Chapters (42)
- Title Page
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Acknowledgements
- Also by Kim Harrison
- Copyright
- About the Publisher
- Cover
Pierce’s arms went around me, and yet, I felt them become thin. “Rachel, I swan you’ll be okay!” he said, struggling to make me look at him, but I was panicking. “I’ll find Bis, and then I’ll follow you. I promise. No one will hurt you!”
“She’s being summoned?” Nick asked from the other side of the room, ignored.
To resist was stupid. The tears came down for real this time, big and heavy. “Thank you,” I whispered as I held Pierce, and then my gut twisted and I had to let go as I bent double. Pierce pulled me back to him, and I breathed in his warmth. “I take it,” I moaned, forehead pressed into Pierce’s shoulder, my voice harsh as I tried to breathe through the pain. The imbalance demanded to be paid, or it would kill me.
As soon as I uttered the words, the pain vanished. Breath catching, I looked up to Pierce, his stubbled face inches from mine, reassurance struggling to make it past the worry in his eyes. “I’ll find you,” he whispered.
“Okay,” I breathed, trusting him.
And then his hands slipped through me. I was gone.
Fifteen
Fifteen
Like water down a drain, I felt my aura collapse, pulling through me and dissolving my body as it went, shrinking everything down to the mere thought of myself. Though I didn’t have a heart, I listened for it, my nonexistent breath held as I felt myself slip into the lines, trying to find something different, a new sensation, a feeling that might help me figure this out. Someone was tuning my aura—or paying someone to do it for them.
Listen like Bis, I thought, allowing a sliver of awareness to slip from the shell I had made about myself. That was a mistake.
Cold stabbed my mind, and I screamed. The agony was so intense, I missed falling into reality, my shriek exploding into existence before I did, echoing back from white walls and tile floors to sound inhuman. I took a breath to scream again, catching it back in a harsh gurgle. The gun in my hand dropped, clattering onto the white tile as I clutched at the floor. Where am I?
The cold in my skull dulled to an ice-cream headache the size of Alaska. “That hurt…,” I panted. My fingers were cramping from having tried to gouge the tile while I was on my hands and knees. I was afraid to move; it had hurt that bad. My gun. Where’s my gun?
Panting, I looked past my hair to find a purple-and-black-tinted bubble of ever-after holding me. Purple? I’d not seen an aura that purple in ages. Someone has an ego.