The Outlaw Demon Wails (18 page)

I stifled a shiver, and my hand rose up to cover my neck.

“It's no effort at all,” he said, then put his hat on.

Okay, he was keeping my butt safe from vampires. “I appreciate that,” I said grudgingly. “Thank you.”

A copper spell pot grated against the salt when Rynn Cormel pushed it aside with the toe of his dress shoe. “That's hard for you, isn't it? Owing someone?”

“I don't—” I started, then grimaced, rubbing my back where a cupboard knob had raked my skin. “Yes,” I finally admitted, hating it.

His smile grew to show a slip of teeth, and he turned as if to leave. “Then I expect you to honor that.”

“I don't belong to you,” I shot after him, and he turned in the threshold, looking good in his long coat and stylish hat. His eyes were black, but I wasn't afraid of him. Ivy was a bigger threat, hunting me slowly. But I was letting her do it, too.

“I meant, I expect you to honor your relationship with Ivy.”

“I do that already,” I said, clasping my arms about myself.

“Then we are in perfect understanding.”

He again turned to leave, and I followed him into the hall. My thoughts went to Ivy, then Marshal. He wasn't my boyfriend, but he was new in my life. And we were having the hardest time getting together to do the simplest thing. “Are you the reason Marshal and I weren't able to get together this afternoon?” I accused. “Are you going to drive him away so Ivy and I will fall into bed together?”

He was in my living room, and from over his shoulder he said, “Yes.”

My lips pressed together, and my slippers scuffed the wood floor we had found under the carpet. “Leave Marshal alone,” I said, hands on my hips. Kisten's bracelet fell to my wrist, and I shoved it back into hiding. “He's just a guy. And if I want to sleep with someone, I'm going to. You running off men isn't going to send me rushing into Ivy's arms, it's going to piss me off and make me miserable to live with. Got it?”

I suddenly realized I was swearing at a past leader of the United States, and I flushed. “Sorry for barking at you,” I muttered as I fingered Kisten's bracelet and felt guilty. “It's been a hard day.”

“My apologies,” he said, so sincerely that I almost believed it. “I'll stop interfering.”

I took a breath and unclenched my teeth before I gave myself a headache. “Thank you.”

The sound of the front door crashing open made me jump. Rynn Cormel took his hand from the door and turned to face the hall.

“Rachel?” came Ivy's worried voice. “Rachel! You okay? There's a couple of guys out front in a car.”

I glanced at Rynn Cormel. His eyes had gone black. Hunger black. “Uh, I'm fine!” I sang out. “I'm back here. Uh, Ivy?”

“Damn it all to hell,” she swore, her boots clunking in the hall. “I told you to stay on holy ground!”

She barreled into the living room, almost pinwheeling to a stop. She flashed red, her short, dark hair swinging as she stopped. Her hand went first to her bare neck, then she forced it down to her leather-clad hip. “Excuse me,” she said, her face going pale. “I've interrupted.”

Rynn Cormel shifted his weight, and she cringed. “No, you're fine, Ivy,” he said, his voice now deeper and measured. He had lightened his usual demeanor to lull me, and it had worked. “I'm glad you're here.”

Ivy looked up, clearly embarrassed. “I'm sorry about your men at the car. I didn't recognize them. They tried to stop me from coming in.”

My eyebrows rose, and Rynn Cormel's laughter shocked both Ivy and me. “If you bested them, they deserved it and needed the reminder. Thank you for correcting their poor interpretation of your skills.”

Ivy licked her lips. It was a nervous habit I didn't see often, and my tension rose. “Um,” she hedged, trying to tuck her short hair behind an ear. “I think I ought to call an ambulance. I broke a few things.”

Looking like he didn't care, the master vampire eased forward and, very slowly, took her perfect hand in his scarred one. “You're too kind.”

Ivy looked at her fingers among his, blinking fast.

“Rachel is a powerful young woman,” he said, and I suddenly felt like I'd passed some sort of test. “I can see why you are attracted to her. You have my blessing to cultivate a scion relationship with her, if that is what you want.”

