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
“That’s my itchy witch for you,” Al said with a sigh. “Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos, I will take your mark back for everything in this room.”
“Only if I’m not included on the list,” he shot back, and Al scrunched his features up in disappointment.
“Damn.”
“It’s a prank, Nick,” I said, bringing the conversation back to me. “You know, for fun? Trent is going to announce his candidacy for city mayor on Friday. The press will be there. I’m going to give it back then.”
His expression brightening, Nick bobbed his head. “He’ll press charges.”
My breath puffed out of me. “Only if I’m really lucky,” I muttered.
Nick looked at me, read my tells, and knew I wasn’t lying. I needed him, and that alone was enough. Not because he liked me or wanted to help, but because when it was done, I was going to owe him, and he’d never let me forget it.
Still balancing on a no, he eyed me. “I don’t see what you’re getting here,” he said.
Smiling, I sauntered forward, moving slowly as I put my arms around his neck and leaned in. “That’s because you’re a thief, Nicky,” I whispered, lips next to his ear. Pulling back, I gave him a kiss. It was dead. There was nothing there. No hatred, no anger, no love. Nothing. I didn’t care. He was a means to an end. Nothing more.
Our lips parted, and I waited. I could see in his expression that he knew it was done. And somehow that moved our relationship to a completely unexpected level. Business.
“I know exactly what you need,” he said, and I smiled.
Twenty-nine
Twenty-nine
I took a deep breath, pulling the garden-damp air deep into me and feeling as if the golden haze of afternoon pooled inside me, all yellow and swirly. There was a hint of chill in the air this early in the spring, and the tang of Jenks’s stump, still burning, reminded me of fall. It might burn for months, the roots smoldering underground as it slowly erased Jenks’s heartache. Even so, it felt good to be home and in the garden.
There was only the faint hissing of cars to remind me that I was in the suburbs of Cincinnati; all else was quiet. Jenks’s family was in mourning, and the garden seemed empty. In my hand was a handful of hickory twigs, still green and sporting new leaves. I’d used the last of the bark scrapings this morning making up a new batch of pain amulets. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to need for tonight’s escapade, but pain amulets were a good bet. Especially if I didn’t have a splat gun—thanks to Pierce.