Chapters (39)
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- Contents
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- About the Author
- Also by Kim Harrison
- Credits
- Copyright
- About the Publisher
I couldn’t speak. They weren’t serious, were they? Ku’Sox had done something. I knew it by his smug expression as he listened to the demons call for my blood. Standing there, my heart hammered, and I backed up into Al. They couldn’t. I hadn’t done anything!
Dali looked at me, and I quailed. “If it’s a choice between your life and all of ours, then you will die.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “Even if you’re not actually the one who should be blamed for it.”
His eyes slid behind me to Ku’Sox, and my hope leaped. He believed me. I glanced at Al to see he realized it, too. And Newt, now toasting me with her wine. Proof. We needed proof. I could do that. I could get the damned proof. I just needed a few days.
“Gentle associates, gentle associates!” Al said, his voice rumbling through me from where I was pressed against him. “Of course she can balance her line.” His breath was like brimstone against me, sharp and jolting. “Tell them, Rachel,” he prompted, his voice low with threat.
“S-sure,” I stammered, scared to death.
Al’s eyes closed in relief. “We can fix it,” he said as they opened.
“Then why haven’t you?” Ku’Sox said softly, mocking us.
“My rooms are shrinking!” another called.
“We have nowhere to go. Kill her now before it’s too late!” a third shouted, and it all started up again. I began to panic. Only Al’s firm hold on my arms kept me from moving. He was not my jailer, he was my rock. Whatever happened to me would happen to him. I didn’t altogether trust Al, but I trusted that.
“No.” It was a soft utterance, and my eyes went to Newt, still sitting calmly on her bench, legs curled back up under her again. “I said no!” she said louder, and the noise behind Al and me abated. “I told you months ago that Rachel’s line was unbalanced, and you all said I was crazy.”
“You are crazy!” someone shouted from the back, and she smiled as if in benediction.
“Tru-u-u-ue,” she drawled when they quieted again. “But no one listened. You will listen to me now. Call it your collective penance.”
My heart gave a pound, and I tensed against Al. Was it a chance or a sentence?