My anger rose, but Ivy shot me a look to shut me up. “Thank you,” she said, and I got even more mad when Rynn Cormel smiled smugly, knowing I'd held my tongue because Ivy had asked me to. Then I thought,
So what? Why should I care what he thinks if he'll leave us alone?

Rynn Cormel took another step closer to Ivy, curving an arm about her waist in a familiar fashion that I didn't like. “Would you accompany
me this evening, Ivy? Now that I have seen your friend, I understand better. I'd like to…try another angle, if you are willing.”

Try another angle?
I thought, seeing the hinted hunger in him, luring her.
Working on a sequel, are we?
I didn't agree with how vampire society worked, but Ivy took a relieved breath, her eyes positively lighting. “Yes,” she said quickly, but then her gaze slid to me.

“Go,” I said sourly, glad she hadn't seen the demolished kitchen. “I'll be fine.”

She eased closer to Rynn Cormel, her lean, leather-clad body looking fabulous next to his polished refinement. “You're not on hallowed ground,” she said.

“Al won't be back.” I glanced at Rynn Cormel's light grip on her shoulder. “I'm fine.”

Ivy pulled away from him, reaching for me. “He was here?” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine!” I said, backing up until her outstretched hand dropped. My gaze went to Rynn Cormel, and I didn't like the smile he was hiding.

“I told you not to go onto unsanctified ground,” Ivy almost scolded. “God, Rachel, I made you a sign!”

“I forgot, okay?” I shot back at her. “I took it down because it ticked me off, and I forgot. I was so flustered about your
master vampire
paying me a visit that I forgot!”

Ivy hesitated, then said softly, “Okay.”

“Okay,” I repeated, feeling my anger die at her quick admission.

“Well…okay.”

I glared at Rynn Cormel, who was adjusting his hat and smiling at the exchange.

“I'll get on hallowed ground,” I said, just wanting her to leave.

Ivy took a rocking step toward the door, then hesitated. “What about dinner? You can't order pizza. Al might deliver it.”

“Marshal is coming over,” I said, looking pointedly at Rynn Cormel as he evaluated the exchange. “He's bringing dinner.”

A flash of jealousy passed over Ivy, dying fast. Rynn Cormel saw both its birth and death, and when he met my gaze, I knew he realized Ivy and
I had already set up the rules for our relationship—and those rules included other people. Most vampiric relationships did, though that did nothing for my sense of morality.

“I'll see you about sunrise,” she said, and the master vampire's eyebrows rose. Ivy gave me a tight-lipped smile and turned to Rynn Cormel.

“Ivy,” he said, offering his arm.

“Mr. Cormel,” she said back, sounding flustered as she didn't take it. “Um, could you sign your book for me before we go?”

My breath hesitated, and I stiffened.
Oh, God. Not the vampire dating guide.

Ivy turned to me, her expression eager. I didn't see this side of her often, and it was kind of scary. “You've still got it, don't you?” she asked. “Is it still on your bedside table?”

“Ivy!” I exclaimed, backing up, my face hot. Crap.
Now he knows I've read it
. My thoughts flicked to page forty-nine, and I stared in horror when Rynn Cormel laughed at my expression. “It was so I would stop stomping on her instincts!” I babbled, and he laughed all the more.

Ivy was starting to look ticked, and Rynn Cormel took her arm to escort her out. “I would love to sign your copy,” he said as he led her to the back door. “I'm sure Rachel will find it for you, and you can bring it over next time.” He smiled over his shoulder at me as he opened the door and the coolness of the night slipped in. “She might want to peruse it first,” he added, and my jaw clenched.

“I've already perused it,” I said loudly, and the door shut behind them with a soft click.

“God help me,” I muttered as I fell back into Ivy's old couch and breathed in the puff of vampire incense that I'd kicked up from the cushions. If she wanted Rynn Cormel to sign her book, she could damn well dig it out from the back of my closet herself. I didn't even know for sure if it was still there. But, staring at the ceiling, I wondered if Ivy might find happiness in a real vampiric relationship with Rynn Cormel. She seemed positively besotted.

