The Witch With No Name (The Hollows #13)(115)
Author: Kim Harrison

Jenks gave me a thumbs-up and darted after her.

Ten minutes.

“We’ve got an hour until the undead can be aboveground,” I said, checking the clock on the van’s dash. “Twenty minutes until the equinox officially begins. We need to be in and out before then.” Forty minutes minus ten equals thirty. Why did we always cut these things so Turn-blasted close?

Trent was fidgeting, and I moved in a hunched walk to the back of the van. “Relax.”

Trent followed my gaze to his hands and shook the tension from them. “Easy for you to say. It’s not your people who are about to flush everything back to pre-Turn chaos. If I’d known they were going to do something this boneheaded, I wouldn’t have pushed to come out of the closet.”

It was nice of him to say, but I knew I was the real reason he’d lost clout. Frankly, I didn’t care anymore. We’d make them play nice in the sandbox, and that would be that. Nervous, I leaned to look at the clock on the dash, then knelt beside Trent to look out the window for Jenks. “They’re just scared.”

“Scared,” Trent scoffed, fiddling with the ends of his ribbon. “My people want a return to power so badly they don’t care who they step on to get it.”

I slid a sideways look at him. That had sounded kind of familiar, but I wasn’t going to say anything.

A sparkle of dust caught my breath, and I lurched to open the sliding door. It was Jenks, and he was carrying something heavy, his path slowly arching to the ground. It had been only two minutes. Something had gone wrong. “What happened?” I demanded, one hand on the side of the van as I leaned out and down to catch him. “Jenks?”

“It’s a key,” Trent said, holding my shoulder so I wouldn’t fall out. “I think we’re okay.”

With a burst of silver, Jenks rose up, clearly laboring. “Someone take this, will you?” he exclaimed, and a heavy brass key fell into my hand. “Tink save me from the artists! Every other hotel is in the twenty-first century and uses card keys, but no-o-o-o-o! We have to be special. We have to be extravagant! We have to be so far behind the times that it’s considered chic! Why the hell did I volunteer to bring it out for you?”

“Is everything okay?” I glanced at the clock. They couldn’t have secured the front desk that fast.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Jenks stood on my palm, wings drooping and a sheet of red dust pouring through my fingers. “That Nina is one scary bitch. Remind me not to stare her down again. The lobby and restaurant are cleared out. We figure he’s in 612. It’s the only one with a crib, according to housekeeping.”

“Lucy?” Trent exclaimed, almost hitting the ceiling as he stood. “She’s here?”

Jenks nodded, head still bowed as he caught his breath.

Shit, this changed everything. “Okay. Trent, if we find her you take her and get out. End of story. I can do this with Jenks.” His daughter came first. I understood and supported that, even as I was scrambling to adapt.

“Ah, Landon is probably in the adjoining room,” Jenks suggested, but his soulful, almost pitying expression told me he was just saying that to try to give Trent something to pin his worry to. We could not start a firefight in a room where Lucy was.

“I can’t endanger Lucy,” Trent said, his worry lines melting into alarm. “Rachel . . .”

“If we find her, she’s a priority,” I said. “You take her and go.”

“Yeah, cookie maker,” Jenks said as he took to the air again. “We got this in a can already. We just need to put a label on it and put it on a shelf. Let’s go.”

Looking ill, Trent rolled the door open.

“Is he going to be okay?” I breathed to Jenks, turning my lips up into a smile when Trent spun to help me out.

“It’s the people holding Lucy I’m worried about,” Jenks muttered, but I thought Trent might have heard as he wiggled his fingers impatiently for me. “We’re burning daylight, people,” Jenks prompted, and I grabbed my jacket and put my hand in Trent’s. Little tingles of energy balanced between us. The lump of my new cell phone was in a back pocket, and the cool feel of steel from my splat gun that never seemed to warm up was at the small of my back. Jittery, I closed the door, making the sound echo in the small space. Trent and I hustled forward as I shoved first one arm into my jacket, then the other. The leather would give me some protection against spells, both earth and some ley line.

“Which way, Jenks?” Trent asked as we stepped over the box and crept into the back receiving room, and Jenks hummed off at head height, intentionally dusting a thick yellow that would linger. The scent of excited vampire mixed with cinnamon and wine as we followed Jenks’s glowing path through the receiving area to the warmer kitchen, and finally into the bar.

I’d been to the Cincinnatian before, and I’d always thought having the bar just off the tiny lobby sort of elegant in the tight confines a city hotel demanded. The new decor—rich with texture and color—made up for the small space. The ringing of a phone pulled my attention to the front desk. Ivy’s eyes met mine, but I couldn’t smile. Lucy was here. It changed everything.

The light past the front desk was decidedly gray. We were getting close to the mark. My eyes went to the elevators and the Were fidgeting in a borrowed uniform keeping the lift at the lobby for us. The Weres had cleared the building with the understanding that they’d not be involved in a magical firefight. I could understand their reluctance. Even the I.S. didn’t send a Were out after a witch, much less a bunch of elves. “Jenks, does Ivy know about Lucy?” I asked, and he dusted a silent yes.

Trent took my elbow. “We don’t need Ivy,” he muttered as we angled to the ornate elevators, and he frowned when I made the finger sign for “be ready to move.”

Ivy’s eyes shifted to black. Her motions graceful and holding purpose, she swooped to answer the phone. A professional, polished greeting flowed from her, but I could see the tension growing. It was falling apart even before we got started.

“I said I have this,” Trent said again, his voice agitated as we got in the elevator.

“I never said you didn’t.” I pulled back in the tight confines of the lift. He was sending off sparks, and it was irritating.

Jenks smirked, smacking the button for the sixth floor, and the doors closed. “There’s a small contingent of Weres up there, but they won’t show unless you scream for them,” Jenks said, and Trent exhaled some of his tension. “We’re going in blind,” the pixy added, miffed.