My gaze slid to the dark windows as I slipped the file away. 'Marshal, I can't.'
'Why—' he started, then went silent. 'Oh,' he continued, and I could hear him kicking himself. 'I forgot. Um, I'm sorry, Rachel.'
'Don't worry about it,' I said. Feeling guilty about my relief, then determined to get past it, I took a slow breath, steadying myself. 'You want to come over when you're done? I've got some reports to go over, but we can play pool or something.' I hesitated, then added, 'It's not The Warehouse, but…' God, I felt like a coward, hiding in this church.
'Yes,' he said, his warm voice making me feel a little better. 'Yeah, I'd like that. I'll bring dinner. You like Chinese?'
'Mmmm, yes,' I said, feeling the first hints of enthusiasm. 'No onions?'
'No onions,' he acknowledged, and I heard someone in the background call his name with authority. 'I hate to keep saying this, but I'll call you when I'm done.'
'Marshal, I said don't worry about it. It's not like it's a date,' I said, remembering Kisten's calm acceptance of my breaking our arrangements because of last-minute runs. He had never gotten upset, maintaining the belief that when he had to do the same, I'd respond in kind. It had worked, and now I could take a lot of last-minute cancellations before I let it get to me. Marshal had called. He couldn't make it. Case closed. Besides, it wasn't like we were…anything.
'Thanks, Rachel,' he said, sounding relieved. 'You're something else.'
I blinked fast, remembering Kisten saying the same thing. 'Okay, um, I'll see you later then. 'Bye, Marshal,' I said, making sure my voice didn't betray me. Unclenching my fingers from the top of my right arm, I hit the 'end' button and closed the phone, torn between feeling good at Marshal's last words and depressed at the reminder of Kisten.
Knock it off, Rachel, I thought, taking a cleansing breath and tossing my hair.
''By-y-y-y-y-ye, Marshal,' Jenks mocked from the safety of my desk, and I turned—just in time to see Matalina backhand him on the shoulder.
'Jenks,' I said wearily as I lurched to a stand. 'Shut up.'
Matalina rose, her wings a pale pink. 'Jenks, dear,' she said primly. 'Can I see you in the desk for a moment?'
'What…,' he complained, then yelped when she pinched his wing and jerked him through the crack of the roll-top desk. The kids cheered, and their eldest daughter grabbed the hand of the youngest, flying the toddler away from the desk and to some pixy distraction.
Smiling at the thought of a seasoned warrior being dragged about by his just-as-deadly wife, I straightened my legs, which ached from being motionless so long on the hardwood floor. I really needed to do some stretches to loosen up, and I wondered if Marshal liked to run. I'd be willing to get him an early-hours runner's pass for the zoo just for the company. No expectations, no hidden agendas, just someone to do something with. Kisten had never run with me. Maybe it would help if I did different things—for different reasons.
I scooped up my bag and headed to the kitchen and my reports, my mood changing to one of surprising anticipation as I planned out my night. Marshal could tell me all about his interviews, and I could tell him all about my demon death mark. Ought to make for interesting conversation over rice. And if that didn't scare him away, then he deserved everything he got.
Going sourly introspective, I slapped at the pixy dust on me again as I entered the hall. The dust glowed briefly from the friction as it sifted from me to light the darker space. I passed the old his-and-hers bathrooms converted on Ivy's side to a conventional bathroom, and to a bathroom/laundry room on my side. Our bedrooms had once been clergy offices, and what was now the kitchen and living room had been added on to provide the long- absent congregation with a place to prepare and serve church suppers.
I leaned into my room to throw my bag onto the bed, and my cell phone rang again. Digging it back out, I sat on my bed to take my boots off and flipped the top open. 'Back already?' I said, letting my voice hint at my anticipation. Maybe Marshal was done.
'Sure, I only had to check three days of records,' David's rich voice said, startling me.
'Oh! David!' I said, getting one lace undone and kicking my boot off. 'I thought you were Marshal.'
