself last night."
"Last night was me trying to keep Al from abusing his right to check on me to abduct other people," I said in a huff. "That it might get Pierce back is no small thing, but do you really think I'm only going to rescue people I want to jump in the sack with? Not that I'm looking to jump in the sack with Pierce," I amended as Jenks raised a pointed finger. "I rescued Trent, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you did." Jenks dropped his hand. "I never understood that either."
Rex stretched on her hind feet to pat the doorknob, and I went to my dresser for a set of undies. "Hold on, Rex," I crooned. I knew how she felt. I had to go, too.
"Rache, even if you do help him, I don't trust the guy. I mean, he's a ghost!"
My eyebrows rose. This is why he's suddenly gung ho on Marshal, I thought. Jenks thought he was the safer of the two. Irritated, I slammed the drawer shut, and he rose up in a burst of light. "Will you get off it!" I exclaimed. "I am not attracted to Pierce." At least, not enough to do anything about it. "If I don't make Al treat me with respect, everyone around me is in jeopardy. Okay? That's why I'm doing this, not because I need a date."
Jenks's wings hummed. "I know you," he said in a hard voice. "You can't get to a happy ending from here. You're self-sabotaging by chasing something you can't have."
Self-sabotaging? Is he not even listening to me? Black socks in hand, I looked up at him, finding we were eye to eye. "You watch too many daytime talk shows," I said, then shut the drawer. Hard.
Jenks said nothing, but his words kept pricking me as I yanked a pair of jeans off a hanger. Mia had said I was running, afraid to believe someone could survive being with me, that I'd be alone out of fear. She said that even though I lived with Ivy and Jenks, I was still alone. Upset, I looked at my sweaters, stacked up in the organizer Ivy had gotten me, not really seeing them. "I don't want to be alone," I breathed, and Jenks was suddenly at my shoulder.
"You aren't," he said, his voice heavy with concern. "But you need someone besides me and Ivy. Give Marshal a chance."
"This isn't between Marshal and Pierce," I said as I pulled out a black sweater. But my thoughts kept returning to Jenks yelling at Ivy to pick me up because he was too small to do it. Ivy couldn't touch me or show me she loved me without that damned blood lust kicking in. I had good friends who would risk their lives for me, but I was still alone. I'd been alone since Kisten died, even when Marshal and I did stuff together. Always alone, always separate. I was tired of it. I liked being with someone, the closeness two people could share, and I shouldn't feel I was weak for wanting it. I wouldn't let what Mia said become the truth.
Tucking my clothes under my arm, I smiled thinly at Jenks. "I hear what you're saying."
Jenks rose up and followed me. "So you'll give Marshal a chance?"
I knew his being too small to help me had torn him up. "Jenks," I said, and his wings went still. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm okay. I've been picking myself up off the floor for twenty-six years. I'm good at it. If Marshal and I were to change things, I'd want it to be for a real reason, not because we were both lonely."
Jenks's wings drooped. "I just want you to be happy, Rache."
I glanced at Rex, twining about herself under the knob. "I am," I said, then added, "Your cat needs to go out."
"I'll get her," he muttered, and when I opened the door, both he and the cat darted out.
"Marshal?" I peeked around the door frame to find that Jenks and Rex had already reached the back living room and that the hall was empty. "I'll be right there."
From the kitchen came the sound of a sliding chair, followed by Marshal's familiar, resonant voice saying, "Take your time, Rachel. I've got coffee, so I'm happy." There was a hesitation, and as I waited to see if he was going to look into the hall, he added in a preoccupied voice, "What's in the potions? It smells like carbonic wax."
"Uh," I stammered, not wanting to tell him they didn't work. "Locator charms for the FIB. I have to invoke them and put them in disks," I added so he'd leave them alone.
"Cool," he said softly. The squeak of Jenks opening the pixy/kitty door was obvious, and confident that Marshal wasn't going to peek into the hall, I made the dash to my bathroom, easing the door closed when I heard Jenks and Marshal start to talk.
"Oh, that's nice," I whispered when I saw my reflection. Black rings made an obvious showing under my eyes, and I was as pale as Jenks's ass. I'd showered before bed to try and warm up, and sleeping with damp hair had left it looking like snakes had been in it. Thank God Marshal hadn't come out of the kitchen. My complexion amulet would take care of the circles, and I got the water going and slowly undressed while I waited for it to warm.
Carefully, until I knew how dizzy it would make me, I sent my awareness to my ley line out back. Vertigo eased in, and I let go of the line immediately. I wasn't going to be setting a circle any time today, but it was better than last night, and I hoped I wasn't putting myself in danger by walking around not able to set one.
"Nothing different from the first twenty-six years of your life," I whispered, but then again, I hadn't had vampires, demons, and freaked-out elves gunning for me then either.
