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.
