The Hollows Series Books 1-4. Kim Harrison

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      “Don’t fret,” she said. “They thought that because we had just taken possession, they could catch us off balance.” She turned a smug eye to me. “They found out wrong, didn’t they?”

      I didn’t know what to say. The pixy/fairy animosity went far deeper than I had imagined. Being of the mind-set that no one could own the earth, pixies and fairies shunned the idea of property titles, relying upon the simple adage might makes right. And because they weren’t in competition with anyone but each other, the courts turned a blind eye to their affairs, allowing them to settle their own disagreements, up to and including killing each other, apparently. I wondered what had happened to whoever had the garden before Ivy rented the church.

      “Jenks likes you,” the small woman said, rolling up the wing membrane and packing it away. “Calls you his friend. I’ll give you the same title out of respect for him.”

      “Thanks,” I stammered.

      “I don’t trust you, though,” she said, and I blinked. She was as direct as her husband, and just about as tactful. “Is it true you made him a partner? For real and not just a cruel prank?”

      I nodded, more serious than I had been all week. “Yes, ma’am. He deserves it.”

      Mrs. Jenks took a pair of tiny scissors in hand. They looked more like an heirloom than a functional piece of equipment, their wooden handles carved into the shape of a bird. The beak was metal, and my eyes widened as she took the cold iron and knelt before Jenks. “Please stay asleep, love,” I heard her whisper, and I watched in astonishment as she delicately trimmed the frayed edges of Jenks’s wing. The smell of cauterized blood rose thick in the shut-up room.

      Ivy appeared in the doorway as if having been summoned. “You’re bleeding,” she said.

      I shook my head. “It’s Jenks’s wing.”

      “No. You’re bleeding. Your foot.”

      I straightened, squashing a flash of angst. Breaking eye contact, I swung my foot up to look at its underside. A red smear covered my heel. I had been too busy to notice.

      “I’ll clean it up,” Ivy said, and I dropped my foot, shrinking back. “The floor,” Ivy said in disgust. “You left bloody footprints all over the floor.” My gaze went to where she pointed to the hallway, my footprints obvious in the growing light of the new day. “I wasn’t going to touch your foot,” Ivy muttered as she stomped out.

      I flushed. Well … I had woken up with her breathing on my neck.

      There was a thumping of cupboard doors and a rush of water from the kitchen. She was mad at me. Maybe I ought to apologize. But for what? I already said I was sorry for hitting her.

      “You sure Jenks is going to be okay?” I asked, avoiding the problem.

      The pixy woman sighed. “If I can get the patches in place before he wakes up.” She sat back on her heels, closed her eyes, and said a short prayer. Wiping her hands on her skirt, she took up a dull blade with a wooden handle. She set a patch in place and ran the flat of the blade along the edges, melting it to Jenks’s wing. He shuddered, though didn’t wake. Her hands were shaking when she finished, and pixy dust sifted from her to make her glow. An angel indeed.

      “Children?” she called, and they appeared from everywhere. “Bring your father along. Josie, if you would go and make sure the door is open?”

      I watched as the children descended upon him, lifting him up and carrying him out through the flue. Mrs. Jenks wearily got to her feet as her eldest daughter packed everything away in the bag. “My Jenks,” she said, “sometimes reaches for more than a pixy ought to dream for. Don’t get my husband killed in his folly, Ms. Morgan.”

      “I’ll try,” I whispered as she and her daughter vanished up the chimney. I felt guilty, as if I were intentionally manipulating Jenks to protect myself. There was a sliding clatter of glass into the trashcan, and I rose, glancing out the window. The sun was up, shining on the herbs in the garden. It was way past my bedtime, but I didn’t think I could go back to sleep.

      Feeling weary and out of control, I shuffled into the kitchen. Ivy was on her hands and knees in her black robe, swabbing up my footprints. “I’m sorry,” I said, standing in the middle of the kitchen with my arms clasped around myself.

      Ivy looked up with narrowed eyes, playing the part of the martyr well. “For what?” she said, clearly wanting to drag me through the entire apology process.

      “For, er, hitting you. I wasn’t awake yet,” I lied. “I didn’t know it was you.”

      “You already apologized for that,” she said, going back to the floor.

      “For you cleaning up my footprints?” I tried again.

      “I offered to.”

      I bobbed my head. She had. I wasn’t going to delve into the possible motives behind that, but just accept her offer as her being nice. But she was mad about something. I hadn’t a clue what. “Um, help me out here, Ivy,” I finally said.

      She rose and went to the sink, methodically rinsing the rag out. The yellow cloth was carefully set over the faucet to dry. She turned, leaning back against the counter. “How about a little trust? I said I wasn’t going to bite you, and I’m not.”

      My mouth dropped open. Trust? Ivy was upset about trust? “You want trust?” I exclaimed, finding I needed to be angry to talk to Ivy about this. “Then how about more control from you. I can’t even contradict you without you going vampy on me!”

      “I do not,” she said, her eyes widening.

      “You do, too,” I said, gesturing. “It’s just like that first week we worked together and we would argue over the best way to bring in a shoplifter at the mall. Just because I don’t agree with you doesn’t mean I’m wrong. At least listen to me before you decide that I am.”

      She took a breath, then slowly let it out. “Yes. You’re right.”

      I jerked back at her words. She thought I was right? “And another thing,” I added, slightly mollified. “Stop with the running away during an argument. You stormed out of here tonight like you were going to rip someone’s head off, then I wake up with you bending over me? I’m sorry for punching you, but you have to admit, you kind of deserved it.”

      A faint smile crossed her, then disappeared. “Yeah. I suppose.” She rearranged the rag over the spigot. Turning, she clasped her arms around herself, gripping her elbows. “Okay, I won’t leave in the middle of an argument, but you’re going to have to not get so excited during them. You’re jerking me around until I don’t know which floor to stand on.”

      I blinked. Did she mean excited as in scared, angry, or both? “Beg pardon?”

      “And maybe get a stronger perfume?” she added apologetically.

      “I—I just bought some,” I said in surprise. “Jenks said it covered everything.”

      A sudden distress pinched Ivy’s face as she met my gaze. “Rachel … I can still smell me thick on you. You’re like a big chocolate-chip cookie sitting all alone on an empty table. And when you get all agitated, it’s СКАЧАТЬ