The Undead Pool (The Hollows #12)(35)
Author: Kim Harrison

“Together,” Ivy breathed, the strain showing in her arms as she held Nina unmoving. Tears made her cheeks shine, and I ached for her. “I will let go of you as you let go of him. I know he fills you with power, but you have to let him go,” she demanded. It was an addiction on both ends, and Ivy had survived both its presence and absence.

“Ah, Ivy?” Jenks said, his dust a thick, dark green falling from the overhead rack. “Is that such a good idea?”

I looked at my shoulder bag. My splat ball gun was in it, but before I could move, Ivy whispered, “I trust you.” She kissed her, and then let her go.

“Wait!” I cried out, reaching to tap a line as Nina sprang from her, spinning into an ugly crouch.

Ivy reached out a trembling hand. “Nina. I love you. Leave him.”

“No!” Nina howled, the sound raging from her with the strength of the undead, and then her tension broke and she collapsed.

Ivy lurched forward. Catching Nina, she pulled the woman to her, rocking Nina, gentling her head to her shoulder and whispering. Nina stiffened, and then she began to cry in great gasping sobs.

“He came!” she cried, words hardly recognizable. “Ivy, he came in my dreams. I didn’t even know. I can’t do this anymore! I just want it to stop!”

I exhaled, shaking as I wiggled the knife out of the wall and set it lightly in the sink.

“You didn’t hurt anyone,” Ivy was saying, holding her gently now. “It’s okay.”

“He wanted me to kill you!”

Tears still spilling from her brown eyes, Ivy took Nina’s face in her hands and smiled at her. “You didn’t hurt me. Look at me. Look at me!” Nina’s sobbing hiccups eased, and she blinked tearfully at Ivy. “It’s okay,” Ivy said firmly, even as moisture shined her cheeks as well. “I’m so proud of you.”

It was over, and as Nina continued to cry, I went to get her a glass of water. “That was fun,” I said as the tap ran, then looked up as Ellasbeth was suddenly in the doorway, an unusual silence in her stance as she took everything in, the chairs knocked aside, the knife in the sink, the women sobbing on the floor—one in relief, one in love. Maybe now she understood. Maybe now she’d know Ivy was trying to save a strong, intelligent woman from a circular trap. And if she didn’t, then the hell with her.

“I told you not to wake her up,” I said, fingers trembling as I turned off the water and took the glass to Nina.

Ivy slowly stood, extending a hand down to help Nina from the floor. “It wasn’t her fault,” Ivy said, and Nina bobbed her head, thanking me as she took the water and gulped at it.

“Jenks, go open the front door,” I said as I shoved the window open all the way. “We need to air the place out.”

“Got it,” he said, then darted off to work the series of pulleys Ivy had come up with for him to open the heavy oak door.

Ellasbeth still hovered in the doorway, a new understanding in her. “I’m sorry.”

Ivy’s expression was empty. “It wasn’t your fault. He attacked her in her sleep.”

“Still, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

It was the first honest thing I thought I’d ever heard from Ellasbeth, and I almost liked her as I leaned against the counter and just . . . breathed. “You did good, Nina. It won’t be so hard next time. I promise.”

Nina managed a smile. “Thank you.”

There were tears in Ivy’s eyes as she helped Nina to the table, tears and love for both of us. The love for me in the past, and the love for Nina in the future. And somehow, as the four of us women slowly picked up the threads of our lives and began to awkwardly weave them anew, it didn’t hurt anymore.

Eight

Ray was a comfortable armful of quiet as she sat on my lap in the kitchen, her eyes on the book that Lucy had brought in from the toy box I had for the rare occasions that Trent brought them to the church. Even the distraction of Jenks’s kids couldn’t take her attention from the picture book. Still, she didn’t reach for it when Lucy ran to me, collapsing on my knees in excitement and a bid for my attention.

“Sasha!” the little girl said brightly as she shoved the book at me and ran out.

“That’s the name of her pony at the Withons’ estate,” Quen said, and I scrambled to catch it before it slid to the floor. Only now did Ray reach for it, and I shifted her so she could hold and turn the pages herself. I didn’t think Ray’s reluctance to reach for the book earlier was because she was afraid of her sister, but simply knowing that her distractible sibling would keep it if Lucy knew Ray wanted it too.

“I didn’t think horses were that important to the Withons,” I said, and the man turned his attention from his daughter to the hallway. Ellasbeth and Trent were having a chat in the back living room, one that was probably long overdue, and their voices were a soft murmur.

“The pony was my idea,” he said, his motions smooth as he moved deeper into the kitchen. Quen wasn’t small, but a person tended not to notice him unless he wanted to be noticed. Both he and Ray had dark hair, uncommon to elves. It might be a remnant from the elves’ recently dropped tradition of hybridizing with humans, but I doubted it. Quen was one of the most elven elves I knew, clever, powerful in his magic, and graceful beyond reason.

“I didn’t want their horsemanship to suffer in the time spent away from home,” he added as he clasped his hands behind his back, stoic as he waited for Ellasbeth to say what she wanted so he could, hopefully, take her back to the airport.

I smiled as Lucy ran back in, blond hair flying. “Belle!” the excited toddler shouted, dropping a sparkly fairy doll on Ray’s book and running out, pixy girls in tow. Ray promptly threw the toy after her and returned to her book. The tension from the back room was ebbing, but I was still glad that Ivy and Nina had excused themselves shortly after Trent’s arrival. Belle, too, had retired to the garden. The wingless fairy was a brilliant strategist, but she was pretty much helpless against the grasping toddlers, especially when Rex, Jenks’s cat, had dumped her to hide under my bed at the first little-girl “Here kitty, kitty.”

“Jenks, stay in here,” I said when the pixy rose from the windowsill to follow her out.

“I can’t hear crap from here, Rache,” he muttered as he landed on my shoulder. Ray looked up when his dust fell on her fingers. Slowly she turned her palm up, mesmerized at the spot of sunshine she could touch.