The dishcloth had long since become damp, but we were almost done and it wasn't worth the effort to get a dry one. Robbie was washing, I was drying, and Marshal was putting away with the help of my mom. The truth was, she was out here supervising so Robbie and I didn't lapse into one of our infamous water fights. I smiled and handed a bowl to Marshal. The scent of roast beef and butterscotch pie was heavy in the air, a big trigger for the memories of the Sunday nights when Robbie would come over. I had been twelve and Robbie twenty. And then it had all stopped when Dad died.

Robbie saw my mood shift, and he made a fist half in the water, half out. Squeezing his hand, he made a short burst of water arc up and splash into my side of the sink.

"Knock it off," I complained, then shrieked when he squirted me again. "Mom!"

"Robbie." Mom didn't even look up from arranging the coffee tray.

"I didn't do anything," he protested, and my mom's eyes glinted when she turned.

"Then don't do anything a little faster," she complained. "Honestly, I never understood why it took you two so long to get the kitchen cleaned up. Put some hustle into it. Marshal is the only one out here working." She beamed at him, making the young man flush when Robbie muttered a good-natured "Suck-up."

Robbie and Marshal had hit it off great, the two of them spending much of the evening with talk about college sports and music. Marshal was closer to Robbie's age than mine, and it was nice seeing my brother actually approve of one of my boyfriends. Not that Marshal was a boyfriend, but watching them made me wistful, as if I was getting a glimpse of something I'd turned my back on. This was what a normal family must be like, with siblings bringing new people into the family, becoming part of something bigger...Belonging.

It didn't help that most of the dinner conversation had centered on Robbie and Cindy. They were obviously serious about each other, and I could just see my mother becoming happier by the moment because Robbie might start a family and find himself part of the "circle of life." I'd given up on the white picket fence after Kisten had died-finding out my kids would be demons was the nail in the coffin-but seeing Robbie getting kudos for doing something I deemed not socially responsible for me to pursue was irritating. Sibling rivalry sucked.

With Marshal here, I could at least pretend. Both Mom and Robbie were impressed that he'd just sold his own business with enough profit to put him through getting his master's without having to work at all. The swim-coach thing now was just to lower his tuition and give him a whole lot more disposable income. I'd hoped he'd heard from admissions about my declined check by now, but apparently not everyone was working over the winter break.

Giving Robbie a light smack from the back of her hand for the suck-up comment, my mother pointed out to Marshal where the glasses went, then busied herself arranging the last of the solstice cookies on a plate. The round sugar cookies were bright with solstice green and gold, and lettered with runes of good fortune. My mom put her heart into everything she did.

As soon as her back was turned, Robbie threatened to shoot another jet of water at me. I closed my eyes and ignored him. I'd been trying to get him alone all night to ask him about that book, but between Marshal and my mother, I hadn't had the chance. I was going to have to bring in some help. Marshal wasn't devious by nature, but he wasn't slow on the uptake either.

Humming happily, my mom sashayed out with a plate of cookies. The stereo in the living room went on, and I grimaced. I had thirty seconds, tops.

"Marshal," I said, pleading with my eyes as I handed him a plate. "I've got a big favor to ask. I'll tell you all about it later, but will you keep my mom busy for about ten minutes?"

Robbie stopped what he was doing and just looked at me. "What's up, firefly?"

My mom came back in, and following the pattern we'd laid down when we were conniving kids, Robbie turned back to the sink as if I'd said nothing.

"Please...," I whispered to Marshal when he came back from sliding the stack of plates away. "I've got to talk to Robbie about something."

Oblivious, my mom puttered with the coffeemaker, jostling Robbie and me aside and looking small next to us as she filled the carafe.

"Marshal," Robbie said, eyes twinkling as they met mine behind my mom's back. "You look as tired as a dead carp. Rachel and I can finish here. Why don't you go and sit in the living room and wait for coffee? Look at a few photo albums."

