The Hollows Series Books 1-4. Kim Harrison

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СКАЧАТЬ it was a nasty spell, I had four seconds. Five, if it was strong enough to kill me.

      “Nobody!” I exclaimed, staggering forward by will alone. His eyes widened as he saw my demon scar as I made a fist. “Nobody makes me kill anyone!” I shouted, swinging.

      We both staggered as I connected with his jaw. Shaking my hand from the pain, I hunched into myself. The man stumbled back, catching himself. The gathering of power abruptly lessened. Furious, I gritted my teeth and swung again. He hadn’t expected a physical attack—not many ley line witches did—and he raised his arm to block me. Grabbing his fingers, I gave them a backward twist, breaking at least three.

      His scream of pain was echoed by the woman’s cry of dismay from across the lobby. She started forward at a run. Still gripping his hand, I swung my foot up, yanking him forward to smack into it. His eyes bulged. Clutching his stomach, he fell back. His watering gaze tracked someone behind me. Still not breathing, he dropped and rolled to the right.

      Gasping, I hit the ground and rolled to the left. There was a boom, and my hair blew back. I pulled my head up from the floor as the ball of green ever-after spread itself on the wall and down the hallway. I turned. The wisp of a woman was still coming, her face tight and her mouth going nonstop. A red ball of ever-after in her hand swelled, streaked with her own green aura as she tried to bend it to her will.

      “You want a piece of me?” I shouted from the floor. “Do ya?” Staggering, I rose to put a hand to the wall to stay upright.

      The man behind me said a word. I couldn’t hear it. It was too alien for my mind to understand. It rolled into my head, and I struggled to make sense of it. Then my eyes opened wide and my mouth dropped in a silent scream as it exploded inside me.

      Clutching my head, I fell to my knees, screaming. “No!” I shrieked, clawing at my scalp. “No! Get out!” Black-crusted red slashes. Squirming maggots. The sour taste of decayed flesh.

      The memory of it burnt itself out from my subconscious. I looked up, panting. I was spent. There was nothing left. My heart pounded against my lungs. Black spots danced at the edges of my sight. My skin felt tingly, as if it wasn’t mine. What the hell had that been?

      The man and the woman stood together, her hand under his elbow as she supported him hunched over his broken hand. Their faces were angry, confident—and satisfied. He couldn’t use his hand, but clearly he didn’t need it to kill me. All he had to do was say that word again.

      I was dead. The more-than-usual kind of dead. But I would take one of them with me.

      “Now!” I heard Edden shout faintly as if through a fog.

      All three of us started as the net went down. The shadow of blue hazing in the air fell into itself and vanished. That big witch outside the net was on the floor with his hands laced behind his head. Six FIB officers ringed him. Hope twanged through me, almost painful.

      A darting shape drew my eye. Nick. “Here!” I shouted, grasping the cord of the invoked sleep charm from the floor where I had dropped it and winging it to him.

      The assassin turned, but it was too late. White-faced, Nick dropped the loop over the head of the woman and backpedaled. She crumpled. The man fumbled for her, easing her to the floor. Mouth agape in surprise, he darted his glance over the room.

      “This is the FIB!” Edden shouted, looking awkward in his sling and with his weapon held in his left hand. “Put your hands behind your head and stop moving your mouth or I’ll blow it the hell off!”

      The man blinked, shocked. He glanced at the woman at his feet. Taking a breath, he ran.

      “No!” I cried. Still on the floor, I dumped my bag. I grabbed an amulet, smacked it against my bleeding neck, and threw it at his feet. Half the charms in my bag were tangled in it. Like a bola, it flew through the air at knee height. It hit him, wrapping around his leg like he was a cow. Tripping, he went down.

      FIB personnel swarmed over him. Breath held, I watched, waiting. He stayed down. My charm had dropped him into a sweet, helpless sleep.

      The noise of the FIB personnel beat at me. With a single-minded purpose, I crawled to Francis lying alone by the chairs. Fearing the worst, I rolled him over. His sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling. My face went slack. God, no.

      But then his chest moved, and a stupid-ass smile quirked his thin lips as they shifted in whatever dream he was in. He was alive and breathing, deep under a ley line spell. Relief poured through me. I hadn’t killed him.

      “Tag!” I screamed into his unconscious, narrow, ratty face. “Do you hear me you sodden sack of camel dung? Tag! You’re it!” I hadn’t killed him.

      Edden’s scuffed brown shoes scraped to a halt beside me. My face went tight, and I wiped a blood-smeared hand under my eye. I hadn’t killed Francis. Squinting, I ran my gaze up Edden’s creased khakis and his blue arm sling. His hat was on, and I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off the blue letters spelling out FIB glowing against the yellow background. A satisfied harrumph came out of him, and his wide grin made him look even more like a troll. Numb, I blinked as my lungs pressed against each other. It seemed to take an awful amount of effort to fill them.

      “Morgan,” the man said happily, extending a thick hand to help me up. “You okay?”

      “No,” I croaked. I reached for him, but the floor tilted. As Nick gasped a warning, I passed out.

       Thirty-Two

      “Listen!” Francis shouted, spittle flying from him in his fervor. “I’ll tell you everything. I want a deal. I want protection. I was only supposed to do Brimstone takes. That’s all. But someone got spooked and Mr. Kalamack wanted the drops switched. He told me to switch the drops. That’s all! I’m not a biodrug runner. Please. You gotta believe me!”

      Edden said nothing, playing the silent bad cop as he sat across from me. The shipping papers Francis had signed were under his thick hand as an unspoken accusation. Francis cowered in a chair at the end of the table, two chairs down from us. His eyes were wide and frightened. He looked pathetic in his bright shirt and polyester jacket with the sleeves rolled up, trying to live the dream he wanted his life to be.

      I carefully stretched my sore body, my gaze falling on the three cardboard boxes stacked ominously at one end of the table. A smile curved over me. Hidden under the table and in my lap was an amulet I’d taken from the head assassin. It glowed an ugly red, but if it was what I thought it was, it would go black when I was dead or in the event the contract on my life had been paid off. I was going home to sleep for a week as soon as the little sucker went out.

      Edden had moved Francis and me into the employees’ break room to stave off a repeat of the witch attack. Thanks to the local news van, everyone in the city knew where I was—and I was just waiting for fairies to crawl out of the ductwork. I had more faith in the ACG blanket draped over me than the two FIB officers standing around to make the long room seem cramped.

      I tugged the blanket closer around my neck, appreciating its minor protection as much as its warmth. Spiderweb-thin strands of titanium were woven into it, guaranteed to dilute strong spells and break mild ones. Several of the FIB officers had yellow coveralls made out of a similar fabric, and I was hoping Edden would forget to ask for it back.

      As Francis babbled, my СКАЧАТЬ