The Witch With No Name (The Hollows #13)(131)
Author: Kim Harrison

“I might suggest the helicopter,” the demon said, voice oily. “The entrance you make in that is almost as good as simply . . . popping in. Besides, the roads are impassable. I’ll go with you. No one listens to me anymore.”

“I know the feeling,” Trent said, but I was already halfway to the hallway.

“Thank you,” I said breathlessly as I passed Al.

“Don’t thank me.” Al looked at his fingertips in speculation. “I just don’t want to be there while Newt explains to the collective that we have to work with the elven Goddess to try to reopen the lines.”

“That bad, eh?” I muttered, jaw clenched as we found the hallway.

Al leaned close, voice dangerous as he whispered, “We don’t forget, Rachel, and it’s not as if it was our ancestors who were betrayed. It was us.”

Chapter 29

The glow from the streetlight made long shadows against the tombstones, and the chopper blades whipped everything not nailed down out and away. I’d never get through my hair tonight without a bottle of detangler, and I made a mental note to check my bathroom before we left—because even if Ivy was here, there was no way we could stay.

“Careful,” Trent said, arm around my waist as he helped me over the shallow wall that separated the graveyard from the garden. My stomach was tight, and Jenks was swearing as he looked over the destruction. I couldn’t bring myself to look up, even as the helicopter began to shut down and the wind quit pushing.

“What an unholy mess,” Al said from behind me, and I suddenly realized he was walking on sanctified ground. The elven curse was well and truly broken then.

One good thing, I thought, looking up.

Breath catching, I stopped, pain stabbing my leg as Trent continued on for a step. Backpedaling, he stood beside me as tears threatened to blur my vision. I will not cry, I said to myself, but my chest was tight and my throat almost closed.

“I’m sorry, Rachel,” Trent said, gently pushing me back into motion.

I let him, my head down again as we angled to the stone walk and the undamaged wooden fence. “Bis?” I called as we circled around the front, but there was nothing, no cheerful sparkling of pixy dust, no wind-chime laughter, no deep rumbling response from the gargoyle—just the faint hush of traffic a street over. It felt dead here, abandoned.

“I’ll find him,” Jenks said as he hacked his way through the tangle of my hair.

“You can fly?” I asked as he got himself free and hovered backward, tugging his clothes straight and checking his sword belt.

“Yeah.” Expression serious, he peered up at the steeple. “It feels pretty good here, even if it looks like the back room of a troll bordello.”

He darted up, wings clattering, and Al pushed past us. “Damn mystics,” he muttered, stomping through the gate and toward the front door.

Mystics. I suppose they might have gathered here more than anywhere else, either mine or the Goddess’s thousand eyes looking for me.

Guilt closed in. I should have checked on Bis. Okay, I’d been busy, and until the sun went down he hadn’t been in any danger, but I was responsible for him.

“He’s a grown gargoyle,” Trent said, whispering it so Al wouldn’t hear.

“How do you do that!” I exclaimed, but Trent’s smile faded very fast. “He’s just a kid.”

Al turned from where he waited in the shadows, his new suit rumpled. “Treble is sleeping,” he said, voice low. “I’m sure he’s doing the same.”

Sleeping or in shock? I mused, stretching out my awareness and finding nothing, nothing at all. Trent’s grip on my elbow pinched as he looked behind us at the empty graveyard. Al took the stairs, impatient with our slow pace. Neighbors watched us from behind tweaked blinds, vanishing when he sarcastically doffed his hat at them. “You’d think they never saw a demon before,” Al muttered.

“I think it’s the helicopter,” I said, glancing over my shoulder before starting up the wooden stairs. Ivy had to be here. She was scared, possibly hurt. Vampires always went home to ground when they were hurt. The city was in a panic, but here in the Hollows it was eerily silent as everyone held their breath for sunrise. Please be okay, Ivy. Please.

Al gave the DON’T CROSS tape a look before yanking it down to flutter into the bushes. Jenks’s wings were almost normal, and I felt the first hints of relief at the bright silver dust.

“I found Bis,” he said as Trent helped me up the stairs. “He looks okay. His aura looks like he’s just asleep.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, and Al grunted as he shoved the door open.

“I told you, it’s the shock. If they’re lucky, they’ll simply not wake up.”

Saying nothing more, Al strode inside as if it didn’t bother him, but I could tell it did. His grumbling grew louder as he clicked the light switch several times to no effect.

“Jenks, what about Ivy?” I whispered.

The pixy hovered before Trent and me, a worried dust slipping from him. “She’s in her room. Nina too. Wait!” he shouted when I started forward. “Slow down. You go in there stinking like fear and you’ll set Nina off. Give Ivy a chance to organize her thoughts. She knows you’re here. They’ll be afraid of Al, but you and Trent look like easy prey.”

Oh God. “It’s bad?”

Jenks nodded, making my heart sink. “You, cookie maker, need to take a backseat. We know how to bring Ivy down. You don’t.”

“I know what not to do,” Trent said, but his worry was obvious as he helped me shuffle inside. I was glad there was no light as I looked over the soggy gloom. Al was poking about my seldom-used desk, head cocked as he held up a tiny chair Jenks had left there. Jenks was darting about, lighting the candles we had scattered around for when the power went out. Slowly the space brightened as the wicks took hold and wax began to burn. It smelled—sort of a sour, bite-at-the-back-of-your-throat smell, stinking of vampire fear and heartache. Ivy . . .

I looked down the black hallway, both afraid and anxious.

“Maybe I should go get Bis,” Trent said, and Jenks made a sparkling beeline back to us.

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard out of you since you, ah . . . never mind. You’re going to need a ladder,” Jenks said, but Trent was already taking the belfry stairs two at a time. Sighing, Jenks pointed at Al, then his own eyes, and then Al again before following Trent.