by Kim Harrison
I nodded. Edden had told him the basics. “Let me tell you about Trent Kalamack,” I said as the wind pushed against my hand. “When he caught me rifling through his office looking for a way to bring him into the courts, he didn’t turn me in to the I.S., he offered me a job. Anything I wanted.” Cold, I angled the vent toward me. “He’d pay off my I.S. death threat, set me up as an independent runner, give me a small staff, everything—if I worked for him. He wanted me to run the same system I had spent my entire professional life fighting. He offered me what looked like freedom. I wanted it so badly, I might have said yes.”
Glenn was silent, wisely not saying anything. There wasn’t a cop alive who hadn’t been tempted, and I was proud that I had passed that test. “When I turned him down, his offer became a threat. I was spelled into a mink at the time, and he was going to torture me mentally and physically until I would do anything to get it to stop. If he couldn’t have me willingly, he’d be satisfied with a warped shadow eager to please him. I was helpless. Just like Sara Jane is.”
I hesitated to gather my resolve. I had never admitted that aloud before—that I had been helpless. “She thought I was a mink, but she gave me more dignity as an animal than Trent gave me as a person. I have to get her away from him. Before it’s too late. Unless we can find Dan and get him safe, she doesn’t have a chance.”
“Mr. Kalamack is just a man,” Glenn said.
“Really!” I said with a bark of sarcastic laughter. “Tell me, Mr. FIB Detective, is he human or Inderlander? His family has been quietly running a good slice of Cincinnati for two generations, and no one knows what he is. Jenks can’t tell what he smells like, and neither can the fairies. He destroys people by giving them exactly what they want—and he enjoys it.” I watched the passing buildings without seeing them.
Glenn’s continued silence pulled my eyes up. “You really think Dan’s disappearance has nothing to do with the witch hunter murders?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I resettled myself, not comfortable with having told him so much. “I only took this run to help Sara Jane and pull Trent down. You going to run tattling to your dad now?”
The lights from oncoming traffic illuminated him. He took a breath and let it out. “You do anything in your little vendetta to jeopardize me proving Dr. Anders is the murderer, and I’ll tie you to a bonfire in Fountain Square,” he said softly in threat. “You will go to the university tomorrow, and you will tell me everything you learn.” His shoulders eased. “Just be careful.”
I eyed him, the passing lights illuminating him in flashes that seemed to mirror my uncertainty. It sounded as if he understood. Imagine that. “Fair enough,” I said, settling back. My head turned as we turned left instead of right. I glanced at him with a feeling of déjà vu. “Where are we going? My office is the other way.”
“Pizza Piscary’s,” he said. “There’s no reason to wait until tomorrow.”
I eyed him, not wanting to admit I’d promised Ivy I wouldn’t go out there without her. “Piscary’s doesn’t open until midnight,” I lied. “They cater to Inderlanders. I mean, how often does a human order a pizza?” Glenn’s face went still in understanding, and I picked at my nail polish. “It will be at least two before they slow down enough to be able to talk to us.”
“That’s two in the morning, right?” he asked.
Well, duh, I thought. That was when most Inderlanders were hitting their stride, especially the dead ones. “Why don’t you go home, sleep in, and we’ll all go out tomorrow?”
He shook his head. “You’ll go tonight without me.”
A puff of affront escaped me. “I don’t work like that, Glenn. Besides, if I do, you’ll go out there alone, and I promised your dad I’d try to keep you alive. I’ll wait. Witches’ honor.”
Lie, yes. Betray the trust of a partner—even unwelcome ones—no.
He gave me a quick, suspicious glance. “All right. Witches’ honor.”
Seven
“Rache,” Jenks said from my earring. “Take a squint at that guy. Is he trolling or what?”
I tugged my bag up higher onto my shoulder and peered through the unseasonably warm September afternoon at the kid in question as I walked through the informal lounge. Music tickled my subconscious, the volume of his radio set too low to hear well. My first thought was that he must be hot. His hair was black, his clothes were black, his sunglasses were black, and his black duster was made of leather. He was leaning against a vending machine trying to look suave as he talked to a woman in a gothic black lace dress. But he was blowing it. No one looks sophisticated with a foam cup in his hand, no matter how sexy his two-day stubble is. And no one wore goth but out-of-control teen living vamps and pathetically sad vamp wannabes.
