The Undead Pool (The Hollows #12)(32)
Author: Kim Harrison

“Nina says she’s seen some of them,” she said, and my attention fixed sharply on her. “I thought she was making it up, but if David comes up empty, I’ll ask her.”

I rolled the top of the bag of chips down, not hungry anymore. “Sure.”

Taking the pen out from between her teeth, Ivy leaned in to the map. “Jenks, what time did you and Rachel leave the golf course yesterday?”

I’d be offended, but Jenks was better than an atomic clock. “We left the parking lot at twenty to eleven,” he said, and I moved the bowl of chips before his dust made them stale.

“And then you got on 71 and came home.” She frowned, waving Jenks off when his dust blanked out the liquid crystal. “No stops between? Good roads? Not a lot of traffic?”

“No,” I said, wondering where this was going. A cold feeling was slipping through me. “Traffic was fine until we got downtown. Then it was the usual stop-and-go.” Worried, I dragged my chair around to sit beside her and stare at her huge monitor and the gently sweeping wave of blue markers. It looked just like every other wave map she’d made, except it was the first and there weren’t as many violent crimes to go with it.

“Okay.” Ivy was clicking, and the city map was covered by a graph. “This is the wave you got caught up in last night at the bowling alley. It’s the first one that the FIB took note on the times associated with the misfires. I’m guessing the wave has a top speed of forty-five miles an hour, but that can vary. That first one seemed to be slower, especially.”

She had a page of math, and I gave it a cursory look. “And?” I asked, and she moved the mouse, bringing up a new map.

“Last night’s wave that ended at the Laundromat was straight. The one that came through this morning before dawn was too, but the tracks were slightly different. It dissipated before it got to the church,” Ivy said. “And since most Inderlanders are asleep about then—”

“I’m not,” Jenks said, and Ivy sighed, bringing up a new map.

“Most magic-using Inderlanders are asleep then, and it wasn’t noticed much. But if you look at the one that hit you first at the golf course and then again at the bridge, you can see they do shift direction.”

My eyes narrowed as she drew her line, making a slight angle shift obvious. If it had continued on its original path, it would have missed the bridge completely.

Ivy was quiet as she eyed me. “Rachel, it shifted to follow you. They all are.”

Panic iced through me. “Oh, hell no!” I said, standing up fast when Ivy’s eyes flashed black at my fear. “You mean something is getting out of the line and is hunting me?” I said, pointing at the monitor.

But Ivy simply sat there, calm and relaxed, that pen back between her teeth. “It’s not very responsive. After you left the golf course, it took almost ten minutes before it realized you were gone and shifted to follow.”

Feeling icky, I stared at the map, wishing Ivy wasn’t so damn good at her job. Jenks hovered between us. “So it’s more like a slime mold after the sun.”

Jenks shrugged. “You have the same aura signature as the line. Maybe it’s trying to get back to it. Whatever it is.”

“You think it’s alive?”

They said nothing, and I stifled a shudder. I didn’t know if I liked this better than Free Vampires trying to change the world. “I have to call Al. Where’s my mirror?”

Jenks spun in the air to look at the front of the church. He darted out, and from the front came a familiar-sounding boom of the heavy oak door crashing into the doorstop, followed by a woman’s voice raised in anger. “Where are my children!”

Oh my God. Ellasbeth. I flushed, the memory of that last kiss with Trent flashing through me.

“You ever hear of knocking?” Jenks said, his voice hardly audible from the distance, but his voice carried when he was ticked. “Hey! You can’t just barge in here!”

I came up from my crouch behind the center counter, my scrying mirror in my hands. “Ellasbeth?” I said to Ivy as the woman stomped down the hall, her high heels clicking. What was she doing in Cincinnati?

Where are my children? I thought.

Ivy put her computer into sleep mode and turned her charts and figures over. “If she wakes up Nina, I’m going to be pissed.”

“She threatened to keep the girls,” I said as I set the mirror down. “My guess is Quen ran off with them.”

“So of course she comes here.”

I brushed the hint of chip crumbs from my front. “We’re on the way from the airport.”

“Trenton?” the woman called, eyes all but sparkling as she came to a breathless halt in the archway to the kitchen. She was dressed in cream slacks and a white top, matching jacket, a wide-brimmed hat askew on her head. My eyes went to my ugly crime scene photos, and I left them there. “Where are my children?” she demanded, an indignant flush on her cheeks.

“I don’t know.” I fell back against the sink to keep my distance. Jenks had followed her in, a few kids with him all shouting at the top of their lungs. Ellasbeth waved her clutch purse at them, and Jenks pulled his youngest, the one with the cut, out of the woman’s way.

“Is Trent here?” she demanded, then blanched at the picture of the woman with no hair.

“I’m sorry, Ellasbeth,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Is there a reason for you to walk into my house and scream at me, or is this some kind of elven tradition I’m unaware of?”

Immediately she glanced at Ivy, then back at me. “Quen took Lucy and Ray last night. Ran off with no warning. Neither he nor Trent will answer my calls. You’re his best friend in this godforsaken dead zone of culture. Where has he hidden them?”

Best friend? “You shouldn’t have threatened to keep them,” I said as I looked for the phone, not seeing it in the cradle. It was somewhere under the mess, and I began lifting papers. I never should have kissed him back. Never.

“It’s not safe here,” the woman said with a huff, and Jenks snickered. “Magic is behaving erratically. Even you can see that they’re safer with me.”

“No, I can’t.” I moved the chip bag. No phone. “Have you met my roommate Ivy?”

The first hints of embarrassment tensed her shoulders, and she held out a thin, manicured hand. “Ellasbeth Withon,” she said by rote as Ivy rose, her motion both sexy and aggressive.