Ever After (The Hollows #11)(14)
Author: Kim Harrison

Red goat-slitted eyes showing over his glasses, Al made a bland face. "You talked to Ku’Sox?"

I blinked. "God, no. Nick."

"Ahh." Clearly relieved, he took a bite of sandwich. "Then you have nothing," he mumbled around his full mouth.

Frustrated, I slumped back into my chair, my elbow just missing my scrying mirror. Jenks’s dust sifting down seemed to fall through the glass, but I was too frustrated to care.

"Oh, very well," Al grumped with bad grace. "I suppose you’ll be bad-tempered until I talk to Dali. I’ll do it in the morning-he’s crankier than you if he doesn’t get his beauty sleep."

My head came up, and I smiled, glad I had him to go to. Then I wondered how I’d gotten to the point where going to a demon was a good thing. "Thanks," I said, meaning it.

Al stood, coffee in one hand, half-eaten sandwich in the other. "Indeed," he said, then vanished in a wash of ever-after. His cane in the corner went with him, and then my eyes darted to the counter when the coffeepot popped out.

"Hey!" I shouted, but it was too late. My fingers drummed once in discontent, but I could sympathize. You couldn’t get a cup of decent coffee in the ever-after for any amount of money. I’d pick the coffeepot up Wednesday, but experience told me that a rank burnt-amber smell would taint the coffee for weeks.

"What an ass," Jenks scoffed. "He took our coffeemaker!"

Shrugging, I went to open the window. "I’ll get a new one tomorrow on the way out to Trent’s." The slider moved up with its accustomed ease, and I stood a moment, listening to the pixies playing in the night as the stink of demons filtered out. My thoughts went to Nick, and my heart hardened. He had lied to me, misled me, and betrayed me time and again. I’d warned him, and I wouldn’t feel guilty for whatever happened.

"You going to call Ivy?" Jenks asked, and I turned, my arms around my middle as I looked at her empty chair and her shut-down computer. Anything left open was going to smell like ever-after, and I bent to get the trash can out from under the sink. My first impulse was yes, seeing as she would like a piece of Nick’s ass in a glass as much as me, but she’d tell Glenn, and Glenn didn’t work for the FIB anymore. He had retired after finding out that HAPA had infiltrated the FIB, refusing to work for a company he couldn’t trust implicitly and moving to Flagstaff with Daryl in the hopes that the higher elevation and cleaner air would help the nymph. Calling Ivy would only get them all in a turmoil.

Pinning the trash bin against the center counter, I ran my arm over the counter, throwing away the food that was open. "No," I said, and I met Jenks’s eyes when he clattered his wings in disapproval. "It’s the first time she’s ever done anything healthy in her relationships," I said, not sure it was the right thing to do. "I’m not going to screw it up. She’ll be back in a week."

Jenks’s dust shifted from an uneasy green to a more neutral silver. "Yeah, maybe you’re right," he said as he flew to sit on the windowsill to watch his kids.

But it didn’t feel right.

Chapter Four

If I were to die and come back as a horse, I’d want to be a horse in Trent’s stables. The stalls were large, the hay sweet smelling, and the layout set to funnel the wind from the pasture right through it all to create the sensation of an open pavilion. Tucking a strand of hair back under my hat, I gave Molly a pat, running my hand down her side to feel the swallow of air she’d taken in to inflate herself so the saddle wouldn’t be so binding. I’d have to walk her until she released it before I tightened the cinch a final time.

"Molly, you’re a sweet horse, but predictable," I said as I turned her around in the expansive box stall and walked her into the corridor. Around me were contented snuffs, grindings, and flicking of ears and tails. We weren’t in the wing where Trent kept his racehorses. No, these were the animals he kept for the Hunt, and they were far more intelligent and levelheaded.

My boots were silent on the sawdust as I headed for the north paddock. In the background was Ceri’s high, serious voice going over our route with the stable manager. As soon as Jenks got back with Trent and Ray, we’d be taking the river path where we could stay in the shelter of the old-growth forest.

The late-morning sun was high and it was unusually hot outside, but the upper housing units caught most of the rays to leave the open stables cool. I couldn’t help but be reminded of camp-though I didn’t recall a lot of it, I did remember the stables. My endurance had been nil then, and the horses had made me feel strong. Though seemingly sure of himself, Trent had been anything but-until I told him to stop letting Lee bully him and stand up for himself. They found Lee in the camp well three days later. Maybe Trent listened to me more than I thought.

My faint caffeine headache was finally easing, and I grabbed my to-go cup for the last swallows. It had gone cold, and tossing the empty cup in the trash barrel, I came out blinking into the sun, Molly clopping behind me. Seeing Quen already there with Lucy waiting for us, I smiled.

Quen was standing sideways with Lucy on his hip, making a striking statement in his black-and-green riding clothes. A big gray horse hung his huge head over Quen’s shoulder, snuffing at Lucy’s bonnet. The little girl was sweet in her white riding outfit, the picture of privilege as her chubby hands reached up to the unfamiliar brim. Her expression was pinched in annoyance as she tried to pull it off so as to see it. The little girl had Trent’s looks and Ellasbeth’s attitude, and when the curious horse blew out his breath, the little girl squealed, reaching for his floppy lips.

"You need your hat today, Lucy," Quen said, moving before Lucy could get a grip on the horse. "We don’t want to have to ask Aunt Rachel to spell your sunburn away."

Aunt Rachel. I liked that, and squinting despite my hat, I ambled forward with Molly. "I would, you know," I said, touching Lucy’s soft-soled shoe and beaming at the little girl now shouting out nonsense, just to hear herself talk. "Even if it took a curse to do it." My gaze lifted to Quen’s. "Shouldn’t they be back by now?"

Quen peered at the height of the sun. "Give or take a few. Here," he said, holding Lucy out to me. "Your cinch is loose."

"I know," I said, then dropped Molly’s reins as I found myself suddenly holding a squishy, surprisingly heavy small person. She smelled like snickerdoodles, and I laughed when she wiggled, almost jumping in my arms. "I was going to walk her to get her to exhale first," I said, scrambling to get my hat’s strap out of Lucy’s mouth.

"She let go already." Head lowered, Quen eased the cinch up a notch. Molly flicked an ear, sighing. He gave her a pat and reached for Lucy, now patting my neck where my tattoo was. Realizing she was trying to say flower, I grinned. She was only a year old, but elves grew up fast. Not like witches, who Jenks swore were not able to be on their own until they were thirty. Ahem.