Fire in Her Blood

by Rachel Graves

  “Would you have to move?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Then wait a minute and hold me, I’m still scared of losing you,” I said, snuggling close to him.

  “I promise not to get lost.” He kissed me softly, and we were silent for a moment, quiet with the pleasure we’d enjoyed and scared of losing it.

  ****

  Eventually I let him up to get me dinner in bed. He’d made pasta fagioli. It was new, from a cookbook he’d picked up this summer. I didn’t mind, but in my world Italian meant spaghetti not beans. Even without the usual suspects, the dish was a thousand times better than the food we’d had last night. I had a forkful of his food in my mouth when Jakob pounced.

  “After dinner I thought we might go look at a new Mercedes.”

  “Are you thinking of replacing your car?” I asked innocently.

  “No, I’m thinking of buying you one.”

  “I already told you I don’t need a car.”

  “If you don’t need a car, why did you borrow mine?”

  He had me. In fact, as much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I’d thought about it on and off all week. As long as Jakob lived outside of the reach of public transportation, I needed a car.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll concede that it would be nice if I had a car. But not a Mercedes, if I have to have a car it should be something American, like a Ford.”

  He groaned. Jakob was a car snob, he only trusted German engineering.

  “All right, not a Ford, a Chevy maybe?”

  The second groan was accompanied by a frown.

  “Well since we can’t agree we’ll have to spend the whole evening at Anna’s fair.” I smiled sweetly. “Unless you’d be willing to compromise and look at a Kia?”

  His only response was a frown that left me laughing through the rest of my meal. After dinner we headed out to the fair with a stop by my place for a change of clothes. Jakob’s sweaters were stretchy enough that I could get away with them in public, but my hips and his would never share a pair of jeans. I didn’t mind too much. I believe in strong clothes related boundaries in a relationship. Well, at least when it came to him borrowing mine, I had no qualms about raiding his closet’s stock of cashmere and alpaca. In fact, I considered it fair penance for him never even suggesting I should bring over a few things.

  Anna’s church always made me think of the flame on the torch of lady liberty. I’d never been inside, but Phoebe had told me it was even worse than the outside’s undulating circular walls with spiraling hallways of different heights that formed a labyrinth around the circular worship space in the center. It was grand but small. It could probably only hold a couple of hundred people. The fair filled the parking lot with carnival rides, wooden booths for games, and between them aisles all of the horribly bad for you fair food that tastes so good. We found Anna at an information booth restocking a ticket seller’s money drawer with ones.

  “Looks good,” I said surveying the general madness around me. The black fall night was broken by dozens of torches and at least two bonfires.

  “Really?” She pulled us away from the booth. “I had to cancel the fire dance, no one’s got enough fire. At first it was just my family, but now it’s spread to everyone else. Our torches are actually running on gas for the first time. Half of the church elders are drinking themselves into a stupor over it.”

  I followed her nod to a beer truck and the picnic tables beside it. A collection of dour looking people who could easily be called elders were silently pounding back beers.

  “None of us can tell, Anna. As far as we know you’re pulling off a hell of an evening.”

  “I hope so. I had this idea that maybe this could make up for…” She stopped herself and nibbled her lip looking at Jakob. I was suddenly anxious for Anna to come out before I had to tell her I’d told him. “Well for the other thing. It’d be a huge deal if we raise more than the other covens.”

  “There are at least four hundred people here. What’s the average per person spending?” Jakob switched into money mode with ease.

  “A family of four spends around fifty dollars, or so the fair managers promise me. If they’re right, there’s no way Phoebe’s runners can beat us.”

  “Runners? I thought she was doing a road race?”

  “Yeah, a 5K, you know a running race,” she corrected me absentmindedly, her eyes were locked on a cone of fluffy pink cotton candy. “I’ve got to make sure there are enough paper cones for the cotton candy.”

  “Try to have a little fun, would you?”

  “Yeah, sure,” she said, sounding like her mind was a mile away. She was five feet down the aisle before she turned back to me. “Hey, I was thinking about your firebug—”

  I cut her off. “You mean the arsonist.”

