by Kim Harrison
Unable to stop herself, her eyes met his in a flash of guilt. He was her partner. She should have been able to tell. “No sir,” she said truthfully. She regretted it, but it was not reason to decline a promotion.
“The death of the unregistered throw?” he asked next, and she stiffened. “I am sorry about that. Unfortunately it happens,” Walter said, not pleading but with a hard tone of fact. “That you avoided it for so long is a testament to your abilities, not your failings. That you were able to make that hard decision is the reason you’re being offered a position in the elite now.”
Her head turned to him, and anger pushed out the guilt. As much as she regretted what happened to Zach, his death was the result of her failing, not the cause. “I want this, sir,” she said, trembling as she tried to explain. “I’ve wanted it ever since setting a foot on the cobbles of the Strand. I want it so bad that when I walk out of this office, I am going to hate myself for a long time. It isn’t because I killed Zach, sir. It’s why I killed him.”
Walter leaned back in his chair, gesturing for her to continue.
Her gut twisted. Grace closed her eyes as she took a slow breath. “I found my breaking point, sir,” she said softly as they opened.
“Ahhh.” She stared straight ahead, but she could see him lean even farther back, his hands laced across his ample middle. He knew what she was talking about. It was her job to find the breaking point of possible recruits, to push them to the end of their moral resources, either by fear or anger, to see if they would use their abilities to kill someone who had not struck out at them first. Jason had found hers.
“It’s Jason,” she said, the lump in her throat somehow not coloring her words. “Zach tried to kill him, and I overreacted.” She turned to him, meeting his eyes so he would understand her failure. “Jason didn’t kill him, I did. I burned out his entire brain because I love Jason. I may have passed the elite’s test, but I failed in doing so.”
Walter cocked his head, seemingly unconvinced. “Jason . . .”
She nodded, swallowing hard as her life crashed down around her. “I should be on the Island being evaluated, not Boyd. Rewarding me with a promotion is a travesty. With proper monitoring, I feel I can continue in perhaps a teaching capacity, but I’d ask that I be removed from my current position of collector immediately.”
It was more than she deserved, but she couldn’t bear to leave the Strand. It had been peace when she had been in turmoil, sanctuary when she had been lost.
“And I can’t change your mind?” Walter said, his tone empty of emotion.
“No sir.” Her jaw was clenched. Hoc was lying on her feet, his eyes giving her distress away. Maybe they would still let her do the preschool runs. It was unlikely she’d be provoked by four-year-olds.
Walter exhaled loudly as he leaned forward. The sound of her papers crumpling up was loud, and she stared when they flashed into flame halfway to his trashcan. He was already pulling a new form out, handwriting her new assignment. Grace’s shoulders bowed in her grief as she abandoned her dream of doing anything important, of making something unique of her talent, of making a difference in the world.
“Very well then,” the man said as he scratched and scrawled, using his left hand. “They say the practitioner knows his or her limits. There will be a lot of people sorry to see you go.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, her heart breaking. She’d wanted to work in the elite ever since walking through the arches and into the peace of the Strand, had envied Jason when he reached the elite’s halls before her, and for one brief moment, had felt the joy of having a chance to do what she wanted. She’d still be a part of what the Strand stood for. She could teach and not be a threat to those around her. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it would be something. Her grandmother would be pleased—she’d be free now to start a family.
Grace’s gut clenched as she wondered if that was what she wanted. It didn’t feel like it.
The sound of the paper sliding across the desk brought her eyes down, and Grace took it automatically as Walter stood. “You have three days until you are required to take on your new duties. Is that enough to get your and Hoc’s affairs in order?”
“Yes, sir. And thank you, sir,” she said, not looking at it, ashamed for her demotion even as she had asked for it.
And still, he did not release her. “Did you know that you are the oldest recruit the Strand has ever allowed to remain unburned?” he said, turning to the window with his tiny thimble of coffee. “You entire career has been scrutinized, your actions weighed more carefully than anyone else’s. You were very nearly burned out twice, once when we found you, once in the middle of your training. But wiser heads held off because with all the anger, all the fear you have worked through, you never tried to hurt anyone.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that. But perhaps I should have been.”
Walter turned, not a hint of a smile on him. “The elite kill, Grace. Jason kills. I killed.” His expression hardened. “We are soldiers. Soldiers kill.”
“You don’t kill innocents,” she whispered.
“Was Zach innocent?” he barked, and she jumped, making Hoc cower. “I say no. Don’t confuse youth with innocence. You have balance. You have control. You will not be allowed to quit.”
“Sir?”
“Look at your orders. Look at it!”
Nervous, Grace looked, her clenched jaw loosening. It still held the elite’s stamp.
“Bright and early, Grace.” Walter came forward from around the desk, his mood shifting completely. “Testing of the Strand’s own never ends. Ever,” he said as he put a hand on her shoulder. “And bring that dog with you. I still want to know how far you and he can go together.”
