She reached out and patted my hand. "Marshal is worried about you. I'm glad you're being honest with him about how dangerous your life is. More honest than with me, I hope."
Here we go. More guilt. "I didn't want you to worry," I almost whined at my pie. God! I hated it when my voice did that.
Giving my closed fist a sharp tap so that her wedding ring hit my knuckle, she withdrew her hand. "I know how deep in the shit pit you usually are, but tell him before he starts to really like you."
"Mom!"
She sighed then, following it up with a glum "Sorry."
I hid behind a bite of pie. "I'm okay," I mumbled. "We're doing okay."
Again she smiled, becoming my usual mother once more. "I know you are."
We both looked up when the doorbell rang. "That would be Marshal," she said as she rose and tugged her sweater straight. "I told him I'd have you up and ready for your date by three thirty. You still have time before you have to be back on hallowed ground, and a distraction is just what Dr. Mom ordered."
I looked at the pie, then picked up the half I had yet to eat. "Mom," I protested around a full mouth as I followed her down the hall, "I can't. I have to go home and prep for a run. I've got a lead on who might be summoning Al, and I'm going to lean on them tomorrow. Besides, I'm not ready for a boyfriend."
My mother stopped in the long green hallway, surrounded by pictures of my and Robbie's lives, images of the past that she drew strength from. I could see a masculine shadow moving outside on the steps, but my mother put herself right in front of me, filling my world. I was unable to look away from the old regret in her eyes.
"That is exactly why you need to go out with him," she said, her grip on my shoulder tightening to keep me silent. "Prep your spells later. You're strung out to the snapping point, sweetheart. You need to do something different to give your mind a rest, and Marshal is a good man. He's not going to break your heart or take advantage of you. Just...go do something with him. Anything." Her mouth quirked. "Well, maybe not anything."
"Mom...," I protested, but she stepped quickly to the door and opened it. Marshal was waiting, and he took us both in, his attention going back and forth, comparing us as we stood side-by-side. Flustered, I set the pie on the top of the hall bookcase and wiped my hands on my jeans. I didn't think it was the pie that had his eyebrows so high. My mother and I looked a lot alike, apart from our hair and how we dressed.
"Hi, Mrs. Morgan," he said, smiling, and then said to me, "Rachel."
My mom smiled like the Mona Lisa, and I rolled my eyes, seeing his big-ass SUV at the curb. "Hi," I said dryly. "I hear you met my mom already."
"Marshal and I looked at your baby pictures while you were sleeping," she said, then stepped back. "Come on in. We're eating pie."
Marshal glanced at the half-eaten slice above our heads and smiled. Cracking his neck, he stepped in just far enough to shut the door. "Thanks, Mrs. Morgan, but if I'm going to get Rachel back to the church before sunset, we really need to go now."
"He's right," I said, not wanting to endure an hour of humiliation at my mother's hand. Besides, the sooner we left, the sooner I could apologize for my mom and he could make his escape. I wasn't going on a date when Ivy was home thinking she screwed up again. She hadn't. We had ended the entire freaking mess in success before Jenks screwed it up. But that didn't mean I was going to let her break my skin again. I had to stop saying a decision was good just because it made me feel better. But being good, really good, really sucked.
"Oh!" my mom chirped. "Your coat. I think you left your bag in the kitchen, too."
She hustled down the hall, and Marshal looked over my shoulder when I heard the dryer door open. I shifted in the reflected green light of the hallway, uncomfortable not knowing what they'd talked about. My pie sat over us, and I wondered if he'd mind if I ate it.
"I'm really sorry about this," I said, sending my attention down the empty hall. "It's my mom's mission in life to find a boyfriend for me, and she doesn't listen when I tell her to stop."
Marshal's gaze shifted over the pictures before him with interest. "It was my idea."
A warning flag went up in me. He had to know what had happened after he left at sunrise this morning. I mean, he had talked to Jenks, and the bite marks on my neck were obvious. If it had been me, I would have been halfway to Mackinaw by now.
Marshal's gaze was on my favorite picture of me in the fall leaves when he said, "Jenks wanted me to tell you Ivy said she'll be out late tonight, getting her old friends sugared enough to talk about the night your boyfriend died."
The hesitation before he took a breath told me he had wanted to add something, but he stayed silent. "Thank you," I said cautiously, trying to figure it out.
