The Line

THIRTEEN


I had a lot of processing to do, so I took the first possible opportunity to excuse myself and go back upstairs. The nine families seemed scandalized that Ginny had kept me ignorant. I wondered what they’d think if they knew they were singing from the same song sheet as Mother Jilo.

Now that enough time had passed for the golem to understand that I was changing for my own reasons and not anyone else’s, I put on a light cotton dress and some comfortable shoes. Nice, not disrespectful by any standards, but also not making any more of a display in Ginny’s honor than was necessary. One of the cousins knocked tentatively at my door and told me that I had a visitor, a young redheaded man who seemed quite anxious to see me. I gave myself a quick look in the mirror and headed downstairs.

Freshly showered and dressed in jeans and white T-shirt, Peter was a fresh breath of air in the sepulchre that our home had become. He beamed when he laid eyes on me, and I noticed that the pulse in his neck became visible as he took me in.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here today. I came as soon as I could.” I hurried over to him and kissed him on the cheek. As happy as I was to see on him, this wasn’t the time or place for more. His disappointed face showed that he’d been hoping for a more impassioned greeting, but he settled for it, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

“Well if it isn’t little Peter Tierney,” Uncle Oliver said, walking up from the direction of the library. “All grown up, and nicely too, might I add.” He gave Peter a big theatrical wink.

“Will you stop flirting with my boyfriend?” I blurted out. It felt odd to call him that…but appropriate. Somehow he was so much more to me than a simple boyfriend; boyfriends could come and go, but Peter was a true friend, a fixture, someone I’d always want in my life in some capacity. It wasn’t passion, but a conscious decision that had led me to choose him as my own. But simply saying the word had made me see him in a more romantic light, as sure as if I had uttered a magical incantation.

“Oh, now, Mercy.” Oliver feigned hurt. “I’m simply appraising, perhaps complimenting, but never flirting.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Taylor.” Peter laughed. “If I ever go gay, it will be for you.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Oliver responded. “But I’d rather you make that little girl there happy.”

“Gonna do my best to do just that, sir.”

“Sir.” Oliver chuckled and walked away.

“He can really be too much,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Ah, he isn’t that bad,” Peter responded. “And he sure does love you.” He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled his face in my hair. I took a deep breath and let myself relax in his embrace.

“Yeah, I know he does,” I said. “In his own way at least.”

Peter spun me around in his arms. “I like the sound of that, you know. You calling me your boyfriend.”

“I kind of like the sound of it myself,” I responded and rose up on my toes to kiss his lips. I let my kiss linger, and then pressed my head into his chest. His T-shirt felt soft against my skin.

“Peter.” I heard Maisie’s voice call out as she descended the stairs. I turned just enough to see her coming down, Jackson following on her heels. Maisie had changed from her funeral clothes into a black cocktail dress. So she had chosen to go formal for the evening. Next to her, I would look totally underdressed, but next to her, I would always come in second place anyway. Even in an old gray T-shirt and cutoff shorts she was astoundingly beautiful. Dressed like this, it didn’t seem possible that any straight man could resist her. Flawless skin, a small straight nose, and heart-shaped lips that looked great even with no lipstick. Her honey blond hair hung loose, falling for a moment over her sapphire eyes. She brushed it back with her hand.

“Hello, Maisie,” Peter responded. I didn’t want to see his reaction to her—I was sure he’d be as dazzled as any other man—but I couldn’t help myself. I turned to look at him. And in his eyes I saw nothing other than an honest friendliness. Then he looked back at me, and I saw fire. Something rushed from my head all the way to the soles of my feet, and if he hadn’t been holding me, I could very well have keeled over.

“Jackson. Good to see you,” Peter said, his eyes still locked on me. I turned to face the staircase when I heard Jackson’s name. His beautiful features were twisted into a combination of jealousy and barely suppressed rage that I would only have expected if he’d walked in on Peter and Maisie going at it.

