The Parting Glass (Caitlin Ross Book 4) (7 page)

“Did your guides have anything to say?”

He snorted. “They always have something to say, aye? But no, nothing to the point.” He pressed his lips together and I wondered what he might be keeping back.

“So?”

“I found the studio. Or, its reflection in the Otherworld. That wasna so hard. But I wanted to go back, to see what had happened.”

“And did you?” I couldn’t keep the eagerness from my voice.

“That’s when it began to get a bit difficult.” He tapped a finger on the rim of his cup, using the rhythm to recall his experience, maybe. “I couldna hold on to the shift. As if…as if I were trying to get to a place that didna exist. No. A place the Otherworld rejected. That wasna supposed to be.”

“Huh.” I didn’t quite understand what he meant, but he clearly found it disturbing.

“Then I got through. And I saw…”

“What?”

“Shadows.” He swallowed, remembering something a lot worse than shadows, I thought. “Shadows with substance. Mirror images, perhaps.”

“Of Stonefeather? Or something else?”

“Stonefeather and not Stonefeather. All at once. I dinna ken. I need to think. And then… The darkness. It touched me, and something in it called to something in me. And well.” He bolted the rest of his tea with a stiff wrist, as if it had been something stronger. “I’ll take you home, aye? We’ve done enough for the day.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I’m astonished to hear those words from your mouth.”

“Aye, well. Spruce will be wanting her car back.”

We drove back to Beljoxa’s Eye in silence, neither of us up to any more conversation. Timber still looked paler than normal, and my stomach continued to protest every time we went over a bump in the road. At last, we pulled up in front of the shop. I expected Timber to let me out and be on his way. Instead, he hopped out and opened my door for me before I managed to disentangle myself from the seatbelt.

“Thank you.”

He nodded and walked me up to the door, waiting while I fumbled my key into the lock.

“So, tomorrow, then?” he said when I finally got it open.

“Mmmm… Oh, wait. No,” I replied, remembering the date. “No, I can’t work on this tomorrow.”

Timber’s face went red and his eyes flashed. “What d’ye mean, you can’t work on this tomorrow? D’ye not realize how important…?”

I pushed into the shop, angry Scot hard on my heels.

“Yes, I realize what you’re doing is important. And you’ll have to do it by yourself tomorrow. I have other plans.”

“What?” he sputtered. “Ye’ll have tae put them aside. Finding Stonefeather takes precedence.”

“Not for me.” How dare he try to tell me what to do!

“So what are these…
plans
?” he almost sneered the word.

“Tomorrow is Lithe. The Summer Solstice,” I explained, patient, as if to a child. “It’s a holiday. I keep it. I don’t work. I won’t even be home.”

“Not all day?”

“Not all day.” In truth, my plans were only for the morning. I didn’t know about the afternoon. But I wasn’t about to let him push me around. I could use a day without Timber MacDuff.

“
Aireamh na h-Aoine ort
!” He stomped farther into the showroom and whirled on me, glaring. “How can ye… How am I supposed tae navigate this
salachar
wi’ out ye?”

“If you’re going to swear at me, please have the courtesy to do it in a language I can understand,” I said in prim tones. In his wrath he was, in fact, quite alarming, but no way was I going to back down. “You seem a capable man. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“I dinna have the slightest idea where tae go from here!”

It must have cost him to admit it. I didn’t care.

“Make something up! Go turn your charm on some marks! It’s worked well enough so far.”

His hand came up as if of its own volition, and I wondered dimly if he meant to slap me. If he did, I’d give him something he wouldn’t soon forget. It might be the end of our association, and Stonefeather would suffer for it. So would I, since I had bound myself to help the man, and it would be much more difficult on my own. It would be worth it, though, to get this troublesome Scot out of my life.

Timber seemed to recall what I could do if threatened. Or maybe he recalled something else, for his face made a sudden shift from red to white, and he flinched. He lowered his hand and clenched his fist by his side.

“I dinna make light of your talents. Ye shouldna scorn mine.”