“But I failed!” she exclaimed, not understanding.
He was smiling as he handed her that same tiny cup. “I don’t see it that way. You know why you broke. You have determined that it should never happen again, taken steps to prevent it. That is a sign of maturity, not wanton disregard of life.”
The paper in her hand drooped. “This is entry into the elite’s fighting force. I’m a risk.”
Walter took the paper before it fell, folding it in thirds. “We all are, Grace. The Strand is an illusion of fences and security so that those who can’t throw may feel safe. We do the best we can by removing the ability from those who would clearly use it for ill gain. We shift the fate of those we reach with early education. But we are people, and people make choices. Make mistakes. Besides . . .” He handed the folded paper to her, and she took it. “Jason’s team isn’t the only one on the cobbles. If you curtail your relationship to one entirely outside of work, I don’t know why your control should be suspect. As I recall, your balance was never compromised during the entire acquisition.”
Grace blinked, remembering. No, her balance had never bobbled for even a microsecond. She had been in complete control, even as she had killed Zach.
Hope flashed through her. “Don’t tell him why,” she blurted, then flushed.
“Don’t tell Jason that you love him?” Walter chuckled as he picked up her cap. “You don’t think he already knows?”
Grace lifted her chin. “Don’t tell him that I broke because of him. I can’t . . .”
Her words cut off as Walter put a hand on her shoulder and led her to the door. “Love is strength, Grace. Don’t come away from this learning the wrong lesson.”
He handed her cover to her and opened the door. She went through it, desperate to make him understand. Jason waited for her at the end of the hall. She could see him in the sun, standing on the whitewashed boards, his dejection and anger clear in his stance. “Please,” she begged Walter as Hoc trotted to the end of the hall to meet Jason. “Make something up—for both of us. His career and mine. I can either have a family or a career in the Strand. Not both. And I want this, sir. I want it bad enough to give everything.”
Standing in the doorway to his office, Walter puffed and blew, thinking abou
t it. “I’ll tell him that Casten pulled strings and got you into his flight. You can go as far as you want under him.”
Relief spilled into her, and she shook his hand, flushing in that she probably shouldn’t have initiated the contact. “Thank you, sir. Thank you, very much.”
The large man smiled, touching her shoulder as he gestured for her to go. “Thank you, Grace. But drop the sir. Call me Walter. It makes slogging through the muck easier.”
“Yes, sir, I mean, Walter,” she said, exuberant as she turned and strode down the hall. She was an elite. She was an elite, and the world was now clear. Her path chosen. She’d been given a gift and the chance to make a difference. If she let it fall to the side, everything she believed in, Boyd’s sacrifice and Zach’s death would be a lie.
Hoc bounced through the glass door as she opened it up. Jason waited beyond, mystified at her smile.
“What happened?” he said, and she gave him a hug, not caring that Walter was still standing at the end of the hall.
“I said yes,” she breathed, then added, “But I’m not going to work with you. We’re under Casten, and you watch. Hoc and I are going to head up our own division in three years.” Smiling, she spun to the elevator, turning to look at him over her shoulder.
“Catch me if you can!”
Acknowledgments
My grateful thanks to Erika Thompson who helped me keep my story straight.
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author KIM HARRISON was born and raised in Michigan and has recently returned there to escape the South Carolina heat. 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; and A Perfect Blood. She also writes the bestselling Madison Avery series for young adults, including Once Dead, Twice Shy and Early to Death, Early to Rise.
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Also by Kim Harrison
BOOKS OF THE HOLLOWS
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
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
Credits
Cover design by Richard L. Aquan
Cover illustration by Larry Rostant
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.
Some of the pieces appearing in this collection were first published elsewhere; permissions and copyright information as follows:
“The Bespelled” © 2008 by Kim Harrison. First published in The Outlaw Demon Wails (Eos, 2008).
Two Ghosts for Sister Rachel © 2007 by Kim Harrison. First published in Holidays Are Hell (Harper, 2007).
Undead in the Garden of Good and Evil © 2006 by Kim Harrison. First published in Dates from Hell (Avon, 2006).
“Dirty Magic” © 2008 by Kim Harrison. First published in Hotter Than Hell (Harper, 2008).
“The Bridges of Eden Park” © 2007 by Kim Harrison. First published in For a Few Demons More (Eos, 2007).
Ley Line Drifter © 2009 by Kim Harrison. First published in Unbound (Eos, 2009).
“Pet Shop Boys” © 2012 by Kim Harrison. First published by HarperCollins e-books in September 2012.
INTO THE WOODS. Copyright © 2012 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
ISBN 978-0-06-197432-8
Epub Edition © OCTOBER 2012 ISBN: 9780062207906
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