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 didn’t move, and my grip slipped off him. “You’re under a coven death sentence,” he said, warily glancing at Ivy. “I know you’re not cotton to the ever-after, but Al will take you in. The coven can’t reach you there.”
His language was slipping, telling me he was really upset, and I eyed him in disbelief. “I am not going to go crying to Al for help. I might have to put up with you, but I don’t have to take your advice. You were wrong about not telling Al about the coven in the first place. You were wrong about leaving the church. And you were wrong about getting on that bus. Did you know Vivian almost killed everyone on it? I’m not leaving to hide in the ever-after!”
Pierce’s brow furrowed. “Mayhap they wouldn’t have died had we been there.”
I frowned, having thought the same thing. Is that his backhanded way of blaming me?
Ivy came back in from the foyer, standing with her feet spread and senses alert, listening. Her eyes were still dark, but at least she wasn’t looking like she was ready to jump anyone. Jenks joined her, the noisy clatter of his wings loud in the silence of an otherwise pixy-empty church. “We can keep Rachel alive,” he said almost snottily. “We don’t need your help.”
Pierce crossed his arms over his chest, but I wasn’t leaving, and that was it. I didn’t care how much he frowned and cleared his throat. Running a hand over my sleep-snarled hair, I tried to remember how long ago it had been when I’d made a burn charm. Less than a year, certainly. But I needed a way to talk to Pierce alone. I did not want them hearing what was going to come out of my mouth next. “Jenks, how much feverfew do we have?”
He flew backward from me, expression cross as he saw I was clearly trying to get rid of him. “I’ll go check—Rachel,” he said caustically, then darted out the back.
I turned to Ivy next, waiting.
“I’ll do a perimeter,” she muttered. “Stay away from the windows.”
Boot heels clunking in noisy protest, she left out the front, careful to make sure Rex didn’t slip out with her. I caught a glimpse of the morning as the door opened to show bright sun glinting on the pavement, still wet from last night’s rain. Cool and peaceful. Well, I can change that, I thought, turning back to Pierce.