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
“Open it!” he said, eyes bright and dust spilling from him. “You’re clear. Tink’s a Disney whore, this is great! I’m going to get Matalina. Hell, I’m getting my kids.”
Rex had followed us—pulled by Jenks, not me—and with images of news cameras and vans, I reached for the locking bar, sliding it up and away. Nervous, I looked down at myself, fully aware of the disastrous image I made, with my salt-stained dripping hair, a pixy by my side, and a cat at my bare feet. God, I lived in a church!
But it wasn’t a news crew on my front steps blinking at me in the sun; it was Trent.
TWENTY-SIX
Surprise flickered over Trent, then vanished under the cool confidence of his six-hundred-dollar suit and hundred-dollar haircut. Quen stood on the walk below like a chaperone. There was a fist-size pale blue package in Trent’s hands, the lid fastened with a matching bow lined in gold. “Is this a bad time, Ms. Morgan?” Trent said, green eyes flicking from my bare feet to Rex, then back up to me.
It was friggin’ seven o’clock. I should be in bed right now, and he knew it. Painfully conscious of my damp, rumpled state, I shook my stringy curls out of my eyes. My thoughts zinged back to my idea to get Lee free of Al, but he was here for Ceri. I had almost forgotten.
“Please tell me that’s not for me?” I said, gaze dropping to the gift, and he flushed.
“It’s for Ceri,” he said, his gray-edged voice melting into the humid morning. “I wanted to give her something as a visible display of how pleased I am to find her.”
Visible display… God, Trent had a crush on her before even meeting her. Lips pressed tight, I crossed my arms over my chest, but my tough-chick image was being ruined by Rex twining about my feet. She didn’t fool me—I was a convenient rubbing post, that’s all—and when she realized I was wet, she gave me an insulted look and stalked away. “You didn’t find Ceri,” I said tartly. “I did.”
“Can I come in?” he asked wearily.
He took a step forward, but I didn’t move and he stopped. My attention flicked behind him to Quen in his black outfit and shades. They had brought the Beemer instead of the limo. Good call; Ceri wouldn’t be impressed. “Look,” I said, not wanting him in my church unless there was a reason, “I didn’t think you were coming, so I didn’t say anything to her. This really isn’t the best time.” Not with her crying the way she was. “I’m usually asleep right now. Why are you here so early? I said four o’clock.”