Because I was mindful of Marshal waiting, my usual twenty-minute indulgence became a hasty five-minute splash-and-dash. My thoughts kept cycling between Marshal in my kitchen and Pierce in the ever-after. Complaining to Dali wasn't a good option. Neither was trying to jump the lines until I could hold one without pain. Al wasn't playing fair, and it was up to me to make him. There had to be a way to get him to respect me other than resorting to Dali.
But my mind stayed blissfully empty all the way through the shampoo, rinse, and repeat.
It was finally the low rumble of Marshal's voice as I was toweling my hair that reminded me I had a more immediate problem sitting in my kitchen drinking coffee. I swung my hair around and wiped the mirror clear, wondering what I was going to do about this. Jenks had probably filled his head with nonsense. I couldn't be Marshal's girlfriend. He was too good a guy, and though he was able to react in a crisis, Marshal probably never had people trying to kill him.
I dressed quickly, then yanked a brush through my damp hair and left it to dry. Jenks's voice was clear as I opened the door and padded stocking-footed to the kitchen. I entered the sun-drenched kitchen to see that the fridge was duct-taped shut, but otherwise normal looking. Jenks was at the table with Marshal, and the tall man looked like he belonged, sitting with the pixy and one of Jenks's kids fighting his noon nap.
Marshal met my eyes, and my smile faded. "Hi, Marshal," I said, remembering how he had helped Jenks and me in Mackinaw when we really needed it. I'd always be grateful for that.
"Morning, Rachel," the witch said as he stood. "New diet plan?"
I followed his eyes to the fridge, reluctant to tell him I'd blown it up. "Yup." I hesitated, then, recalling him visiting me in the hospital, I gave him a quick hug, hardly touching him. Jenks rose with his kid and moved to the sink and the slice of sun. "Any news on my classes?"
Marshal's broad shoulders lifted and fell. "I haven't checked my e-mail today, but I'm going in later. I'm sure it's just a glitch."
I hoped he was right. I'd never heard of a university refusing money. "Thanks for breakfast," I said as I looked at the open box of doughnuts on the counter. "That's really nice."
Marshal ran a hand over his short black hair. "Just checking on you. I've never known anyone to sneak out of the hospital before. Jenks said you had a run-in with Al last night?"
"You made coffee?" I said, not wanting to talk about Al. "Thanks. Smells good." I headed for the carafe beside the sink.
Marshal clasped his hands in front of himself and then let go, as if realizing how vulnerable it made him look. "Ivy made the coffee."
"Before she left," Jenks offered, sitting on the spigot with a kid sleeping on his lap.
I leaned against the sink and sipped my coffee, eyeing the two men at opposite ends of the kitchen. I didn't like my mom playing matchmaker. I liked it even less when Jenks tried it.
Marshal sat back down. He looked uncomfortable. "So, your aura looks better."
A sigh slipped from me, and I relented. It had been nice of him to visit me in the hospital. "It's getting there," I said sourly. "That's why I was asking Al for today off, actually. Apparently my aura is too thin to travel the lines safely. I can't even make a circle. Dizzy." And it puts me in so much pain I can't breathe, but why bring that up?
"I'm sorry." Marshal took a doughnut and held the box out to me. "It will be okay."
"So they tell me." Coming forward, I leaned over the center counter to take a glazed. "I'm thinking next week it will be back to normal."
Marshal glanced at Jenks before he said softly, "I meant about Pierce. Jenks told me you saw him in the line, and then Al took him. God, Rachel. I'm sorry. You must be really upset."
I felt the blood drain from my head. Jenks had the decency to look discomfitted, and I set the doughnut on a napkin. "That's an understatement. I didn't know I had that particular hole to plug. Just one more thing for Ms. Rachel to fix." Along with finding Kisten's murderer. I am a freaking albatross.
The witch rubbed a hand over his short hair, only two months long. "I understand. When someone you care about is in danger, you'll move the world for them."
My blood pressure spiked, and frowning at Jenks, I put a hand on my hip. "Jenks, your cat is at the door."
The pixy opened his mouth, looked at my grimace, then took the hint. He exchanged some male look with Marshal that I couldn't interpret, and with the sleeping child on his hip, he flew out. He looked kinda nice with a sleeping child, and I wondered how Matalina was doing. Jenks had been very closed-lipped about her lately.
I waited until even the humming of his wings was gone, then sat across from Marshal. "I only knew Pierce one day," I said, feeling like I owed him an explanation. "I was eighteen. Jenks thinks I'm looking for men I can't have a real relationship with so I don't have to feel guilty about not having one in my life, but really, there's nothing between Pierce and me. He's just a nice guy who needs some help." Because he has the misfortune to know me.
"I'm not trying to be your boyfriend," Marshal said to the floor. "I'm just trying to be your friend."