I snickered, feeling vastly better. The big campus and the conglomeration of youth had me on edge. I had gone to school at a small community college, taking the standard two-year program followed by a four-year internship with the I.S. My mother would have never been able to afford tuition at the University of Cincinnati on my dad’s pension, extra death benefit aside.
I glanced at the faded yellow receipt Edden had given me. It had the time and days my class met, and right down at the lower right-hand corner was the cost of it all—tax, lab fees, and tuition all totaled up into one appalling sum. Just this one class was nearly as much as a semester at my alma mater. Nervous, I shoved the paper in my bag as I noticed a Were in the corner watching me. I looked out of place enough without wandering around with a class schedule in my grip. I might as well have hung a card around my neck saying, “Continuing Adult Education Student.” God help me, but I felt old. They weren’t much younger than I was, but their every move screamed innocence.
“This is stupid,” I muttered to Jenks as I left the informal commissary. I didn’t even know why the pixy was with me. Must be Edden had sicked him on me to make sure I went to class. My vamp-made boots clicked smartly as I strode through the windowed, elevated walkway connecting the Business Arts building with Kantack Hall. A jolt went through me as I realized my feet were hitting the rhythm of Takata’s “Shattered Sight,” and though I still couldn’t really hear the music, the lyrics settled themselves deep into my head to drive me nuts. Sift the clues from the dust, from my lives, of my will./ I loved you then. I love you still.
“I should be with Glenn, interviewing Dan’s neighbors,” I complained. “I don’t need to take the freaking class, just talk to Dan’s classmates.”
My earring swung like a tire swing, and Jenks’s wings tickled my neck. “Edden doesn’t want to give Dr. Anders any warning that she’s a suspect. I think it’s a good idea.”
I frowned, my steps growing muffled as I found the carpeted hallway and began watching the numbers on the doors count up. “You think it’s a good idea, do you?”
“Yeah. But there’s one thing he forgot.” He snickered. “Or maybe he didn’t.”
I slowed as I saw a group standing outside a door. It was probably mine. “What’s that?”
“Well,” he drawled, “now that you’re taking the class, you fit the profile.”
Adrenaline zinged through me and vanished. “How about that?” I murmured. Damn Edden anyway.
Jenks’s laughter was like wind chimes. I shifted my heavy book to my other hip, scanning the small gathering for the person most likely to spill the best gossip. A young woman looked up at me, or Jenks rather, smiling briefly before turning away. She was dressed in jeans like me, with an expensive-looking suede coat over her T-shirt. Casual yet sophisticated. Nice combination. Dropping my bag to the carpet tile, I leaned back against the wall like everyone else, a noncommittal four feet away.
I surreptitiously looked at the book by the woman’s feet. Noncontact Extensions Using Ley Lines. A tiny wash of relief went through me. I had the right book, at least. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I glanced at the frosted glass of the closed door, hearing a muted conversation from inside. Must be the previous class hadn’t let out yet.
; Jenks rocked my earring, pulling on it. I could ignore that, but when he started singing about inchworms and marigolds, I batted him off.
The woman beside me cleared her throat. “Just transfer in?” she asked.
“Beg pardon?” I asked as Jenks flitted back.
She popped her gum, her heavily made-up eyes going from me to the pixy. “There aren’t many of us ley line students. I don’t remember seeing you. Do you usually take night classes?”
“Oh.” I pushed myself away from the wall and faced her. “No. I’m taking a class to, ah, move ahead at work.”
She laughed as she tucked her long hair back. “Hey, I’m right there with you. But by the time I get out of here, there’s probably not going to be any jobs left for a film production manager with ley line experience. Everyone seems to be minoring in art these days.”
“I’m Rachel.” I extended my hand. “And this is Jenks.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, taking it for an instant. “Janine.”
Jenks buzzed to her, alighting on her hastily raised hand. “Pleasure is all mine, Janine,” he said, actually making a bow.