Immediately my mother brightened. "What a fantastic idea! Marshal, you must see the photos we took on our last summer vacation. Rachel was twelve, and just starting to have some strength," she said, taking his elbow. "And Rachel will bring the coffee out when it's done." Smiling, she turned to me. "Don't be too long, you two," she said, but the lilt in her voice gave me pause. I think she knew I was getting rid of them. My mom was nuts; she was not stupid.

I slipped my hands into the warm water and pulled out a dripping serving platter. From the front of the house came Marshal's resonant voice. It sounded good balanced against my mom's. Dinner had been pleasant, but again, almost painful listening to Robbie go on and on about Cindy, my mom joining in when they talked about her two weeks out there. I was jealous, but everyone I got attached to seemed to end up hurt, dead, or crooked. Everyone but Ivy and Jenks, and I wasn't sure about the crooked part with them.

"Well, what is it?" Robbie said, dropping the silverware so the rinse water splashed.

Quietly I ran the back of my hand across my chin. And here I am, trying to resurrect a ghost. Maybe I could be friends with a ghost. I wouldn't be able to kill him. "Remember that book you gave me for the winter solstice?" I asked.

"No."

My eyes came up, but he wouldn't meet them. His jaw was clenched, making his long face appear longer. "The one that I used to bring-" I started.

"No." It was forceful, and my lips parted when I realized he meant no as in "I'm not telling," not "I don't know."

"Robbie!" I exclaimed softly. "You've got it?"

My brother rubbed his eyebrows. It was one of his tells. He was either lying, or about to. "I've no clue what you're talking about," he said as he wiped off the suds he'd just put there.

"Liar," I accused, and his jaw tightened. "It's mine," I said, then softened my voice when Marshal raised his voice to cover us up. "You gave it to me. I need it. Where is it?"

"No." His gaze was intent and his voice determined as he scoured the pan the roast had been in. "It was a mistake to give it to you, and it's going to stay right where it is."

"Which is...," I prompted, but he continued to scrub, his short hair moving as he did.

"You gave it to me!" I exclaimed, frustrated and hoping he wasn't going to tell me it was four time zones away.

"You have no right to try to summon Dad again." Only now would he look at me, and his temper was showing. "Mom had a devil of a time pulling herself back together after that little stunt. Took me two weeks and almost five hundred dollars in phone bills."

"Yeah, well, I spent seven years putting her back together when you left after Dad died, so I think we're even."

Robbie's shoulders slumped. "That's not fair."

"Neither is leaving us for a stinking career," I said, my heart pounding. "God, no wonder she's so screwed up. You did the same thing Takata did to her. You're both exactly alike."

My brother's face became closed and he turned away. Immediately I wished I could take it back, even if it was true. "Robbie, I'm sorry," I said, and he flicked a glance at me. "I shouldn't have said that. It's just...I really need that book."

"It's not safe."

"I'm not eighteen anymore!" I exclaimed, dish towel on my hip.

"You sure act like it."

I dropped the dry silverware in the drawer, slammed it shut, and turned. Seeing my frustration, Robbie softened, and with his voice carrying a shared pain, he said, "Dad's at rest, Rachel. Let him go."

Peeved, I shook my head. "I'm not trying to talk to Dad. I need it to talk to Pierce."

Robbie huffed as he drained the sink and rinsed the cooking pan under tap water. "He's at rest, too. Leave the poor guy alone."

A faint excitement lifted in me at the memory of the night Pierce and I had spent in the snow of Cincinnati. It had been the first time I had really felt alive. The first time I'd ever been able to help anyone. "Pierce is not at rest. He's in my church, and has been for almost a year, changing my phone's ring tones and making Jenks's cat stare at me."

Robbie turned, shocked, and I reached to turn the water off for him. "You're kidding."

I tried not to look smug, but he was my brother, and it was my right. "I want to help him find his rest. Where is the book?" I asked as I took the pan and shook the water from it.

He thought for a moment as he rummaged under the sink for the cleanser, dusting a little in the sink and then replacing it where it had sat for almost three decades. "The attic," he said as he started to scrub. "I've got Mom's crucible up there, too. The really expensive red-and-white one? And the bottle to hold the potion. I don't know where the watch is. Did you lose it?"

