Chapter Nineteen
The sun was arching toward the horizon, painting the buildings at Cincinnati's waterfront in red and gold as I headed for Carew Tower for a quick bite and that interview with Edden. If it had been a normal Sunday, I'd be just about ready to head home from the ever-after and Al's and my weekly push-and-shove contest, and though I was glad to have gotten out of it, I was worried about Pierce. Pierce, Al, Ivy, Skimmer, Kisten's killer, and Mia. They all swirled in the back of my head, problems demanding to be solved. Most days, the overload would have had me tense and snappish, but right now? Smiling, I gazed at the sun reflecting on the buildings and fiddled with the radio as I followed the guy ahead of me over the bridge. All in due course, I thought, wondering if my calm was from Marshal, or Marshal's massage therapist.
Edden's meeting was in about half an hour, then the I.S. lockup was at six, followed by an early dinner with Robbie and my mom at ten-I'd heard Robbie complaining in the background when I'd called to say I'd have to miss lunch, and he could just suck dishwater. Eventually Mia would surface, and then I'd nail her ass, but until then, I could enjoy a snack at Carew Tower. The massage I'd indulged in earlier had been fantastic, and I felt twinges of guilt all afternoon that I'd been enjoying myself under the excuse that it might help my aura. The feeling of relaxation was still with me, making it easy to tell Marshal that he'd been right, yada, yada, yada...He was going to call later. It felt good, and I wasn't going to think any more about it than that.
I was feeling dressy in the silk-lined pants and shiny top I had put on for Ms. Walker. I hadn't gotten a chance before to wear the long felt coat my mom had given me last winter, and I felt elegant, driving over the bridge into Cincinnati, aiming for Carew Tower and a business meeting at the top of the city. Jenks, too, had dressed up, wearing a black top and pants that flowed, hiding the insulating layers of fabric under it. Matalina was improving at making winter wear he could fly in, and the pixy was perched comfortably on the rearview mirror, fussing with the black fisherman cap she'd concocted out of a scrap of felt from the inside lining of my coat. His blond hair was peeking out rather charmingly, and I wondered why he didn't wear a hat all the time.
"Rache," he said, looking suddenly nervous.
"What?" I fiddled again with the radio as we came off the bridge, cutting in front of a semi to get onto the exit ramp at a fast forty-five miles an hour. There was a guy on my tail in a black Firebird, and he followed, riding my bumper. Really safe in the snow, bud-dy.
"Rache," he repeated, wings fanning.
"I see him." We were both headed for the exit ramp, and giving me the one-fingered salute, the guy accelerated, trying to get ahead of me before the lane disappeared.
"Rachel, just let him in."
But he ticked me off, so I maintained my speed. The semi behind us blew his horn as the off-ramp approached. The guy wasn't going to make it, and the weenie shoved me into the curb.
Gravel and rock salt hit the undercarriage of my car. The wall slid close, and I caught my breath, hands clenching as the lane narrowed to one. I thunked the brakes, jerking the wheel at the last moment to slip in behind him. The guy roared ahead and ran the yellow light at the end of the exit ramp. Face flaming, I waved to the irate semi driver behind me who had seen the whole thing from a sort-of-safe distance. Jenks was shedding a sickly yellow dust as he stood on the rearview mirror and held the stem as if it were his life. I slowed to a halt at the red light and glared at the Firebird, a block ahead of me, stopped at the next light. Ass.
"You okay, Rache?" Jenks asked, and I turned down the heater.
"Fine. Why?"
"'Cause you don't usually careen into other cars unless you're going more than sixty," he said, dropping to land on my arm and walk up it to sniff me. "You on some human medicine? Did that massage therapist slip you an aspirin or something?"
Not as upset as I thought I'd be, I glanced at him and then back to the street. "No." Marshal was right. I should get a massage more often. It was really relaxing.
Jenks made a face and sat down in the crook of my elbow, wings fanning to keep his balance. The massage had been wonderful, and I hadn't realized how tense I'd been until the stress was gone. God, I felt good.
"Green light, Rache."
I pushed the accelerator, noticing that the Firebird was still at the red light. A smile curved over my face. I checked my speed, the sign, and the street. I was legal.
"It's red," Jenks said as I barreled down the street to the next light.
