Where Demons Dare. Kim Harrison

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