Chapters (41)
- THEGOOD,THEBAD,AND THEUNDEAD
- 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
- An excerpt from the latest Rachel Morgan novel, The Undead Pool, on sale on February 25, 2014!
- Chapter 2
- E-book Extra
- E-book Extra
- E-book Extra
- E-book Extra
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Also by Kim Harrison
- About the Publisher
I took a deep breath to try to dispel the weakness in my knees. Great. Now I had to go into class after they had probably started.
Thinking my day couldn’t possibly get any worse, I gathered myself and walked into the room lit brightly from the bank of windows overlooking the campus. As Janine had said, it was set up like a lab, with two people sitting on stools at each of the high slate tables. Janine was by herself talking to Jenks, clearly having saved me the spot next to her.
Ozone from Dr. Anders’s hastily constructed circle caught at me. The circle was gone, but my sinuses tingled at the remnants of power. I glanced at its source at the front of the room.
Dr. Anders sat at an ugly metal desk before a traditional blackboard. She had her elbows on the table, her head in her hands. I could see her thin fingers trembling, and I wondered if it was from Denon’s accusations or that she had pulled upon the ever-after strong enough to make a circle without the aid of a physical manifestation. The class seemed unusually quiet.
Her hair was back in a severe bun, gray streaks making unflattering lines through the black. She looked older than my mother, dressed in a conservative pair of tan slacks and a tasteful blouse. Trying not to draw attention to myself, I slipped past the first two rows of tables and sat beside Janine. “Thanks,” I whispered.
Her eyes were wide as I tucked my bag under the table. “You work for the I.S.?”
I glanced at Dr. Anders. “I used to. I quit last spring.”
“I didn’t think you could quit the I.S.,” she said, her face going even more full of wonder.
Shrugging, I pushed my hair out of the way so Jenks could land on his usual spot. “It wasn’t easy.” I followed her attention to the front of the room as Dr. Anders stood.
The tall woman was as scary as I remembered, with a long thin face, and a nose that wouldn’t be out of place on a pre-Turn depiction of a witch. No wart, though, and her complexion wasn’t green. She reeked of tenure, gathering the class’s attention by simply standing. The tremor was gone from her hands as she took up a sheaf of papers.