by Kim Harrison
“Look, they’re coming,” he whispered, and I followed his gaze to the far end of the glen where Keric and Ray rode in on Ray’s black stallion, the shaggy monster high-stepping and excitable. They looked beautiful, waving at the assembled people when they stood and cheered. Behind them came Quen, Al as the huntsman, and Keric’s parents, the two looking proud and tearful. I knew how they felt.
We spun Tulpa and Red to a halt, holding back as tradition dictated until their vows were said. It might be a while as they were swamped by well-wishers. Trent was beaming, his eyes never leaving the couple as they dismounted and graciously touched hands and cheeks to everyone.
“I can see why you’d want this instead of Ellasbeth’s church wedding,” I said, and he jerked, eyes flicking to mine. “It’s beautiful.”
“What I wanted didn’t matter,” he said, pausing to bring Tulpa’s head up from the grass. “It still doesn’t,” he said, leather creaking as he leaned across the space between us and kissed me. His lips were warm and his touch sent a wave of tingles down to my core, but guilt kept me from enjoying it.
Seeing my downcast eyes, Trent took my chin in his hand to make me look at him. “Rachel, it’s not too late. The demons won’t stand in our way. The elves either. Why don’t you ever say yes to me?”
To marry him? Sighing, I dropped my gaze. “I don’t know,” I whispered, and then frustrated, I pulled my head up. “Trent, we’ve been over this. You can’t marry a barren woman and maintain your hold on the dewar and the enclave.”
Trent slumped, making me angry.
“What is wrong with what we have!” I exclaimed, careful to keep my voice from carrying. “I thought you were happy!”
“I am happy.” Trent’s eyes held a mix of heartache and anticipation that I didn’t understand. “Rachel—”
“I’m happy you’re happy,” I interrupted, a growing feeling of frustration joining our old argument. “The girls have grown up beautifully. I don’t know how they keep it straight, but I guess as long as they’re loved, it makes sense to them.”
Our eyes lifted to the river as the head of the dewar and Dali waited with Ray and Keric. The chairs were empty now as everyone stood around the couple in a protective circle—everyone who cared for them, loved them, wanted to see them happy. My frustration sort of left.
“It makes sense to me, too,” Trent said softly, but I felt a hesitation in him, something he hadn’t yet said. From the river, Al shouted and gnashed his teeth, falling down as if dead amid cheers as he formally gave up his protection of Ray, the huntsman defeated by a token blow from Keric and his mother, their hands joined on a ceremonial sword. It would go to Trent as the symbolic spoils of war.
“You’re happy?” I asked again, and he reached out and set his hand atop mine as I held Red’s reins.
“More than I’ve ever been in my life,” he said, but still I heard a doubt, a lingering niggle of worry.
“Then nothing could make this more perfect,” I prompted. He said nothing, and I shifted Red’s reins to my free hand so I could take his hand more firmly. “Trent . . .”
Dropping his head, he whispered, “A new little boy or girl would make this more perfect.”
My breath caught, and I forced myself to not shift my grip, making it neither less tight nor more so. He wanted another child, and I couldn’t give it to him. “You know I’d never stand in your way.”
He pulled my hand to his chest, drawing my eyes to his. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”
He was smiling, bursting almost. My heart seemed to break, and I pulled away. Behind him, clouds of blue butterflies rose up as the couple became one. Sunset. “That’s our cue,” I said, a lump in my throat. He wanted another child, and I couldn’t give it to him. Hell, what did I expect? It was my own fault, really. It wasn’t supposed to matter. I told myself it didn’t matter, but after twenty-seven years, it did.
“Rachel, no!” Trent exclaimed, leaning in a jingle of tack to grab Red’s bridle and bring me to a halt. “Not with another woman, I mean you and me! Us!”
From the crowd, a soft sound rolled out as the butterflies rose, symbols of love and war all wrapped up in one, for as butterflies seek out flowers, they also seek carrion.
“What do you mean, us?” I asked, and Trent took my hand, nudging Tulpa into motion and drawing Red into his wake. My head hurt, and my shoulders were stiff. Why was he bringing this up now? In front of everyone?
He was totally self-satisfied, sitting with that damned smugness that irritated me, eyes forward and smile fixed. His eyes, though, were dancing. “It’s our present to Ray and Keric,” he said. “Al’s and mine. We’ve been working on it for over three years. We both thought a child, one that was part of each of them, would be a fitting expression of their love. But if you don’t want to . . .”
