His tone had held a measure of hurt in it, and I felt bad as I followed him through the cold foyer and into the unheated circular stairway that led into the belfry. I had spelled up there once before, when I'd been hiding from demons last Halloween. Marshal had just come into town and was looking for an apartment. Cripes, had it been two months that we'd been doing stuff? It seemed longer.
"Marshal," I said as we found the top and I clenched my arms around me in the chill of the unheated belfry. Dang, it was cold up here, and my breath steamed. I searched the open rafters above the huge bell that made a false roof over the space, but Bis was elsewhere. He'd probably put himself on the eaves last night, where the sun would hit him all day. The adolescent gargoyle didn't come in apart from inclement weather, and when he got older, he probably wouldn't come in even then.
"Hey, this is nice!" Marshal said, and I dropped back, pleased as he looked the hexagonal room over. The rough floor was the color of dust, and the walls had never been finished, still showing the two-by-fours and the back of the siding. It was the same temperature as the outside, about fifty something, refreshing after the steamy warmth downstairs.
The slatted windows let in slices of light and sound, making it a nice hidey-hole where one could sit and watch the day happen. I wasn't surprised when Marshal bent one of the slats to look out. Next to him was the folding chair I'd left up here for when I had to get away. The middle of the ten-by-ten space held an antique dresser with a green marble top and an age-spotted mirror. My library was on the mahogany shelf propped up in one of the spaces between the windows. Beside it, next to the door, was a faded fainting couch. Other than that, the space was empty of everything except the almost subliminal hum of the bell resonating faintly.
Tired, I sat on the couch and pulled one of the books onto my lap, content to sit while Marshal satisfied his curiosity. My thoughts sifted back downstairs to the useless charms in my cupboard. "Um, Marshal, about those locator charms," I said softly.
Marshal turned, smiling. "My lips are sealed," he said, crossing the room. "I know the stuff you do for the FIB is confidential. Don't worry about it."
Okay, that's weird, I thought when Marshal sat beside me, taking the book out of my hand and opening it. How could he not know the charms were bad?
"What are we looking for?" he asked cheerfully, then looked at his hand when it probably started to tingle. Demon books were like that.
"A spell to protect my aura," I offered. "Um, that's a demon text you've got there."
Marshal blinked, stiffening as he realized what he'd opened. "That's why you keep them up here," he said, looking at it, and I nodded.
Much to my surprise, he didn't give the book back, but turned the page, curiosity getting the better of him. "You don't need a charm to help your aura," he said. "What you need to do is get a massage."
My shoulders eased, and glad he wasn't running screaming into the afternoon, I murmured, "A massage?"
"Full body, head to toe," he said, starting when he turned the page and found a curse to destroy an army with a single note of music. "You really think this works?"
"If you do it right, sure." Reaching, I picked up a university textbook and turned to the index. My fingers were cold, and I blew on them. "A massage will make it all better, huh?"
Marshal chuckled and turned a yellowed page. "If you do it right, sure," he said, mimicking me, and I looked up to find him smiling. "Scout's honor. Massage triggers the digestive and sleep rhythms. That's when your aura replenishes itself. You get a massage, and your aura will be better."
I eyed him, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. "Really?"
"Yup." His confident assurance faltered when he saw the next curse to blow up a wind strong enough to topple buildings. He looked at me, then the curse. "Uh, Rachel?" he stammered.
"What?" I said as my warning flags started going up. I wasn't a black witch, damn it.
"This is some creepy-ass shit," he said, brow furrowed, and I laughed, sliding the demon book back onto my lap and the university text onto the floor.
"That's why I don't do it," I said, grateful that he didn't think I was bad just because I had a book that told me how to twist a curse to cause the black plague.
He made a small sound and scooted down to read over my shoulder. "So, running the risk of opening a wound, what did Robbie think about you being in the hospital?"
I turned a page and blanched. HOW TO CREATE WOLF PREGNANCY IN HUMANS. Damn, I didn't know I had that one in my library. "Uh," I stammered, quickly turning the page. "Robbie said it was par for the course and told me to stop doing dangerous things because it might upset Mom. He's the one upset, though. Not her."
