Back Every Which Way But Dead
Chapters (42)
  1. EVERY
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-one
  25. Twenty-two
  26. Twenty-three
  27. Twenty-four
  28. Twenty-five
  29. Twenty-six
  30. Twenty-seven
  31. Twenty-eight
  32. Twenty-nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-one
  35. Thirty-two
  36. Thirty-three
  37. The Undead Pool: An Excerpt
  38. Chapter 2
  39. About the Author
  40. Praise for KIM HARRISON’sprevious Rachel Morgan novelsDEAD WITCH WALKING andTHE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UNDEAD
  41. Also by Kim Harrison
  42. About the publisher

I gasped as a black and red shadow of ever-after struck David, throwing him into the far wall and out of my sight. “David!” I called as Al started dragging me again.

Wiggling, I twisted so I was on my butt and not my stomach. I cut a small swath through the snow behind Al as he pulled me kicking to the wooden gate at the front of the garden that led to the street. Al couldn’t use the ley line in the graveyard to drag me into the ever-after, as it was entirely encircled by holy ground that he couldn’t cross. The nearest ley line I knew about was eight blocks away. I had a chance, I thought, the cold snow soaking my jeans.

“Let go!” I demanded, kicking the back of Al’s knees with my one free foot.

His leg buckled and he stopped, his irate look clear in the light from the streetlamp. He couldn’t turn misty to avoid the strikes since I would be able to slip his grip. “What a canicula you are,” he said, taking both ankles with one hand and continuing.

“I don’t want to go!” I shouted, grabbing onto the edges of the gate as we passed through it. We jerked to a stop, and Al sighed.

“Let go of the fence,” he said, sounding tired.

“No!” My muscles started to shake as I fought to keep unmoving while Al pulled. I had only one ley line charm imprinted on my subconscious, but trapping Al and me in a circle would get me nowhere. He could break it as easily as I, now that his aura would be tainting it.

A cry slipped from me when Al gave up trying to drag me through the gate and he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. My breath exploded out of me as his muscle-hard shoulder cut into my middle. He stank of burnt amber, and I fought to get free.

“This would be a lot easier,” he said as I jabbed my elbows between his shoulder blades to no effect, “if you would accept that I have you. Just say you’ll come willingly, and I can pop us into a line from here and it will save you a lot of embarrassment.”

“I’m not worried about embarrassment!” I stretched to reach a passing limb of a tree, my breath coming out in relief as I snagged one. Al jerked back, pulled off balance.

“Oh, look,” he said as he yanked me free and my palms came away scraped and bleeding. “Your wolfie friend wants to play.”

David, I thought, twisting to see past Al’s shoulder. As I struggled to breathe, I saw a huge shadow standing at the center of the lamp-lit, snow-packed street. My mouth dropped. He had Wered. He had Wered in less than three minutes. God, that must have hurt.