Chapters (42)
- EVERY
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- 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
- The Undead Pool: An Excerpt
- Chapter 2
- About the Author
- Praise for KIM HARRISON’sprevious Rachel Morgan novelsDEAD WITCH WALKING andTHE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UNDEAD
- Also by Kim Harrison
- About the publisher
A sound of agony, soft as a brush of wind, slipped from him. “Help me,” he whispered. “I can’t make myself move anymore.”
Heart pounding, I grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door. Behind us was Ivy’s tortured cry of anguish. My stomach twisted. What was I doing, going on a date with Kisten?
A bright stab of snow-reflected light lanced into the church as Jenks and his brood worked the elaborate pulley system we had rigged so they could open the door. Quen balked at the cold blast of air that sent the pixies hiding. “Get out!” I exclaimed in frustration and fear as I pulled him out onto the stoop.
A long Gray Ghost limo idled at the curb. My breath hissed in relief as Jonathan, Trent’s number-one lackey, opened the driver’s door and emerged. I never thought I’d be happy to see the shockingly tall, distasteful man. They were in this together, working behind Trent’s back. This was a badder mistake than usual. I could feel it already.
Quen panted as I helped him lurch down the steps. “Get him out of here,” I demanded.
Jonathan yanked open the passenger-side door. “Are you going to do it?” he said, his thin lips pressed tight as he took in my cookie-smeared hair and wet jeans.
“Yes!” I pushed Quen in. He fell onto the leather seat, collapsing like a drunk. “Go!”
The tall elf shut the door and stared at me. “What did you do to him?” he said coldly.
“Nothing! It’s Piscary! Get him out of here!”
Apparently satisfied, he strode to the driver’s side. With an odd quietness, the car accelerated. I stood on the icy sidewalk and shivered, watching it speed away until it turned a corner and was gone.
Pulse slowing, I wrapped my arms around myself. The winter sun was cold. Slowly I turned to go inside, not knowing what I’d find curled up on my kitchen floor.
Ten
I watched myself in the mirror above my new, solid-ash dresser as I put my hoop earrings in, the ones big enough for Jenks to ride on. The little black dress looked good on me, and the above-the-knee boots that went with it would keep me warm enough. I didn’t think Kisten had planned a snowball fight in the park, as corny and cheap as that was. And he had said wear something nice. I stood sideways and checked myself out. This was nice. This was very nice.