A Fistful of Charms (16 page)

Marshal zipped his coat up, looking uneasy. I glanced at Jenks and took a breath. “My old boyfriend is on that island, and I need to rescue him without anyone knowing about it.”

Smooth features blank, he stared at me, the sun glinting off the top of his head.

“I'm an independent runner,” I said, shuffling in my waist pack and handing him one of my black business cards. “A pack of Weres kidnapped my old boyfriend and they're holding him. I need to get over there undetected, and you were in the book. Uh, if I could borrow a second set of gear and tanks for him to swim out with, that would be…great. I'm prepared to pay for it. You, uh, have my credit card on file, right?”

Brown eyes blinking, Marshal brought his gaze up from the business card. Squinting, he peered at Jenks, moving his head this way and that like an owl. An intent look came into his eyes, almost predatorial. Jenks backed up a step, and nervous, I watched. “What are you doing?” I finally asked.

“Looking for the camera.”

My jaw clenched. “You don't believe me.”

“Should I?”

Disgusted, I felt my anger rise. “Look,” I said as the wake from a passing ship hit us and the bobbing boat added insult to my clenched stomach. “I could have come out here and shot you all with sleepy-time potions and took what I needed, but I'm asking for your help.”

“And because you decided to not break the law means I should?” he said, feet spread wide against the boat's movement. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn't let you swim off like that. Even if I
believed you,
I wouldn't let you swim off like that. Not only would I lose my license, but you'd probably kill yourself.”

“I'm not asking you to break your license,” I said belligerently. “I'm asking you to let me borrow a set of gear and tanks.”

Marshal ran a hand over his bald head, nearly laughing in anger. “It took me three years to get my license,” he said with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. “Three years. That was for the dive business. Add on another four to get my earth magic degree so I could make my own amulets and the boat could be cost effective. You're a selfish little white-bread brat if you think I'm going to jeopardize that because your boyfriend ran off and you want to catch him cheating on you. Everything was given to you, was it? You know nothing about hard work and sacrifice!”

“He did
not
run off with another girl!” I shouted, and the guy at the front of the boat sat up to look at us. Furious, I lowered my voice and stood so I could poke my finger at his chest—if I had the guts. “And don't you
dare
tell me I don't know anything about hard work and sacrifice. I worked for seven years as a peon in the I.S., busted my butt to break my contract with them, and put my life on the line every day trying to make rent! So you can shove your holier-than-thou crap right back up where it came from. My old boyfriend bit off more than he could handle and he needs my help. The Weres took him,” I said, pointing to the island, “and you are my best shot at getting over there undetected!”

Seeming taken aback, he hesitated. “Why didn't you just go to the I.S.?”

My lips pressed together, thinking this could go south really fast if he called the I.S. out here with his radio. “Because they're incompetent boobs and rescuing people is what I do for a living,” I said, and he eyed me suspiciously, his gaze going to my bruised neck again. “Look, I'm usually better at it then this,” I added, refusing to explain the teeth marks. “I'm sort of out of my element up here. I tried to ask you earlier, but
Debbie
kept interfering.”

At that, Marshal smirked and relaxed. “Okay. I'm listening.”

I glanced at the bow of the boat and the man with his game.
Like he would even notice if a great white shark bit off the back of the boat?
“Thanks,” I breathed, sitting down again. Marshal did the same, and Jenks dropped to sit cross-legged where he could see both of us. The sun glinted on his yellow hair, and it was obvious the warmth spell was working: his lips were red again and he was very relaxed, almost basking.

“See,” I said, embarrassed, now that I seemed to have my hat in my hand. “My boyfriend, my old boyfriend,” I reiterated, flushing, “turns out he's…” I couldn't tell him he was a thief. “He recovers things.”

“He's a thief,” Marshal said, and I blinked. Seeing my muddle, the man snorted. “Let me guess. He stole something from the Weres and got caught.”

“No,” I said, tucking a windblown strand away. “Actually, he was contracted by them to recover something, and when he found it, he decided to give them their money back and keep it. I need to get him off that island.”