Elated, I put the roaster away half dried. "It's in my dresser," I said, trying not to sneeze at the sharp scent of cleanser as I jammed the dish towel over the rod to dry and started for the door. I was going to get everything in one go. How lucky could I get?

I was halfway to the kitchen door when Robbie caught my elbow. "I'll get it," he said, glancing past me to the unseen living room. "I don't want Mom to know what you're doing. Tell her I'm looking for my bottle-cap collection."

Snorting, I nodded. Yeah, like he'd really take his beer-bottle-cap collection on the plane with him. "Ten minutes," I said. "If you're not down here by then, I'm coming up after you."

"Fair enough." He smiled as he pulled the towel from the rack and dried his hands. "You are such a sweet sister. I truly don't know how those rumors get started."

I tried to come up with something, my mind going blank when he flicked the towel at me, scoring. "Hey!" I yelped.

"Leave your sister alone, Robbie," my mom said faintly from the living room, her voice carrying a familiar firmness, and both Robbie and I smiled. It had been too long. Smirking at his innocently wide green eyes, I grabbed the sponge and hefted it experimentally.

"Rachel!" came my mom's voice, and grinning, Robbie tossed the dish towel at me and sauntered confidently out of the kitchen. Almost immediately I heard the attic door being pulled down, and the thunk of the stairway hitting the carpet in the bedroom hallway. Confident now that I'd be going home with everything I'd need, I wiped the sink out and hung up the dish towel.

"Coffee," I whispered, sniffing at the coffeemaker and hoping she'd lightened up on the grounds in deference to having a guest.

Shoes a soft hush on linoleum, my mom came in. "What's Robbie doing in the attic?"

I pulled back from the still-dripping coffee machine. "Looking for his bottle-cap collection." Okay, so I lied to my mother. But I'd be willing to bet he'd find something up there to take back with him, so it wasn't a lie altogether.

She made a small sound as she pulled four white mugs from the cupboard and set them on the tray. It was the set she used for her best company, and I wondered if it meant anything. "It's nice to have you both here," she said softly, and my tension vanished. It was nice to have Robbie here, to pretend for a while that nothing had changed.

My mom busied herself fussing with the tray as the last of the coffee dripped into the coffeemaker, and again I noticed how young her hands were. Witches lived for almost two centuries, and we could almost pass for sisters-especially since she had stopped dressing down. "Cindy is nice," she said from out of the blue, and I started, jerked back to reality by the mention of Robbie's girlfriend. "He teases her like he teases you." She was smiling, and I went to get the cream out of the fridge. "You'd like her," she added, her eyes on the backyard, lit from the neighbor's security light. "She's working at the university while finishing up her degree."

Smart, then, I thought, not surprised. This hadn't come out in dinner conversation. I wondered why. "What is she taking?"

My mom's lips pressed together in thought. "Criminology."

Really smart. Too smart?

"She has one year left," my mom said as she arranged a set of spoons on the napkins. "It was nice watching them together. She balances Robbie out. He's so pie in the sky, and she's so down to earth. She has a quiet beauty. Their children will be precious beyond belief."

Her smile had gone soft, and I smiled, realizing that by settling down, Robbie was setting himself up for an entirely new set of mom-wants. She might have given up on me, but now Robbie was going to take the full brunt. Oh so sad...

"Tell me," she said in a deceptively mild tone, "how are you and Marshal getting along?"

My smile faded. Okay, maybe she hadn't given up on me completely. "Fine. We're doing great," I said with a new nervousness. She'd been the one to tell me that we weren't suited for more than a rebound relationship, but after hearing at dinner how Marshal had pulled Tom out from under my kitchen, she might have readjusted her thinking.

"Robbie really likes him," she continued. "It's nice for me to know that you have someone looking after you. Able to go under your house and kill snakes for you, so to speak."

