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
“Mmmm,” was his only answer, but his eyes held amusement when they met mine. “You should have seen his face. I’ll beat him soundly when you finally come home for good, no question about it. Maybe I’ll let you help. Sell him, and you could buy your own address.”
Third offer, a place of my own. Better and better. “Al, don’t start,” I said with a sigh, and he laughed. The sound shocked through me, and he quickly sobered when I stared at him. “So … are you going to help me?” I asked.
His eyes shifted everywhere, and I felt like I was on trial. “Perhaps,” he drawled. “I want to know why the change of heart. You told the coven you’re not a witch. You asked for my help right in front of them. You told them that you shunned them.”
My eyebrows rose. I shunned them? I’d never thought of it that way. It sort of put me in a position of power. Pride goeth before the fall, Rachel. “I’m tired,” I said, and Al made another hum of sound. “I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of trying to be who I think I should be. It’s not working. Don’t get me wrong,” I added when Al’s expression shifted. “I’m not stupid. Just because I’m asking for your help doesn’t mean I like you.”
A black haze of ever-after covered him, and suddenly it was Pierce sitting before me, his slight build making his silk shirt loose and almost falling open. His smile was devious, and something twisted in me. “Are you of a mind to like me now?” he said, hitting the man’s accent perfectly, and my heart pounded.
“Stop it,” I said, but I knew I’d given myself away. “I don’t trust Pierce either.”
I felt a tweak on my awareness as he returned to his usual self. “Good,” he intoned, warming our coffee with a gesture. “You just might survive to make history, my itchy witch. It’s better hot. Go on, try it.”
Yada yada yada. I was done eating, and I wiped my fingers. “You going to help me?”
“You want my help just because?” Al said dramatically. “For the hell of it?”
“Jeez, Al,” I complained. “It’s only a finding curse.”
“And the jump to go with it,” he added.
“Look. Forget it,” I said, then stood to make him blink up at me. “Thanks for dinner. Just send me home. I can do this myself.” Nick couldn’t be too far. I’d ask around. I could find him. Or Ivy could. “I just have to scare him into it. How hard can it be?”