One Handsome Devil (16 page)

She was pretty sure he was single and straight. Maybe letting Reverend Bob and Katra work on solving the Derrick problem would solve another problem too. After all, Katra could hardly be jealous of Sara's relationship with Jack if she had one with Reverend Bob.

Reverend Bob had enough of a build that he couldn't be a pure brain, but he clicked away at the keyboard like he knew his way around mental things as well. Katra might play at being poor white trash, but she was smart. Reverend Bob could be perfect.

"You know, I've got a report to finish if I'm going to get paid this week,” Sara announced. “So if you don't mind, Reverend Bob, maybe you could run Katra by her car after we're done here."

Katra looked startled. “But what about—"

Reverend Bob grinned like the infamous cat. “I'd be happy to do that for the little lady. And don't you worry about that man. I'll surely check out your vehicle before I let you drive off in it."

"I'm not going back home until he is locked up,” Katra announced. “He's a danger to my family as well as to me."

"Well...” the Reverend Bob was clearly thinking about things. “I'd be happy to offer you the spare bedroom in the rectory. It would be safe enough, but I'm not sure Miss Maura would approve."

"Katra can spend the night with us, uh, I mean me,” Sara volunteered. Boy, talk about putting her foot in it.

Maura hadn't been paying much attention when they'd been talking about the computer but her ears were definitely pricked up now. “Have you taken in a roommate, dear?” she demanded. “I wouldn't think you have room in that tiny apartment of yours."

Sara hated to lie to her grandmother but telling her the truth would break her heart. Nana didn't understand the modern world and didn't want to.

Sara neatly side-stepped the question. “Why don't we meet at O'Hara's later?” she suggested to Bob and Katra. “A couple of hours of bar trivia is the perfect thing to get our minds off of Derrick the Drip. Say around seven."

"I'll be happy to bring her,” Reverend Bob offered. “Until we figure out how to handle Derrick, I think it would be safer if Katra didn't go anywhere alone."

"Then this had better be solved quickly,” Katra announced. “If we don't have a handle on it by tomorrow night, I'm going to dust off my brass knuckles and pound his fool head off."

Sara didn't remember Katra ever having such a violent temper before, at least not so often. But the poor girl was entitled. And it was just as well that Reverend Bob saw this side of her now. If he was going to run, he'd better run now before Katra noticed he was interested.

"Hold still a few more minutes,” Sara demanded. “I've almost got it."

Jack had plenty of practice at patience but he was having a hard time figuring this out. How the hell had he gotten himself roped into serving as a rack for half a mile of yarn?

"Demons don't—"

"Just because they never have doesn't mean they can't,” Sara cut him off. One or the other of her hands brushed against his as she rolled one ball after another.

Somewhere in the hollow spot where his heart should be a trace of guilt refused to be comforted. Sara seemed unwilling to believe what he told her of demons—what he'd learned of himself and his fellows after thousands of years of all-too-close togetherness. He had warned her, told the truth, but it didn't feel like enough.

"Did you finish reading the report?” she asked. Sara stayed intent on her yarn. After a moment, she caught her tongue between her teeth. She looked good enough to eat. For a demon, that wasn't a completely comfortable realization.

"Yes. I corrected your depth estimates but otherwise it looked fine."

Her head jerked up and she dropped the ball of yarn. It rolled across the floor unraveling as Jack feared Sara would someday unravel. “I didn't see you use the computer."

"No. I don't understand those."

"Then how did you change it?"

He crooked his finger and the ball of yarn rolled itself back up into Sara's lap. “Moving ink on a sheet of paper isn't especially challenging."

Sara laughed, but nervously. Good. He was glad to remind her that she was dealing with something dangerous.

She took the yarn ball and glared at it. “I suppose you could just turn these skeins into yarn balls without going through the intermediate steps, couldn't you."

Jack nodded and the yarn flew from his arms joining the rapidly spinning ball in Sara's hands. “Easy."

"Good. Because it's time to go."

Ten minutes later, they stepped into O'Hara's, an Oak Lawn watering hole. The Dallas Mavericks beat up on the hapless Chicago Bulls on one screen while other monitors flashed questions about 1950s rock and roll.

