The Witch With No Name (The Hollows #13)(84)
Author: Kim Harrison

“What the Turn?” I said to myself, trying to see past the cars lined up before me. Traffic was at a standstill, and when I rolled the window down, I could hear a crowd and a bullhorn a few blocks up. I was nearly at the square. Something was wrong. Ivy was there.

Pulse fast, I jerked the wheel, driving in the wrong lane for a few car lengths to pull into a tiny—and illegal—parking spot for the meter police. I waved at the guy blowing his horn at me as I popped my FIB sign in the front window and grabbed my shoulder bag. Thanks to my weekend sleepovers at Trent’s I was in a clean pair of jeans and a casual sweater, but I felt anything but professional as I locked the car and strode off, boots clunking.

Nina? I wondered, shocked as her voice came through the bullhorn, her aggressive urgency mixing with the rising roar of unseen people. Crap on toast, Felix had committed suncide this morning. A handful of other masters had gone from soul-induced depression to out-of-control raging when their souls were ripped from them. That they were forced underground was a blessing and a breathing space. Cops were everywhere, both the FIB and the I.S., and I strode up to the nearest. “Excuse me. What’s going on?”

“That way, miss,” he directed, and I jerked back before he could touch me. His expression hardened, and he actually looked at me. “There’s an illegal demonstration at the square,” he said, clearly not recognizing me. “Please go home.”

They were almost lining the streets now, and everyone was being turned away. “Ah, I’m trying to reach someone,” I said, thinking if Nina was in there, so was Ivy. “I mean, I was called in to work,” I said, flashing my old I.S. badge with my spell-burned hair and dopey look. “Who do I talk to?”

“Hell if I know,” the cop muttered as he looked at my street clothes. “Go on.”

He didn’t have to say it twice, and I slipped behind the forming human wall and hustled to the square, waving my outdated ID at everyone with a badge who looked my way. My pulse pounded, and the brief respite of people vanished. It wasn’t a demonstration, it was a mob, and I stood in the middle of the blocked-off road trying to make sense of it.

Nina was on the stage with a bullhorn, trying to outshout the man with a mic. The crowd was split and ugly, yelling at the stage, hands in fists raised in protest. The huge TV was showing a national news station, but it was all bad, with excited newscasters standing, as I was, at the outskirts of similar protests in other cities. High above, people pressed against the windows of the surrounding buildings taking pictures. I.S. and FIB officers were everywhere, but apart from the ring of them keeping new people out, I couldn’t tell what they were doing.

“I’m with the I.S.,” I said, flashing my ID when a cop came close, and he went the other way. News crews were setting up on the corner, and I began to inch away before I was recognized. Ivy, where are you?

The sound of pixy wings jerked my attention, and I looked up, getting an eye full of pixy dust as Jenks dropped down. “Damn it, Jenks!” I exclaimed, eyes watering.

“Tink’s a Disney whore, Rache, what are you doing here?” he exclaimed, his voice shrill as he struggled to be heard over the rising noise.

“Yeah, I’m glad to see you, too,” I said sourly, hand up for him to land on. “I’m trying to find Ivy. What is Nina doing?”

He went to land, then darted back as someone jostled me forward. My hand hit a lamppost, and I stepped up onto the footing for a few extra inches as Nina’s voice rose clear and strong, a hard surety in her voice that she’d learned from Felix. She sounded like a master, and it was chilling.

“The peace is false!” she cried, the vampiric pull in it bringing a good part of the crowd to silence. “Peace is death to the undead. It breaks them. Your masters are weeping. It’s our duty to protect them as they protect us! They keep us safe, and now it’s our turn. Even if they rage and threaten, we must withstand the anger knowing they love us! Their souls will kill them!”

“How long has she been up there?” I asked, one arm looped around the post for balance.

“Long enough.” Jenks’s wings were shading blue from the cold, and he vibrated them for warmth. “She’s, ah, rallying the living vampires to protect the undead. Not everyone is happy about it. I don’t know what’s going to happen if the elves bring their souls back.”

Concerned, I climbed farther up the pole. The crowd was ugly, and my brow furrowed when I heard a few “Let them die!” rise up. This was so not good. Had they forgotten already the chaos of Cincinnati not three months ago when the master vampires were sleeping?

“You can’t deny them their souls!” the man with the mic shouted with the professional outrage of someone comfortable with the pulpit. “It’s their God-given right!”

“Is it not our right to protect them?” Nina said, eyes black with threat. “We’ve always given them what they needed to survive. We can’t give them their death! They’ve been tricked by the elves and their own desires!”

Nervous, I looked toward the river. Trent was only a few blocks away at the arena and the closed dewar meeting. It was too easy to imagine the mob storming the place. No one could stop it with the I.S. and FIB concentrated here.

“My master found his soul,” Nina said, and the crowd stilled at the power in her voice. Felix had changed her, almost into a master herself with his thoughts running through hers for so long, and I shivered at the command. “It was fixed to him,” she intoned, and even the zealot on the stage was silenced. “It tormented him day and night until he walked into the sun. Be glad the souls have fled. Hide your masters if they should return. They bring only pain.”

“He was weeping in joy!” the man with the mic proclaimed, but beside Nina’s impassioned presence, he looked cheap. “Who are you to deny him?”

“He was in pain!” Nina shouted, and the crowd began to stir. “The grace of the undead is that they feel no pain, and he was in pain. He was broken! Tell your masters the elves lie. Tell your masters they seek to kill them! Tell them even if they should beat you and send you from their sight. You must protect them because they love you!”

The voice of the crowd rolled between the buildings, drowning out both Nina and the man onstage. Worried, I got down from the pole. I had to find Ivy and call Trent. Get him out of there. Warn him.

“Your master died because God brought his sins home!” the man was saying.