'Uh, no…,' he drawled, the question clear in his voice.
Phone tucked between my shoulder and my ear, I swung my other foot up. 'Just some guy I met up in Mackinaw,' I said. 'He's moving to Cincinnati and coming over for dinner so neither of us have to eat alone.'
'Good. It's about time,' he said with a small laugh, and when I cleared my throat in protest, he continued. 'I've been through the recent filings. There's been a spate of interesting claims out at the smaller cemeteries.'
As I worked the laces one-handedly, my fingers slowed. You could get just about all the parts you needed to do black magic from any charm shop, but the ingredients were regulated, and oftentimes people just collected their own. 'Grave robbing?'
'Actually…' There was a rustling of papers. 'I don't know. You'd have to go to the FIB or the I.S. for that, but there's been a statistically large increase in the amount of damage to small cemeteries, so you might want to keep a closer eye on yours. Only the active ones have been hit so far. Damage to monuments, broken gates, cut locks, ruts in the landscape. It could just be kids, but someone stole the equipment to dig up the comfortably dead. My guess is someone is setting themselves up for a long-term commitment, either to supply black witchcraft and demon summoners on a commercial basis, or just themselves. You should check with your FIB guy. I won't hear about grave robbing unless something's been damaged or stolen, seeing as we don't insure the truly dead.'
'Thanks, David,' I said. 'I've been talking to Glenn already.' My gaze slid to the four reports on my dresser, sandwiched between the perfume bottles. 'I'll ask him if any bodies are being moved out. I appreciate you checking.' I hesitated, kicking my second boot off. 'You didn't get in trouble, did you?'
'For working before Halloween?' he said around a guffaw. 'Not likely. I do have one thing before I let you go. I've got a minor-damage claim that came in from a woman just outside the Hollows. I'm not scheduled to be the field adjuster for it, but if I can trade, do you want to come with me and check it out? An entire basement wall is bowing out from water damage. It could be a typo, seeing as water bows walls in, not out, but even so, we haven't gotten much rain in months.'
I leaned across the space to my dresser and brought my FIB reports over. 'Where is it?'
There was a soft shuffling of paper. 'Ah, hold on.' There was another moment of silence. 'Nine thirty-one Palladium Drive.'
A quiver started in my belly as I snatched the reports off my dresser and the addresses leapt out at me. Bingo. 'David, get that claim. I'm looking at the obituary of the guy who owned that house. And get this. He had a record of grave robbing while in college.'
David's laugh was low and eager. 'Rachel, my boss ought to be paying you for all the money you're saving him. The damage was demon wrought?'
'Probably.' Damn, this was coming together nicely. I deserved a night off. And if I stayed in my church, I'd live through it. Please, don't let this be Nick.
'Oka-a-a-a-ay,' David said, his voice tight and eager. 'Promise me you won't move tonight. I'll see about getting the claim, and we'll go from there. You need anything? Ice cream? Popcorn? I want you to stay in your church.'
My head shook, though he couldn't see it. 'I'm fine. Let me know when you're ready to go out. The sooner, the better.'
His thoughts already on other matters, he growled a good-bye. I wasn't much better, mumbling something before I hung up and headed for the kitchen. I loved kicking ass, but the next best thing was making the spells that made kicking ass easier.
I was deep in anticipation when I found the hall, my mind already going over what I'd want to take to confront experienced demon summoners specializing in ley line manipulation. Heavy magic-detection charms… maybe a disguise amulet for that precious moment of distraction that could be the difference between falling down or staying upright…a couple of the zippy strips Glenn had traded me for ketchup that kept ley line witches from tapping a line and using ley line magic. I was going to have a busy night.
The hallway was dark, and I jerked to a halt just past my door, frowning. Ivy had put up a sign dangling by threads from the ceiling; clearly Jenks had assisted her. God help her, she had used a stencil, and I snatched at the