Marshal looked at Jenks, who shrugged.

“Fine,” I said, feeling stupid. “I don't blame you if you want to take me back to the dock and tell me to get lost in a ley line. But one way or the other I'm going over the side of this boat. I'd rather it be in a wet suit with one of your charms.” Eyes squinting, I peered at him. “Could I at least
buy a spell from you? So he doesn't freeze on the way back?”

Marshal's smooth face scrunched up. “I'm not licensed to sell my charms, only use them in my work.”

My head bobbed, and I felt a finger of relief wedge itself between my heart and the band wrapped about it. “Yeah, me too. How about a trade?”

He leaned toward me, and after meeting my eyes to ask for permission, took a deep sniff of me. I could smell a hint of chlorine on him over his redwood scent. Apparently I smelled witchy enough, since he settled back, satisfied. “What do you have?”

A exhalation of relief slipped from me. Pulling my waist pack around, I dug in it. “Ah, on me? Not much, but I can send you something once I get home. I've got some sleepy-time potions in splat balls and three scent amulets.”

Jenks closed his eyes, seeming to soak in the sun. He was smiling.

“Scent amulets?” Marshal said, a hand tracing the line of muscle of his upper arm, hidden under his windbreaker. “When would I ever use one of those?”

Affronted, I froze. “I use them all the time.”

“Well, I don't. I bathe every day.”

Jenks snickered, and I warmed. “They aren't deodorant charms,” I said, offended. “They disguise your scent so Weres can't follow you.”

Marshal glanced from me to the island. “You're serious. Damn, who are you, girl?”

Sitting straighter, I stuck my pasty white hand out, thinking it must be really clammy from the cold damp on the water. “Rachel Morgan, third partner of Vampiric Charms out of Cincinnati. That's Jenks, second partner of the same.”

Marshal's hand was warm, and as we shook he gave Jenks a sideways glance, a smile quirking the corner of his lips. I didn't think he believed me yet. “You're the silent partner, eh?” Marshal said, and Jenks cracked an eyelid and let it shut. “You know,” he went on, releasing my hand, “I
was willing to go along with the joke because you're cute and we don't get many cute witch tourists. But this?” He gestured to the distant island. “Can't we just go to dinner?”

My eyes narrowed. I leaned forward until I was too close for my comfort. “Look, Mr. Captain of the good ship
Lollypop.
I don't
care
if you believe me or not. I
need
to get to the island. I'm
going
over the side of your boat. I want to trade for an extra charm from you so my boyfriend—” I gritted my teeth. “—my
ex-
boyfriend doesn't freeze on the way back. Actually, I want to trade for three, because I don't have any warmth amulets and I think they're pretty cool. The equipment, I'd like to arrange for an extended rental. If I lose them on the way, which is a distinct probability, you can take the price of them off my card. You got it on file.”

He looked at me, and I felt queasy from the adrenaline. “Is it real?”

“Yes it's real! It ran through, didn't it?”

Hairless brow furrowed, he eyed me. “How do I know your magic is good? You smell good, but that doesn't mean fish guts.”

I looked at Jenks, and he nodded. “He's a pixy,” I said, tossing my head to him. “I made him big so he could handle the cold temps up here while we rescued his son.” Okay, technically Ceri made the curse, but I could stir rings around this guy.

Marshal seemed impressed, but what he said was, “His son is your boyfriend?”

Exasperated, I felt my hands start to shake with my desire to scream. “No. But Jenks's son was with him. And he's not my boyfriend, he's my former boyfriend.”

Exhaling long and slow, Marshal eyed first Jenks, then me. I waited, breath held.

“Bob!” the man shouted to the front of the boat, and I stiffened. “Come on back here and help me get my gear on. I'm going to take Mr. and Ms. Morgan on an extended tour.” He looked at me, taking in my obvious relief. “Though I don't know why,” he finished softly.

I
didn't like the cold. I didn't like the feeling of so much water pressing on me. I didn't like that in some way I was connected to the ocean, with nothing between me and it but water. And I really didn't like that I had watched
Jaws
last month on the Classic Channel. Twice.

