The Hollows Series Books 1-4. Kim Harrison
yet. A sharp squeak drew my attention. Baron was crouched beside it, pointing down.
“It’s not big enough for you,” I said.
Baron lunged at me, yanking me to the hole and stuffing me down. The sound of the dog grew suddenly louder, and I dropped into space.
Arm and legs outstretched, I tried to snag the pipe. A front paw reached a welded seam. I jerked to a stop. Above me the dog barked wildly. There was a scrabble of claws on the wood floor, then a yelp. I started losing my hold. I dropped to the dry earth. I lay there, listening for Baron’s death scream.
I should have stayed, I thought desperately. I never should have let him shove me down that hole. I knew it hadn’t been big enough for him.
There was a quick scratching and a thump in the dirt beside me.
“You made it!” I squeaked, seeing Baron sprawled in the dirt.
Jenks flitted down, glowing in the dim light. There was a dog whisker in his hand. “You should have seen him, Rache,” he said excitedly. “He bit that dog right on the nose. He-yah! Pow! Slam-bam, thank you, ma’am!”
The pixy continued his circles around us, too hyper to sit still. Baron, however, seemed to have the shakes. Curled into a huddled ball of fur, he looked like he was going to be sick. I crept forward, wanting to say thanks. I touched him on his shoulder, and he jumped, staring at me with wide black eyes.
“Get that dog out of here!” came an angry voice through the floor, and we looked up at the faint spot of light. The yapping grew faint, and my pulse eased. “Yup,” Jim said. “Those are fresh chewings. One got out this way.”
“How do we get down there?” It was Trent, and I cowered, pressing myself into the dirt.
“There’s a trapdoor in the hallway, but the crawl space is open to the street through any of the vents.” Their voices grew distant as they moved away. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kalamack,” Jim was saying. “We’ve never had an escapee before. I’ll get someone to go down there right away.”
“No. She’s gone.” His voice held a controlled, soft frustration, and I felt a stir of victory. Jonathan wasn’t going to have a very pleasant drive back. I straightened from my crouch and heaved a sigh. My ear and eyes were burning. I wanted to go home.
Baron squeaked for my attention, pointing to the ground. I looked to find he had written in careful letters, “Thanks.”
I couldn’t help my smile. Crouched beside him, I wrote, “You’re welcome.” My letters looked sloppy next to his.
“You two are so sweet,” Jenks mocked. “Can we get out of here now?”
Baron leapt to the screen across the vent, latching on with all four feet. Choosing carefully, he began to pull at the seams with his teeth.
My spoon scraped the bottom of the cottage cheese container. Hunching over it, I pushed what remained into a pile. My knee was cold, and I tugged my midnight-blue, terry-cloth robe back over it. I was stuffing my face while Baron changed back into a person and showered in the second bathroom Ivy and I had independently determined was mine. I could hardly wait to see what he really looked like. Ivy and I agreed that if he had survived the rat fights for who knew how long, he had to be a hunk. God knew he was brave, chivalrous, and not fazed by vampires—the last one being the most intriguing, seeing as Jenks had said he was human.
Jenks had called Ivy collect from the first phone we found. The sound of her motorcycle—just out of the shop from her having slid it under a truck last week—had been like a choir singing. I almost cried at her concern when she swung from the seat wearing head-to-toe biker leather. Someone cared if I lived or died. It didn’t matter if it was a vampire whose motives I still didn’t understand.
Neither Baron or I would get into the box she had brought, and after a five-minute discussion consisting of her protests and our squeaks, she finally threw the box into the back of the alley with a grunt of frustration and let us ride up front. She hadn’t been in the best of moods when she tooled on out of the alley, a mink and a rat standing on her gas tank with our forepaws on the tiny dash. By the time we cleared the worst of Friday rush-hour traffic and were able to pick up speed, I knew why dogs hung their heads out the window.
Riding a bike was always a thrill, but as a rodent, it was a scentual rush. Eyes squinting and my whiskers bent back by the wind, I rode home in style. I didn’t care that Ivy was getting odd looks and people kept blowing their horns at us. I was sure I was going to have a brain orgasm from the overload of input. I almost regretted it when Ivy had turned onto our street.
Now, with a finger, I pushed the last bit of cheese onto the spoon, ignoring Jenks’s pig noises from the ladle hanging over the center island. I hadn’t stopped eating since losing my fur, but as I’d had only carrots for the last three and a half days, I was entitled to a little binge.
Setting the empty container aside on the dirty plate before me, I wondered if it hurt more or less to transform if you were a human. From the muffled, masculine groan of pain that had emanated from the bathroom before the shower started, I’d say it hurt just about the same.
Though I had scrubbed myself twice, I thought I still smelled mink under my perfume. My torn ear throbbed, my neck had red-rimmed punctures where Baron had bitten me, and my left leg was bruised from falling into the exercise wheel. But it was good to be a person again. I glanced at Ivy doing the dishes, wondering if I should have taped up my ear.
I still hadn’t brought Ivy and Jenks entirely up to speed on my last few days, telling them only about my captivity, not what I had learned during it. Ivy had said nothing, but I knew she was dying to tell me I had been an idiot for not having a backup plan for escape.
She reached for the tap, turning it off after she rinsed the last glass. Setting it to drain, she turned and dried her hands on the dish towel. Seeing a tall, thin, leather-clad vamp doing dishes was almost worth the price of admission to my crazy life. “Okay, let me get this straight,” she said as she leaned against the counter. “Trent caught you red-handed, and instead of turning you in, he put you in the city’s rat fights to try and break you so you’d agree to work for him?”
“Yup.” I stretched to reach the bag of frosted cookies next to Ivy’s computer.
“Figures.” She pushed herself into motion to get my empty plate. Washing it, she set it next to the glasses to drip. Apart from my dishes, there had been no plates, silverware, or bowls. Just twenty or so glasses, all with a drop of orange juice in the bottom.
“Next time you go up against someone like Trent, can we at least have a plan for when you get caught?” she asked, her back to me and her shoulders tense.
Annoyance pulled my head up from my bag of cookies. I took a breath to tell her she could take her plans and use them for toilet paper, then hesitated. Her shoulders were as tight as her stance was rigid. I remembered how worried Jenks said she was, and what she had said about how me flying off the handle jerked her instincts into play. Slowly my breath slipped out. “Sure,” I said hesitantly. “We can have a fail-safe plan for when I screw up, as long as we have one for you, too.”
Jenks snickered and Ivy flicked a glance at him. “We don’t need one for me,” she said.
“Write it out and post it by the phone,” I said casually. “I’ll do the same.” I was halfway kidding, but I wondered if in all her anal-retentive glory she just might do it.
Saying nothing, Ivy, not content to let the glasses and plates drain by themselves, began to dry them. I crunched my gingersnaps, watching her shoulders ease and her motions lose their hair-trigger quickness. “You were right,” I said, thinking I owed her at least that much. “I’ve never had anyone I could count on before.…” I hesitated. “I’m not used to it.”
Ivy turned, surprising me