Maisie read something in my expression and turned in time to catch what I had seen on Jackson’s face. She swiveled around quickly, pretending not to have noticed, but I knew her too well. I had seen her angry often, and this kind of anger, the cold kind, was the most frightening. “If you are hungry, Peter, there are a ton of leftovers in the kitchen,” she said, descending the rest of the stairs. “You should hurry on back and have some before Iris chases you out of here, though. Family business is going on tonight, and Iris is very limited in her definition of family.”

“I was kind of hoping we could get you out of here for a bit,” Peter said to me. “Mom and Dad asked if we’d stop by the tavern for a while tonight to see them.”

“Nothing doing, son,” Jackson boomed. “Haven’t you heard? Killer on the loose and all that?”

“No, I haven’t heard anything. What’s the hell’s going on?” he asked, addressing me as if we were the only two people in the room.

“The police caught the man they think killed Ginny,” Jackson answered for me. “Some guy named Burke. But he escaped.”

“They aren’t sure he’s through with us yet,” Maisie said. Her mouth pulled into a slight frown and her eyes focused on an empty point a few inches in front of her. Perhaps she was trying to scry, trying to foresee any future danger.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Peter exclaimed, pulling my attention back to him. “How did he escape?”

“Detective Cook said that he just plain disappeared,” I answered.

“He disappeared?” Peter asked. A slight shake of his head and arched eyebrows illuminated his incredulity.

“Poof,” Jackson responded. “Right out of his cell. Mother Jilo done worked her Hoodoo.”

“Mother Jilo?” Peter looked to me for an explanation.

“Burke is her great-grandson,” I responded.

That seemed to be explanation enough for him, although I sure would have liked more information for my own account. I wouldn’t feel right about anything until I knew whether Mother Jilo was responsible for Ginny’s death. “But if they couldn’t keep him in jail,” he asked, “how do they plan to keep him out of this house?”

“My thinking, exactly,” Jackson responded. “That’s why I am going to be staying here until they catch the bastard again. Keep an eye on things.”

“You will have to run that by Connor,” I said. “He and Aunt Iris may have their own opinion—”

Maisie interrupted me. “Connor and Iris have agreed to allow it.”

“But with the ‘family business’…?”

“They aren’t very happy about it, but we’ve told them, Mercy. We’ve told everyone now.” Maisie held up her left hand, proudly displaying the ring she had been wearing around her neck.

“Congratulations, you two!” Peter exclaimed. I knew he was genuinely happy for Maisie, but I suspected he was even happier that Jackson had been officially claimed. I knew it gave him more hope about our own relationship. He let go of me and stepped forward, offering Jackson his hand.

Jackson leaned away from Peter, and looked at him through narrowed eyes. There was no warmth on his face as he gave Peter’s hand a single pump. “Thanks,” he said, letting Peter’s hand fall.

Maisie’s face froze as she took note of Jackson’s lack of enthusiasm. “Yes, thank you so much,” she said. “We are very happy not to be keeping it a secret any longer. We waited for a while out of respect for Ginny, but it seemed like the family could use a little good news.”

“Good news? Hell, I say it’s great news!” Peter said. He reached out and pulled Maisie into a hug, nearly lifting her off the ground. “When’s the wedding?” He was beaming.

“We haven’t discussed that yet,” Maisie responded. She seemed a bit put off by the degree of his gusto.

“Let her go,” Jackson said, but Peter didn’t seem to notice the other man’s threatening tone. Still smiling, he released Maisie from his embrace and took me into his arms, rocking me a little from side to side. Jackson’s expression of annoyance hardened into a look of hate. I’d never thought that Jackson was capable of looking ugly, but the set of his jaw combined with the loathing in his eyes changed him.

“Hello, Peter.” I heard Ellen’s voice call out from behind us. She was coming from the direction of the library.