I said nothing. For a time we simply glowered at one another.

“I dinna take your help for granted,” he said stiffly. “It means a great deal tae me. So. Once more. Will ye help me tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Fine.” He stalked past me, heading for the door. “I’ll do it meself.”

“Fine.”

Just for a second, he paused with his hand on the knob, and I thought he would turn back. Maybe he’d thought of some other argument, or something especially scathing to say. But he only jerked the door open and left, slamming it behind him.

I tossed my fanny pack into a corner and slumped against the counter. McGuyver emerged from the book room, slitted his yellow eyes at me, and gave a reproachful meow.

“What do you want?” I muttered. He walked away without answering, tail swishing.

Gods. Fucking MacDuff. Who did he think he was, coming here and messing up my life? With his fucking charm, and his expectations, and his healing and his smile and his big hands? I wanted to throw something. I wanted to throttle him.

The shop seemed weirdly empty with him gone.

I needed to eat. I’d puked up my breakfast and it was going on four. Still fuming, I went back to the kitchen and stuck my head in the fridge. Everything in it seemed like too much work, so I pulled out my box of leftovers from Lucile’s. Breakfast seemed like a hundred years ago.

The cold poached egg stared up at me from its bed of spinach, a baleful eye.

I threw it in the trash and went upstairs to bed.

Chapter Seven

I
woke ravenous at dawn.

When I’d gone upstairs the previous afternoon, I hadn’t thought to sleep, only to hide for a bit, but I’d crashed as soon as my head hit the pillow. The stress of the situation with Stonefeather and MacDuff had tired me out more than I’d realized.
Good thing Sage doesn’t know I’m up,
I thought, wiping the crust from my eyes. She’d always wanted to do a sunrise Solstice. Knowing my aversion to early rising, she’d settled for ten o’clock, but I wouldn’t have put it past her to show up at my door if she got wind of my unaccustomed wakefulness. I clamped down on the notion, cringing. For all I knew, she might pick up on it.

Downstairs, I fixed myself a larger than usual breakfast and shoveled it in with an appetite that would have done Timber MacDuff proud. I had a sudden vision of him at breakfast the day before: the pleasure on his face as he savored his food, the movement of the muscles in his throat as he swallowed. The way his big hand curved around his coffee cup. The same hand had rested so gently on the back of my neck when he shared his energy with me. Yet I knew he had a streak of violence in him, too. The combination of the two stirred me more than I wanted. Much more.

Something contracted in my groin. I tried to ignore it. Good thing I wasn’t going to see MacDuff today, anyway. At Lithe, the Summer Solstice, the sun tides reached their peak, their effect compelling and sexual. As much so as at Beltane, May first, although the flavor differed. Frustrating as it might be to have to deny the impulse, better not to risk it. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with Timber.

I puttered around for a few hours, restocking and doing inventory, tasks I needed to do but often put off because they bored me. When eight o’clock came, I began to get ready. I drew the shades in the bathroom and lit candles and incense as the tub filled. A special oil went into the water, one I made myself: rose, sandalwood and hibiscus, with a hint of musk and just a drop of patchouli. As I soaked, I meditated on the sun’s cycle. Born at midwinter, a nursing child at Imbolc, when you first began to see the days are growing longer. At Ostara, the Spring Equinox, he’s a nimble boy, catching up with his dark brother. Beltane finds him a youth, newly aware of the joys of his body and eager to try them out. And at Lithe…

At Lithe, he reaches the fullness of his power and masculinity.
Sol Invictus
, the Romans had called him then: the Unconquered Sun. The Oak Tree King, crowned with mistletoe. His reign might be brief; tomorrow his power would be in decline and the Holly King of the dark half of the year ascendant. But for this dazzling moment his command held absolute sway. He was the sublime ruler, the most valiant of warriors. The fruitful husband. The ear of the corn.

The Oak Tree King.

Sage had called Timber “oak tree man.”

