The Outlaw Demon Wails

Four

"Marshal?" I exclaimed as my thoughts realigned and I figured out who was standing in our threshold. "What are you doing here?" I added as I headed back.

He shrugged and smiled, and the cracker plate dangled from my hand as I pushed past a belligerent Ivy to give him a one-armed hug. Dropping back a step, I warmed, but damn, it was good to see him. I had felt really guilty watching him swim back to his boat last spring, having to go on hearsay that he made it back all right and that the Mackinaw Weres were leaving him alone. But not contacting him had been the best thing to ensure his anonymity and safety.

The tall, wide-shouldered man continued to grin. "Jenks left his hat on my boat," he said, extending the red leather cap to me.

"You did not come all the way down here for that," I said as I took it, then squinted at the dark shadow of an infant beard on him. "You've got hair! When did you get hair?"

Taking off his knitted cap, he ducked his head to show its fuzz. "Last week. I brought the boat in for the season, and when I'm not wearing a wet suit, I can let it all grow back." His brown eyes pinched in mock agony. "I itch like crazy. Everywhere."

Ivy had moved back a step, and setting the cracker plate on the table beside the door, I took his arm and pulled him in. The scent of his short wool coat was strong, and I breathed it in, thinking I could smell gas fumes mixing with the strong redwood smell that meant witch. "Come on in," I said, waiting for him to finish wiping his boots on the mat before he followed me into the sanctuary.

"Ivy, this is Marshal," I said, seeing her with her arms crossed over her middle and David's hat in her grip. "The guy who got me out to the island at Mackinaw and let me run off with his diving gear. Remember?" It sounded stupid, but she hadn't said anything yet, and I was getting nervous.

Ivy's eye twitched. "Of course. But Jenks and I didn't see him at the high school pool when we returned his stuff, so I never met him. It's a pleasure." Dropping David's hat on the small table beside the door, she extended her hand, and Marshal took it. He was still smiling, but it was growing thin.

"Well, this is it," I said, gesturing to the sanctuary and the rest of the unseen church. "Proof that I'm not crazy. You want to sit down? You don't have to leave right away, do you? Jenks will want to say hi." I was babbling, but Ivy wasn't being nice, and she'd already driven one man out of the church tonight.

"Sure. I can stay for a minute." Marshal took his coat off as he followed me to the furniture clustered in the corner. I watched him take a deep breath of the chili-scented air, and I wondered if he'd stay if I asked. Plopping myself down in my chair, I gave him a once-over as Marshal eased his lean swimmer's body down to the edge of the couch. Clearly not yet ready to relax, the tall man sat on the edge with his arms flat on his legs.

Marshal was wearing jeans and a dark green pullover that had a backwoods look to it, the color going well with his honey-colored skin. He looked great sitting there, even if his eyebrows weren't grown in yet and he'd nicked himself shaving. I remembered how utterly in control he had looked on his boat, dressed in a swimsuit and an unzipped red windbreaker that showed skin so smooth it glistened and beautiful, beautiful abs. God, he had had nice abs. Must be from all the swimming.

Suddenly shocked, I froze. Guilt turned my skin cold, and I settled into my chair, heartache riding high where enthusiasm had just flowed. I had loved Kisten. I still loved him. That I'd forgotten for even an instant was both a surprise and a pain. I'd been listening to Ivy and Jenks long enough to know this was part of my pattern of getting hurt and then finding someone to hide the pain with, but I wasn't going to be that person anymore. I couldn't afford to be. And if I saw it, I could stop it.

But it was really good to see Marshal. He was proof that I didn't kill everyone I came in contact with, and that was a welcome relief.

"Uh," I stammered when I realized no one was talking. "I think my old boyfriend stole some of your gear before he went off the bridge. Sorry."

Marshal's wandering attention lighted briefly on the bruise on my neck before rising to my eyes. I think he recognized something had shifted, but he wasn't going to ask. "The FIB found my stuff on the shore a week later. No problem."

"I didn't have a clue he was going to do that," I said. "I'm really sorry."

He smiled faintly. "I know. I saw the news. You look good in cuffs."

Ivy leaned against the wall by the hallway where she could see both of us. She looked left out, but that was her own fault. She could sit down and join us. I flashed her a glance, which she ignored, then turned to Marshal. "You didn't really drive all the way down here to give Jenks his hat, did you?"