“And good-bye, Peter.” Connor was right on Ellen’s heels, and his protruding stomach was practically pushing her along. Iris circled in front of him, shaking her head. “Really, Connor, there’s no need to be rude,” she said and then she addressed Peter. “I want you to know you are always welcome here, my dear, but I am afraid you have chosen a bad time to come calling. We’d love to have you back for dinner tomorrow, but we have things that the family must attend to tonight. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, ma’am. I do understand, and I do not mean to intrude, but Jackson was telling me about this Burke guy. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to stay so that I can help keep an eye on…things,” he looked warmly at me, making it clear that I was his only concern. “I promise I won’t interfere with whatever it is y’all need to handle tonight. I’ll stay out of the way. I just want to be nearby in case I’m needed.” He paused and put his arm around my shoulders. “I think Mercy would like me to stay.” He looked to me for confirmation, and I realized that I did want him near. I was confused all right, but one thing I knew was that Peter always had—and always would—make me feel safe.

Jackson advanced on us, not to the point of being within striking distance, but not far from it. “Mrs. Flynn has asked you to leave,” he said, accentuating every word.

Peter flushed red, and in one fluid movement he removed his arm from my shoulder and moved me behind him. Safely out of the way, I watched as Peter cooled himself down, unclenching his fists and taking a deep calming breath. I realized he was doing everything he could to put me first, even stifling his hot Irish head. “And I have asked her to reconsider. If there is any chance that Ginny’s death was anything other than a random killing, I’d like to be here to help keep Mercy safe.”

“You don’t got to worry about Mercy, son,” Connor chimed in. “We’ll take care of her. We’ve got ways to protect our own.”

“We didn’t protect Ginny,” Ellen responded. “And none of us gave Mercy a second thought when we needed to renew the charms. Let Peter stay. Mercy will feel safer with him around.”

“Ellen,” Iris responded. “You know that it is simply not possible tonight. Tomorrow, yes. The day after, certainly. But not tonight. Now, I promise you, young man, your Mercy will be as safe as can be tonight. I personally guarantee it,” she said, smiling at him reassuringly.

“It’s only that…” Peter began to protest, but Jackson took another step toward him, crowding him back.

“Mrs. Flynn said she’d like you to leave.”

“Jackson, this really isn’t necessary,” Iris said trying to calm him.

He ignored her and pushed Peter. “Get,” he said. “I can take care of Mercy. She doesn’t need you.”

“Don’t touch me, man,” Peter warned, tensing. “And don’t pretend you know what Mercy needs.”

Jackson shoved him again, but this time Peter was braced and couldn’t be budged. “I said you need to get,” Jackson snarled, his face taking on an ugly sheen again.

“That’s the last time. Don’t touch me again,” Peter growled back.

“Boys.” Ellen laughed nervously. “Enough of this nonsense.” Without warning, Jackson pulled back and swung at Peter. Instinctively, Peter weaved out the way of the punch, and Jackson’s fist swung past him and lightly grazed my temple. I barely felt a thing, but Peter registered what had happened and tore at Jackson like a wild man. Before I could blink, he had pounced on Jackson and was pummeling him.

“Stop it! Stop it!” Maisie began screaming at the two, tearing at the back of Peter’s shirt.

Suddenly Oliver reappeared. “Freeze,” he commanded with authority, and the two fighters instantly stopped. I tried to go and coax Peter off Jackson, but to my surprise, I found that I couldn’t move either—I couldn’t even blink. All I could do was focus on the tableau of Peter sitting on Jackson’s chest, his hand frozen mid-punch. Maisie backed away from the men as the cousins reappeared en masse, most of them happy to have a bit of entertainment.

“What the hell is going on here?” Oliver demanded.

“A couple of young bucks butting horns, I’d say,” Connor said.

When Oliver looked to me for explanation, he realized that I was caught up in his freeze frame. “You’re good,” he said, and I was finally free to move again. I was surprised to see Emmet towering over the rest of the crowd, a smile of amusement on his face.

