The Hollows Series Books 1-4. Kim Harrison
Right ahead of us.”
Nick and I leaned forward to see. The broken taillight was like a beacon. We watched as Francis signaled, squealing his tires as he lurched into the bus depot. A horn blew, and I smirked. Francis had nearly been hit by a bus.
“Okay,” Edden said softly as we circled to park on the far side of the lot. “We have five minutes until the dog team gets here, fifteen for Briston and Gerry. He will have to register the packages with the front desk. It will be a nice proof of ownership.” Edden undid his seat belt and spun his bucket chair as the van halted. He looked as eager as a vamp with that toothy grin of his. “No one even look at him until everyone gets here. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it,” I said, jittery. I didn’t like being under someone else’s direction, but what he said made sense. Nervous, I slid across the seat to press my face to Nick’s window and watch Francis struggle with three flat boxes.
“That him?” Edden said, his voice cold.
I nodded. Jenks walked down my arm and stood on the sill of the window. His wings were a blur as he used them for balance. “Yeah,” the pixy snarled. “That’s the pancake.”
Glancing up, I realized I was almost in Nick’s lap. Embarrassed, I put myself where I belonged. The aspirin was starting to wear off, and though my remaining amulet would be good for days, the pain was starting to break through with an unsettling frequency. But it was the fatigue I was really worried about. My heart was hammering as if I had just finished a race. I didn’t think it was just from the excitement.
Francis kicked his car door shut and tottered into motion. He was the picture of self-importance as he strutted into the depot in his loud shirt with the turned-up collar. I smirked as he smiled at a woman coming out and got a quick brush-off. But on remembering his fear while sitting in Trent’s office, my contempt took on a shade of pity for the insecure man.
“Okay, boys and girls,” Edden said, pulling my attention back. “Clayton, stay here. Send Briston in when she arrives. I don’t want anyone out of plainclothes in sight of the windows.” He watched Francis go through the double doors. “Have Rose move everyone in from the airport. Looks like the witch, er, Ms. Morgan was right.”
“Yes sir.” Clayton reluctantly reached for the car phone.
Doors started to open. It was obvious we weren’t your typical group of bus patrons, but Francis was probably too stupid to notice. Edden stuffed his yellow FIB hat into a back pocket. Nick was a thin nobody; he looked like he belonged. But my bruises and sling drew more attention than if I had a bell and a card that said, “Will work for spells.”
“Captain Edden?” I said as he slipped out and stood waiting. “Give me a minute.”
Edden and Nick looked wonderingly back at me as I rummaged in my bag. “Rachel,” Jenks said from Nick’s shoulder. “You’ve got to be kidding. Ten makeup charms couldn’t make you look better right now.”
“Go Turn yourself,” I muttered. “Francis will recognize me. I need an amulet.”
Edden watched with interest. Feeling the press of adrenaline, I awkwardly rummaged with my good hand in my bag for an aging spell. Finally I dumped the bag onto the seat, grabbed the right charm and invoked it. As I set it around my neck, Edden made a sound of disbelief and admiration. His acceptance—no, approval—was gratifying. That he had taken my pain amulet earlier had a lot to do with me agreeing to owing him a favor or two. Whenever a human showed any appreciation for my skills, I got all warm and fuzzy. Sucker.
Jamming everything away in my bag, I creakily eased myself out of the van.
“Ready?” Jenks said sarcastically. “Sure you don’t want to brush your hair?”
“Shove it, Jenks,” I said as Nick offered me a hand. “I can get down by myself,” I added.
Jenks made the jump from Nick to me, settling on my shoulder. “You look like an old woman,” the pixy said. “Act like it.”
“She is.” Edden grabbed my shoulder to keep me from falling as my vamp boots hit the pavement. “She reminds me of my mother.” His eyes scrunched as he made a face and waved his hand before his nose. “She even smells like her.”
“Shut up, all of you,” I said, hesitating as my deep breath made me light-headed. The jarring pain from my landing had gone straight up my spine and into my skull, settling itself for a long stay. Refusing to let my fatigue get a foothold, I jerked away from Edden and hobbled to the doors. The two men followed, three paces behind. I felt like a slob in my fat jeans and that awful plaid shirt. Carrying the illusion of being old didn’t help, either. I tugged at the door, unable to open it. “Someone open this door for me!” I exclaimed, and Jenks laughed.
Nick took my arm as Edden opened the door and a gust of overheated air billowed into us. “Here,” Nick said. “Lean on me. You look more like an old lady that way.”
The pain I could deal with. It was the fatigue that overwhelmed my pride and forced me to accept Nick’s offered arm. It was either that or crawl into the bus station.
I shuffled in, a stir of excitement quickening my pulse as I scanned the long front counter for Francis. “There he is,” I whispered.
Almost hidden behind a fake tree, Francis was talking to a young woman in a city uniform. The Percy charm was having its usual effect, and she looked annoyed. Three boxes were on the counter beside him. My continued existence was in those boxes.
Nick pulled gently on my good elbow. “Let’s sit you down over here, Mother,” he said.
“Call me that again and I’ll take care of your family planning for you,” I threatened.
“Mother,” Jenks said, his wings fanning my neck in fitful spurts.
“Enough,” Edden said softly, a new hardness in his voice. His eyes never left Francis. “All three of you are going to sit over there and wait. No one moves unless Percy tries to leave. I’m going to make sure those boxes don’t get on a bus.” His gaze still on Francis, he touched the weapon hidden behind his jacket and casually made his way to the counter. Edden beamed at a second clerk before he even got close.
Sit and wait? Yeah, I could do that.
I gave in to Nick’s gentle pull and moved toward the bank of chairs. They were orange, same as at the FIB, and looked equally comfortable. Nick helped me ease down into one, taking the chair next to mine. He stretched out and pretended to nap, his eyes cracked to watch Francis. I sat stiffly with my bag on my lap, clutching it as I had seen old ladies do. Now I knew why. I hurt all over, and I felt like I would fall apart if I relaxed.
A kid shrieked, and I took a quick breath. My eyes drifted from Francis, busy making an ass of himself, to the other patrons. There was a tired mom with three kids—one still in diapers—arguing with a clerk over the interpretation of a coupon. A handful of businessmen absorbed in their business, striding importantly, as if this was only a bad dream and not the reality of their existence. Young lovers pressed dangerously close, probably fleeing parents. Vagrants. A tattered old man caught my eye and winked.
I started. This wasn’t safe. The I.S. could be anywhere, ready to tag me.
“Relax, Rache,” Jenks whispered as if reading my mind. “The I.S. isn’t going to nack you with the captain of the FIB in the same room.”
“How can you be so sure?” I said.
I felt the wind on my neck as he fanned his useless wings. “I’m not.”
Nick opened his eyes and sat up. “How are you doing?” he asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” Jenks said. “Thanks for asking. Did you know some lunker at the FIB snapped my freaking wing off? My wife is gonna kill me.”
I managed a smile. “Hungry,” I answered Nick. “Exhausted.”
Nick glanced at me before returning