Blinking, I swam up out of my trance. The water had gone cold. I got out of the tub and dried off, the towel rough on my skin. Naked, I walked into my bedroom and stood in front of the full length mirror. My hands drifted up to trace my collarbones, down to caress my breasts. My skin slid under my fingers, slick with bath oil. My thighs ached.
Danger,
whispered my heart.

Yes, a very good thing I was not going to see Timber today.

I got dressed. Silk panties, an ivory cotton camisole, and a silk circle skirt the color of tarnished bronze. Jewelry: necklace and earrings of amber and jet with silver and bone spacers, which I’d made myself. I sat at my dressing table and began the arduous task of French braiding my long hair. It would be hot, and we would be dancing.

I’d finished two-thirds of the braid and my arms were aching when someone began to pound on my door.

“Who the hell could that be?” I muttered, but my stomach clenched. I had a feeling I knew.

I did not hasten to finish off my braid; my unwanted visitor could wait until I was good and ready. The pounding on my door paused, then returned, harder. I rummaged in the dressing table drawer for an elastic. Maybe he’d decide I’d already left and go away.

No such luck. The pounding did stop, but he had spotted my open bedroom window, directly above the front door. Boots clattered on the walk.

“Caitlin! Are ye up there?” called an all-too-familiar Scots voice.

Without bothering to answer, I tied off my braid, stalked downstairs and yanked the door open.

“What are you doing here?” I snarled.

Timber bounded up the front steps—he’d been on the walk, looking up at the window—and pushed past me into the shop. His face was flushed.

“You have to come with me.” He made a grab for my wrist; I snatched it out of his reach.

“Why? I said not today. Do we have to have this argument all over again?”

“Aye, well. That was then. I have more information.”

I stifled my curiosity and made my voice cold. “Oh?”

“Last night I went to the pub. The Sundown.”

A snort escaped me at the idea of referring to the Sundown Saloon as a pub. “And are clearly still feeling the effects.”

“I had a few beers!” he protested. “But never mind that. Stonefeather was there Saturday night.”

“So?”

“He was there! While ye had me at that sodding session, he wasna two blocks away!”

“I’ll remind you we went to that session to get information. Which we did.” He did not look appeased. “What do you expect me to do, turn back time? It’s beyond my powers, sorry.”

“If we’d been in the right place instead o’ the wrong one, we would hae had him,” Timber insisted.

“We had no way of knowing so. Nothing sounds more horrible to me than sacrificing my Saturday night session to poke into every bar on Pearl Street on the off chance of finding a drunk Indian.”

He raised his eyebrows at me, no doubt shocked at my politically incorrect terminology.

“You,” Timber loomed over me, blue eyes spitting fire, “are not taking this with the proper level of respect. It’s a game to ye, aye?”

“What!”

“Ye wouldna give up your Saturday. You won’t give up today.”

“You’re right.” I ducked away from him and retrieved my fanny pack from the corner where I had tossed it the previous afternoon. “I won’t. And I’m leaving.”

He followed me out the door, continued to loom while I locked up, and followed me down the street. His sister’s horrible car was nowhere in evidence; he must have walked. Or run. All the way downtown, hoping to intercept me before I left and convince me to work on a holiday. Ass.

“He left with a woman. I have her number.” Timber brandished a cocktail napkin over my shoulder. “Name o’ Marilyn.”

I stopped in my tracks and burst out laughing. “Moon Pie? He left the Sundown with Moon Pie?”

“Ye ken her?”

“Not to speak to, but yes.” I started walking again. “She wears all white and hangs out in bars, offering to ‘enlighten’ various gentlemen.”

“I see.” Timber’s voice rose with interest as he got my meaning.

“I wouldn’t have expected her to frequent the Sundown, though. Her usual habitat is…tonier.”

“I suppose Stonefeather might have felt in need of…ah… ‘enlightenment.’” Timber mused. “It can be a comfort in the dark.” 

“Indeed.” I crossed Eighth Street, large Scotsman hard on my heels.

“But d’ye no see why we need to follow this up right away? If he left with this Marilyn on Saturday, and she being what ye say…”

“What, you want the details?”

“No, but she might know something to the purpose.”