  She nodded. “Every fire witch in town is here, Mal. If she’s local, you’ll find her.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes open, thanks!” I called with a cheerful wave.

  “Oh and careful of Isaura’s booth, she’ll try to get all your money when it should go to me.” I shooed her on her way, reluctant to take more of her time when she had so many details to look after.

  We walked in loops, looking for anyone who seemed nervous or suspicious. After the first hour we started stopping at rides that looked interesting along the way. I suckered Jakob into winning a small stuffed crow for me by showing off his skill with a crossbow but kept part of my mind looking for an arsonist. Jakob and I kissed on the top of the Ferris wheel with the lights far below us fulfilling a fantasy I’d had since I was a girl. Ferris wheel kisses were as wonderful as I’d hoped they’d be, and even better since they were with someone I adored so completely.

  Anna warned me, but I was still oblivious. I turned a corner, and there was Isa looking stunning in a floaty off the shoulder blouse. The rickety wooden booth she sat in didn’t do justice to the amazing piece of machinery parked behind it.

  “What is that?” I asked with awe in my voice.

  “An absolutely perfect Jeep Wrangler Rubicon, the special Lara Croft edition.”

  “Who’s Lara Croft?” I asked, climbing into the driver’s seat to have a closer look.

  “This is your problem, Mal, you have no culture,” she sighed dramatically. “None.”

  “And she’s who?” I ignored her comments while I felt the leather of the steering wheel.

  “She’s from Tomb Raider.”

  “The movie?” I had some vague recollection of a busty heroine with guns strapped to her thighs.

  “The video game.” She gave another sigh. As an air witch, her sighs were impressive, but not nearly as impressive as the car. “A collector donated it, it’s a limited edition.”

  I grabbed the upper roll bar and swung out of the Jeep. I wanted it, oh yes, I wanted it very much.

  “How many tickets have you sold?”

  “Not many, so your chances are pretty good.”

  “I’ll take five.” I opened my wallet counting my money. I’d get more from her later when I had more cash.

  “One hundred twenty-five bucks and they’re yours,” she said, happily ripping tickets.

  “One hundred twenty-five dollars?” I could barely contain my outrage.

  “Yup. Twenty-five dollars each.”

  “Now I know why you haven’t sold many. Too rich for my blood, give me one.”

  “Too bad,” she began. “you looked cute in it.”

  “Okay two, but you’re wiping me out. I’m now penniless. I can’t even buy a candy apple.”

  “I’m sure your big strong man will buy one for you.” I’d forgotten about Jakob in my zeal for the Jeep. He was watching us with a bemused expression. I happily suspected getting my candy apple was going to take a lot of flirting. We spent another hour wasting Jakob’s money on fair food and rides that were only fun because we were on them together. I found Anna again and reported my complete lack of progress on the arsonist front. Anna had seen a fire witch who seemed to be hang
ing around the edges. She hadn’t recognized the girl, and since she knew everyone there, it was a good lead. She gave me a description: tall, thin, long hair. I went back to searching, but when the fair closed I wasn’t any closer to finding the girl.

  ****

  I left my new stuffed animal on the pillow next to Jakob and grabbed the sports section to read the pre-game details. My Saints weren’t playing, but it was a Sunday in October, and I wasn’t going to miss a minute of football fun. I was knee deep in yardage statistics when I realized I wasn’t at my place. Jakob’s cabinets filled me with dread. I was going to have to watch the game without beer and chips. I cringed at the thought of three long hours of football with only fruit and similarly healthy food to keep me full. I’d go along with Jakob’s healthy eating program every other day of the week, but football Sunday’s were sacred. I grabbed the phone and dialed Phoebe.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Wondering how I ended up sore in all sorts of weird places and remembering why my mother warned me about carnies.”

  “Guess you had way more fun at the fair then I did.”

  “After the fair actually, we tried to make it work with the Ferris wheel, but there were too many people.”

