A Perfect Blood (The Hollows #10)(95)
Author: Kim Harrison

"Thanks again for bringing me home, David," I said as I leaned into the early evening, one hand on the door frame. Cold air spilled in, holding the hint of rain yet to fall. The sun was near setting, and the sky was fabulous with pink and blue and white, the wind pushing the darkness before it. The street itself was gray and silent – expectant, maybe, and I was stuck in the church making curses while everyone was looking for HAPA. Maybe that’s why David hadn’t left sooner, wanting to make sure I wasn’t headed out after them alone.

Sure enough, David eyed me in suspicion as he hesitated on the stoop, his long coat touching his toes and his hat on his head, looking yummy and delish in a lone-wolf kind of way.

"Really, we’re all good here," I lied, wincing when the pixies flowed out of the church over us in a shrill wave to test their cold tolerance.

Shrugging his coat higher up his neck, David squinted at me. "Just don’t go out alone," he said, glancing behind me and into the sanctuary, bright with electrical light. "Even with your magic, you need to be more careful, not less. That guy . . . Eloy. He’s a sniper. You can’t protect yourself against that. Bullets travel faster than sound."

I frowned at his sharp gray sports car, at the curb, wishing he’d get in it and go away so I could make my curses in peace. "You’re right. I’ll be careful."

He shifted his shoulders, uncomfortable. "Watch the I.S. and the FIB, too."

"Glenn?" I said, surprised, and he shook his head.

"Not Glenn. The I.S. and the FIB. They’re watching you tighter than HAPA now that you have access to your full range of magic. They don’t trust you, and probably for good reason. Why do you think they wanted that list of magic you could do?"

My gaze went down, hearing the truth of it.

"Promise me you’ll stick with Ivy or Jenks," he said, touching my sleeve to bring my eyes back to his. "Outside your pack, you’re vulnerable. Friends are there to watch your back."

Friends. Again my eyes couldn’t meet his as I remembered why I’d faced down Al with Trent, not Ivy and Jenks. I hadn’t wanted to risk my friends. Trent wasn’t my friend. I didn’t know what he was, but he wasn’t my friend.

David squinted in distrust, and I plastered on a fake smile. "Rachel," he said, a small but sturdy hand landing on my shoulder. "I know you’re capable, but perhaps you should let the I.S. and the FIB handle this from here on out. You’ve done your part for home and country."

"That’s funny. I don’t feel like I’ve done anything except get caught, get shot, and limp away with nothing to show for it." My jaw clenched when the pixies streamed back in, shouting about invaders coming. Must be the Were Scouts canvassing again for pop bottles. "The FIB is outclassed, and the I.S. keeps making stupid mistakes. I need to be at the next take – if only to prove they can trust me. That’s what I’m aiming for. Trust."

His expression was just shy of pity, and I looked past David to the diesel truck, COOLE’S POOLS AND TABLES on the side, that was squeaking to a stop at the curb. I’d forgotten that I’d made the appointment, and I’d almost canceled when Ivy had reminded me of it. But the need to have something, anything, done and accomplished, even if it was nothing more than having Kisten’s pool table fixed, had stayed my hand. David eyed the truck, then me, his hands in his pockets.

"I will not go out alone," I said as the truck’s door slammed and three scruffy Weres got out. Apparently their numerous tattoos gave them protection against the cold as they had no coats. The tidiest had a clipboard, and the others a satchel of tools each.

Seeing them, David seemed to relax. "Promise?" he said dryly, and I winced.

From my shoulder came a tiny "Promise, promise!" as Jrixibell, one of Jenks’s youngest daughters, mocked the serious Were. The curses to find HAPA were sitting on the kitchen counter waiting for Ivy to take them to Glenn. Apart from getting in a car and driving around the city, there wasn’t much I could do until one pinged on HAPA. I could sit and watch nature documentaries with Jenks and the kids the rest of the night if I wanted. And trust me, watching a dozen pixies scream as a crocodile chomped on a zebra was something not to be missed. They invariably cheered for the crocodile, not the zebra.

"Promise," I said with a sigh, and Jrixibell squealed and took off, leaving a bright spot of sunshine that slowly faded from my shoulder.

"That’s my girl," David said. Ducking his head at my puff of annoyance, he went out, turning back when he was only one step down. "The tattoo looks good. You like it?"

I couldn’t help my smile as I remembered Trex from the bus. "Yes," I blurted out as I briefly covered it with my hand. "Thanks. For everything, David. You’re too good to me."

He tugged his hat down over his eyes, but I could still see his smile. "I could say the same thing," he said softly as the three pool table repair guys started up the walk.

"See you later," I said, fidgeting as I breathed in the coming night, wanting only to be out in the pink and blue – hunting. The FIB didn’t trust me?

David headed for his car, nodded to the Were with the clipboard in passing, sort of a nonthreatening threat that one Were gives to another entering his territory. The two behind the first slid to the side to give David lots of room on the sidewalk. I waited for them, leaning against the door frame when the Were with the clipboard hesitated, watching David get in his car. Turning to me, the rough man cleared his throat.

"Ah, Ms. Morgan?" He glanced at his clipboard. "I’m Chuck, from, ah, Coole’s Pools and Tables. We’re here for a table repair?"

He looked understandably confused. It was a church. "I’m Rachel." I slid backward into a cloud of pixies. "You’ve got the right place," I said, trying not to sneeze at the cloud of pixy dust. "Come on in. The table is just inside." I held my breath and stiffened as the pixies swirled and retreated deeper into the church. The light coming in was eclipsed as the Weres followed, shuffling. "Sorry about the pixies," I added as one shut the door.

Weres generally didn’t like sanctified ground, and the three repair guys shifted their shoulders as if trying to fit into a new skin while they looked the space over. The pews had been removed long ago, leaving the worn oak floors, but you could still see where the shadow of a cross had once hung over the altar up front. Tall ceiling-to-knee-high windows of stained glass let in light when the sun was up. Ivy’s baby grand piano was just inside the entrance, and my unused rolltop desk sat alone at the opposite far end where the pulpit used to be. Across from it was a coffee table, chairs, couch, and TV making up sort of a makeshift waiting room. In the middle of the high-ceilinged space was the pool table, under a long light, almost making an altar to Kisten’s memory.