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Back Black Magic Sanction Save as PDF
Chapters (42)
  1. Title Page
  2. One
  3. Two
  4. Three
  5. Four
  6. Five
  7. Six
  8. Seven
  9. Eight
  10. Nine
  11. Ten
  12. Eleven
  13. Twelve
  14. Thirteen
  15. Fourteen
  16. Fifteen
  17. Sixteen
  18. Seventeen
  19. Eighteen
  20. Nineteen
  21. Twenty
  22. Twenty-one
  23. Twenty-two
  24. Twenty-three
  25. Twenty-four
  26. Twenty-five
  27. Twenty-six
  28. Twenty-seven
  29. Twenty-eight
  30. Twenty-nine
  31. Thirty
  32. Thirty-one
  33. Thirty-two
  34. Thirty-three
  35. Thirty-four
  36. Thirty-five
  37. Thirty-six
  38. Acknowledgements
  39. Also by Kim Harrison
  40. Copyright
  41. About the Publisher
  42. Cover

“You!” It was a bark of amusement, and I frowned at Al. “Yes, do this yourself. You start using demon magic intentionally, and you’re going to screw up more than Marie Antoinette on her wedding night. I’ll scare him for you.”

I paused in my first thought of saying no. Had that been a back-assed yes? I met his gaze, breath held, but he was holding up a thick hand.

“A bet might make this go down my greedy soul easier,” he said, and I felt a drop of ice slide down my spine. “I’ll find Nick. Even jump you there if you bring me along for shits and giggles. But if you can’t get the coven off your back and your shunning removed, you forget all this nonsense and move in with me. Here.”

Oh. I paused, then sighed. Double jeopardy. But if I couldn’t do this, then the coven would have my head on a platter. Or maybe my brain scrambled and my ovaries in the fridge. “Deal,” I finally said, my heart jumping when he clapped his hands once in delight. “But Nick is not snatched, and I get to play bad cop. I never get to play the bad cop.”

Al laughed. “You don’t have it in you, itchy witch.”

Simpering, I felt a stirring of anticipation. “Try me.”

He looked at me, hesitated, then smiled. “I can’t cross uninvited, but you can,” Al said, standing and grabbing his coat from the back of the chair. “We need something from my kitchen. Won’t take but a moment.”

Oh God. What am I doing? I thought, but Al’s thoughts had enfolded mine, and we jumped.

Twenty-eight

Twenty-eight

I opened my eyes as I felt myself become solid again, or at least I thought I did. It smelled like wood smoke, burnt amber, and ozone, all characteristic of Al’s kitchen. There was a soft scrape of my foot on stone when I moved it, but it was pitch-black, the echo of two people’s breathing coming back with an unfamiliar, acidic scent.

“Al? ” I ventured, his harrumph beside me coming as small comfort.

“A moment,” he said elegantly, and I jumped when there was a sliding crash. “Mother pus bucket!” the demon swore, and I wished I could instantly set a light with my thoughts like Pierce. But the spell I knew was a curse, and took me forever and a handful of stuff to do it.

Al, though, could do it, and a small globe of gray light blossomed four feet away to show the demon holding his shin and the shattered remains of the slate table that had been in front of the hearth. What it was doing over here was the question.