"No…" Marshal dropped his head. "I'm here for an interview at the university, and I wanted to see if you were jerking me around or if you really did have a job where you thought you could take on an entire Were pack alone."

"I wasn't alone," I said, flustered. "Jenks was with me."

Ivy uncrossed her ankles and pushed herself away from the wall an instant before Jenks zipped in, wings clattering. "Marshal!" the exuberant pixy shouted, dust slipping from him to make a sunbeam on the floor. "Holy crap! What the hell are you doing here?"

Marshal's jaw dropped. For an instant, I thought he was going to stand up, but then he fell all the way back into the couch. "Jenks?" He stammered. His eyes were wide as he looked at me and I nodded. "I thought you were kidding about him being a pixy."

"Nope," I said, enjoying Marshal's disbelief.

"What you doin' here, old dog!" the pixy said, darting from one side of him to the other.

Marshal gestured helplessly. "I don't know what to do. You were six feet tall the last time I saw you. I can't shake your hand."

"Just stick your hand out," Ivy said dryly. "Let him land on it."

"Anything to get him to stop flying around," I said loudly, and Jenks settled on the table, his wings going so fast I could feel a draft.

"It's great to see you!" Jenks said again, making me wonder just why we were so glad to see Marshal. Maybe it was because he had helped us when we really needed it at great risk to himself when he owed us nothing. "Crap on my daisies," Jenks said, rising up and settling back down. "Ivy, you should have seen his face when Rachel told him we were going to rescue her ex-boyfriend from an island full of militant Weres. I still can't believe he did it."

Marshal smiled. "Neither can I. She looked like she could use some help was all."

Ivy made a questioning face at me, and I shrugged. Okay, seeing me in a tight rubber suit might have swayed his decision, but it wasn't as if I had dressed up to romance help out of him.

Marshal's eyes darted to Ivy when she pushed herself into motion. Sleek and predatory, she eased onto the couch beside him, angling herself so her back was to the armrest, one knee pulled up to her chin, the other draped over the edge of the couch. Her magazine slid to the floor when she bumped it, and she pointedly set it on the table between us with the headlines showing. She was acting like a jealous girlfriend, and I didn't like it.

"Huh," Jenks said, a smile on him as he looked at me sitting with my hands clasped primly in my lap and that unusual amount of space between Marshal and myself. "I guess you can teach a young witch new tricks."

"Jenks!" I exclaimed, knowing he was talking about me distancing myself from Marshal, but the poor witch didn't have a clue. Thank God. Incensed, I made a snatch for the pixy, and the laughing four-inch man settled himself on Marshal's shoulder. Marshal stiffened but didn't move but for tilting his head and trying to see Jenks.

"You said you were here for an interview?" Ivy said pleasantly, but I didn't trust her mood as far as I could throw her. Which was about three feet on a good day.

Moving carefully as if Jenks might leave, Marshal eased into the cushions and away from her. "At the university," he said, showing signs of nervousness.

"What's the job?" Ivy questioned, and I could almost hear her think "Janitor?" Though not saying one cross word, she wasn't being nice, like I'd asked him to come over to betray Kisten's memory.

Marshal must have picked up on it, too, for he shifted his wide shoulders and tilted his head to crack his neck, clearly a nervous tick. "I'd be coaching the swim team, but once I'm on the payroll, I can put in for a real teaching position."

"Teaching what?" Jenks asked suspiciously.

At that, Marshal smiled. "Minor ley line manipulations. More of a high school course than anything else. A primer to bring deficient students up for the hundred-level classes."

Clearly Ivy wasn't impressed. But she probably didn't know that he had to be at a four-hundred level to instruct anyone in anything. I had no idea where my ley line proficiency put me, seeing as I was picking it up as I went along, learning what I had to when I needed it, not what was safe or prudent in a steady, progressive pace.

"Cincinnati doesn't have a swim team," Ivy said. "Sounds like quite a job to build one."

Marshal's head bobbed, and the stubble on it caught the light. "It will be. Normally I wouldn't even try for the position, but I earned my bachelor's here, and coming back feels right."

"Hey!" Jenks exclaimed, and I shivered in the draft from his wings. "You're a Cincy boy! What year did you graduate?"