"The Mavericks have certainly been playing better basketball lately,” Sara said. She didn't care about professional basketball, of course. It didn't take any of Jack's power to see that. Instead, this was just conversation to pass time as her mind internalized this new, subtle evidence of his magic.

"Some wishes are easy to grant."

She shook her head firmly. “I don't believe you. The Mavericks got better because Mark Cuban bought them and poured a ton of money into the team."

Jack decided not to remind her of the way wishes work. He wasn't responsible for the basketball team's turnaround, but he had heard something through the grapevine. “The Highland Gardens,” he said.

"Huh?"

"It's the answer to that question."

Sara glanced at the flashing question on the T.V., then nodded when the answers were posted. “How did you know where Janis Joplin died?"

He shrugged. “Prisoners watch the world through their cell windows. They see more than people who walk free because seeing is all they can do. Imagine what it would be like to be locked in a prison cell with windows so transparent you could see anywhere in the world. Locked there for uncounted thousands of years."

"That's terrible.” Tears started to well up in Sara's eyes.

"Oh stop it. We got what we deserved."

"I don't believe that."

"Believe it.” Jack stared at the screen. “The London School of Economics."

"What?"

"It's where Mick Jagger went to college."

Sara plunked herself down on the table and snagged a computer-type machine from one of the waiters. “You sit down here and start answering the questions. Katra and Nana have been teaming up on me and kicking my butt in this game for the past eight years. Tonight I've got a real partner. Revenge will be sweet."

A possessive feeling came over him. It was unwelcome but not completely surprising: selfishness is a common demon trait. “Who is your normal partner?"

"Katra's sister, Mona. Katra can't stand to play with her."

"But you do?"

Sara shrugged her shoulders, the motion sending the increasingly familiar wiggle through her body. Jack stared fascinated. He should be used to it by now, used to Sara by now. Rather than becoming accustomed, instead, he seemed more and more sensitive to her movement, her scent, her touch.

"I take it she isn't very good."

Sara laughed. “I hate to sound negative but she hasn't gotten an answer right in the two years we've been playing. When I know it, she takes so long to react that we lose points. Or she ignores me."

Jack gave an obvious glare at the electronic pad Sara clenched to her breast. “Which is why you're guarding that controller?"

"It isn't that I don't trust you,” she explained.

He opened his mouth to tell her she shouldn't trust him, but realized he was wasting his time. No matter what he said, she trusted him. He might as well enjoy it while he could.

"So the object is to answer the question quickly?” he asked, changing the subject.

"Well, quickly but right. They give hints after a while but they start subtracting points."

"What happens if you get all of the answers right?"

Sara gave him a brilliant smile. “Then Katra finally has to buy a round of drinks and you get a kiss on the forehead.” She dropped her voice. “And I'll give you kisses elsewhere else, afterwards."

"You can drop me off here,” Katra said when Reverend Bob pulled his car up in front of O'Hara's. “I'll ride home with Sara."

"I don't think her little car could fit three people,” the Reverend Bob commented. “Maybe I'd better come in and make sure everything is all right."

"But it's a bar."

Bob leaned closer to her. “I already know that some people drink,” he told her in a stage whisper.

"But you don't approve?"

He shrugged. “Alcohol ruins many lives. That doesn't make everyone who has a beer an alcoholic."

It was a reasonable position, but Katra wasn't sure she wanted to be reasonable right now. She was confused as an Aggie in a round room and didn't know what to do about it. After being so horribly wrong about Derrick, she should be running away from men like they had the plague. That was her normal approach after one of her all-too-frequent character misjudgments. Yet here she was having a hormonal reaction to the Reverend Bob. He might look a little like the young Johnny Cash, but that didn't make him heartthrob material.

"You aren't going to get all moralistic if I have a beer or three?"

Bob stared at her for a moment. “I hope I never get moralistic. Lord knows I've made plenty of mistakes in my time."