"Mom..." I felt trapped all of a sudden. "I can kill my own snakes. Marshal and I are friends, and that's enough. Why can't I just have a guy friend? Huh? Every time I push it, I mess it up. Besides, you told me he wasn't a long-term solution but a short-term diversion."

I was whining, and she set the sugar bowl down and turned to face me. "Sweetheart," she said, touching my jaw. "I'm not telling you to marry the man. I'm telling you to keep the lines of communication open. Make sure he knows what's going on."

My stomach, full of gravy and beef, started to churn. "Good," I said, surprised. "Because I'm not dating him, and nothing is going on. Everyone I date ends up dead or going off a bridge."

Her lips twisted into a wry expression as she took the carafe and poured the coffee into the best silver pitcher. "They do not," she chided. "I really like Marshal, and he's been good for you, but he's too...safe, maybe, to keep your interest, and I want to make sure he's not thinking there's more to this than there is. He's too good a person to lead on like that, and if you've given him any indication-"

"He knows we're just friends," I interrupted. God! What was it with her?

"Friends is fine," she said firmly. "And it's good to know he can come through in a pinch. This thing with the Bansen character, for example. I'll sleep better knowing you have someone to go to if I'm not around. I worry about you, sweetheart."

My jaw clenched, and I could feel my blood pressure start to rise. This was not what I wanted to talk about. "If I find any more snakes under my floorboards, I'll know who to call." Then I hesitated. If she isn't around?

"Uh, Mom?" I said as she fussed over the tray. "You're okay, right?"

She laughed, the sound of it pulling my shoulders down. "I'm fine!"

Not quite reassured, I set the good silver coffeepot on the tray, now knowing what it meant. She considered Marshal casual company, not a future son-in-law, and a part of me was disappointed even as I knew it was the best thing. A thump from the attic pulled my attention up. It was followed by another, and I started to fidget. I grabbed the tray as the distinctive bump of the attic door folding up into the ceiling filtered in. He was downstairs.

"I'll take it in," my mother said briskly as she plucked the tray from my hands and gave a nod to the hallway. "Poor Marshal must be bored, sitting there by himself. See if Robbie needs any help with what he pulled out of the attic. Bottle caps! I thought I threw those out!"

"Thanks, Mom." Anxious to get my hands on that book, I followed her, smiling sadly at Marshal's cheerful comment about the beautiful coffeepot as I headed in the other direction, almost running into Robbie. I gasped, and he steadied me with both hands. My eyes narrowed. Both hands? "Where's the book?" I whispered.

Robbie's eyes were pinched in the dim greenness of the hall, cold now from the attic. "It wasn't there."

"What?" I yelped, then lowered my voice and leaned in. "What do you mean, it wasn't there?"

"I mean, it's not where I left it. The box is gone."

Not knowing if I should believe him or not, I angled around him to look for myself. "What does the box look like?" I asked as I reached for the pull cord. Had Mom found it, or was Robbie simply telling me it was gone to keep it out of my reach?

Robbie grabbed my shoulder and turned me back. "Relax. It has to be up there," he said. "I'll check again in the morning after she goes to sleep."

My eyes narrowed, and I hesitated. From the front room came my mom's voice raised in question. "Did you find your rusty caps, Robbie? I want them out of my attic!"

Robbie's grip on my shoulders tightened, then relaxed. "Got 'em, Mom," he said. "I'll be right there. I've got something for you and Rachel."

"Presents?" My mother was suddenly in the hall, beaming as she linked her arm in mine. "You know you don't need to bring us presents. Just having you here is present enough."

Robbie grinned back, winking when I gritted my teeth. Now I'd never get up there to make sure he didn't "miss" something. Crap, he'd done this on purpose.

But my mother was happy, and I followed her back to the living room for coffee as Robbie went to rummage in his luggage. Marshal looked suitably relieved by my appearance, and I plunked myself down on the brown tapestry-covered couch, bumping into him and staying where I was, our thighs touching.

"You owe me," he whispered, his lips twisted in both fun and sly annoyance. "You owe me big."