“Mercy,” Iris addressed me. “You understand why I say your young man cannot be here tonight? It’s for his own good. Things may go on tonight that he is not ready to understand. He wants to protect you, but you need to protect him. Things may go smooth as silk with the lot drawing, or they might not. If they don’t…well, who knows what could happen.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do understand,” I replied.

“Good.” Iris smiled. “And he’s welcome here at any other time.”

“Jackson might have other thoughts on that subject.” Connor smirked.

“Speaking of Jackson,” Iris continued. “He has shown that he is not mature enough to be a part of tonight’s business.” She held up a hand in a preemption of Maisie’s anticipated protest. “Don’t you say a word. He started the fight, and by any rights I should toss him out on his ear. That ring on your finger is the only reason I am not. He doesn’t have to leave the house, but he cannot participate. I’m sorry, but until he learns to communicate with his words and not his fists, it’s too dangerous to have him involved.” Maisie didn’t respond. She just looked at Jackson and then back at me with narrowed, angry eyes.

“Okay. It’s decided then,” Oliver said. “Peter goes home, and Jackson sits tonight out.” He snapped his fingers, and the duo on the floor fell apart. “Enough,” Oliver addressed them. They moved in slow motion, never taking their eyes off Oliver, still under his thrall. “Peter. Like they say at last call, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here. You will return tomorrow for dinner with roses for your girl and a bottle of good scotch—exceptionally good scotch—for the rest us. Good night.” Without a word, Peter rose and exited. Jackson’s eyes followed him as he left, anger still smoldering just beneath the surface.

“And now it’s your turn,” Oliver began.

“Wait!” Maisie called out. “Please, Uncle Oliver, let him be. I’ll talk to him.” Oliver looked at Iris.

“All right, missy,” Iris responded. “But make sure he stays out of the way tonight, and that he shows up at dinner tomorrow with a brand new attitude.” Oliver sighed and snapped his fingers a second time. Jackson shook his head, hungover from the toxic combination of Oliver’s spell and Peter’s fists. Maisie rushed to his side and knelt down beside him. I was surprised that he wasn’t more bruised than he was. My temple was slightly throbbing, and I reached up to touch it. It had started to swell a little. Jackson followed my movement with his eyes, and his face clouded over with regret.

“Mercy, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’d never want to hurt you.” Maisie froze as surely as if Oliver had hexed her and looked up at me. I said nothing.

“No, you just meant to beat the holy shit out of her boyfriend,” Connor said.

“It doesn’t matter what your intentions were,” Ellen said. “You’ve hurt Mercy physically, but she’ll mend. I’ll see to that. What you are doing to Maisie…that, I can’t cure.”

Jackson turned his attention to his fiancée. He started to speak, but Maisie jumped up and ran upstairs. Jackson watched helplessly as she fled, his shoulders falling and his head drooping. A nearly inaudible curse parted his lips.

“It looks to me that you have some damage to repair,” Iris said. “But I am afraid tonight isn’t the night to do that. Maisie has enough on her mind.” Iris eyed him coldly. She looked from him to me and then back at him. “What was this about?” she asked him. “Is it jealousy? You can’t have them both.”

“You got the pick of the two anyway,” Connor added. “Why would you go messing things up now?” Coming from anyone else, the words might have hurt me. Coming from Connor, not so much. They were what I’d learned to expect. I guess I’d already seen the end of the kinder, gentler version of him.

Iris gave her husband a venomous look; she didn’t need to say a word to him, he knew to keep his peace. She turned back to Jackson. “You’ve given Maisie your ring. That means your mind has been made up, understand?”

Jackson lowered his eyes.

“Do you understand?” she pressed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded.

“And if you haven’t in fact decided, you need to make up your mind once and for all, right quick,” Oliver added.

Jackson looked at me, his face betraying that he hadn’t really made up his mind, not at all. I thought of my sister crying upstairs and realized that the part of me that might have been happy about his indecision was long since gone.

“Show’s over,” Oliver said to the assorted group who had gathered to witness the drama. “Meet you all right back here in an hour for the drawing.”