For some reason, that was comforting. Perhaps because Katra was the queen of mistakes. Like bringing Bob into contact with Jack. Putting the two of them together was going to be like matter and antimatter.

The more she though about it, the better the idea sounded. Jack deserved anything he got for what he'd done to her.

"In that case, come-on down.” Katra hopped out of Reverend Bob's black Lexus before he could come around and open the door for her, ignoring his slightly distressed look. He might want to play the gentleman, but Derrick had cured her of ever wanting to be in that position of dependence again.

A sudden concern came to her. “Are you going to tell Maura about Sara's boyfriend?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Of course not. That's something they need to work out between themselves."

"Then I won't."

Katra wasn't surprised to see Sara and Jack already bent over a wireless quiz controller punching in answers. Sara was always convinced that this month she'd pull off the ultimate upset. In the two years they'd been playing, she'd never even gotten close.

"Jack, I'd like you to meet the Reverend Bob. He's a friend of Sara's grandmother. Bob, this is Jack."

"I hope I'm not just
Maura's
friend,” Bob insisted.

"Whatever.” Too bad Jack wore a cowboy hat to cover his horns. Maybe she'd knock it off later in the evening and see what happened.

"What line of work are you in, Jack?"

Jack took a pull on his long-neck, glanced at Bob, then turned his hard gaze at Katra. She glared back, daring him to try a staredown.

"I am a petroleum dowser,” Jack finally said.

And he said he couldn't lie. Katra promised herself she would probe this one.

"You mean like Sara?” Bob wanted to know.

"Not at all. Sara is a scientist. She uses her instruments and her understanding of the geologic formations to determine the probability of an oil or gas find. My talent is relatively simple. I use my senses to determine whether anything can be found in those likely spots."

"Oh?” It was obvious to Katra that the Reverend Bob did not approve of dowsing. She didn't really approve of anything about Jack, so that left them about even.

When Jack didn't elaborate on Bob's pointed
oh
, the Reverend plunged ahead. “So how long have you worked with Sara?"

"What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” Sara demanded. “Get yourself a pad, Katra. Is he playing?” At Katra's nod, Sara gestured for both Bob and Katra to sit.

Katra snagged a keypad from one of the waitresses, checked to make sure Bob wasn't checking out her too-short shorts, and pushed the start button. “Bob is pretty smart. He speaks Greek, you know."

Jack gave Bob a half-glance and then said something incomprehensible.

Bob froze, his rear about an inch from his bar stool. “It's a strange accent. I've never met anyone who actually spoke early common era Greek."

From the look of absolute joy on Bob's face, Katra realized she had found the way to the poor man's heart. Any woman who would just learn Greek could take him to heaven without even losing her clothes. All in all, she'd rather cook.

Jack grinned. “There was a time when Greek seemed a worthwhile study.” He paused a moment. “I think you'll find my accent to be standard for the early common era, at least for the Greek spoken in Palestine."

"Fascinating. Most of my work is with written Greek. And Aramaic, of course."

"Of course."

Something in Jack's eyes must have given Bob a clue because he stopped and wiped his forehead. “Don't tell me you speak Aramaic as well."

"Some."

"That is fantastic. Some of us get together every Thursday for a little Bible reading in the original languages. Perhaps we could interest you?"

Jack's smile disappeared. “No, I don't think so."

"If that's a bad day, maybe we could find another."

Watching Bob warm to the demon was almost sickening. First he plain ignored the unmistakable wing-bumps underneath Jack's light jacket and now he was talking to him like they were going to go hunting together or something. Not only didn't she understand men, Katra didn't want to.

"I'm pretty busy these days,” Jack admitted.

"Well, I'm sure we could find a time. Who did you say you studied under?"

"If we're going to play, you'd better get your keypad,” Sara interjected a little desperately.

"Yes, the game.” Jack looked grateful for the interruption. “I'm afraid you'll have to carry me on the television questions."

"Don't worry,” Katra told him. “Sara has seen every movie to make it on T.V.” It was part of being a single female in Dallas but Jack didn't have to know that.

"They're about to start a new game,” Sara announced. “It's on history. Katra always wins those."