The Hollows Series Books 1-4. Kim Harrison

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      “Been shopping?” He wiggled his foot to tell me he noticed my boots were new.

      Tired, I leaned on the top of the chain-link fence. “Would you like a chocolate?” I asked, and he motioned for me to enter.

      Jenks hummed in worry. “A splat ball’s range is longer than my sense of smell, Rache.”

      “He’s a lonely old man,” I whispered as I unlatched the gate. “He wants a chocolate. Besides, I look like an old hag. Anyone watching will think I’m his date.” I eased the lock down quietly, and I thought I saw Keasley hide a smile behind a yawn.

      A tiny, dramatic sigh slipped from Jenks. I settled my bag on the porch and sat down on the uppermost stair. Twisting, I pulled a paper sack from my coat pocket and extended it.

      “Ah …” he said, his gaze on the horse-and-rider trademark. “Some things are worth risking your life for.” As I expected, he chose a dark piece. A dog barked in the distance. Jaw moving, he looked past me into the silent street. “You’ve been to the mall.”

      I shrugged. “Among other places.”

      Jenks’s wings fanned my neck. “Rachel …”

      “Cool your jets, Jenks,” I said, peeved.

      Keasley got to his feet with a pained slowness. “No. He’s right. It’s late.”

      Between Keasley’s obtuse comments and Jenks’s instincts, I became decidedly wary. The dog barked again, and I lurched to my feet. My thoughts returned to that pile of splat balls outside my door. Maybe I should have hiked in through the graveyard, disguised or not.

      Keasley moved with a pained slowness to his door. “Watch your step, Ms. Morgan. Once they know you can slip past them, they’ll change tactics.” He opened the door and went inside. The screen shut without a sound. “Thank you for the chocolate.”

      “You’re welcome,” I whispered as I turned away, knowing he could hear me.

      “Creepy old man,” Jenks said, making my earring swing as I crossed the street and headed for the motorbike parked in front of the church. The false dawn glinted on its chrome, and I wondered if Ivy had gotten her bike back from the shop.

      “Maybe she’ll let me use it,” I mused aloud, eyeing it appreciatively in passing. It was all shiny and black, with its gold trim and silky leather; a Nightwing. Yummy. I ran an envious hand across the seat, leaving a smear where I wiped the dew away.

      “Rache!” Jenks shrilled. “Drop!”

      I dropped. Heart pounding, my palms hit the pavement. There was the hiss of something overhead where I had stood. Adrenaline surged, making my head hurt. I shoved myself into a roll, putting the bike between me and the opposite street.

      I held my breath. Nothing moved among the shrubs and overgrown bushes. I pushed my bag in front of my face, my hands searching inside.

      “Stay down,” Jinks hissed. His voice was tight, and a purple glow laced his wings.

      The prick of the finger stick jolted me to my toes. My sleep charm was invoked in 4.5 seconds; my best time yet. Not that it would do me much good if whoever it was stayed in the bushes. Maybe I could throw it at him. If the I.S. was going to make a habit of this, I might want to invest in a splat gun. I was more of a confront-them-directly-and-knock-them-unconscious kind of a gal. Hiding in the bushes like a sniper was cheesy, but when in Rome …

      I gripped the charm by the cord so it wouldn’t affect me and waited.

      “Save it,” Jenks said, relaxing as we were abruptly surrounded by a host of darting pixy children. They swirled over us, talking so fast and high I couldn’t keep up. “They’re gone,” Jenks added. “Sorry about that. I knew they were there, but—”

      “You knew they were there?” I exclaimed, my neck hurting as I peered up at him. A dog barked, and I lowered my voice. “What the hell were you doing?”

      He grinned. “I had to flush them out.”

      Peeved, I got to my feet. “Great. Thanks. Let me know next time I’m bait.” I shook out my long coat, grimacing as I realized I’d squished my chocolates.

      “Now, Rache,” he cajoled, hovering by my ear. “If I had told you, your reactions would have been off and the fairies would have just waited until I wasn’t watching.”

      My face went slack. “Fairies?” I said, chilled. Denon must be off his rocker. They were expe-e-e-e-ensive. Perhaps they gave him a discount because of the frog incident.

      “There’re gone,” Jenks said, “but I wouldn’t stay out here for long. The word is the Weres want another crack at you.” He took off his red bandanna and handed it to his son. “Jax, you and your sisters can have their catapult.”

      “Thanks, Papa!” The small pixy rose up two feet in excitement. Wrapping the red scarf around his waist, he and about six other pixies broke from the group and zipped across the street.

      “Be careful!” Jenks shouted after them. “It might be booby-trapped!”

      Fairies, I thought as I clutched my arms about me and looked over the quiet street. Crap.

      The remainder of Jenks’s kids was clustered around him, all talking at once as they tried to drag him around back. “Ivy’s with someone,” Jenks said as he started to drift upward, “but he checks out okay. You mind if I call it a night?”

      “Go ahead,” I said, glancing at the bike. It wasn’t Ivy’s after all. “And, uh, thanks.”

      They rose like a swarm of fireflies. Close behind them were Jax and his sisters, working together to carry a catapult as small as they were. With a dry clattering of wings and shouts, they flew up and beyond the church, leaving a hard silence in the morning street.

      I turned my back and shuffled up the stone stairs. Glancing across the road, I saw a curtain fall against the single lit window. Show’s over. Go to sleep, Keasley, I thought, tugging open the heavy door and slipping inside. Easing it shut, I slid the oiled dead bolt in place behind me, feeling better despite knowing most of the I.S.’ s assassins wouldn’t use a door. Fairies? Denon must be royally ticked.

      Blowing wearily, I leaned back against the thick timbers, to shut out the coming morning. All I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. As I slowly crossed the empty sanctuary, the sound of soft jazz and Ivy’s voice raised in anger filtered out from the living room.

      “Damn it, Kist,” I heard as I entered the dark kitchen. “If you don’t get your butt out of that chair right now, I’m going to sling you halfway to the sun.”

      “Aw, lighten up, Tamwood. I’m not gonna do anything,” came a new voice. It was masculine, deep but with a hint of a whine, as if whomever it came from was indulged in almost everything. I paused to dump my used amulets into the pot of saltwater beside the refrigerator. They were still good, but I knew better than to leave active amulets lying around.

      The music snapped off with a jarring suddenness. “Out,” Ivy said softly. “Now.”

      “Ivy?” I called loudly, curiosity СКАЧАТЬ