BooksBarbecue
Back Ever After Save as PDF
Chapters (39)
  1. Dedication
  2. Acknowledgments
  3. Contents
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-One
  25. Chapter Twenty-Two
  26. Chapter Twenty-Three
  27. Chapter Twenty-Four
  28. Chapter Twenty-Five
  29. Chapter Twenty-Six
  30. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-One
  35. About the Author
  36. Also by Kim Harrison
  37. Credits
  38. Copyright
  39. About the Publisher

“Ask me Saturday morning,” I said, my resolve beginning to gather.

Jenks flitted up to my knee, his flight wobbly but growing more steady. “How are we going to get him back?” he asked, his face tight and his determination obvious.

Moving slowly, I got to my feet, too numb to even look at Trent. He had lost Lucy again, and I didn’t want to see that pain. “Plan C,” I said. Trent had seen me cry. I didn’t care. That butcher had Bis, Lucy, Ceri . . .

Jenks landed on my good hand, and my arm ached where Ku’Sox had pulled it. “What’s plan C?”

Taking the remaining chastity ring off my finger, I threw it into the dark. Between me and the river was the broken line, and I looked at it, shaking. He’d taken Bis, Lucy, and Ceri. If I got the chance, I was going to kill him.

“You don’t want to know.”

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

The teakettle was whistling. It had been for some time. Angry, I shoved my chair back from the table, leaving the demon spell book open as I went to the cupboard. Muttering under my breath, I grabbed the first cup I touched, only to realize it had blue butterflies on it.

“Who in hell bought a mug with blue butterflies on it!” I shouted, slamming it on the counter beside the stove. “We are serious people doing serious things! I don’t have time for butterflies!”

Chamomile. That’s supposed to be soothing, right? I thought as I ripped the individual package open and dropped it into the cup. I didn’t drink tea often, but it was getting late and I was going to have a hard enough time getting to sleep as it was. Gone. Bis was with that monster, and I was more than livid; I was panicked.

Unthinking, I reached for the teakettle, jerking my hand away and shaking it as the steam hit my fingertips, burned from trying to break Ku’Sox’s circle. “Damn it!” I exclaimed, slamming drawers until I found the potholder and, more carefully this time, filled my cup. Bits of herbs floated up, and the fragrant steam bathed my face. Crap on toast, the bag was broken.

My shoulders slumped, and I stopped. From the hallway came the tiny whispers of the pixies—fresh from their midnight nap—watching my tantrum. Sniffing, I pushed my hair out of my face and tried not to cry into my tea as I imagined Bis trapped with Ku’Sox. The little guy was my responsibility. He was probably terrified.