That hit every single guilt button I had, and I closed my eyes to try to figure out what I could say to that. Marshal as a friend? Nice thought, but I'd never managed to have a male friend I didn't end up in the sack with. Hell, I'd had thoughts about Ivy, for that matter. Marshal was the longest I'd ever seriously known a guy without letting it spill into the physical. But we weren't really dating. Were we?
Confused, I exhaled slowly. Wondering how I was going to handle this, I looked at his hand. It was a nice hand, strong and tanned. "Marshal," I started.
The phone rang in the living room, and the extension in the kitchen blinked, on mute from last night. Jenks shouted he'd get it, and I dropped back in my chair.
"Marshal," I repeated when Rex padded in since her master wasn't eavesdropping on us in the hall anymore. "I love what you're trying to do, and it's not that I don't find you attractive," I said, flushing and starting to babble. "But I study with demons, I've got their smut all over me, and my aura is so thin I can't tap a line and do anything! You deserve better than my crap. You really do. I'm not worth it. Nothing is."
My gaze jerked up when Marshal leaned over and took my hand.
"I never said you weren't hard to be with," he said softly, his brown eyes gazing earnestly at me. "I knew that the moment you walked into my shop with a six-foot pixy and bought a dive with a Vampiric Charms credit card. But you're worth it. You're a good person. And I like you. I want to help you when I can, and I'm getting better at staying out of the way and not feeling guilty when I can't."
His hand on mine was warm, and I gazed at it. "I needed to hear that," I whispered so my voice wouldn't break. "Thank you. But I'm not worth dying for, and it's a distinct probability."
The clatter of pixy wings intruded, and when Jenks flew in, Marshal drew back. Warming, I hid my hands under the table.
"Ah, Rache," Jenks said, glancing between us. "It's Edden."
I hesitated, my first impulse to have him call me back. Maybe he had something on Mia.
"It's about a banshee," Jenks continued. "He says if you don't pick up the phone, he's going to send a car."
I stood, and Marshal smiled and took a doughnut. "Is it about Mia?" I asked as I reached for the extension. My eyes flicked to the useless locator potions lined up on the counter, and I blinked. They were gone.
"Where's my-" I started, and Marshal waved a hand for my attention.
"Hanging in your cupboard. I invoked them for you." His eyes widened at my suddenly worried expression. "Sorry. I should've asked, but you said they were done. I thought I could help, you know..."
"No, it's okay," I said, distantly hearing Edden on the line talking to me. "Um, thanks," I said, flushing. Great, now he knew I had messed up on them. He made his own charms and would know by the lack of redwood scent that they were duds.
Embarrassed, I turned to the phone. "Edden?" I said, mortified. "Did you find her?"
"No, but I want your help this afternoon with one of these banshee women," Edden said without preamble, his gravelly voice a mix of preoccupied gratefulness, sounding odd with the original line still open in the living room. "This one's name is Ms. Walker. She's the iciest woman I've talked to since my mother-in-law, and that was just from our phone conversation."
I glanced at Marshal, then turned my back on him. Jenks was sitting on his shoulder, his kid probably in the desk where he belonged.
"She called the department this morning," Edden was saying, drawing my attention back. "And she's flying in this afternoon from San Diego to help me find Ms. Harbor. Can you be here when I talk to her? Banshees police themselves, same as vampires, and she wants to help-seeing as the I.S. won't do anything."
The last was said rather sourly, and I nodded though he couldn't see it. This was making sense, but I wasn't sure I wanted to meet this woman if a freaking baby of her species had almost killed me. "Uh," I hedged, uneasy, "I'd really like to help and all, but my aura is still thin. I don't think talking to another banshee is a good idea." Besides, I've got to come up with a way to make Al behave today.
Jenks buzzed his wings in approval, but Edden wasn't happy.
"She wants to meet you," he said. "Asked for you. Rachel, she made you being there a stipulation for talking to me. I need you."
I sighed, wondering if Edden was above stretching the truth to reach an ending he wanted. Putting a hand to my head, I thought for a moment. "Jenks?" I asked, not sure about this, "can you tell if she starts sucking on me?"
The pixy's wings brightened. "You bet, Rache," he said, clearly glad he could help.
I bit my bottom lip and listened to the echo of the open line as I weighed the risks. I'd like to see Mia get her own for letting her kid try to kill me, and Ms. Walker could help. "Okay," I said slowly, and Edden made a pleased rumble. "Where and when?"
"Her plane comes in at three, but she's on West Coast time, so how about a late lunch," Edden said confidently. "On the FIB."
"You mean my lunch, or your lunch?" I asked, rolling my eyes.
"Uh, say four at Carew Tower?"
Carew Tower? This has to be some woman.
"I'll send someone to pick you up," Edden was saying. "Oh, and good job on the AMA. How did you get one so fast?"