I looked at the thick photo album of Robbie and me as kids. "Two tickets to the next wrestling event at the coliseum," I whispered back. "Front row."

"That might cover it," he said, laughing at me.

Almost humming, my mom sat and bobbed her foot until she saw me notice it and she stilled it. "I wonder what he got us?" she asked, and the last of my bad mood evaporated. I liked seeing her this way. "Oh, here he comes!" she added, eyes lighting up at the sound of Robbie's footsteps.

Robbie sat across from us and put down two envelopes, each having our names on them in a clearly feminine script. His long face was full of excitement, and he slid them to us with two fingers, one for me, one for my mom. "Cindy and I got these for you," he said as we both reached for them. "But you can't use them until June."

"June?" I mused.

"June?" my mom echoed, then let out a joyous yelp that made me jump. "You're getting married!" she shrieked, and threw herself around the coffee table. "Robbie, oh, Robbie!" she burbled, starting to cry. "Cindy is so sweet. I know you will be so happy together! I'm so excited for you both! Have you found a church yet? What are the invitations going to be like?"

I scooted away from Marshal and stared at the two plane tickets in my envelope. My eyes met Robbie's when I looked up.

"Please say you'll come," he asked me, his arms around our mother as she cried joyful tears. "It would make us both very happy."

"Look at me," my mom warbled, pulling away to wipe her face. "Son of a bitch, I'm crying."

Robbie blinked at her rough words, but I smiled. Same old Mom. "Of course I'll come," I said, standing up and moving around the table. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." Al could just suck my toes and die. So he'd have to pick me up in an unfamiliar ley line. They had ley lines in Portland, same as everywhere else.

The hug turned into a group thing, and it felt good, secure and bittersweet. The lilac and redwood scent from my mom mixed with the aroma of electric amps, but even as my thoughts rejoiced, another worry took me. Maybe I should back off from the magic completely. I mean, I'd never forgive myself if something happened to Robbie or his new bride...or their children.

Giving them both a last squeeze, I let go and retreated. Marshal, standing forgotten, swooped in and shook Robbie's hand, smiling as he offered his "condolences." My eyes were wet, and I smiled through the worry. "I'm really happy for you, Robbie," I said, meaning it. "When's the date?"

Robbie exhaled as he let go of Marshal's hand, becoming truly relaxed. "We haven't set it yet. It's going to be determined by the caterer, I'm afraid." He grinned, embarrassed.

My mom continued to weep happy tears, promising to help in any way she could. Robbie turned from me back to her, and I smiled awkwardly at Marshal. Nothing like your brother announcing he was getting married to make an awkward situation even better.

Someone's phone started to ring, ignored until I realized it was mine. Relishing the chance to extricate myself, I fled to the front door where I'd left my bag and searched it, thinking "Break on Through to the Other Side" must be Pierce's idea of a joke. Not bad, considering he had a hundred and fifty years of music to catch up on. "Sorry," I said when I read Edden's number. "I should take this. It's my cop friend's dad. The one in the hospital?"

My mom made flustered waving motions, and I turned my back on them for some privacy. A ping of adrenaline pulsed through me. I didn't think this was about Glenn, but I didn't want to tell them I was working on bringing in a banshee. Robbie thought I was irresponsible enough already.

My mom and Robbie's excited conversation retreated to background noise when I flipped the top open and put it to my ear. "Hi, Edden," I said in greeting, immediately recognizing that he was in the office by the faint chatter. "What's up?"

"Don't have your TV on, do you," he said, and a second flush of adrenaline built on the first.

"What is it?" I said, looking for my boots. My first thought was Glenn, but Edden sounded excited, not upset.

"Mia is at Circle Mall," he said, and my eyes darted to my bag, glad now I'd brought the charm. I didn't need it, but I'd know for sure if I'd done it right or not. "She was in the food court," Edden was saying, "her and her baby soaking up the ambient emotions. I'm guessing it wasn't enough because a fight broke out and turned into a riot. Never would have found her otherwise."