"I see it." Glancing behind me, I shifted lanes so Mr. Ass was parked in the lane next to me. No one was in front of me, and I maintained my speed.
"It's red!" Jenks exclaimed as I didn't slow down.
My fingers gripped the wheel casually, and I watched the crossing light start to blink. "It'll be green when I get there."
"Rachel!" Jenks shouted, and as smooth as white icing, I blew past Mr. Firebird two seconds after the light changed, going a nice forty miles per hour. I made the next light while he raced his engine and tried to catch up. Making a sedate left on an early yellow, I turned to go downtown. Mr. Firebird had to stop, and I couldn't help my feeling of satisfaction. Dumb ass.
"Holy crap, Rachel," Jenks muttered. "What's gotten into you?"
"Nothing," I said as I turned up the radio. I felt really good. Everything was A-OK.
"Maybe Ivy could pick us up at the restaurant," Jenks muttered, and I took my eyes from the road, mystified.
"Why?"
Jenks looked at me like I was crazy. "Never mind."
I zipped around a bus, changing lanes halfway down the block. "Hey, how does my aura look?" I asked, slowing as I tapped the nearby university line. It flowed in with an uncomfortable pinch, but at least I wasn't dizzy from the ebb and flow of energy. There was a car ahead of me, and I checked both ways before I shifted lanes and took a yellow light. Plenty of time.
"Stop playing with the line and drive!" Jenks exclaimed. "Your aura's a lot more even than before, and thicker, but only because it's been compacted down to a bare inch off your skin."
"Huh. It's good, though?"
He nodded, his tiny features looking irate. "Good enough if no one takes any more. You just missed the turn for the parking garage."
"Did I?" I mused, seeing a black Firebird roaring up a block behind me. "Look, there's a space right out front," I said, eyeing an open spot on the other side of the street.
"Yeah, but by the time you circle around, it will be gone."
I looked behind me, then smiled. "If I circle around," I said, then cut a sharp U-bangy. The road was slick, and the car spun just as I thought it would, turning to face the opposite direction as it drifted into the spot with a soft jiggle when the wheels met the curb. Perfect.
"Good God, Rachel!" Jenks shouted. "What the hell is wrong with you? I can't believe you did that! Who do you think you are? Lucas Black?"
Grabbing my bag, I turned off the engine and adjusted my scarf. I didn't know where the confidence for that had come from, but it had felt damn good. "Coming?" I said sweetly.
He stared at me, then pried his fingers off the rearview mirror. "Sure."
Jenks's wings were cold as he snuggled in between my neck and scarf, and after a last look, I got out. Chill air smelling of wet pavement and exhaust hit the bottom of my lungs as I took a deep breath, scenting the coming night and calling it good. It was freezing out here, and feeling confident in my best coat and boots, I waved at Mr. Firebird before I headed for Carew Tower.
My boots squishing in the melting slush, I squinted at the light as I adjusted my sunglasses. The bright storefront of an independent charm shop caught my eye, and I wondered how early we were. "Jenks?" I questioned as my steps slowed. "What time is it?"
"Three thirty," he said, muffled from the yarn he was hiding in. "You're early."
Jenks was better than a watch, and my thoughts shifted to the coming meeting with the banshee. Marshal and I hadn't found anything in my books to supplement my aura after we got ourselves together and actually looked at them. But maybe the owner of a spell shop had something to increase "digestive and sleep rhythms." There was that failed locator amulet I wanted to check on, too. Maybe I'd just used the wrong kind of carbonic wax.
"You want to stop at a spell shop?" I asked Jenks. "See if they have any fern seed?"
"Oh, hell yes!" Jenks said so enthusiastically that I felt a twinge of guilt. He was so damned independent that it probably never occurred to him to ask us to take him shopping. "If they don't have fern seed, I'll get some tansy," he added as his wings brushed my neck. "Matalina likes tansy tea. It keeps her wings moving well."
I angled to the small front door, the memory of his ailing wife rising in me. The man was hurting, and there was nothing I could do about it. Not even hold his hand. Taking him to a charm shop was the best I could do? It wasn't enough. Not by a long shot. "Almost there," I said, and when he swore at me for my concern, I pulled open the single glass door and entered.