Jenks clattered his wings behind the flowers, and Ivy's calm face scrunched up. "I'm fine, more mad at myself than anything." Her fingers touched mine, and I heard everything she wasn't going to say. "I'm glad you're awake," she said softly. "You had us worried."

"My pride took a hit," I said. "I'll be fine soon as I can stand." Jenks looked out around a plastic vase with a questioning expression, his hands full of pollen, and Marshal popped his knuckles. Realizing the men had become uncomfortable, I flushed. Our fingers parted.

"Marshal, you've met Glenn, haven't you?" I said suddenly. "He's the FIB's Inderland specialist. Glenn, Marshal is the swim coach at the university."

Marshal came forward. Leaning past the corner of the bed, he carefully shook Glenn's bandaged hand. "Nice to meet you," he said, and I couldn't help but notice there hadn't been a flicker of concern or reluctance in meeting an FIB officer. Not like with Nick. And I smiled.

"It's a pleasure," Glenn responded. "Have you and Rachel known each other long?"

"No," he said quickly, but I felt he deserved more than that.

"Sort of." I spoke up before Jenks, who had risen up above the flowers, could. "Marshal helped Jenks and me on that run up in Michigan. He's been in Cincinnati since Halloween, pulling snakes from under my kitchen floor and teaching me how to rock climb."

Ivy snickered at the reference to Tom, and Glenn's head went up and down in slow consideration, his gaze becoming more accepting. I knew he believed Nick was still alive, which he was, the son of a bastard—and seeing that my ex-boyfriend and master thief had a record thicker than the phone book, I wouldn't be surprised if the FIB detective grilled Marshal later over what he knew about Nick.

Ivy made a small sound of interest when she opened the card from the second batch of flowers. I wanted to ask her about her leg, but she wasn't favoring it, and I knew she wouldn't appreciate me bringing it up in front of other people.

"Slacker," I said to Glenn, and when he gave me a tired, lopsided smile, I added, "How's your aura?"

"Thin. I don't know how it's supposed to feel, but I feel…weird. Three witches looked at me after you came in. Every one of them said I was lucky to be alive."

Jenks snorted. "They came in and poked Rachel, too," he said. "Left grumbling."

I exhaled slowly, bringing up my second sight without tapping a line so I didn't run the risk of seeing the ever-after. Not in a hospital six floors up. Sure enough, Glenn's aura was raggedy, leaking red around the broken edges and looking like a fluctuating aurora borealis instead of a continuous sheet. The gaps were not healthy, and until they healed, he'd be vulnerable to all sorts of metaphysical things. That I was in the same condition made my stomach turn. And I have a date with Al in the ever-after at sunrise tomorrow. I had to get out of it. Surely Al would give me a sick day for this. I should ask for a work excuse.

"Are you okay?" I asked Glenn, truly concerned. He looked so far out of character. The ex-military man in him peeked through when he forced himself to sit straighter, his face freshly shaved, the scent of shampoo coming faintly to me.

"I will be," he said around a heavy breath. "You went after them?"

"You know it."

"You touched the baby?" he asked, and I snorted. "Don't touch the baby," he intoned, and the corners of my mouth lifted.

"Don't touch the baby," I echoed, realizing that that was probably what had downed him.

"It's the baby who's got the witch doctors so messed up," Glenn said, almost crossing his knees before remembering he was in a peekaboo gown. "They tell me that a banshee child has no control until she's about five. But that man was holding her when I talked to him."

Jenks's wings clattered for attention. "We saw him holding Holly, too. His aura was fine. I saw it. So did Rachel."

I nodded, not making any sense out of it. "Maybe she just wasn't hungry."

"Maybe," Glenn said, "but she drained me fast enough. You, too."

Ivy went to sit on the long bench under the window. "So what did happen in that house?" she said as she looked out, and I swear she was trying to change the subject. Her lips were parted, and her breathing was a shade too fast. Her eyes, too, held a hint of…guilt?

Glenn made an ugly face. "I went to talk to the suspect about the death of my friend."

Suspect, I thought, hearing the ugliness of the word. She wasn't "Ms. Harbor," or "the lady," or even "the woman," but "the suspect." Then again, Mia had probably killed his friend, put Glenn in the hospital, and allowed her daughter to almost kill me. "I'm sorry," I said, and he grimaced, not wanting the sympathy.

"Her husband didn't like some of my questions. Remus, is it?" Glenn asked, and when Ivy nodded, he continued. "Remus tried to bully me out the door. Took a swing at me, and we knocked about the house. I actually had him handcuffed, and then—"

"You touched the baby," Jenks said from somewhere in the flowers.

Glenn looked at his knees, covered with that blue diamond print. "I touched the baby."

"Don't touch the baby," I said, trying to ease the tension. No wonder Mia didn't let anyone touch Holly. Not to mention her not wanting any more kids until Holly had grown and had some control. Right now, she was like the walking plague. But Remus could hold her. What made him special?

Glenn shifted his feet in those slipper socks they give you. His were blue. "The baby put me out, not Remus," he said. "Once I fell down, I kept falling. I think he beat me slowly so they could suck it all up. If it hadn't been for the badge, I think they would have killed me and tried to hide the body." Seeing the horror in my eyes, he attempted to smile. "But you look great," he said, gesturing. "Maybe witches have thicker auras."

"Maybe," I said, unable to look at anyone. Of course I looked better. I hadn't had a psychopath maul me for the feeding pleasure of his family.

Standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed, Marshal seemed to gather himself. "Rachel, I have to go," he said, not unexpectedly. "I've got some stuff to do this afternoon, and I just stopped by to make sure you were okay." His feet shuffled, and he added, "I'll, um, see you later."

Glenn leaned back, cutting short his motion to cross his legs when he remembered the hospital gown. "Don't leave because of me," he said, his body language not matching his words. "I have to get back to my room before I'm missed. They don't like it when us rough men go past the nurses' desk and into the women's area."

Marshal shifted back and forth; then, as if making a decision, he leaned close and gave me an awkward hug. Uneasy, I returned it, hoping he wasn't trying to shift our relationship simply because I was vulnerable and he had helped me with Tom. Tom was small potatoes to what could come crashing into my kitchen. But the scent of redwood was comforting, plucking a need to go back to my roots, and I breathed it in deep.

"I'll see you later," he said earnestly. "I'm still checking into your classes, but if there's anything I can do, shopping, errands, just call me."

I smiled, touched by his concern. My mom's warning that he was a good diversion, not a good decision, echoed through me, but so did the entire comfortable evening spent with her, my brother, and Marshal. Marshal was a nice guy, and I didn't often have the chance to do stuff with nice guys. I didn't want to endanger him by close association, but what came out of my mouth was "I will. 'Bye, Marshal. Thanks for the flowers."

He nodded, waving before going with his head lowered, leaving the door open a crack.

Glenn took in Ivy and Jenks eyeing me as if in disapproval. Clearing his throat, he said, "You're taking classes? That's great. Crime scene etiquette, perhaps?"