My thoughts drifted to Kisten, and I wondered if she felt any of the guilt I did.

The quiet of the church soaked into me, and in the distance, I heard the sound of a car starting up. “Kitchen,” I said to myself, and sat up. Yeah, I had told Ivy I'd get on hallowed ground, but I wasn't going to let that mess sit until tomorrow. Tomorrow I was going out with David, and once I knocked some sense into a happy band of demon summoners, I'd have my life back. Such as it was.

I stood in the threshold of the kitchen and sighed at the destruction. Maybe I could pay the pixies to clean it up. But they were tucked into the stump until the warmth of sunrise, so, resigned to the mess, I scuffed in. My back hurt as I picked up the broken clock and set it on the counter. Most of the rack was on the floor, and deciding I'd pile everything up now and sort it later, I went to the cupboard to get the broom.

It was going to be a long night.

The moon was shining in the kitchen window as I wiped my footprints off the island counter. I was almost finished with cleaning up. It had taken a twenty-pixy-escort trip out to the shed for my toolbox, but I'd found a metal plate and a few wood screws to tack the rack together. I wasn't going to put anything heavier than herbs on it, but at least it wasn't hanging cockeyed from the ceiling. Yes, I had told Ivy I'd get on sanctified ground, but for some inane reason, I trusted that Al wasn't going to show up, as some weird thank-you for not siccing Minias on him. Tomorrow he'd try to abduct me again, but tonight I was safe. And I never had told Ivy when I'd actually
get
to holy ground. Besides, Marshal was coming over, and the kitchen table was less datelike than the couch.

Tossing the dishcloth onto the table, I knelt before the open shelves under the counter. I had simply shoved everything in there on my first pass through, and it was a mess. If I couldn't hang the smaller spell pots and utensils back up, I'd have to do some rearranging. My splat gun sat in the small spell pot nestled in with the rest on the bottom shelf, right where I'd need it if I was crawling. That was where it would stay. But the ceramic spoons needed a new home.

Gathering up the spoons and long utensils, I arranged them in a glass vase I'd pulled out of the back of a cupboard. I pushed my spell books down and used the vase as a bookend, taking up the space where the book Al had destroyed had been.

Unhappy, I sat back on my heels and considered my smaller library. I'd never be able to replace the book he had burned. Sure, I could pick up another at just about any charm shop, but mine had had notes and everything in it. I wondered if perhaps I ought to move the more valuable demon curse books onto hallowed ground. I'd been lucky Al hadn't destroyed one of them instead. Or maybe I was unlucky, seeing as I still had them.

My fingers tingled as I pulled out the three books in question. I stood, and after running my arm across the counter to make sure it was dry, I set them down.

“Moving them?” Jenks questioned, and I looked to where he was examining my handiwork, his fists on his hips as he hovered at the mended rack.

“Maybe,” I said glumly.

His wings made a soft hum, and I swung my hair out of the way as he approached, but he landed on the counter instead. “If that gargoyle weren't up there, I'd say put them in the belfry.”

A wince crinkled my eyes as I imagined the extreme temperatures. “He's
in
the belfry?”

Jenks lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “No, but he's on the roof beside the window. Tink's titties, I never see the thing move. One minute he's here, the next he's there, and when he's not asleep, I don't know where he is. At any rate, it might be better than putting them under your bed. Ivy said the guy who blessed the church said the belfry was super holy.”

Super holy, eh? Maybe I should sleep up there.
Worried, I pushed the books to the corner to make room for the rest of the under-counter stuff. “I don't know….” My nose tickled as I weeded through the stack of herbs I'd been messing with to modify an existing charm to give Ivy a measure of control over her blood lust. It wasn't going well. She didn't like trying them out, taking them on her dates so if it didn't work, I wouldn't have to fight her off. Nothing seemed to have an effect, and I wondered if she was really trying them or just telling me she was. Ivy
didn't like my magic touching her, though she thought me blasting anyone else was cool.

