Chapters (48)
- Title Page
- 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
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- The Undead Pool: An Excerpt
- Chapter 2
- About the Author
- Also by Kim Harrison
- Credits
- About the Publisher
It was a hard truth. Ugly. I didn’t want to choose who I loved by who could keep me alive. I wanted to make decisions on who I loved by who completed me, made me feel good about myself. Who I could love freely and help make a better person by just being there. God, I was confused. Tired, I pillowed my head on my folded arms and stared at the table, inches from my nose. I heard the soft sound of wings, and the draft from Jenks stirred my hair.
“It’s all right, Rachel,” he said, close and concerned. “She knows you love her.”
My throat closed, and I sighed. Maybe I should try it Ivy’s way. At least as far as I could without becoming uncomfortable or freaked out. Just once. A moment of embarrassment would be better than all this confusion. And awkwardness. And misery.
The small dinner bell at the front door rang, and I jumped. Jenks’s face was full of hope when I brought my head up, then fear. If something had happened to Ivy, I wouldn’t get a phone call but a stone-faced I.S. agent on my doorstep telling me my roommate was in the city morgue.
“I got it,” I said, the chair scraping as I rose. I hustled into the sanctuary, hoping it was Ivy with her stuff and needing someone to open the door for her.
“I’m right behind you,” Jenks said, sounding grim as he joined me in the hall.
TWENTY-ONE
My stomach was in knots when I pushed open the heavy oak doors to find Ceri. Forcing a smile, I felt both relief and disappointment when I saw her beaming in the sun, her long fair hair floating and a squishy wrapped present in her hands. She was wearing a summery, ankle-length linen dress and was barefoot—as usual. I wasn’t surprised to see Rex, Jenks’s cat, at her feet. The orange kitten was purring, rubbing her ankles.
“Happy birthday!” the young-seeming woman said cheerfully.
Jenks dropped three feet. “Crap, is that today?” he stammered, then zipped off.
My distress that it wasn’t Ivy faded. “Hi, Ceri,” I said, flattered she had remembered. “You didn’t have to get me anything!”
She came inside and handed me the package. “It’s from Keasley and me,” she said in explanation, eager and flustered. “I’ve never gotten anyone a birthday present. Are you going to have a party?” Her face went solemn. “I wanted to have a party for Keasley, but he won’t tell me when his birthday is, and I don’t know what day I was born.”
My smile went bemused. “You forgot?”
“My kin never celebrated a person’s years, so the day I was born never meant anything. It was in the winter, though.”