I glanced at Jenks, sitting on Marshal's shoulder. "Rynn Cormel," I said, hoping Marshal was starting to understand how risky it was to be around me.
"Damn!" Edden exclaimed. "You do have pull. See you this afternoon."
"Hey, how's Glenn?" I asked, but the phone had clicked off. Four at Carew Tower, I thought, mentally going through my closet for something to wear as I hung up the phone. I can do that. How am I going to do that? I was exhausted, and I'd just gotten up.
My gaze darted to the island counter where I'd once kept my spell books. Ivy had moved them all back into the belfry when I'd been in the hospital, and the thought of bringing them all down again made me sigh. Al had said there wasn't a spell to supplement a person's aura, but maybe there was something to protect a person from a banshee.
I stood to go check, and from the living room came the beeping of the open line. Jenks buzzed out to take care of it, and I froze, remembering I had company. "Uh, I'm sorry," I said, staring at Marshal's amused expression as he sat comfortably in his chair and ate a doughnut. "I have to go up to the attic and get some books. To look for a, uh, spell."
"Want some help bringing them down?" he asked, already stretching into a stand.
"It's just a couple of books," I hedged, thinking about the demon texts in with the others.
"Not a problem." He headed to the sanctuary, pace casual and confident, and I scrambled to follow. Crap, how am I going to explain why I have demon texts?
The sanctuary was silent, warm from the space heater cranked up for the pixies. Jenks had hung up the phone, and he was sitting with his two eldest kids in the rafters on sentry duty. "I can do this by myself," I said when I caught up with Marshal, and he gave me a sideways look.
"It's just a couple of books," he said, then took a bite of the doughnut he had brought with him. "I'll bring them down, and then if you want me to leave, I will," he added around his full mouth. "I know you've got work to do. I just wanted to check on you was all."
His tone had held a measure of hurt in it, and I felt bad as I followed him through the cold foyer and into the unheated circular stairway that led into the belfry. I had spelled up there once before, when I'd been hiding from demons last Halloween. Marshal had just come into town and was looking for an apartment. Cripes, had it been two months that we'd been doing stuff? It seemed longer.
"Marshal," I said as we found the top and I clenched my arms around me in the chill of the unheated belfry. Dang, it was cold up here, and my breath steamed. I searched the open rafters above the huge bell that made a false roof over the space, but Bis was elsewhere. He'd probably put himself on the eaves last night, where the sun would hit him all day. The adolescent gargoyle didn't come in apart from inclement weather, and when he got older, he probably wouldn't come in even then.
"Hey, this is nice!" Marshal said, and I dropped back, pleased as he looked the hexagonal room over. The rough floor was the color of dust, and the walls had never been finished, still showing the two-by-fours and the back of the siding. It was the same temperature as the outside, about fifty something, refreshing after the steamy warmth downstairs.
The slatted windows let in slices of light and sound, making it a nice hidey-hole where one could sit and watch the day happen. I wasn't surprised when Marshal bent one of the slats to look out. Next to him was the folding chair I'd left up here for when I had to get away. The middle of the ten-by-ten space held an antique dresser with a green marble top and an age-spotted mirror. My library was on the mahogany shelf propped up in one of the spaces between the windows. Beside it, next to the door, was a faded fainting couch. Other than that, the space was empty of everything except the almost subliminal hum of the bell resonating faintly.
Tired, I sat on the couch and pulled one of the books onto my lap, content to sit while Marshal satisfied his curiosity. My thoughts sifted back downstairs to the useless charms in my cupboard. "Um, Marshal, about those locator charms," I said softly.
Marshal turned, smiling. "My lips are sealed," he said, crossing the room. "I know the stuff you do for the FIB is confidential. Don't worry about it."
Okay, that's weird, I thought when Marshal sat beside me, taking the book out of my hand and opening it. How could he not know the charms were bad?
"What are we looking for?" he asked cheerfully, then looked at his hand when it probably started to tingle. Demon books were like that.
"A spell to protect my aura," I offered. "Um, that's a demon text you've got there."
Marshal blinked, stiffening as he realized what he'd opened. "That's why you keep them up here," he said, looking at it, and I nodded.
Much to my surprise, he didn't give the book back, but turned the page, curiosity getting the better of him. "You don't need a charm to help your aura," he said. "What you need to do is get a massage."
My shoulders eased, and glad he wasn't running screaming into the afternoon, I murmured, "A massage?"
"Full body, head to toe," he said, starting when he turned the page and found a curse to destroy an army with a single note of music. "You really think this works?"
"If you do it right, sure." Reaching, I picked up a university textbook and turned to the index. My fingers were cold, and I blew on them. "A massage will make it all better, huh?"