We had been swimming for some time, caught between the gray of the water surface and the gray of the unseen bottom, deep enough that a passing boat wouldn't clip us but shallow enough that the light still penetrated well. Marshal was clearly on edge about leaving the security of the diving-boat flag, but he was young enough to like breaking the rules when it suited him. I think that was why he was helping me. Life up here couldn't be that exciting.

The claustrophobic feeling of breathing underwater had eased, but I still didn't like it. Marshal had taken a heading from the boat, and all we had to do was follow it using the compass in the air gauge. Jenks had taken point, I was second, and Marshal brought up the rear. It was cold despite the amulets, and the farther we went, the more grateful I was becoming.

Marshal wasn't getting anything out of this but a good story he couldn't tell anyone. He had only asked one thing of me, and I quickly agreed, adding my own request.

He would get us to the island undetected, but he was going to take his equipment back with him. It wasn't that he was worried about losing the investment in his gear, but that Jenks and I might try to swim back through the shipping
channel and get ourselves chopped to bait by a tanker. Good enough reason, but I agreed to it not because of my safety, but Marshal's.

I wanted him out of there and safe. He lived here. If I got caught and the Weres suspected he had helped us, they might go after him. I made him promise he'd go back to his boat, finish his dive, and return to the dock as if nothing had happened.

I had asked him to forget me, but I selfishly hoped he wouldn't. It had been fun talking about spells with someone who stirred them for a living. I didn't find that very often.

Slowly the water around me brightened from light reflecting off the rising bottom, and my adrenaline spiked when I realized we'd reached the island. The current had kept the dropoff sharp, and about thirty feet from the shore we stopped, my fins resting on the smooth, fist-sized rocks the bottom was made of.

Step one
—
check,
I thought when I broke the surface, my pulse pounding from the stress of the dive. Marshal had warned us, but it still came as a surprise. Swimming with the sedate pace of a fish sounded easier than it was. My legs felt like rubber and the rest of me like lead.

The return to wind and sound was a shock, and I squinted through my fogged-up mask at the empty shore. Relieved, I edged in until I could sit neck deep in slightly warmer water. Pulling off my mask and mouthpiece, I took in crisp air that didn't taste like plastic.

Jenks was up already, and red pressure lines marked his face. He looked as tired as I felt. Different muscles, I decided. Too cold, perhaps. Marshal came up beside me in an upwelling of bubbles, and I turned to the boat, glad to find its white smear some distance away. The farther it was, the less likely the Weres would think it was a threat.

“You okay?” I asked Jenks, and he nodded, clearly miserable with cold despite the amulet Marshal had given him. Satisfied to simply sit and catch my breath, I scanned the empty shore. It looked peaceful enough, with a few gulls stomping about on the narrow beach, screaming as they
weighed the possibility of a snack coming their way.

“I could've flown that in three minutes,” Jenks said, wiggling out of his harness.

“Yeah,” I said, following suit. “And collapsed from cold halfway to become fish food.”

“Jax made it,” he said sourly. “And I might collapse from the cold anyway. How do you stand it, Rache? Tink's titties, I think parts of me fell off.”

I snorted, removing my gloves to fumble numbly at my belt. With Jenks's help I got out of my own gear and felt a hundred times lighter. Somewhere along the way I'd scratched the healing gashes of my knuckles back open, but my hands were too cold to bleed. I looked at the white-rimmed wounds, thinking I'd never get them healed over at this rate.

Marshal stood, sleek in his custom-designed wet suit of gold and black, his mask resting atop his forehead. “Rachel,” he said, his brown eyes worried. “I changed my mind. Leaving you here isn't a good idea.”

Jenks glanced at me, and I stifled a sigh, having half expected this. “I appreciate that,” I said, lurching to stand and almost falling down again, “but the best way you can help me is to get yourself back out to your boat and finish your day as if you'd never heard of me. If any Weres come sniffing around, tell them you took me out on your boat and I hit you on the head and stole your gear. You didn't go to the I.S. because you were embarrassed.”