"Holy shit," I breathed, then covered my mouth. My eyes went to my mom's, and she sighed when I leaned against the wall to put on my boots. "Is Remus there?"

"Ye-e-ep," Edden said dryly. "We've got most of the bystanders out and the mall locked down. It's a mess. I'm on my way there now, and I'd like you there to help bring her in. She being an Inderlander and all. I don't have many of them on my payroll."

He didn't have any on his permanent payroll for legal reasons. My hands were shaking as I shrugged into my coat, but it was excitement. "I can be there in ten minutes. Five if I don't have to park my car."

"I'll tell them you're on the way," he said, and I made a noise so he wouldn't hang up.

"Wait. I'm going to be a while. I need to go back and get Jenks." If I was bringing in a banshee, I needed him. I'd like to have Ivy, too, but she was out.

"Alex is on his way to get Jenks already," Edden said, and I zipped my coat closed and dug out my keys, smacking the bad-mojo amulet with my knuckles. "I called the church first, and he wanted in on it."

"Thanks, Edden," I said, truly pleased that he was sending someone for Jenks not only because now I didn't have to, but that he'd thought of Jenks at all. "You're a peach."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, and I could hear his smile. "I bet you say that to all the captains."

"Just the ones who let me kick ass," I said, then broke the connection.

Excited, I turned to the living room. I froze, seeing Mom, Robbie, and Marshal sitting on the couch together, all staring at me. I looked at myself, already dressed for the cold, and I warmed. My keys jingled as I shifted, and I gave them a sick smile. Damn it, I was ready to walk out the door, and I had forgotten all about them. Oh crap. We'd driven Marshal's car.

"Uh, I have to go," I said as I put my keys away. "There's a problem at the mall. Uh, Marshal?"

Marshal stood, smiling in a rather fond way that I wasn't sure how to take. "I'll get the car warmed up while you say good-bye."

Robbie's expression was dark, like I should sit and have coffee with them instead of going to do my job, but damn it, runs happened when runs happened, and I couldn't live up to his ideas of what my life should be. "Rachel-" he started, and my mother put a hand on his knee.

"Robbie. Shut the hell up."

Marshal made a guffaw he quickly shifted into a cough, but I felt miserable. "Don't worry about it," the tall man muttered from beside me, then purposely bumped into me as he put on his shoes. "It's not a problem."

"Mom," Robbie protested.

My blood pressure spiked. Maybe we should have brought two cars, but then I'd be leaving Marshal alone here, and that wasn't any better.

Putting her hand heavily on Robbie's shoulder, my mother stood. "Marshal, I'll pack your pie up for you. It was nice to see you again. Thank you for coming over."

Marshal looked up from tying his boots and smiled. "It was a real pleasure, Mrs. Morgan. Thanks for having me. I enjoyed the pictures."

She hesitated, a hint of her worry showing, then she nodded and hustled into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," I said to Marshal.

Marshal touched my shoulder through my coat. "It's okay. Just bring the pie out with you, okay? Your mom makes great pie."

"Okay," I whispered, and he turned and left. A brief gust of cold air blew in. It was snowing again. I still felt bad, and when I turned from shutting the door behind Marshal, I almost ran into Robbie. My head snapped up, and immediately my worry turned to anger. He was staring at me, and I stared right back, eye to eye, me in my boots and him still in socks.

"Rachel, you are such an ass sometimes. I can't believe you're walking out of here."

My eyes narrowed. "This is my job, Bert," I said, hitting the nickname hard. "Mom doesn't have a problem with it. You aren't around enough to have a say, so get out of my face."

He took a breath to protest, grimacing and dropping back when Mom hustled in from the kitchen, two pieces of pie on a plate covered with clear wrap. "Here you go, sweetheart," she said, elbowing Robbie out of her way to give me a hug good-bye. "Give us a call when it's over so we can sleep this morning."

Relief spilled through me that I didn't have to explain or that she wasn't trying to make me feel guilty for cutting out early. "Thanks, Mom." I breathed in her lilac scent as she gave me a quick squeeze and rocked back.