"She said she'd be back by sunup," he added, and I shifted to make room for my mom as she approached, my coat over her arm, my bag in one hand and a slice of pie on a napkin in the other.
Maybe he thinks he can rescue me? No one is that stupid.
"Thanks, Mom," I said, taking my coat and bag as Marshal flushed and made awkward comments about the pie she was pushing at him. The cooler air coming in had tripped the furnace, and I shrugged into my coat to relish the warmth soaking into me.
My mom beamed, her gaze running over both of us. "I put your costume charms in your purse," she said as she wound a red scarf around my neck to hide the red-rimmed marks made by Ivy's teeth. "You forgot them Sunday. Oh, and that nice Were called while you were sleeping. He wants to pick you up tomorrow at one. He says wear something nice."
"Thanks, Mom."
"Have fun!" she finished cheerfully.
But I didn't want to have fun. I wanted to find out who had killed Kisten and tried to bind me.
"Wait, wait," my mom said as she opened the closet door and pulled out my battered pair of white roller skates. "Take these. I'm tired of them being in my closet," she said, looping them over my arm and handing me the rest of my pie from the top of the bookcase. "Enjoy yourselves." She gave me a kiss, whispering, "Call me after sunset so I don't worry?"
"Promise," I said, thinking I was an insensitive brat of a daughter. She was scatterbrained, not stupid, and she had put up with a lot of crap from me. Especially lately.
"'Bye, Mom," I called out as Marshal opened the door and preceded me down the two steps and to the walk. He'd already eaten a bite of the pie, and his mouth was full. "Thanks for everything," I added, laughing when Marshal made a noise of bliss. My mom made excellent pie.
"Wow, this is great," he said, turning to give my mom a smile. I felt good all of a sudden. My mom was cool. I didn't appreciate her enough.
I eyed the two vehicles at the curb, my little convertible looking like a drop of red lightning next to Marshal's big, obnoxious SUV. "Marshal...," I started, thinking I really had to get home and work in the kitchen.
Marshal grinned, looking attractive in the sun. "She's going to call me. If I tell her you went home, do you know the grief I'm going to get? I have a mom, too, you know."
I sighed, holding my pie, knowing I'd never get my keys out of my bag with one hand. Taking a bite of pie, I looked at the house. My mom was at the window with the curtain edged aside. She waved but didn't move from the glass. Yeah, it was probably not worth the hassle.
"Two hours," he promised, eyes earnest and caring. "And I'll help you in the kitchen to make up for it."
Waffling, I looked at our cars. I could spare two hours. "You want to take my car?"
Marshal's expression brightened when his gaze landed on it. I had made the red convertible mine with a few feminine touches, but it was still masculine enough to avoid being a chick buggy. "Sure," he said. "I don't mind coming back for my car. The rink isn't far away."
That would make it Aston's, I thought, cringing. They wouldn't remember me. Not from that long ago. "Sounds good," I said, harboring the belief that if we took his car, something would happen and I'd be stranded, unable to get back to my church before sunset. I didn't know how the undead lived, having to be somewhere before sunrise or risk annihilation. I'd better keep a watch on the time. A freaking demon in a roller rink. They'd ban me for life for that.
We angled to my car, and after shoving the rest of the pie into my mouth, I dug my keys out and handed them to him. Marshal's brow rose as he took in the zebra-striped key, but he said nothing. He courteously opened my door, and I slid in, watching him go around to the driver's side. His pie was gone and his mouth was full when he got in with a pained grunt at the tight space, taking a moment to adjust everything to his considerable height. "Nice car," he said when he was settled.
"Thanks. The FIB gave it to me. It belonged to an I.S. agent until Trent Kalamack killed him."
Okay, maybe that was a little blunt, but it would help set the scene for the coming disaster tonight when we would get stuck in traffic and a demon would show up to cause a major incident on the expressway. I hated news vans with a passion.
Marshal hesitated, and the way he looked at the gearshift made me wonder if he knew how to drive it. "Ah, he didn't die in the car, did he?"
"Nope. But I hit him with a sleepy-time charm once and locked him in the trunk."
He laughed at that, the deep, comfortable sound making me feel warm inside. "Good," he said as he put the car into first, jerking us only once as he got us moving. "Ghosts give me the creeps."