Marshal chuckled and turned a yellowed page. "If you do it right, sure," he said, mimicking me, and I looked up to find him smiling. "Scout's honor. Massage triggers the digestive and sleep rhythms. That's when your aura replenishes itself. You get a massage, and your aura will be better."
I eyed him, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. "Really?"
"Yup." His confident assurance faltered when he saw the next curse to blow up a wind strong enough to topple buildings. He looked at me, then the curse. "Uh, Rachel?" he stammered.
"What?" I said as my warning flags started going up. I wasn't a black witch, damn it.
"This is some creepy-ass shit," he said, brow furrowed, and I laughed, sliding the demon book back onto my lap and the university text onto the floor.
"That's why I don't do it," I said, grateful that he didn't think I was bad just because I had a book that told me how to twist a curse to cause the black plague.
He made a small sound and scooted down to read over my shoulder. "So, running the risk of opening a wound, what did Robbie think about you being in the hospital?"
I turned a page and blanched. HOW TO CREATE WOLF PREGNANCY IN HUMANS. Damn, I didn't know I had that one in my library. "Uh," I stammered, quickly turning the page. "Robbie said it was par for the course and told me to stop doing dangerous things because it might upset Mom. He's the one upset, though. Not her."
"That's about what I thought he'd say." Marshal leaned into my space and turned the page for me. I breathed deep, enjoying both the extra body heat in the cold belfry and the rich scent of redwood. He'd been spelling recently, and I wondered if he had a modified warmth amulet keeping him from shivering.
"I like your brother," he said, unaware that I was breathing him in. "It irks me, though, seeing him treat you like you're the same kid you were when he left. My older brother does that to me. Makes me want to pound him."
"Mmmm." I let the weight of our bodies slide us together a little bit more, thinking it suspicious that he was saying all the right things. "Robbie moved out when I was thirteen. He hasn't had the chance to see me as a grown-up." Our arms touched as I turned the page, but he didn't seem to notice. "And then I go and put myself in the hospital the week he comes for a visit. Really good, huh?"
Marshal laughed, then peered more closely at the text describing how to make bubbles last till sunrise, and I felt better as he saw that not all curses were bad. I suppose you could make them appear in someone's lungs and suffocate them, but you could also entertain children.
"Thanks for coming with me to my mom's," I said softly, watching him, not the curses he was flipping through. "I don't think I could have taken sitting there all night and listening to Cindy this, Cindy that, followed by the inevitable, 'And when are you going to get a steady boyfriend, Rachel?'"
"Moms are like that," he said in a preoccupied tone. "She just wants you to be happy."
"I am happy," I said sourly, and Marshal chuckled, probably trying to memorize the curse to turn water into wine. Good for parties, but he wouldn't be able to invoke it, lacking the right enzymes in his blood. I could, though.
Sighing, I pushed the book entirely onto his lap and dragged a new one onto mine. It was cold up here, but I didn't want to go downstairs and risk waking up four dozen pixies. Am I jealous that Robbie seems to have everything? Has it so easy?
"You know," Marshal said, not looking up from the book he was searching for me, "we don't have to keep things the way they are...with us, I mean."
I stiffened. Marshal must have felt it, seeing as our shoulders were touching. I didn't say anything, and emboldened by my lack of a negative response, he added, "I mean, last October, I wasn't ready for anyone new in my life, but now-"
My breath caught, and Marshal cut his thought short. "Okay," he said, sliding to put space between us. "Sorry. Forget I said anything. I'm lousy at body language. My bad."
My bad? When did anyone ever say my bad anymore? But letting this go without saying anything was easier said than done, especially when I'd been thinking the same thing off and on in stupid-Rachel moments for weeks. So licking my lips, I said carefully to the book on my lap, "I've had fun with you, these last couple of months."
"It's okay, Rachel," he interrupted, edging farther down the long fainting couch. "Forget I said anything. Hey, I'll just go, okay?"
My pulse quickened. "I'm not asking you to leave. I'm saying I've had fun with you. I was hurting then. I still am, but I've laughed a lot, and I like you." He looked up, slightly red-faced and with his brown eyes holding a new vulnerability. My mind went back to me sitting on the kitchen floor with no one to pick me up. I took a deep breath, scared. "I've been thinking, too."
Marshal exhaled, as if a knot had untwisted in him. "When you were in the hospital," he said quickly, "God help me, but I suddenly saw what we'd been doing the last couple of months, and something hurt me."
"It didn't feel that good to be there," I quipped.
"And then Jenks told me you collapsed in your kitchen," he added with a worried sincerity. "I know you can take care of yourself and that you've got Ivy and Jenks-"
"The line ripped through my aura," I explained. "It hurt." My mind jerked back to my jealousy when I sat all night beside Marshal and listened to Robbie go on about Cindy, almost glowing. Why couldn't I have some stability like that?
