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
My pulse leapt, and I took a fast breath. Glenn touched my shoulder, probably thinking it was the shock of finding out for sure that Nick was a thief that had my hands shaking, not that I knew what Newt wanted and why Vanessa had been murdered. Damn it, she’d been drugged and then murdered because she hadn’t known anything about it. Telling Glenn wouldn’t do any good. This was an Inderland concern, and he would only get himself killed. I had to call David. Take it back before Newt tracked it to him. He couldn’t fight a demon.
Like I can?
I reached for the door latch, my mind whirling. “Thanks for the ride, Glenn,” I said, my manners on autopilot.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, putting a dark hand on my arm. “Are you going to be okay?”
I forced myself to meet his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I lied. “This threw me, is all.”
His hand slipped away, and I slid the folder onto the seat between us and got out to stand unsteadily on the sidewalk. My eyes went to the house where Ceri lived. She was probably asleep, but as soon as she woke up, I was going to talk to her.
“Rachel…”
Maybe she knew a way to destroy the focus.
“Rachel?”
Sighing, I leaned to look back into the car. Glenn was extending the folder to me, shoulder muscles bunched from the weight of it. “Keep it,” he said, and when I moved to protest, he added, “They’re copies. You should know what he’s done…in any case.”
Hesitating, I took them, feeling its heavy bulk pulling me down into the sidewalk. “Thanks,” I said, not caring. I shut the door and headed for the church.
“Rachel!” he called, and I jerked to a stop and turned. “The visitor tags?” he prompted.
Oh, yeah. I came back and set the file on the roof of the car while I removed the tags and handed them to him through the window.
“Promise me you won’t drive until you finish your driver’s ed,” he said in parting.
“Sure thing,” I muttered, retrieving the file and walking away. It was out again. The world knew the focus hadn’t been lost, and as soon as someone realized I still had it, I was going to be in seriously deep shit.