Jenks dropped to land beside the curse books. His tiny features were worried as he watched me shake a sheaf of feverfew to get the tansy off it. “You aren't going to keep that, are you?” he asked, and I glanced up from picking cat hair off it.

“You don't think I should?”

“They aren't pure anymore.” He kicked a dry stem, making little chips fall off. “You got pieces of rosemary on the coneflower, and coneflower seeds sticking to the dandelions. Who knows what they will do, especially if you're experimenting.”

I looked at the pile of dried herbs thinking it would be a lot easier to just chuck it out the back door, but I was afraid that if I did that, I might simply give up. Adapting charms was hard. I could follow a recipe, but my mother was like a gourmet chef, and I had never appreciated that until I tried to do it myself. “Maybe you're right.”

Mood souring, I shook out a brown paper bag and shoved a year's worth of gardening into it. The rasping sound cut through the silence, and I felt sick as I wadded the top of the bag down and jammed it all into the trash under the sink. Turning, I deemed the kitchen reasonably clean. The rack was empty, and I wondered if I should just give up on the charm for controlling Ivy's blood lust. Ivy wasn't helping, and it was really hard. Depressed, I slumped into my chair at the table.

“I don't know if I can do this, Jenks,” I said, putting my elbows on the table and exhaling with a sigh. “My mother makes it look so easy. Maybe I'll get farther if I mix some ley line magic with the earth charms. I mean, ley line magic is mostly symbolism and word choice, making it more flexible.”

Jenks's wings blurred into motion and stopped. Tossing his blond hair from his eyes, he frowned, almost sitting on the demon text and catching himself at the last moment, wings going full tilt. “Mix earth and ley line magic? Isn't that what makes a demon curse?”

Fear slid through me and away. “It won't be a demon curse if I invent it, will it?”

His wings drooped and he seemed to slump. “I don't know. Marshal's here.”

I sat up and glanced over the kitchen. “How do you know?”

“He drives a diesel, and one just pulled up to the curb.”

A smile curved over me. “He's got a diesel engine?”

Spilling a glittering path of dust, Jenks rose. “Probably needs it to pull his big-ass boat out of the water. I'll get the door. I want to talk to him.”

“Jenks,” I warned, and he laughed, halfway to the hall.

“About Al being after you. God, Rachel! I'm not your daddy.”

I relaxed, then got to my feet and shoved the demon books under the counter, vowing to do some rearranging tomorrow when the sun was up. I heard the front door open before the bell even rang, and a masculine greeting filtered softly back to me in a way that sounded really…comforting.

“Is she all right?” came Marshal's soft query from the sanctuary, but I didn't hear Jenks's response. “No, that's cool,” he added, clearly closer, and I spun to the hallway at the soft sound of the floorboards creaking and the smell of hot rice.

“Hi, Marshal,” I said, glad to see him. “You made it.”

Marshal had taken the time to get out of his interview clothes, and he looked good in jeans and a soft flannel shirt of rich blue. There was a folded newspaper under his arm, and he set it and the steam-damp bag on the table before taking off his coat. “I was starting to think the world was conspiring against us,” he said. “Jenks said you had a rough early evening.”

I glanced at Jenks, wondering what he had told Marshal. I shrugged, arms wrapping around my middle. “I survived.”

“Survived?” Jenks landed on top of the rolled-down bag. “We kicked that demon's ass from here to the Turn. Don't sell yourself short, Rache.”

Marshal hung his coat on the back of Ivy's chair, pausing to watch Jenks manhandle the bag open. “I like your church,” he said, gazing at the kitchen. “It suits you.”

“Thanks.” A flash of gratitude went through me. He didn't pry, didn't ask why a demon had been in my kitchen, didn't take my hand and peer into my eyes and ask me if I was okay and did I need to sit down, didn't tell me I was going to die young and that I should take up canasta instead.
He accepted my explanation and let it go. I didn't think it was because he didn't care either. I think it was because he wanted to wait until I was comfortable and told him myself. And that meant a lot. Kisten had been like that, too.

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?