"Class of 2001," he said proudly.

"Holy crap, you're almost thirty?" the pixy said. "Damn, you look good!"

"Almost? No, I'm past it," he said, clearly unwilling to divulge just how much. But since he was a witch, it didn't really matter. "It's the swimming," he said softly, then looked at Ivy as if he knew she was going to look up his records. "I majored in business management, and I used my degree to start Marshal's Mackinaw Wrecks." Disappointment flickered over him. "But that's not going to work anymore, so here I am."

"Too cold?" Jenks said, either ignoring that we were likely the reason it wasn't working anymore or trying to make light of it. "God, I froze my nuggie plums off in that water."

I winced, thinking Jenks's mouth was getting steadily worse. Almost as if he had to prove he was a man in front of Marshal, and the way to do it was to be as raunchy as he could. But I had heard the hint of blame in Marshal's words.

"The Mackinaw Weres found out you had something to do with me getting onto the island, didn't they," I said, knowing I was right when he looked at his water-stained yellow leather boots. Shit. "I'm sorry, Marshal," I said, wishing now I'd just knocked him on his head and stolen his stuff. At least he'd still have his business. I'd done the right thing, and it had hurt him in the long run. Where was the justice in that?

His smile was tight when he pulled his head up, and even Ivy looked apologetic. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I didn't lose anything that mattered in the fire."

"Fire?" I whispered, appalled, and he nodded.

"It was time for me to come back," he said, one shoulder rising in a shrug. "I only started the diving business so I could build the capital to get my master's."

Ivy's fingers, drumming on the couch, went still. "You're finishing your degree?"

Saying nothing, Marshal ran his gaze over her as if estimating how great a threat she was and nodded. "Hey, I have to go. I've got a couple of apartments I'm looking at tonight, and if I don't show on time, the Realtor will probably figure it was a Halloween prank and leave."

He stood, and I found myself rising as well. Jenks darted into the air, grumbling about not having anything comfortable to put his ass on in the entire church before he landed on my shoulder. I wanted to go with Marshal so the Realtor wouldn't convince him to take a rattrap that would be noisy with humans after sunup, but he probably knew Cincinnati as well as I did. Not much changed fast, despite the size of the city. Besides, I didn't want to give him the wrong idea.

Ivy stood as Marshal shrugged into his coat. "Nice to meet you, Marshal," she said, then turned her back on him as she walked out. Five seconds later, I heard her taking the lid off the slow cooker, and a new wave of tomato, beans, and spices wafted out.

"Can you stay for dinner?" I found myself asking, not knowing why, except that he had helped Jenks and me, and I owed him. "We actually cooked tonight. Chili."

Marshal's eyes went to the top of the dark hallway. "No, but thank you. I'm having dinner with a couple of guys from school. I just wanted to bring Jenks his hat and say hi."

"Oh, okay." Of course he'd have friends here. I was being stupid.

I followed him to the door to see him out, my eyes landing on Jenks's leather cap, back after months of being with Marshal. I was glad to see him, and I wished he could stay, but it was tinged with depression from the guilt that I even wanted him to.

Glowing a hot gold, Jenks hovered at eye-height beside Marshal as I reached to open the door. "It's good to see you, Marsh-man," he said. "If it was warmer, I'd show you my stump."

The way he said it almost sounded like a threat, and I could see Marshal thinking about it as he slowly buttoned his coat, probably trying to decide if he was serious or not. I wanted to talk to Marshal alone for a moment, but Jenks wasn't leaving.

Jenks suddenly noticed that neither of us was talking, and when I made a face at him, he dropped in height. "If you want me to go, you just have to say so," he said sullenly, then darted off to leave a fading sprinkling of pixy dust to glow on the floor for a moment. My blood pressure dropped, and I smiled at Marshal.

"That was the most excellent charm I've ever seen," Marshal said softly, his eyes dark to take in the limited light in the foyer, "making him human-size, then small again."

"It's not half as excellent as the person who actually made it for me," I said, thinking that Ceri should get her just dues. "I just invoked it."

Marshal took his hat out of his wide pocket and put it on. I felt a twinge of relief when he reached for the door, then guilt that I'd enjoyed seeing him again. God, how long will I have to live like this? Marshal hesitated. Turning back, he searched my face. I silently waited, not knowing what might come out of his mouth.