From beside me, Jenks looked at Marshal's muscular physique, clearly defined under the thick rubber, and chuckled. Marshal's smile widened, the water glinting on his face. “You're really something, Rachel. Maybe—”

Fins and gear in hand, I headed for the beach to get out of my wet suit. “No maybes,” I said, not looking back. As my bare feet splashed in the sparkling surf, I dropped everything but my waist pack, reaching for a ley line and not finding one. I wasn't surprised. I had a spindle of ley line energy in my head, but I couldn't make a circle unless I tapped a line. It was limiting, but not debilitating.

“I've got your business card at the boat,” Marshal insisted, following me. Jenks was right behind him, his pixy strength letting him carry his gear and our tanks both.

“Burn it?” I suggested. Stumbling on the smooth, fist-sized rocks, I sat down before I fell over. I didn't feel a bit like James Bond as I pulled a rock from under me and tossed it aside.

Jenks dropped everything where I had, then came to sit beside me with a weary sigh. With his help I peeled out of the wet suit, to feel cold and exposed.

Marshal stood awkwardly between me and the water, an obvious target should anyone come out of the nearby woods. “I should have known something was wrong when you wore running tights under your wet suit,” he said as the suit came off.

The rocks were cold through the wet spandex, and setting my waist pack on my lap, I unzipped it. Everything was dry inside the zippy bags, and as Jenks got out of his suit, I put my lightweight running shoes on, fingers fumbling from the cold. Marshal's eyes widened at the splat gun peeking from around the rim. Letting him get an eyeful, I handed Jenks his scent disguise amulet, then dropped mine around my neck, tucking it behind the collar of my black two-piece running outfit. Reminded, I took Marshal's warmth charm and extended it to him. Marshal took a breath to protest, and I said, “It's got your name on it.”

I nudged Jenks, and he reluctantly handed his over too. While he and I prepared to move, Marshal's expression slowly turned from puzzlement to alarm. It was a lot colder without the amulets, and I felt the wind keenly through the wet spandex. Tension had me stiff when I rolled up the wet suit as best I could and handed it to him.

“This isn't good,” Marshal said as he took it and I sat on the rocks and looked up at him.

“No, it isn't,” I said, cold, wet, and tired. “But here I am.”

Feet shifting on the rocks, his glaze drifted to the splat gun, and while he fidgeted, I handed Jenks his share of the splat balls, which he dropped into a mesh bag hanging from
his waist. I had offered to get him his own gun at the shop where I picked up the paint balls to fill with the sleepy-time potions, but he'd wanted the impressive-looking slingshot instead. It fastened to his arm and looked as effective as a crossbow. I was willing to bet he was as accurate with it too.

Ready to go, Jenks stood in a clatter of sliding stones, taking a stick of driftwood and swinging it as if it was a sword. He was gracefully controlled, and Marshal watched for a moment before he extended a hand to help me up. “You're a good witch, right?”

I took it, feeling the warmth and strength behind it. “Despite how it looks? Yes,” I said, then tugged the cuff back down over my demon scar. My fingers slipped from his, and he dropped a step away.
I was a white witch, damn it
. Behind me, Jenks thrust and parried, silent but for his feet in the stones. We had to get going, but Marshal stood in front of me, looking sleek in his wet suit, warmth amulets dangling from his fingers.

He looked behind him at his boat and our gear piled on the shore. Lips tight in decision, he bowed his head and peeled the sticker off an amulet. “Here,” he said, handing me the charm.

I blinked, the cold vanishing as my fingers touched it again. “Marshal…”

But he was moving, lean muscles bunching as he gathered a handful of equipment and strode to the edge of the vegetation. “Keep them,” he said as he dropped the gear in the scrub, then went back for another, second load. “I changed my mind. I thought you were joking about this rescue thing. I can't leave you here without a way off. Your boyfriend can use my gear. I'm going to tell my boys you panicked and made me radio the water taxi to get you back to land. If you have to swim for it, hug Round Island to get to Mackinac Island and take the ferry. You can leave everything in a locker at one of the docks and mail me the key. If you don't swim off, leave everything here, and I'll pick it up the next time we get a good fog.”

