The Parting Glass (Caitlin Ross Book 4) (19 page)

“I haven’t got a clue.”

“I expect we’ll figure it out,” he sighed. “I expect we’ll have to.” To his sister, he added. “Thank you. That’s very…helpful.”

“If you say so. Are you coming home tonight?”

Timber glanced at me again, then back at Spruce. “Dinna wait up.”

Smirking, Spruce headed away, only to pop back to our table within seconds.

“I almost forgot.”

To my surprise, she swooped down on me and gathered me into a fierce hug.

“Thank you for taking care of my brother,” she whispered in my ear. “He can be an ass, but he’s worth it.”

Timber used me hard that night. After the afternoon’s activities, I could scarce credit he had it in him. Clearly I had underestimated his stamina, as well as his need to cling to some familiar comfort when troubled in his mind. Or maybe it gave him some relief to do something at which he was superbly skilled, for he was that, even when his ardor bordered on violence.

After he had wrung everything he could out of himself, and out of me, he lay awake, brooding in the dark. I rolled over and pressed my body against his, loving the feel of him, the lean length of him at my side. In a minute, he wrapped an arm around me.

“You canna want more,” he murmured into my hair.

“No. Maybe. Do you?”

“I dinna think it would help.” He stroked me a little. When he hit a sore spot on my hip, I couldn’t help wincing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldna have treated you so. You were right; I’m a bad man.”

“I allowed it,” I told him. “Not only allowed it. I enjoyed it. Does that make me a bad woman?”

“No.”

A long silence. I could feel the tension in his body despite the release of sex. I could feel the beat of his heart under the hand I had spread on his chest.

“You’re going to have to do it, you know,” I said at last.

He breathed in deep, let it out. “Aye. I know.”

After a time, we slept.

I woke to bright morning light and an empty bed. Before I had time to be concerned, however, I heard a scuffle from the hall.

“Och, McGuyver! Away with you. You’ll break my neck.”

In came Timber, damp from the shower, McGuyver winding around his ankles. The man smiled at me. The cat left off pestering Timber for attention and jumped onto the bed.

“I used your towel,” Timber said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Just the faintest hint of a burr. He’d come to some kind of terms with things, then.

“I don’t mind.” Considering the number of bodily fluids we’d shared, one dirty towel didn’t concern me.

“I used most of the hot water, as well.”

“I can wait. I think. What time is it?” I squinted at the clock, not yet awake enough to focus.

“Late.”

I sat up with a start. “How late?”

“Gone eight.”

I lay back down, sighing with relief. “That’s barely daylight.”

Chuckling, he sat on the bed next to me and toyed with my hair. “Not an early riser, are you?”

“Not if I can help it.” I pressed my head into his hand, enjoying his touch.

“I am. I’ve had a workout already.”

I eyed him distrustfully. Worked out, did he? Well, with the physique he sported, it figured.

“I would have had a run, but I didn’t bring the proper shoes. I’d not thought to have the time.”

“You run?” I turned to face him. “Timber, I don’t know if this is going to work. I’m a slug.”

“A delightful slug.” He bent and kissed me, taking his time about it. “Your hair on the pillow is like a sunset. An auburn sunset.” He kissed me again, then released me and moved away.

“Where are you going?” I complained.

“I’ve made up my mind to the business; I need to be about it. See if I can make head or tail of the message Stonefeather sent me. See if anyone knows where ‘the Moon lives on the Mountain.’” He picked his jeans up off the floor, wrinkling his nose. “I’m not so keen on putting these back on, though. I’ve been wearing them all week.”

“Stay. I’ll throw them in the wash.”

He cast one of his burning looks over his shoulder at me. “You do tempt me. But better not.” He pulled his jeans over his hips. “If I stay with you now, I’ll never leave. I’ll pick up something clean at Spruce’s.”

“Oh, very well.” I watched him pull his shirt on. “I suppose I’d better open up the shop, anyway. My hours have been all too irregular since you showed up.”

“Aye,” he agreed absent-mindedly, padding over to the dresser to reclaim the stuff that lived in his pockets. I didn’t recall his taking the time to remove it all last night. Likely he’d done it before his…workout. Ugh.

I sat up to examine my lover’s possessions. He’d told me he didn’t carry much about, and now I saw the truth of it. A key ring, not very full. A wad of bills. A fistful of change. A piece of hematite and a crystal. A neat hank of twine. Something red.

“What’s that?”

“A wee bit of protection.”

He tossed it at me. Red cloth done up with red string, it made a faint crunching sound in my hand. Herbs, I thought, sniffing. Yes: sage and sweetgrass.

“It’s covered in sawdust.” I tossed it back.

“Aye.” He snatched it out of the air without looking. “It would be. I’ve carried it a long time, ken.”