“Why would she?” I sped up. “Call her yourself, then! I’m sure she’d be happy to ‘enlighten’ you.”

To my surprise, he chuckled. “Aye, she might. But my budget doesna run to much of that kind of ‘enlightenment.’ Besides,” The amusement left his tone. In fact, he sounded bitter. “I leave the working girls alone. I’ll never go with a woman who hasn’t a choice. I’ve seen too much.”

I thought about that as we continued down Spruce Street. Not that I found the revelation odd. Timber was an extremely attractive man; he’d have no trouble with women and no need to pay for sex. Of course, some men found paying for sex arousing. It didn’t seem he was one of them. Quite the opposite, in fact. Besides, with the little trick he had of being charming at will… But then, he’d no doubt consider that the same as leaving a woman no choice. Come to think of it, he’d never turned his peculiar talent on me. And he could have. He could have saved himself a lot of argument and got me to do anything he wanted. Maybe.

“So,” he said at last. “You’re determined to keep to your plans.”

“Yes.”

“What about after?”

“It’s still a holiday.”

We walked another block in silence. I wondered when he would get the message, and go away and leave me alone.

“Why d’ye call her Moon Pie?” he asked abruptly.

“Marilyn? Because she floats around in those white clothes, with lots of dangly crystal jewelry, and spouts off heaps of New Age nonsense.”

“I expect it goes with the business of selling enlightenment.”

“I expect so.”

We reached the bend in the road where Spruce Street turned into Mountain View and took the pedestrian walkway to Fifth.

“Where are we going?” Timber asked as we headed up to Pearl.

I stopped and whirled on him, skirt swirling around my calves. “
I
am going to Eben Fine Park to celebrate the Summer Solstice. Where
you
are going, I have no idea.”

“May I come with you?”

“I beg your pardon?” I stared at him in disbelief.

His eyes twinkled, sapphires in starlight. “I thought I was speaking a language you understood. May I come with you, I said.”

“I thought you were all hot to track down Stonefeather before his trail went cold again.”

“Och, well.” He shrugged. “Perhaps a day off wilna hurt. Perhaps I need a holiday, too.”

I couldn’t stop gaping at him. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Oh gods. Oh no. Timber MacDuff on Lithe. My heart started to pound and I swallowed convulsively. All at once, my camisole seemed much too tight.

“Well? Please say I can come.”

I wanted to choke at his choice of words. Instead, I gave a brief nod.

“All right.” I turned back around so I wouldn’t have to look at him, and started walking again. “But stay out of the way and do what Sage tells you.”

His boots hurried to catch up with me. “Sage will be there? I dinna think she likes me much.”

“Why ever not?” I remembered the way Sage had looked at Timber. In my opinion, she liked him all too well.

“Just a feeling.” He moved up to walk at my side.

Well. She had warned me to be careful. Not that it was any of her business. Honestly. Sometimes Sage could be all too protective of me, like a mother hen with one chick. She wasn’t even much older than I was. And I’d been around the block a few times. I hailed from Detroit, for gods’ sake!

I slid my eyes at my companion, allowing them to travel up his long legs and rest for a moment on his fine ass before continuing to the muscled chest under his tight t-shirt and his broad shoulders. My throat went dry. Maybe I did need protecting. But, dammit, it was Lithe! The sun pulsed in my blood, reminding me how long it had been since I had been with a man. With anyone at all. Lots of women would be happy to take advantage of the possibilities.

But, as I had told Sage, I had never been one to indulge in casual encounters. Sex. Whatever. It never went well.

In another few minutes, we picked up the creek path at Third and Canyon. A hundred yards took us into Eben Fine Park. I could hear the drums; Sage and her crew had already arrived and started warming up. Timber’s ears pricked at the sound, and his body quivered with eagerness.

“Don’t count on being invited to participate,” I told him. “For all we’re in a public space here, this is private.”

He cast a scathing glance my way. “I wouldna think of it. It’s not my style, and I know better than to mess with magics I know nothing about. Thrilling as it might be.”