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Back The Hollows Series
Chapters (154)
  1. THE HOLLOW SERIES BOOKS 1–4
  2. Contents
  3. Dead Witch Walking
  4. Title Page
  5. Dedication
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Fourteen
  20. Fifteen
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-One
  27. Twenty-Two
  28. Twenty-Three
  29. Twenty-Four
  30. Twenty-Five
  31. Twenty-Six
  32. Twenty-Seven
  33. Twenty-Eight
  34. Twenty-Nine
  35. Thirty
  36. Thirty-One
  37. Thirty-Two
  38. Thirty-Three
  39. Thirty-Four
  40. Acknowledgements
  41. The Good, The Bad and The Undead
  42. Dedication
  43. One
  44. Two
  45. Three
  46. Four
  47. Five
  48. Six
  49. Seven
  50. Eight
  51. Nine
  52. Ten
  53. Eleven
  54. Twelve
  55. Thirteen
  56. Fourteen
  57. Fifteen
  58. Sixteen
  59. Seventeen
  60. Eighteen
  61. Nineteen
  62. Twenty
  63. Twenty-One
  64. Twenty-Two
  65. Twenty-Three
  66. Twenty-Four
  67. Twenty-Five
  68. Twenty-Six
  69. Twenty-Seven
  70. Twenty-Eight
  71. Twenty-Nine
  72. Acknowledgements
  73. Every Which Way But Dead
  74. Title Page
  75. Dedication
  76. Contents
  77. One
  78. Two
  79. Three
  80. Four
  81. Five
  82. Six
  83. Seven
  84. Eight
  85. Nine
  86. Ten
  87. Eleven
  88. Twelve
  89. Thirteen
  90. Fourteen
  91. Fifteen
  92. Sixteen
  93. Seventeen
  94. Eighteen
  95. Nineteen
  96. Twenty
  97. Twenty-One
  98. Twenty-Two
  99. Twenty-Three
  100. Twenty-Four
  101. Twenty-Five
  102. Twenty-Six
  103. Twenty-Seven
  104. Twenty-Eight
  105. Twenty-Nine
  106. Thirty
  107. Thirty-One
  108. Thirty-Two
  109. Thirty-Three
  110. Acknowledgements
  111. A Fistful of Charms
  112. A FISTFUL OF CHARMS
  113. Dedication
  114. Contents
  115. One
  116. Two
  117. Three
  118. Four
  119. Five
  120. Six
  121. Seven
  122. Eight
  123. Nine
  124. Ten
  125. Eleven
  126. Twelve
  127. Thirteen
  128. Fourteen
  129. Fifteen
  130. Sixteen
  131. Seventeen
  132. Eighteen
  133. Nineteen
  134. Twenty
  135. Twenty-One
  136. Twenty-Two
  137. Twenty-Three
  138. Twenty-Four
  139. Twenty-Five
  140. Twenty-Six
  141. Twenty-Seven
  142. Twenty-Eight
  143. Twenty-Nine
  144. Thirty
  145. Thirty-One
  146. Thirty-Two
  147. Thirty-Three
  148. Thirty-Four
  149. Thirty-Five
  150. Acknowledgements
  151. Keep Reading
  152. Also by the Author
  153. About the Author
  154. About the Publisher

Silent, we endured the stop-and-go traffic to get onto the bridge, my attention on Ivy and Jenks behind us as much as on the cars ahead of me jockeying to get on the bridge. It had been Ivy’s idea to do this on the bridge. The stiff wind would hamper the Weres’ sense of smell, and the bridge itself would prevent a helicopter ambulance and slow things down. But most of all, we needed a stretch of several miles without a shoulder to minimize Were interference after the crash. The five-mile bridge gave us that along with a nice margin to actually run into each other. The goal was the bridge apex, but a mile either way would work.

My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, but I didn’t feel any better seeing Ivy and Jenks in Kisten’s Corvette running as a buffer between us and the Weres from the bar. “Put your seat belt on,” I said. I thought it was stupid, like dragging the saddle behind you when you went looking for your horse fleeing the burning barn, but I didn’t want to get pulled over for failure to wear a belt and have it all come crashing down when the cop realized Nick’s newly flash-painted truck was the same one that had fled the scene of a crash yesterday.

The click was loud when Peter fastened his belt. We were going to be run over by a Mack truck. I didn’t think it would make a difference if he had on his seat belt or not.

Oh God. What was I doing?

The traffic light finally turned green, and I pulled onto the bridge, headed for St. Ignace on the other side of the straits. I gripped the wheel tighter, stomach knotting. The bridge was a mess. The two northbound lanes were closed off, making traffic two-way on the southbound. Midway down the span there were big machines and powerful lights to turn the coming night to day as the workers tried to meet their pretourist-season deadline. They had missed it. Red cones separated the two lanes, allowing traffic to easily switch to the other side when needed. The bridge was an incredible five miles long, and every foot of it had needed repair.

Peter exhaled as we accelerated to a steady forty miles an hour, the opposing traffic doing the same an unnerving three feet away. Past the vacant northbound lane and thick girders, I could see the islands, gray and smudged from the distance. We were really high up, and I felt a moment of quickly stifled fear. Despite the stories, witches couldn’t fly. ’Least not without a staff of charmed redwood that cost more than the Concord.

“Peter?” I said, not liking the silence.