Marshal shifted to take my hand, the space between us looking larger for it. "I like you, Rachel. I mean, I really like you," he said, almost scaring me. "Not because you've got sexy legs and know how to laugh, or because you get excited in chase scenes, and take the time to help get a puppy out of a tree."
"That was really weird, wasn't it?"
His fingers tightened on mine, drawing my gaze down. "Jenks said you thought you were alone and you might do something stupid trying to rescue that ghost."
At that, I gave up on all pretense of levity. "I'm not alone." Maybe Mia was right, but I didn't want her to be. Even if I was, I could still stand alone. I'd done it all my life and I could do it well. But I didn't want to. I shivered, from the cold or the conversation, and Marshal frowned.
"I don't want to ruin what we have," Marshal said, his voice soft in the absolute stillness of a winter's afternoon. He slowly slid closer, and I set the book on my lap on the floor to lean up against his side, testing the feeling though I was stiff and uncertain, trying it on. It felt like it fit, which worried me. "Maybe friends is enough," he added, as if really considering it. "I've never had as good a relationship with a woman as I've got with you, and I'm just smart enough, and old enough, and tired enough to let it ride as it is."
"Me, too," I said, almost disappointed. I shouldn't be resting against him, leading him on. I was a danger to everyone I liked, but the Weres had backed off, and the vamps. I'd get Al to see reason. I didn't want Jenks to be right about me chasing the unattainable as an excuse to be alone. I had a great relationship with Marshal right now. Just because it wasn't physical didn't make it any less real. Or did it? I wanted to care about someone. I wanted to love someone, and I didn't want to be afraid to. I didn't want to let Mia win.
"Marshal, I still don't know if I'm ready for a boyfriend." Reaching out, I touched the short hair behind his ear, heart pounding. I'd spent so much effort trying to convince myself that he was off limits, that just that small motion seemed erotic. He didn't move, and my hand drifted down until my fingers brushed his collar, a whisper from touching his skin. A small spot of feeling grew, and I drew my gaze back to his. "But I'd like to see if I am. If you do..."
His hand came up to pin mine against his shoulder, not binding but promising more. His free hand dropped lower, suggestively crossing the invisible boundary of my defenses and retreating to give me his answer. That we'd spent the last two months keeping our distance made that simple move surprisingly intense.
Marshal reached to tilt my head up to his, and I let my head move easily in his grip, turning to face him. His fingers were warm on my jawline as he searched my gaze, weighing my words against his own worries. I shivered in the chill. "You sure?" he said. "I mean, we can't go back."
He had already seen the crap of my life, and he hadn't left. Did it matter if this didn't last forever if it gave me peace right now? "No, I'm not sure," I whispered, "but if we wait until we are, neither of us will find anyone."
That seemed to give him a measure of assurance, and I closed my eyes as he gently turned my face to his and tentatively kissed me, tasting of sugar and doughnuts. Feeling raced through me, heat from wanting something I said I never would pursue. His hand pulled me closer, and the slip of a tongue sent a dart of desire to my middle. Oh God, it felt good, and my mind raced as fast as my heart.
I didn't want this to be a mistake. I'd been with him for two months and proved neither of us was here for the physical stuff. So why not see if it worked?
Tension plinked through me, sharpening my thoughts and arraying an almost-forgotten possibility before me. Despite-or maybe because of-our platonic relationship, I wasn't ready to sleep with him. That would be just too weird, and Jenks would tell me I was overcompensating for something. But he was a ley line witch-I wasn't a slouch either-and though the age-old technique of drawing energy from one witch to another probably had its origins in our ancestral past to assure that strong witches procreated with strong witches to promote species strength, nowadays all that remained was insanely good foreplay. There was only one problem.
"Wait," I said, breathless as our kiss broke and reason filtered back into me.
Marshal's fingers slowed and dropped. "You're right. I should go. Dumb idea. I'll, uh, call you if you want. In about a year, maybe."
He sounded embarrassed, and I put a hand on his arm. "Marshal." Looking up, I shifted closer until our thighs touched. "Don't go." I swallowed hard. "I, uh, I haven't been with a witch in ages," I said in a small voice, unable to look up. "One who could pull on a line, I mean. I'd kind of like to...you know. But I don't know if I remember how."
His eyes widened as he understood, and his chagrin at my supposed rebuff was pushed out by something deeper, older: the question our DNA had written that begged to be answered. Who was the more proficient witch, and how much fun could we have finding that out?
"Rachel!" he said, his soft laugh turning me warm. "You don't forget stuff like that."
My mortification grew, but his gaze was one of understanding, and it gave me strength. "I didn't practice ley lines much then. Now..." I shrugged, embarrassed. "I don't know my limits. And with my aura being damaged..." I let my words trail off to nothing.