"I, ah—I'm not interfering in something, am I?" he asked. "With your roommate?"

I grimaced, cursing both Ivy for her jealousness and Jenks for his protective nature. God help them, were they that obvious?

"No," I said quickly, then dropped my gaze. "It's not that. My boyfriend…" I took a breath and lowered my voice so it wouldn't break. "I just lost my boyfriend, and they both think I'll jump into bed with the first guy to come into the church simply to fill the ache he left behind." A fear that is both understandable and at the same time unnecessary.

Marshal shifted his weight back. "The guy that went over the bridge?" he asked quizzically. "I thought you didn't like him."

"Not him," I said, flicking my eyes to his and away. "My boyfriend after him. Kisten was…important to both Ivy and me. He died to prevent an undead vampire from binding me to him…I don't remember it, but I know he did. And I still…" I closed my eyes, a lump in my throat. "I still miss him," I said miserably.

I looked at Marshal, needing to see what he thought. His face was carefully blank of expression. "He died?" he said, and I nodded, looking away.

"I think I understand," he said as he reached to touch my shoulder, and guilt tweaked through me as I soaked in the support radiating from him. "I'm really sorry about your boyfriend. Um…I didn't know. I should have called before coming over. I'll just, uh, go."

His hand slipped away, and my head came up. "Marshal," I said, reaching to take his sleeve, and he stopped. I let go, then glanced behind me at the empty church, then back to him. I loved Kisten, but I had to try to start living again. The pain would ebb only if I pushed it out with something good. Marshal patiently waited, and I took a deep breath.

"I'd like to see you again," I said, miserable. "If you want. I mean, I really can't handle having a boyfriend right now, but I've got to get out of this church. Do something." His eyes widened, and I blurted, "Never mind."

"No, no!" he said. "That's cool." He hesitated, then shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not looking for a girlfriend either."

I kind of doubted that, but I nodded, grateful he pretended to understand.

"There used to be a place by the waterfront that had really good pizza," he offered.

"Piscary's?" I almost panicked. Not Kisten's old dance club. "Uh, it's closed," I said, which was the truth. The elaborate apartments underground were now the property of Rynn Cormel. And since he wasn't a partier, he had gutted the upper rooms and turned them into a day residence for his living guests and staff. But it still had one hell of a kitchen. Or so Ivy said.

Weight shifting to one foot, Marshal frowned in thought. "Don't the Howlers have an exhibition game this week? I haven't seen them play in years."

"I'm banned," I said, and he looked at me as if he thought I was joking.

"From the Howlers?" he said. "Maybe we could just have lunch or something."

"Okay," I said slowly, not knowing if I could actually do this.

His smile widened and he opened the door. "I have that interview tomorrow, but I was going to go look at some apartments before that. If I treat you to coffee, will you tell me which ones are overcharging me? Unless you're working…"

"Two days before Halloween?" I clasped my arms about me in the sudden chill. I hadn't expected to do anything this soon, and now I was having second thoughts. I thought of backing out on the excuse of needing to track down a demon summoner before sundown tomorrow, but I had to give my sources time to work. I stunk at research, and I knew enough people who enjoyed it to pass it off on them. "Sure," I reluctantly said. It was coffee. How bad could it be?

"Perfect," he said, and I froze when he eased forward. Before it could become a hug, or worse, a kiss, I stuck out my hand. Marshal tried to make his shift to my hand natural, but it was kind of obvious, and his fingers slipped from mine almost immediately. Embarrassed by my guilt and misery, I looked down.

"I'm sorry you're still hurting," he said sincerely as he stepped back onto the stoop. The light from the sign above the door made shadows on him. His eyes, when I met them, held a soft emotion, black from the low light, nothing more. "I'll see you tomorrow. About noon?"

I nodded as I tried to think of something to say—but my mind was empty. Marshal smiled one last time before taking the steps lightly and heading for the new-model, chrome-plated sport utility at the curb. Numb, I backed up into the church, my shoulder thumping painfully into the doorjamb and startling me back into reality. Heartache swelled as I shut the door and leaned back against it to stare into the sanctuary.

I had to start living again, even if it killed me.