Dead Witch Walking. Ким Харрисон

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СКАЧАТЬ years ago,” I said. “And the I.S. had nothing to do with it. They aren’t going to kill me for breaking my contract; they want me to leave.” I frowned. “Besides, being turned inside out would be more fun than what I’m doing now.”

      Ivy leaned forward, and I refused to back away. “They say it took three days to find enough of him to fit in a shoe box,” she said. “Scraped the last off the ceiling of his porch.”

      “What am I supposed to do?” I said, pulling my arm back. “I haven’t had a decent run in months. Look at this.” I gestured to my take. “A tax-evading leprechaun. It’s an insult.”

      The little woman stiffened. “Well, excu-u-u-u-use me.”

      Jenks abandoned his new girlfriend to sit on the back rim of the cabbie’s hat. “Yeah,” he said. “Rachel’s gonna be pushing a broom if I have to take time off for workman’s comp.”

      He fitfully moved his damaged wing, and I gave him a pained smile. “Maitake?” I said.

      “Quarter pound,” he countered, and I mentally upped it to a half. He was okay, for a pixy.

      Ivy frowned, fingering her crucifix chain. “There’s a reason no one breaks their contract. The last person to try was sucked through a turbine.”

      Jaw clenched, I turned to look out the front window. I remembered. It was almost a year ago. It would have killed him if he hadn’t been dead already. The vamp was due back in the office any day now. “I’m not asking for your permission,” I said. “I’m asking you if you know anyone with a cheap place to rent.” Ivy was silent, and I shifted to see her. “I have a little something tucked away. I can put up a shingle, help people that need it—”

      “Oh, for the love of blood,” Ivy interrupted. “Leaving to open up a charm shop, maybe. But your own agency?” She shook her head, her black hair swinging. “I’m not your mother, but if you do this, you’re dead. Jenks? Tell her she’s dead.”

      Jenks nodded solemnly, and I flopped around to stare out the window. I felt stupid for having asked for her help. The cabbie was nodding. “Dead,” he said. “Dead, dead, dead.”

      This was better and better. Between Jenks and the cab driver, the entire city would know I quit before I gave notice. “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I muttered.

      Ivy draped an arm over the seat. “Did it occur to you someone may be setting you up? Everyone knows leprechauns try to buy their way out. If you get caught, your butt is buttered.”

      “Yeah,” I said. “I thought of that.” I hadn’t, but I wasn’t going to tell her. “My first wish will be to not get caught.”

      “Always is,” the leprechaun said slyly. “That your first wish?” In a flash of anger, I nodded, and the leprechaun grinned, dimples showing. She was halfway home.

      “Look,” I said to Ivy. “I don’t need your help. Thanks for nothing.” I shuffled in my bag for my wallet. “Drop me here,” I said to the cabbie. “I want a coffee. Jenks? Ivy will get you back to the I.S. Can you do that for me, Ivy? For old times’ sake?”

      “Rachel,” she protested, “you’re not listening to me.”

      The cabbie carefully signaled, then pulled over. “Watch your back, Hot Stuff.”

      I got out, yanked open the rear door, and grabbed my leprechaun by her uniform. My cuffs had completely masked her size spell. She was about the size of a chunky two-year-old. “Here,” I said, tossing a twenty onto the seat. “That should cover my share.”

      “It’s still raining!” the leprechaun wailed.

      “Shut up.” Drops pattered against me, ruining my topknot and sticking the trailing strands to my neck. I slammed the door as Ivy leaned to say something. I had nothing left to lose. My life was a pile of magic manure, and I couldn’t even make compost out of it.

      “But I’m getting wet,” the leprechaun complained.

      “You want back in the car?” I asked. My voice was calm, but inside I was seething. “We can forget the whole thing if you want. I’m sure Ivy will take care of your paperwork. Two jobs in one night. She’ll get a bonus.”

      “No,” came her meek, tiny voice.

      Ticked, I looked across the street to the Starbucks catering to uptown snits who needed sixty different ways to brew a bean in order to not be happy with any of them. Being on this side of the river, the coffeehouse would likely be empty at this hour. It was the perfect place to sulk and regroup. I half dragged the leprechaun to the door, trying to guess the cost of a cup of coffee by the number of pre-Turn doodads in the front window.

      “Rachel, wait.” Ivy had rolled down her window, and I could hear the cabbie’s music cranked again. Sting’s “A Thousand Years.” I could almost get back in the car.

      I yanked the door of the café open, sneering at the chimes’ merry jingle. “Coffee. Black. And a booster seat,” I shouted to the kid behind the counter as I strode to the darkest corner, my leprechaun in tow. Tear it all. The kid was a vision of upright character in his red-and-white-striped apron and perfect hair. Probably a university student. I could have gone to the university instead of the community college. At least for a semester or two. I’d been accepted and everything.

      The booth, though, was cushy and soft. There was a real tablecloth. And my feet didn’t stick to the floor, a definite plus. The kid was eyeing me with a superior look, so I pulled off my boots and sat cross-legged to harass him. I was still dressed like a hooker. I think he was trying to decide whether he should call the I.S. or its human counterpart, the FIB. That’d be a laugh.

      My ticket out of the I.S. stood on the seat across from me and fidgeted. “Can I have a latte?” she whined.

      “No.”

      The door chimed, and I looked to see Ivy stride in with her owl on her arm, its talons pinching the thick armband she had. Jenks was perched on her shoulder, as far from the owl as he could get. I stiffened, turning to the picture above the table of babies dressed up as a fruit salad. I think it was supposed to be cute, but it only made me hungry.

      “Rachel. I have to talk to you.”

      This was apparently too much for Junior. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said in his perfect voice. “No pets allowed. The owl must remain outside.”

      Ma’am? I thought, trying to keep the hysterical laughter from bubbling up.

      He went pale as Ivy glanced at him. Staggering, he almost fell as he sightlessly backed up. She was pulling an aura on him. Not good.

      Ivy turned her gaze to me. My air whooshed out as I hit the back of the booth. Black, predator eyes nailed me to the vinyl seat. Raw hunger clutched at my stomach. My fingers convulsed.

      Her bound tension was intoxicating. I couldn’t look away. It was nothing like the gentle question the dead vamp had poised to me in The Blood and Brew. This was anger, domination. Thank God she wasn’t angry with me, but at Junior behind the counter.

      Sure enough, as soon as she saw the look on my face, the anger in her eyes flickered and went out. Her pupils contracted, setting her eyes back to their usual СКАЧАТЬ