He thrust it in his pocket and reached for something resembling a wadded-up tissue. His hand slowed as if he couldn’t quite remember where the item had come from or why he kept it. Then he did, and sat down hard on my feet.

“Shite. The Moon on the Mountain.”

“Ow.” I pulled my feet out from under him. He didn’t seem to notice. “Timber, what is it?”

“Moon Pie,” he said, passing the white thing to me. It was a folded cocktail napkin, much the worse for wear. “I got her number at the Sundown, the night before the Solstice. Stonefeather’s with her.”

Opening the napkin, I saw that someone had indeed written on it with a blue felt-tip pen. But the ink had run and faded so much, I couldn’t make out what it said.

“It’s illegible.” I handed the napkin back to him.

“It would be. I had it in my pocket when I walked into the creek.” He rested his head in his hand. “Shite. Now what?”

“It’s not a disaster.” I scooted closer, to touch his shoulder. He covered my hand with his in a preoccupied way. “Moon Pie is a fixture. Someone is bound to know where she lives, or at least where she hangs out. You go on with what you had planned. Go to Spruce’s and get some clean clothes; you’ll feel better. And then turn on that charm you have in such abundance. Go to the Mall and ask around. Go back to the Sundown.”

“What about you?” He eyed me warily through his damp hair.

“I’ll stay here and open the store and make some calls. Between us, we’re bound to turn something up.”

“All right.” He squared his shoulders, making his mind up to the plan.

I got out of bed and began to rummage around for clothes. “Can I make you something before you go? Coffee?”

“Thanks, no.” He retrieved his boots from the foot of the bed and bent to lace them. “I’ll pick something up on my way. Caitlin…”

“Mmmm?” I’d given up on the dresser and opened the closet to weigh the merits of various sundresses and skirts.

“Gods, woman, put something on,” Timber entreated me. “Anything. I canna think with you prancing about naked. The sight of you gives me a terrific cockstand and I want nothing more than to throw you on the bed and ravish you.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Not without reluctance, I pulled a dress out of my closet at random and threw it on. “Better?”

“Hardly.” His lip twitched. Trying not to laugh at himself, I thought. “I know you’ve nothing under that, ken.”

“I’ll remember to invest in purdah the next time I go shopping. What is it you wanted to say?”

“When we find Stonefeather…” He hesitated, scuffing his feet like a schoolboy caught out in mischief. “Well, things will  move fast, aye? I’ll want to have what I need at hand.”

“So bring your stuff from Spruce’s.” I shrugged and selected a different skirt and blouse from my wardrobe. Something more suitable for the store than the skanky tube dress I had on. “I have plenty of room. Unless part of your shaman’s kit is an elephant or something.”

“No elephant,” he assured me. His face brightened, I assumed at having a clear plan of action. Coming to my side, he stooped to plant a lengthy kiss on my lips.

“Go!” I shooed him away. “Or I’ll be the one doing the ravishing.”

“Later,” he promised.

I turned back to my closet, and heard the sound of his boots tripping down the stairs. Almost light-hearted. Before long, the door slammed. I knelt on the bed to look out the window, and saw him bounce off down the street. I had no idea what had caused his sudden change of mood, but I was glad for it. Whatever it was.

I was shampooing my hair before I realized that I had just invited Timber MacDuff to move in with me.

Chapter Sixteen

I
t seemed the entire metaphysical population of Boulder had been waiting for that particular Friday in June to descend upon Beljoxa’s Eye. In the first four hours I had the store open, I counseled five people on choosing the right spiritual path, dug out three musty volumes on Transcendental Meditation I’d stored in the attic for years, twice demonstrated the use of rune stones—not my forte—sold three pentacles, a hideous chakra stone ring and a Thor’s hammer from the jewelry case, and performed two emergency Tarot readings. Before noon, I wished I had mastered the art of bilocation.

Timber came and went. Around eleven, he showed up bearing a medium-sized backpack and a large canvas bag, which he took upstairs before departing again. He turned up at two, only to disappear carrying a smudge stick. It didn’t look like the kind I stocked, so I assumed he’d dug it out of his kit. Both times, I had my hands full with customers and couldn’t spare the time to do more than exchange a rueful glance with him as he headed out the door. Around four-thirty, when I took a short break to breathe and pee, I caught sight of him through the bathroom window. He was sitting on the back stoop with McGuyver, dangling an oak pendulum from one hand and watching its movement with a frown. If I’d tried something like that, McGuyver would have insisted on “helping” the pendulum along. For Timber, he sat still and solemn as a statue.

Soon after, I had to deal with a minor crisis in the book room, when an older gentleman pulled Buckland’s
Complete Book of Witchcraft
off the shelf and found McGuyver’s dead finch. I got out of that one without having to call an ambulance, only just. When I had time to look again, Timber had gone.

