BooksBarbecue
Back For a Few Demons More
Chapters (48)
  1. Title Page
  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. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. The Undead Pool: An Excerpt
  44. Chapter 2
  45. About the Author
  46. Also by Kim Harrison
  47. Credits
  48. About the Publisher

I pulled myself up. Something had happened, but it was unlikely she knew about Kisten and me, and there was no way for her to find out until she got back. Jenks was the only one who knew; I had taken the bus home, so even Steve wouldn’t smell Kisten’s blood in me. “Who called? Skimmer?” I asked, wondering if it had simply been an emergency run. An emergency run she hadn’t taken Jenks on? Or even told him what it was?

“I don’t know,” Jenks said. “I came in when I heard the whine of her computer shut off.”

Lips pressed together, I thought about that.

“Why, Rachel?” Jenks asked, his voice tired.

I didn’t move anything but my eyes. “My biting Kisten is not why she left.”

His angular face pinched in distress. “Maybe someone found out and called her.”

The thought of what Ivy was capable of in a fit of rage passed through me, and I reached for my shoulder bag. The timing was wrong, but still…“Maybe I should call Kisten.”

He nodded in worry, coming closer as I punched the right buttons. I held the phone from my ear, and we both listened to it ring until it shunted me into voice mail. “Hey, Kisten,” I said, eyes on Jenks, “give me a call when you get this. Ivy wasn’t here when I got home. She took her computer and music. I don’t think she knows, but I’m worried.” I wanted to say more, but there wasn’t more to say. “’Bye,” I whispered, and hit the “end” button. ’Bye? God, I sounded like a little lost girl.

Jenks peered up at me, the color returning to his wings. “Call Ivy,” he demanded, but I was already ahead of him. This time I was dumped right into voice mail, and I left a guilty-sounding message that I had to talk to her and not to do anything until I talked to her. I wanted to say I was sorry, but I closed the phone and looked at it sitting alone on the counter.

Suddenly the pastries arranged on their plate looked trite. I was an ass. “Jenks…”

The coaxing in my voice turned his worry into a cold anger. “I don’t want to hear about it. You screwed everything up for one moment of blood passion. Even if that’s not why she left, she will when she finds out. What’s wrong with you? Can’t you leave things alone?”