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Chapters (41)
  1. THEGOOD,THEBAD,AND THEUNDEAD
  2. Epigraph
  3. One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-One
  24. Twenty-Two
  25. Twenty-Three
  26. Twenty-Four
  27. Twenty-Five
  28. Twenty-Six
  29. Twenty-Seven
  30. Twenty-Eight
  31. Twenty-Nine
  32. An excerpt from the latest Rachel Morgan novel, The Undead Pool, on sale on February 25, 2014!
  33. Chapter 2
  34. E-book Extra
  35. E-book Extra
  36. E-book Extra
  37. E-book Extra
  38. Acknowledgments
  39. About the Author
  40. Also by Kim Harrison
  41. About the Publisher

“Good,” he said lightly, shocking me into taking a step back. Putting my canister on the sidewalk, he stuffed his FIB hat into his back pocket. “But from here on out, you are officially off the run.”

My mouth opened in understanding. I was officially not here. Taking a breath, I willed the adrenaline out of my system. Edden nodded as he saw my anger fizzle out. “I’d appreciate your discretion on this,” he said. “Sending Glenn out to Pizza Piscary’s alone isn’t prudent.”

“Glenn!” Jenks shrilled, his voice scraping the inside of my skull, making my eyes water.

“No,” I said. “I already have my team. We don’t need Detective Glenn.”

Jenks left me. “Yeah,” he said as he flew between the FIB captain and me. His wings were red. “We don’t play well with others.”

Edden frowned. “This is an FIB matter. You will have an FIB presence with you when at all possible, and Glenn is the only one qualified.”

“Qualified?” Jenks scoffed. “Why not admit he’s the only one of your officers who can talk to a witch without pissing his pants?”

“No,” I said firmly. “We work alone.”

Edden stood beside my canister, his arms crossed to make his squat form look as immovable as a stone wall. “He’s our new Inderland specialist. I know he’s inexperienced—”

“He’s an ass!” Jenks snapped.

A grin flashed over Edden. “I prefer rough around the edges, myself.”

My lips pursed. “Glenn is a cocky, self-assured…” I fumbled, looking for something suitably derogatory. “…FIB flunky who is going to get himself killed the first time he runs into an Inderlander who isn’t as nice as I am.”

Jenks bobbed his head. “He needs to be taught a lesson.”

Edden smiled. “He’s my son, and I couldn’t agree more,” he said.

“He’s what?” I exclaimed as an unmarked FIB car pulled up to the curb beside us. Edden reached for the handle of the back door and opened it. Edden was clearly from European descent, and Glenn…Glenn wasn’t. My mouth worked as I tried to find something that couldn’t be remotely construed as being racist. As a witch, I was sensitive to that kind of thing. “How come he doesn’t have your last name?” I managed.

“He’s used his mother’s maiden name since joining the FIB,” Edden said softly. “He’s not supposed to be under my direction, but no one else would take the job.”

My brow furrowed. Now I understood the cold reception in the FIB. It hadn’t been all me. Glenn was new, taking a position everyone but his dad thought was a waste of time. “I’m not doing this,” I said. “Find someone else to baby-sit your kid.”

Edden put my canister into the back. “Break him in gently.”