She beamed, utterly delighted. Obviously she hadn’t had much contact with pixies. Most stayed outside the city unless employed in the few areas pixies and fairies excelled in: camera maintenance, security, or good old-fashioned sneaking around. Even so, fairies were far more commonly employed, since they ate insects instead of nectar and their food supply was more readily available.
“Uh, does Dr. Anders actually teach the class, or does she have an aide do it?” I asked.
Janine chuckled, and Jenks flitted back to my earring. “You’ve heard about her?” she asked. “Yes, she teaches, seeing as there’s not that many of us.” Janine’s eyes pinched. “Especially now. We started with more than a dozen, but we lost four when Dr. Anders told us the murderer was taking only ley line witches and to be careful. And then Dan went and quit.” She slumped back against the wall, sighing.
“The witch hunter?” I asked, stifling my smile. I had chosen the right person to stand beside. I made my eyes wide. “You’re kidding….”
Her face went worried. “I think that’s some of the reason why Dan left. And it was a shame, too. The man was so hot, he could make a sprinkler spark in a rainstorm. He had a big interview. Wouldn’t tell me anything. I think he was afraid I’d apply for it, too. Looks like he got the job.”
My head bobbed as I wondered if this was the news he was going to tell Sara Jane on Saturday. But then a slow burn started in me that perhaps supper at Carew Tower had been a dump dinner, and he chickened out and left without telling her anything.
“Are you sure he quit?” I asked. “Maybe the witch hunter…” I left my sentence open, and Janine smiled reassuringly.
“Yes, he quit. He asked if I wanted to buy his magnetic chalk if he got the job. The bookstore won’t take them back once you break the seal.”
My face went slack in sudden, real alarm. “I didn’t know I needed chalk.”
“Oh, I’ve got one you can borrow,” she said as she rummaged in her purse. “Dr. Anders usually has us sketching something or other: pentagrams, north/south apogees…you name it, we’ve traced it. She lumps the lab in with the lecture. That’s why we meet here instead of a lecture hall.”
“Thanks,” I said as I accepted the metallic stick and gripped it along with my book. Pentagrams? I hated pentagrams. My lines were always crooked. I’d have to ask Edden if he would pay for a second trip to the bookstore. But then remembering the cost of the class he would probably never be reimbursed for, I decided to go pick up my old school supplies from my mom. Swell. Better give her a call.
Janine saw my sick look, and misunderstanding it, she rushed to say, “Oh, don’t worry, Rachel. The murderer isn’t after us. Really. Dr. Anders said to be careful, but he’s only going for experienced witches.”
“Yeah,” I said, wondering if I would be considered experienced or not. “I guess.”
The conversations around us ceased as Dr. Anders’s voice shrilled from behind the door, “I don’t know who’s killing my students. I’ve been to too many funerals this month to listen to your foul accusations. And I’ll sue you from here back to the Turn if you slander my name!”
Janine looked alarmed as she picked up her book and held it to her chest. The students in the hallway shifted from foot to foot and exchanged uneasy looks. From my earring Jenks whispered, “So much for keeping Dr. Anders in the dark about her possible suspect status.” I nodded, wondering if Edden would let me drop the class now. “It’s Denon in there with her,” Jenks added, and I took a quick breath.
“What?”
“I can smell Denon,” he reiterated. “He’s in there with Dr. Anders.”
Denon? I thought, wondering what my old boss was doing out from behind his desk.
There was a soft murmur, followed by a loud pop. Everyone in the hall but Jenks and me jumped. Janine reached up and touched her ear as if she had just been knocked a good one. “Didn’t you feel that?” she asked me, and I shook my head. “She just set a circle without drawing a real one first.”
I eyed the door along with everyone else. I didn’t know you could set a circle without drawing it. I also didn’t like that everybody but Jenks and I had been able to tell she had done it. Feeling as if I was in over my head, I picked my bag up.