Marshal put his forehead against mine, his hands on my shoulders. "I'll be careful," he whispered. "Would you rather pull than push?" he said softly, hesitantly.
I flushed hot, but I nodded, still not looking at him. Pulling was more intimate, more soul stealing, more tender, more dangerous in terms of confusing it with love, but it was safer when the two people didn't know each other's ley line limits.
He leaned in slowly for an inquisitive kiss. My eyes closed as his lips met mine, and I exhaled into it, my grip on his shoulders tightening. I shifted to face him. Marshal responded, his hand going to the back of my head, possessive yet hesitant. His redwood scent sparked in me a rise of emotion, pure and untainted by the fear that had always lurked with Kisten. The kiss lacked the adrenaline push of fear, but it struck just as deep, hitting emotion born in our beginnings. There was danger in this not-so-innocent kiss. There was the potential for ecstasy or an equal amount of pain, and the dance would be very careful, as trust was only a promise between us.
My pulse leapt at the chance to see this through. A power pull didn't have to include sex, but it was probably the reason female witches always came back after playing with invariably more well-endowed human males. Even if humans could work the lines, they couldn't do a power pull. My only worry besides embarrassment was my compromised aura...It might hurt instead. It was basically the same thing Al used for punishment, forcing a line into me to cause pain, but it was like comparing a loving kiss to rape.
A trill of anticipation lit through me and was gone. Oh God. I hope I remember how to do this, 'cause I really want to.
I drew him to me even as I broke our kiss. My breath came fast, and eyes still shut, I leaned my head against his shoulder, lips open as I breathed in his scent. One of his hands held my waist, the other was lost in my hair. I tensed at the feel of his fingers. He knew I wasn't going to hit him with a blast of ley line force to repel him and his advances, but several millennia of instinct were hard to best with only a lifetime of experience, and we'd go slow.
I shifted, straddling his legs, pinning him to the back of the couch. A spike of anticipation dove deep. It was followed by worry. What if I couldn't loosen up enough to do this? My breath was fast, and with my hands laced behind his head, I opened my eyes to find his. Their deep brown was heady with a desire to match my own. I shifted, feeling him under me. "You ever done this with a friend before?" I asked.
"Nope, but there's a first time for everything," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice as well as see it. "You need to be quiet."
"I...," I managed to get out before his hands edged under my shirt and he kissed me again. My pulse hammered, and as the rough-smoothness of his hands explored my midriff and rose higher, his mouth on mine grew intense. I met his aggression with my own, sending my hands to his waist, dipping a finger beneath his jeans to prove I might do more someday.
I pressed into his warmth, deciding not to think anymore, but just to be. My chi was utterly empty, so with the soft hesitancy of a virginal kiss, I reached out my awareness and found the simmering energy his chi held. Marshal felt it. His hands on me tightened and relaxed, telling me to draw it from him, to set his entire body alight with the rush of adrenaline and the ecstasy of endorphins when I forcibly took it.
I exhaled, willing it to come.
The warmth of his hands on me flashed into tingles. In a sudden rush that shocked us, the balances equalized. Adrenaline spiked out of control. Marshal groaned, and, frightened, I tightened my awareness. Barriers clamped down, and I warmed in embarrassment. But the energy had come in smooth and pure, lacking the sickening nausea that a ley line left me in. Coming from a person, it had lost its jagged edges.
"Marshal," I gushed, totally miserable. "I'm sorry. I'm not good at this."
Marshal shuddered, opening one eye to focus on me. He had gone utterly pliant under me, frighteningly so. "Who says?" he whispered, sitting up to pull me farther onto his lap.
I was ready to throw myself out the window. I could feel the energy from him in my chi, scintillating and tasting of masculinity in my thoughts. It wanted to go back to him, but I was afraid. I'd closed myself to him, and it was going to be harder, now.
"Rachel," Marshal soothed, his hand running up and down my arm. "Relax. You've been carrying around chunks of ever-after with the intent of hurting people if they attack you, and because of that, you've built one hell of a wall."
"Yeah, but-"
"Just shut up," he said, giving me little kisses that distracted and sent tingles of desire building in me. "It's okay."
"Marshal-" This is so weird, kissing him, and I walled the thought off.
"Use your lips for something other than talking, will you? If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. No big deal."
"Mmmmph," I mumbled, surprised when he wrapped his arms around me and hiked me farther onto him, silencing my protests with his mouth. Giving up, I kissed him, feeling myself relax and tense up all at the same time.
My breath came faster as Marshal's hands started exploring, running across my jeans to drag me up where I could feel him pressing into me. I took his mouth with my own, finding a kiss, slowly tasting him as his redwood scent filled me. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I pushed back. It was my undoing.
I gasped, hands flying to his shoulders to shove away when he pulled on my chi. With an exquisite ping of adrenaline, I fought him, even as he gripped me harder, forcing me to stay. The shock was heady, and with a sound of desperation, I broke our kiss. Panting, I stared at him, breathless in the chill winter afternoon. Damn, that had felt good.
