The Hollows Series Books 1-4. Kim Harrison

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СКАЧАТЬ spun on a quick heel. I struggled not to show my alarm that he might recognize me and my hatred for what he had done. “This is the bus depot, lady,” he said, his thin lips twisted in annoyance. “There is no baggage area. Your stuff is on the curb outside.”

      “What’s that?” I said loudly, mentally cursing Edden. Where the hell was he? I grabbed Francis arm in a tight grip, and he looked down at my spell-wrinkled hand.

      “It’s outside!” he shouted, trying to tug away, reeling as my perfume hit him.

      But I wouldn’t let go. From the corner of my sight I saw Nick beside the candy machine, staring blankly at my empty seat. His gaze rove over the people, finally catching mine. His eyes widened. He darted to Edden.

      Francis had tucked his papers under his arm and was using his other hand to try and pry my fingers from him. “Lemme go, lady,” he said. “There’s no baggage claim.”

      My fingers cramped, and he jerked away. Panicking, I watched him tug his shirt straight. “Freaky old bat,” he said with a huff. “What do you old hags do, swim in your perfume?” Then his mouth dropped open. “Morgan,” he hissed, recognizing me. “He told me you were dead.”

      “I am,” I said, my knees threatening to buckle. I was up on adrenaline alone.

      His stupid grin told me he had no idea what was going on. “You’re coming with me. Denon will give me a promotion when he sees you.”

      I shook my head. I had to do this by the book or Edden would be ticked. “Francis Percy, under the authority of the FIB, I am charging you with conspiring to willfully run biodrugs.”

      His grin vanished as his face went white under his ugly stubble. His gaze darted over my shoulder to the counter. “Shit,” he swore, turning to run.

      “Stop!” Edden cried out, too far back to be any good.

      I lunged at Francis, grabbing the back of his knees. We went down in a painful thump. Francis squirmed, kicking me in the chest as he tried to get away. I gasped, hurting.

      A whoosh of air streaked over us where my head had been. I jerked my attention up. Stars crossed my vision as Francis struggled to escape.

      No, I thought as a blue ball of flame smashed into the far wall and exploded. Those stars were real.

      The ground shook at the force of the blast. Women and children screamed, falling back to press against the walls. “What was that?” Francis stammered. He twisted under me, and for a heartbeat we watched, mesmerized, as the flickering blue flame plastered itself in a sunburst across the ugly yellow wall until it folded back in on itself and vanished with a pop.

      Frightened for the first time, I turned to look behind me. Standing confidently by the hallway to the back offices was a short tidy man dressed in black, a red ball of ever-after in his hand. A wisp of a woman dressed the same blocked the main doors, her hand on her hip and her white teeth grinning. The third was a muscular man the size of a VW bug by the ticket counter.

      It looked like the witch conference at the coast was over.

      Swell.

       Thirty-One

      Francis’s breath came in a gulp of understanding. “Let me go!” he shrieked, fear making his voice high and ugly. “Rachel, let me go! They’re going to kill you!”

      I dug my fingers into him as he struggled. Jaw gritted, I grunted in pain as his effort to flee pulled my stitches out. Blood flowed, and I fumbled in my bag for an amulet, watching from the corner of my sight as the short man’s lips moved and the ball in his hand turned from ever-after red to blue. Damn. He was invoking his charm.

      “I don’t have time for this!” I muttered, angry as I lay half atop Francis, trying to tag him.

      People were running now. They scattered into hallways and unhindered past the woman and into the parking lot. When witches dueled, only the quick survived. My breath hissed in through my nose as the man’s lips stopped moving. Pulling his arm back, he threw the spell.

      Gasping, I yanked Francis up and before me.

      “No!” he shrieked, his mouth and eyes ugly in fear at the incoming charm.

      The force of it slid us across the floor and to the chairs. His elbow jammed into my bruised arm and I grunted in pain. Francis’s scream cut off in a frightening gurgle.

      My shoulder turned to agony as I frantically pushed him off me. He sagged to the floor, senseless. Scooting backward, I stared. A pulsing blue sheet filmed him. A thin smear of it was on my sleeve. My skin crawled as the haze of blue ever-after reality slid from my sleeve to join that coating Francis. He was convulsing, covered in it. Then he went still.

      Breath fast, I looked up. All three assassins were speaking Latin in tandem, their hands making unseen figures in the air. Their motions were graceful and deliberate, looking obscene.

      “Rache!” Jenks shrilled from three chairs away. “They’re making a net. Get out! You gotta get out!”

      Get out? I thought, looking at Francis. The blue had vanished, leaving his arms and legs sprawled in unnatural angles on the floor. Horror flashed through me. I had made Francis take my hit. It had been an accident. I hadn’t meant to kill him.

      My stomach clenched, and I thought I might vomit. I pushed my fear aside, using my anger to get to my knees. I grasped for an orange chair, pulling on it to lever myself upright. They had made me make Francis take my hit. Oh God. He was dead because of me.

      “Why did you make me do that?” I said softly, turning to the short man. I took a step forward as the air started to tingle. I couldn’t say that what I’d done was wrong—I was alive—but I hadn’t wanted to do that. “Why did you make me do that?” I said louder, anger swelling as the sensation of pinpricks broke over me like a wave. It was the beginnings of the net. I didn’t care. I scooped up my bag as I passed it, kicking my uninvoked amulet out of the way.

      The ley line witch’s eyes grew wide in surprise as I came at him. Face going determined, he started chanting louder. I could hear the other two whispering like an ash-laden wind. It was easy to move in the center of the net, but the closer I got to the edge, the harder it became. We stood in a blue-tinted bowl of air. Past it, Edden and Nick struggled, trying to push their way in.

      “You made me do that!” I shouted.

      My hair lifted and fell in a breath of ever-after as their net went solid. Jaw clenched, I spared a glance beyond the haze of blue, seeing the muscle-bound mountain of a man outside it, keeping it in place even as he threw ley line spells at the hopelessly outclassed FIB officers who had swarmed in. I didn’t care. Two of them in here with me. They weren’t going anywhere.

      I was angry and frustrated. I was tired of hiding in a church, tired of ducking splat balls, tired of dunking my mail in saltwater, and tired of being scared. And because of me, Francis was lying on the dirty cold floor of a cruddy bus depot. Worm that he was, he hadn’t deserved that.

      I swung my bag forward as I limped toward the short man. I reached unseeing, feeling the notches of the amulets for a sleep charm. Mad as hell, I wiped it across my neck, СКАЧАТЬ