"I'm proud of you," she said as she handed me the pie. "Go kick some bad-guy ass."

I felt the prick of tears, glad she accepted that I couldn't be the daughter she wanted, and that she was proud of the daughter I was. "Thanks," I managed, clearing my throat to get the lump out of it, but it didn't work.

Giving Robbie a sharp look in turn, she said, "You two make up. Now." And with nothing more, she took the tray of coffee and returned to the kitchen.

Robbie's jaw tightened, belligerent to the end, and I forced myself to relax. I knew better than to walk out of here mad at him. It might be another seven years before I saw him again.

"Look," I said. "I'm sorry. But this is what I do. I'm not nine to five, and Mom's cool with that." He was looking at the bad-mojo amulet in my open bag, and I hid it behind my back. "You'll try to find that book, right?" I said, suddenly unsure, then I tightened my scarf.

Robbie hesitated, and then his shoulders eased. "Yeah. I will," he said around a sigh. "But I don't agree with what you're doing."

"Like you ever did," I said, finding a smile somewhere as I opened the door. "I'm happy for you and Cindy," I said. "Really. I can't wait to meet her."

At that, he finally smiled, too. "I'll give you her phone number," he said, gesturing to the night, "and you can call her. She's dying to meet you. She wants to do her thesis on you."

I jerked to a stop in the threshold and turned. "Why?" I asked suspiciously, and he lifted one shoulder and let it fall.

"Uh, I told her about your demon marks," he said. "I mean, she's a witch and all. She was going to see the smut on your aura and figure it out."

I came back inside and shut the door. "You told her what?" I said loudly, glad I had my gloves on to cover the demon mark on my wrist. I really needed to push Al into taking his name back so I could get rid of at least one of them.

"Sorry," he said smugly, not looking at all apologetic. "Maybe I shouldn't have, but I didn't want her to meet you and not have an explanation about the smut."

I waved a hand between us. "I mean, why does she want to do her thesis on me?"

Robbie blinked. "Oh! Uh, she's majoring in criminology. I told her you're a white witch with demon smut gained saving someone's life. That you can still be good and be covered in smut." He hesitated. "That's okay, isn't it?"

Giving myself a mental shake, I nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

"Here," he said, handing me the envelope with the tickets. "Don't forget these."

"Thanks." The banshee tear was a hard lump in my pocket when I shoved the tickets away. "Maybe I'll trade them in for an earlier flight."

"That'd be great! We'd love it if you came out early. Just let us know, and we'll get the guest room cleaned up." He smiled at me toothily. "You know you're welcome anytime."

I gave him a hug good-bye before I stepped away and opened the door. The night had a dry sharpness, and I looked at Marshal, waiting, as I went down the shoveled walk. The porch light flicked on, and I waved at the shadow by the window. Robbie's last words went around and around in my thoughts, and I kept repeating them, trying to figure out why they bothered me.

"The mall?" Marshal said cheerfully when I got in, probably glad that I'd pulled him out from under my mom's often one-sided conversation. I handed him the pie and he made an appreciative "Mmmm."

"Yes, the mall," I said before putting on my seat belt.

The car was warm and the windows defrosted, but cold hit me when Robbie's last words finally penetrated and I blinked fast. I'm welcome anytime. I knew he had meant them to be full of acceptance, but that he had felt the need to say them said much more. He was getting married. He was moving on with his life, becoming a part of it, immersing himself and finding a place on the wheel. By getting married, he was no longer just my brother, he was someone else's husband. And though we argued a lot, a bond was being broken by the simple fact that he was no longer alone. He was a part of something bigger, and by inviting me in, he had unintentionally told me I was an outsider.

"Your mom makes really good pie," Marshal said, and I smiled at him across the long seat. Mindful of the ice, he put the car in gear and slowly headed for the mall.

"Yes, she does," I said, depressed. Maybe I should look at it as if I hadn't lost a brother, but had gained a sister.

Ri-i-i-i-ight.

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