  “Bummer,” I said, glad I’d gone on the Ferris wheel before Phoebe. “So it’s game day and Jakob has no munchies in the house. I’m going grocery shopping, want to meet for a late breakfast or something?”

  “Why don’t I shop with you? The larder is looking a bit bare here,” she said, and I heard a cabinet close in the background. We settled on time and place while I grabbed Jakob’s keys. At the last minute I decided to leave him a note. He’d never woken up before noon, but after last night, I was in the mood to leave him a message with lots of Xs and Os across the bottom.

  Sunday morning meant most of Baton Rouge was in church. I was happy for them; it meant more parking spaces for me. I walked into the grocery store pleased I had put on a sweater. It was chilly out. In the summer the daylight was sure it wanted to burn the world, but today it hadn’t really committed yet. I suspected we weren’t going to see the high side of eighty degrees today, let alone the near one hundred degree temps we got in August. I found Phoebe surrounded by elevator music in the produce section.

  “Good morning, chica.” She smiled. Her eyes held proof she’d had a long but fun night.

  “Good morning, what are we getting?”

  “The usual weekly stuff: apples, bananas, cantaloupe, and grapefruit.”

  “Wow, you go through that every week?” I shook my head.

  “And that’s not counting whatever’s pretty and in season, like those plums. What are you a fruit bigot?”

  “Not a bigot, I like it just fine when it’s cut, cleaned, and presented to me, but it’s not the first snack food I think of.” I didn’t add that left to my own devices all of my food would come out of plastic packages. I liked fruit as much as the next girl, maybe even a little more, but you didn’t have to worry about pretzels going bad or being out of season. “You and Jakob would totally get along.”

  “Speaking of which, how are you two doing?” Phoebe asked surveying the apple selection.

  “Fairly good, the car thing came up again,” I sighed. I really wasn’t sure what I was going to do about the car thing. I couldn’t keep bringing up brands he hated forever.

  “Is that the only thing that came up again? I felt you glaring at E on Thursday night,” she said, while picking bananas.

  “Oh that came up again, but it’s done now.”

  “You’re okay with it?”

  “Definitely, read me about it.” I grinned perfectly secure in my boyfriend’s new found relationship. When she read you Phoebe felt like a warm breeze blowing across your skin when you’re curled up in the sun half asleep. It felt good. In the middle of an all American Sunday morning grocery shopping non-event, Phoebe’s magic felt sinfully good. “See, nothing, right?”

  “Not a hint of jealousy, anyway.”

  “Which is good since I think Jakob was about ready to shoot me over the way I kept bringing it up.”

  “You were being a bit of a diva about it.”

  “A diva?”

  “You know, bringing it up, saying you’re okay, then bringing it up again, leaving the poor guy completely lost as to how he can make it right.”

  “Yeah, but not telling me she looked like his wife—”

  “His dead wife,” she corrected.

  “His long dead wife,” I agreed, “was pretty serious.”

  “I’m not arguing with you,” she said. We had passed by produce and into the dairy aisle, I grabbed sour cream and steered her toward the beer and snack foods. “I’m just saying, it’s the first time I’ve seen the two of you act like a normal couple.”

  I stopped short, my plastic basket swinging against my leg. “What?”

  “You’re normally all lovely-dovey. It’s adorable, but it’s not typical. The vibe you guys had going on Thursday night was more typical.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but there wasn’t much I could say; she was right. We’d moved past the everything is perfect stage of our relationship, and it’d happened when I wasn’t looking. Suddenly we were acting like grownups, working through our problems and talking things out instead of just having sex and being fun all the time. I looked at Phoebe to share my revelation, but her back was turned. I’d realized I was in the healthiest relationship of my adult life and my best friend was buying beer.