Of course, it all meant I had no opportunity to make any phone calls, hunting for a lead on Moon Pie.

Six-thirty found the shop empty at last, and me lying spread-eagled in the middle of the showroom floor, eyes closed, utterly exhausted. I hadn’t had such a day since my Grand Opening three years before. Maybe not even then.

The bells strung on the front door jingled. Crap. I hadn’t locked up.

“I’m closed!” I yelled without moving.

Already attuned to Timber’s energy, I knew him before he spoke.

“It’s me.” His presence got closer, and in a minute he plopped down beside me, the curve of his back pressing into my side. He felt dispirited, and as drained as I.

“No luck?” I squinted up in time to see him shake his head.

“I’ve been all over this blighted town. Twice. My feet hurt.” He unlaced his boots and kicked them off. “I’ve spoken to everything with a tongue, and some things without. I’ve charmed the stockings off bag ladies and the tips out of waitresses’ pockets.”

I giggled. “You didn’t.”

“No, I didna, but the thought did occur to me,” he allowed. “I’ve no charm left in me. And none of it served me. I’m done in.”

With a groan, he collapsed backward over my supine body.

“Oof,” I grunted as his weight drove my backbone an inch or two into the floor. I stroked his hair back from his forehead. “The Sundown?”

“No luck. She’s not a regular, and the barkeep who gave me her number the other day wasna there. And no one would shoot pool with me. They’d been warned,” he added darkly.

“You didn’t turn up a single person who knew her? Weird. She’s a fixture.”

“Oh, people kent her well enough.” He arched his back, cracking his spine. “But not one could say where I might find her. Not with any certainty. I gather she gets around.” He pushed his head into my hand. “Ah, that’s good.”

“I didn’t get a chance to make any calls.”

“Aye. I saw how busy you were.”

“I’m never so busy.” I stroked his hair some more, liking the feel of it running through my fingers. “I could almost think something set me up.”

Timber rolled off me and stretched out on his stomach at my side. Raising himself up on his forearms, he said, “D’ye think it likely?”

“No. I think it likelier the Universe is setting
you
up.”

“How d’ye mean?” His brow puckered; he wasn’t keen on the idea.

“It’s
your
test. Things may be conspiring not to make it too easy. So you have to make a real effort to succeed.”

“Hell.” He planted his face in the floor with a thunk, and I heard a series of muffled Gaelic curses. Before I could come up with anything reassuring to say, the phone rang.

“Gods.” Timber flung himself onto his back and scowled at the ceiling. “Let the machine get it, aye?”

“No, I’d better answer. Who knows? It might be important.” I dragged myself to my feet and across the store to the counter. “Besides, as long as I’m up, I can make some of those calls.”

“What about dinner?”

“See what’s in the fridge. We may have to send out.”

Grumbling a little, Timber got up and lurched in the direction of the kitchen. I reached for the jangling phone, picking up the receiver just before the machine kicked in.

“This is Caitlin.”

“Hey, Girl!” Sage’s voice came over the line at its predictable double volume. I held the receiver away from my ear, wincing. “Are we on for dinner? I thought maybe Nepali. I got a taste for some of those dumplings.”

And again, crap. With everything else going on, I’d forgotten Sage’s and my standing Friday-night dinner date.

“Can I give you a rain check?” I asked. “I’ve had a day and a half, and I’m beat.”

“Sure thing. How you holding up?” she asked after a pause. I remembered I hadn’t seen her since Terrible Tuesday. Her uncertain tone told me she didn’t want to go into it with much depth. Sage didn’t do sympathy. Still, I heard her very real worry. It touched me.

“I’m pretty good. Busy.”

“You heard anything from Stonefeather?”

“Ummm.”

Timber chose that moment to yell from the kitchen. “You dinna have anything but more hummus and some sour milk! And McGuyver says he wants fed. Shall I do it?”

“Caitlin.” I could see Sage’s eyes narrowing from all the way across town. “Is there someone with you?”

“Ummm,” I said again. Covering the phone receiver with my hand, I called, “Yeah, go ahead! The food’s in the tin on the counter.”

“Caitlin,” Sage repeated, imbuing my name with a not-so-subtle threat.

I heard kibble rattle into McGuyver’s dish. Soon after, Timber appeared in the kitchen doorway, speaking over his shoulder, loudly enough to make it plain his words were for my benefit as well as the cat’s.

“Aye, it’s garbage. You’ll get no argument from me on that score. Aye, I ken why you take the odd bird or two. I expect I’d do the same.”

“Tell him if he leaves another bird where it’s going to give one of my customers a head start on his next life, he’ll lose his happy home,” I shot back, forgetting to cover the phone.

“Caitlin!” Sage snapped. “Who the hell you talking to?” She paused for thought, and came up with the explanation on her own. Her mode switched from impatience to delight. “You got a man with you? That was fast work! Anyone I know?”