The low rumble of my old boss’s voice pulled a chill from me. Denon was a living vamp, like Ivy. But he was low-blood, rather than high, having been born a human and infected with the vamp virus later by one of the true undead. And where Ivy had political power because she’d been born a vamp and thus was guaranteed to join the undead even if she should die alone with every drop of blood in her, Denon would always be second-class, having to trust that someone would bother to finish turning him after he died.
“Get out of my room,” Dr. Anders demanded. “Before I file harassment charges.”
The students all shifted nervously. I wasn’t surprised when the frosted glass darkened with a shape behind it. I stiffened with the rest when the door opened and Denon walked out. The man almost had to turn sideways to clear the door frame.
I still maintained my belief that Denon had been a boulder in a previous life—a smooth, river-worn boulder massing about a ton maybe? Being low-blood and having only human strength, he had to work hard to keep up with his dead brethren. The results were a trim waist and oodles of bunching muscles. They pulled at his white dress shirt as he sauntered into the hallway. The stark cotton stood in sharp contrast with his complexion, drawing my eye and holding it—just as he wanted.
The class fell back as he eased past. A cold presence seemed to flow out of the room and pool about him, the remnants of the aura he had probably pulled on Dr. Anders. A confident, dominating smile curved over him as his eyes fastened on me.
“Uh, Rachel?” Jenks muttered as he flitted to Janine. “I’ll see you inside, okay?”
I said nothing, suddenly feeling too thin and vulnerable.
“I’ll save you a seat,” Janine said, but I didn’t look from my old boss. There was a soft rustle as the hallway emptied.
I had been scared of the man, and I was ready and willing to be scared of him now, but something had changed. Though still moving with the grace of a predator, the ageless look he once carried was gone. The hungry cast in his eye, which he didn’t bother to hide, told me he was still a practicing vamp, but I was guessing he had lost favor and was no longer tasting the undead, though they were probably still feeding upon him.
“Morgan,” he said, his words seeming to backwash against the brick wall behind me and give me a shove forward. His voice was just like him, practiced, powerful, and full of a heavy promise. “I heard you were whoring for the FIB. Or are we just bettering ourselves?”
“Hello, Mr. Denon,” I said, not dropping his pupil-black eyes. “You get bumped down to runner?” The hungry lust in his eyes faltered into anger, and I added, “Looks like you’re doing t
he runs you gave me. Rescuing familiars out of trees? Checking for valid licenses? How are those homeless bridge trolls doing, anyway?”
Denon shifted forward, his eyes intent and his muscles tense. My face went cold, and I found my back against the wall. The sun streaming in from the distant walkway seemed to dim. Like a kaleidoscope, it swirled to look twice as far away as it was. My heart leapt, then settled back into its usual pace. He was trying to pull an aura, but I knew he couldn’t do it without me giving him the fear to feed it. I wouldn’t be afraid.
“Cut the crap, Denon,” I said boldly, my stomach knotting. “I live with a vamp who could eat you for breakfast. Save the aura for someone who cares.”
Still, he pressed close until he was the only thing I could see. I had to look up, and it ticked me off. His breath was warm, and I could smell the tang of blood on it. My pulse pounded, and I hated that he knew I was afraid of him still.
“Anyone here but you and me?” he said, his voice as smooth as chocolate milk.
Hand moving in a slow, controlled motion, I reached for the grip of my splat gun. The brick scraped my knuckles, but as my fingers touched the handle, my confidence raced back. “Just you, me, and my splat gun. Touch me, and I’ll drop you.” I smiled right back at him. “What do you suppose I put in my splat balls? Might be kind of hard to explain why someone from the I.S. had to come out here and hose you off with saltwater, huh? I’d say that would be good for a laugh for at least a year.” I watched his eyes shift to hate.
“Back up,” I said clearly. “If I pull it, I use it.”
He backed up. “Walk away from this, Morgan,” he threatened. “This is my run.”
“That explains why the I.S. is spinning its wheels. Maybe you should go back to ticketing parked cars and let a professional take care of it.”
His breath hissed out, and I found strength in his anger. Ivy was right. There was fear in the back of his soul. Fear that someday the undead vampires that fed on him would lose control and kill him. Fear that they wouldn’t bring him back as one of their brothers.