  “Wow,” I said, reaching into the refrigerator case with her. Phoebe always drank Mexican beer. I had no such loyalty. I debated between the possibilities in front of me and finally grabbed a random six pack. When I was ready to gush about the new stage of my life, she had gone ahead to get raisins. I kept my gushing to myself and snatched a bag of chips. Unfortunately, that finished up my shopping list, at the checkout line I felt mildly guilty to see my pile of junk food next to her fruit and granola choices. On the ride home I assuaged the feeling by telling myself that I ate healthy most of the time which mattered more than my football Sunday indulgences.

  I’d never realized Jakob’s kitchen wasn’t set up right. Could it prepare a gourmet meal and create authentic ethnic cuisine? Yeah, sure, but host a football party? There it fell down. I lamented the complete lack of festive bowls and chip plates while I prepared the feast that would sustain me while I cheered whoever was playing on to victory. I got everything arranged and sank into the couch to watch the commentary. Jakob caught me with a bean dip laden chip half way in my mouth and a beer between my legs. It was still pre-game or the beer would have been empty.

  “You’re up early,” I mumbled finishing the chip. When you’re caught red handed at something, it helps to act nonchalant about it.

  “And you’re eating junk food.” He shook his head; it’s easy to be condescending when you’ve never had the addicting combination of salty chips and cold beer. “Is someone coming over?”

  He gestured to my regular Saturday spread, bean dip, chips, pretzels, and M&Ms all nestled in his upscale bowls.

  “Just me.” I shook my head. “But this has to last for a few hours.”

  “Why? Didn’t you eat lunch?”

  “Nope, it’s game day.” I pointed empathically to the TV. They cut back for the coin toss, and I shushed him. Some people believe the coin toss decides the game, others disagree. I didn’t think the equation is that simple; there is an advantage to be had, but too many teams squander it. The Jets won, but then decided to kick off. I didn’t agree with their choice. I wasn’t impressed with their offensive line. The commercials came up, and I returned to Jakob’s stunned face.

  “You like football?” he asked barely grasping the situation.

  “Bad choice of words. I live for football from September until January. Football is my thing.” I grinned at the memory of crisp fall afternoons in the stadium in college and cold Januaries in front of the TV when I was young. At home I had a faded Saints’ jersey
my father had worn; somehow my mother missed it when she took his things to Goodwill after he died. I wore it every Sunday.

  “Your thing?” he sounded lost. “You mean your hobby.”

  “My only hobby, the one I treat like a religion, the one I focus on to the exclusion of all other thin—” I stopped mid word and snapped back to the TV. The Jets made a valiant attempt at a first down before we went back to commercials.

  “Yet you never mentioned it before?”

  “The season only started four weeks ago, and you’re usually asleep right now,” I pointed out. “Also, I don’t talk about it outside of the season. First because it doesn’t do any good to dwell on what you can’t have. But more importantly, I don’t want anyone to get sick of hearing about it.”

  “Ah. And the food?”

  “Part of the football experience.” I took a long sip of my beer. The game came back on, and there was a scrimmage before the ten yard line. The Jets took the ball back and ran with it, I groaned.

  “Was that something bad?” Jakob asked.

  “Tragic.” I wanted the Jets to lose to Dallas. The Saints were my team, but when they weren’t playing, anyone who was beating the Jets got my vote. Something filtered into the back of my head. “You don’t know anything about football do you?”

  “Not a thing.” He shook his head. “But that’s why I have you, to teach me new things. Otherwise my life would be work and sleep.” He sat down on the couch next to me.

  “Work, sleep, and football are pretty much all you need.” I grinned and proceeded to give him the most in-depth football lecture of his long life.

  Chapter Six

  It was a wonderful Monday morning, the Jets had lost spectacularly the day before, and Jakob hadn’t mentioned getting me a car once on the ride back to my place afterwards. I poured a cup of squad room coffee into my plain little mug, and daydreamed about solving the case before lunch. The daydream made my coffee much better. Then reality, in the form of a stack of FBI files, brought me back to earth. I’d gone through most of them and hadn’t gotten anything concrete—hundreds of threats, sure, but no strong leads, no names or specifics. When Danny got in, I summed it up for him, hoping he’d have some great ideas.