A Fistfull of Charms(34)

“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.
Twelve
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.”