I swallowed. No getting around it. I couldn’t lie to Sage. Hell, I couldn’t lie to anyone.

“It’s Timber.”

“That MacDuff bastard?” Outrage rang in every syllable. I had a sudden, horrible vision of all three hundred pounds of Sage, Erzulie in tow, hurtling across town like an avenging comet, trailing fire in her wake. “What’s he doing there? You ain’t seeing him again! Tell me you ain’t!”

“Well, the Stonefeather thing…” I began.

“I don’t give Mami Wata’s two titties for the Stonefeather thing!” Sage shouted. “You tell me what you doing with that man in your house!”

I lifted my eyes to the ceiling, but no help came from heaven to bail me out. Timber leaned in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed on his chest, regarding my plight with interest. No doubt he’d heard every word. I turned my back on him and lowered my voice.

“He says he’s in love with me, Sage.”

“Yeah, and I got some real nice property in the middle of Boulder reservoir to sell you. Cheap.”

“I believe him.”

Sage snorted. “After what he did? Honey, that ain’t the way a man treats a woman he loves. And you’ve known him, what? A week?”

“Just.” I had a hard time crediting it had been so little time since Timber had first appeared on my doorstep.

“Uh-huh. Now you, you I believe. You give your heart away the way the bank gives away free toasters. But ain’t no man gonna do the same.”

I glanced at Timber again. He’d begun to look rather concerned. How could I explain, in a way Sage would accept, or even understand, the strange fascination that had tangled up the threads of our lives? She didn’t have faith in Soul Mates; she’d told me so before. Sometimes I thought it a stupid concept, myself. But I had no other word for Timber and me. Nothing else encompassed the way our talents meshed, the easy intimacy between us on such a short acquaintance.

“Let me talk with her.” Timber appeared beside me, reaching for the phone. I held it out of his way.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Love, she’s not wrong about me. Not all the way. She cares about you. I hurt you, and I’ve done nothing to earn her trust. It’s only right that I swallow whatever medicine she wants to dish out.”

He stretched out his hand. With a sigh, I put the phone into it.

“Give a man some space, then.” Timber flicked his fingers at me. “I’ll take what I deserve, but it doesna mean I want you to watch.”

I retreated into the kitchen and conducted my own survey of the fridge, trying hard not to eavesdrop. Timber was right; the milk had gone sour. I dumped it. I had a few basic ingredients besides the hummus, but nothing I wanted to make any effort over. We’d have to go out.

After what seemed a very long time, Timber called me back to the phone.

“She wants to talk to you.”

Timidly, I put the receiver to my ear.

“I don’t like him,” Sage declared. Either Timber had told the truth when he said he’d used up all his charm, or it hadn’t worked on my friend. “And I sure as sin don’t trust him. But if he’s what you want, I won’t make a fuss.”

I sighed in relief. Not a great concession, but better than I’d expected. “He’s what I want.”

“I
will
have my eye on you.”

“Okay.”

“And for lord’s sake,
be careful!
”

I took her meaning. Oops. I’d better do something about that. Later. When I had time.

“I will,” I promised.

“All right,” she sniffed. “I’ll let you get back to the brute.”

“Thank you.” I started to ring off. Then I remembered I’d intended to call Sage anyway. “Oh, wait. Sage, you know Moon Pie?”

“Who doesn’t?” Her suspicion returned. “Why? You ain’t looking for a three-way with that flake?”

“As if!” I stuttered. The thought had not even occurred to me, and I wished it still hadn’t. Ewww. “No! Someone saw Stonefeather with her, and we think she may know where he’s gone. But we can’t find her.”

“Stonefeather and Marilyn, huh?” Sage thought about it. “It makes some kind of bizarre sense. But I can’t help you, Honey. I got no truck with what that woman gets up to.”

She sounded offended. I wondered what she knew that I didn’t.

“But I can tell you who would know,” she went on. “You go on down to the cab stand, around about nine or ten. Ask the drivers. Moon Pie always takes cabs. One of those boys is bound to have seen her.”

“That is a really good idea.” Cabbies, huh? Sage, I knew, cabbed it a lot. I never did. If I couldn’t walk somewhere, I took a bus or stayed home. Doubtless that’s why Sage always had better gossip than I did. “Thank you.”

I rang off and passed along Sage’s suggestion. Timber reacted as I had, right down to using the same words.

“Cabbies, eh? Good idea. If I’d known to, I’d have asked when I was out.”

“Wouldn’t have done any good,” I assured him. “We want the night shift. So we have a couple hours to kill.”

“Food,” Timber insisted in response to my suggestive look. He did, however, wrap his arms around me. “You’ll wear me to a bone, else. I’d no idea you’d prove so insatiable. I’d have bulked up before I left Portland.”