“Present?” I breathed, and Red began to prance as my seat shifted. My thoughts went to Ivy’s cryptic mood and Al’s odd question. Hell, even Jenks had been acting weird. They knew? “You found a way? When?”
Trent turned to me. Everyone was watching us now as we slowly approached. “It wasn’t so much the nuts and bolts as it was—”
“Viable children?” I interrupted, my pulse fast. “Between elves and demons. Trent. You found a way?”
We were almost there, the crowd parting to show a clear path to where Ray and Keric waited with knowing eyes, the curve of Ray’s smile saying she had been in on it, too, but Trent stopped us, turning to me and taking both my hands. “Rachel, I appreciate that you respected my duty enough that you refused to marry me to prevent the dewar from turning from my counsel, but you have some thinking to do, Ms. Morgan. With the possibility of an heir between us, you can’t hide from me behind duty or a technicality of convenience anymore.”
I couldn’t say anything, stunned. I’d been saying no for so long that I didn’t know how to say yes.
“We’d better go,” Trent said, the rims of his ears becoming red as he realized everyone was looking at us with delight. Pixies had joined the butterflies, and the entire glen began to glow in the rising moon. A great shadow of leather and angles cut across it as Bis back-winged, shifting his flight erratically until I heard Jenks swear when the gargoyle caught him. His red eyes blinked at me across the distance, and he gestured for me to say yes even as he kept Jenks from butting in. Damn it, did everyone know about this but me?
“Trent.” Breathless, I pulled him back to me. I knew I was flushed, and Red bobbed her head, a clear barometer of what I was feeling. “I don’t need to be married to be happy. I don’t need to have a child . . .”
He leaned in and kissed my forehead, and from before us, I heard my mom sigh. “I know that,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “We’ve tried it your way now for over twenty-five years. Can we spend the next twenty-five my way? And if you don’t like it, you can always . . .”
With a little cry, I slid my hand behind his neck and pulled him to me for a real kiss. The assembled people cheered, and I closed my eyes as the sound of pixy wings wreathed us. Give up? Leave? echoed in my thoughts as his lips met mine, holding both a promise and a desire. Never, I answered myself as we parted and, hands still connected, turned to those who meant most to us and were welcomed in between the pixy dust and the blue butterflies.
THE BEGINNING
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author KIM HARRISON was born and raised in the upper Midwest. Her bestselling Hollows novels include Dead Witch Walking; The Good, the Bad, and the Undead; Every Which Way But Dead; A Fistful of Charms; For a Few Demons More; The Outlaw Demon Wails; White Witch, Black Curse; Black Magic Sanction; Pale Demon; A Perfect Blood; Ever After; and The Undead Pool, plus the short-story collection Into the Woods and The Hollows Insider. She also writes the bestselling Madison Avery series for young adults.
www.kimharrison.net
facebook.com/KimHarrisonsHollows
@burningbunnies
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ALSO BY KIM HARRISON
Books of the Hollows
The Undead Pool
Ever After
A Perfect Blood
Pale Demon
Black Magic Sanction
White Witch, Black Curse
The Outlaw Demon Wails
For a Few Demons More
A Fistful of Charms
Every Which Way But Dead
The Good, the Bad, and the Undead
Dead Witch Walking
And Don’t Miss
Into the Woods
The Hollows Insider
Unbound
Something Deadly This Way Comes
Early to Death, Early to Rise
Once Dead, Twice Shy
Holidays Are Hell
Dates from Hell
Hotter Than Hell
Credits
Cover illustration by Larry Rostant
Author photograph by Kate Thornton
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Harper Voyager and design is a trademark of HCP LLC.
THE WITCH WITH NO NAME. Copyright © 2014 by Kim Harrison. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Harrison, Kim, 1966–
The witch with no name / Kim Harrison.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-06-195795-6 (hardback)
1. Morgan, Rachel (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Demons—Fiction. 3. Witches—Fiction. 4. Vampires—Fiction. 5. Werewolves—Fiction.
I. Title.
PS3608.A78355W53 2014
813’.6—dc232014007793
EPub Edition SEPTEMBER 2014 ISBN 9780062356017
14 15 16 17 18 OV/RRD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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