My heart seemed to swell and my eyes warmed from gratitude. “What about your driver?”

Marshal shrugged, his rubber-clad shoulders looking good as the sun glinted on him. “He'll go along with it. We go way back.” His eyes went narrow with worry. “Promise me you won't trying to cross the straits. It's too far.”

I nodded, and he handed Jenks his amulet back. “Watch the ferries coming in to Mackinac Island. Especially the ones that hydroplane. They come in fast. There's a second warmth amulet in my gear for your boyfriend. I have it for emergencies.” He winced, his hairless eyebrows rising. “This sounds like one.”

I didn't know what to say. From beside me, Jenks peeled the sticker from his amulet and fed it to one of the gulls ringing us. It flew squawking away, three more in hot pursuit. “Marshal,” I stammered. “You might lose your license.”
Best-case scenario
.

“No, I won't. I trust you. You aren't a professional diver, but you're a professional something, and you need a little help. If you have any problem, just dump the gear and swim at the surface. I'd, uh, rather you didn't, though.” His brown eyes seemed to flit among the trees. “Something weird has been going on over here, and I don't like it.” He smiled, though he still looked worried. “I hope you get your boyfriend back okay.”

Relief slipped into me. God, what a nice guy. “Thank you, Marshal,” I said, leaning forward and pulling myself up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Can you reach your boat okay?”

He nodded, discomfited. “I do a lot of free swimming. Piece of cake.”

I remembered my stint of swimming in the frozen Ohio River, hoping he would be okay. “Soon as I can, I'll call you to let you know we made it okay and where your stuff is.”

“Thanks,” he said, head swinging back up to me. “I'd appreciate that. Someday I'm going to track you down, and you're going to tell me what this was all about.”

I felt a sloppy smile come over me. “It's a date. But then I'll have to kill you.”

Laughing, he turned to go, then hesitated, the sun glinting on his suit. “Burn your card?”

Brushing my wet hair back, I nodded.

“Okay.” This time he didn't stop. As I watched, he waded into the surf, diving into a wave and starting for his boat with clean, smooth strokes.

“
Now
I feel like James Bond,” I said, and Jenks laughed.

“Into the woods,” Jenks said, and with a last backward look at Marshal, I headed for the scrub. The smooth rocks were hard to walk on, and I felt like an idiot wobbling after him. It was warmer without the wind, and after only a few steps the beach turned into a thick brush.

The first of the spring-green leaves closed over us, and as I picked my way through the vegetation, Jenks asked, “Do you like him?”

“No,” I said immediately, feeling the tension of a lie. How could I not? He was risking his livelihood, and maybe his life.

“He's a witch,” Jenks offered, as if that was all it took.

Toying with the idea of letting the stick I was holding fling back to slap him, I said, “Jenks, stop being my mother.”

The brush thinned as we forced our way into the interior and the trees grew larger.

“I think you like him,” Jenks persisted. “He's got a nice body.”

My breath came quick. “Okay, I like him,” I admitted. “But it takes more than a nice body, Jenks. Jeez, I do have a
little
depth. You've got a great body, and you don't see me trying to get into your Fruit of the Looms.”

He reddened at that, and finally breaking through into a clearing, I stopped, trying to find my sense of direction. “Which way do you think the compound is, anyway?”

Jenks was better than a compass, and he pointed. “Want to run until we get close?”

I nodded. Jenks was wearing Marshal's warmth amulet and looked toasty, but it was too much for me. Without it I
felt sluggish, and I hoped I didn't hurt myself until I warmed up. Between Jax and the old plot map in the local museum, we had a good layout of the island.

Jenks ran a finger between his heel and his shoe before taking a deep breath and breaking into a slow lope that wouldn't stress us too much and would give us time to dodge obstacles instead of running into them. Jax had said most of the buildings in use were by the island's lakes; that's where we were headed. I thought of Marshal swimming for his boat and hoped he was okay.