"Sorry, sorry," I panted, sexual excitement pounding in me.
"For what?" Marshal asked, heat in his gaze.
"I pulled away," I said, and he smiled.
"Take it back," he whispered, teasing me. His fingers touched everything, running smoothly over me to make me shiver in the dusky light coming through the slats. Here, there, never long anywhere, to drive me almost mad. Oh God, I'll make him beg for it.
Shivering from anticipation and desire, I leaned in. Marshal's scent was everywhere. I breathed him in, shutting off my thoughts. His hands were on my waist, and as I grew comfortable with our new closeness, I exhaled in a soft sound of pleasure as he found my breasts, nuzzling one of them through my shirt, then the other, bringing me stiff with anticipation until I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to wait, to make him ask for it with his body if not his words, but instead I exhaled, pulling from him every last erg of power in his chi.
Marshal groaned as the exquisite fulfillment of it rolled into me, mixed with the wicked feeling of domination and possession. He opened his eyes; the hot need showing in them set my heart pounding. I had taken from him, and now he was going to take from me.
He didn't wait. One hand behind my neck, he drew me down to kiss him. I knew it was coming, but I couldn't help my whispered cry as he touched my chi with his awareness and pulled everything from me, running it through my body and into his to leave glittering trails of loss and heat to spiral through me like smoke from an extinguished candle.
I didn't fight him. I was able to share this, and with our kiss holding, I steadied myself to wrestle it back. My knees pressed into his thighs, demanding it, taking it, making it mine.
Power pulled fast through him with the crack of a whip, and he gasped, his arms jumping up to imprison me. I breathed him in, feeling him inside me everywhere. I could taste him in my mind, in my soul. It was glorious. I could hardly stand it.
"Take it," I whispered, wanting to feel him do the same, but he grunted no. My moan turned into a pant of want, and spurred on, he gripped me more intensely until he touched my chi again, taking all of it in a wash of scintillation to leave only a trail of sparkles in my mind and an aching emptiness.
It was my turn to steal it back, but he took control of everything. In a mind-numbing pulse of force, he pushed the energy into me. I sucked in my air in shocked surprise, clutching him. "Oh God, don't stop," I gasped. It was as if I could feel him inside me, outside me, all around me. And then he drew it back again, leaving me almost weeping for it. "Marshal," I panted. "Marshal, please."
"Not yet," he groaned.
I gripped his shoulders, wanting everything. Wanting it all. Wanting it now.
"Now," I demanded, out of my mind with the self-enforced deprivation. He had my line energy, he had my fulfillment. His mouth found mine, and I begged. Not with my words, but with my body. I writhed for it, I pressed into him for it, I did everything but take it, finding the exquisite ache of unfulfilled need chiming through me, driving me to a fevered pitch.
And then he groaned, unable to deny it anymore. I moaned in release as the energy from his chi filled mine as we both climaxed. A rush of endorphins cascaded through us, bringing me to a back-arched, gasping halt. Marshal's grip on me shook, and I trembled as wave after wave smothered me, pulling me into a hyperalert state where nothing was real.
I heard a panting moan, then realized, embarrassed, that it was me. Slumping into him, I felt my senses return. Marshal was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling under me as his hand lay on my back, still at last. I exhaled, feeling the flow of energy between us sift back and forth without hindrance, leaving little tingles that faded to nothing as the forces balanced perfectly.
I lay against him with my head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat and deciding there were probably not too many more enjoyable ways to mess up your life than this. And fully clothed, too. Feeling the icy cold of the afternoon against me, I stirred. "You okay?" I asked, smiling as I felt him nod.
"How about you?" he asked, his voice more of a rumble than a real sound.
I listened for a moment, hearing nothing. No pixy wings, no roommate stomping around downstairs. "Never better," I said, feeling more at peace than I had in a long time. Marshal's chest began to bounce, and I pushed myself up when I realized he was laughing. "What?" I said, feeling like I was the butt of the joke.
"Marshal, I don't know if I remember how," he said in a falsetto. "It's been so long."
Relieved, I sat up and mock-punched his shoulder. "Shut up," I said, not minding that he was laughing at me. "I didn't."
Marshal eased me off his lap, and I snuggled up to him, both of us slouched with our heads on the back of the couch and our feet intertwined on the floor.
"You sure your aura is okay?" Marshal asked, almost too soft to hear. He turned to look in my eyes, and I smiled.
"Yeah. That was...Yeah." Marshal's arms wrapped around me as I made a move to get up, and giggling, I fell back into him.
"Good," he whispered in my ear, holding me all the closer.
I wasn't going to worry about what happened next. It truly wasn't worth it.