The Hollows Series Books 1-4. Kim Harrison
weeks than the last three years combined. The recent violence had everyone upset, Inderlander and human alike. The one-way glass fogged under my breath and I backed up. “Does he fit the profile?” I asked, already knowing the I.S. wouldn’t have brushed her off if he had.
“If he were dead he would. So far he’s only missing.”
The dry rasp of Jenks’s wings broke the silence. “So why bring Rache into it?”
“Two reasons. The first being Ms. Gradenko is a witch.” He nodded to the pretty woman past the glass, frustration thick in his voice. “My officers can’t question her properly.”
I watched Sara Jane look at the clock and wipe her eye. “She doesn’t know how to stir a spell,” I said softly. “She can only invoke them. Technically, she’s a warlock. I wish you people would get it straight that it’s your level of skill, not your sex, that makes you a witch or warlock.”
“Either way, my officers don’t know how to interpret her answers.”
A flicker of anger stirred. I turned to him, my lips pressed. “You can’t tell if she’s lying.”
The captain shrugged, his thick shoulders bunching. “If you like.”
Jenks hovered between us, his hands on his hips in his best Peter Pan pose. “Okay, so you want Rache to question her. What’s the second reason?”
Edden leaned a shoulder against the wall. “I need someone to go back to school, and as I don’t have a witch on my payroll, that’s you, Rachel.”
For a moment I could only stare. “Beg pardon?”
The man’s smile made him look even more like a contriving troll. “You’ve been following the papers?” he needlessly asked, and I nodded.
“The victims were all witches,” I said. “All single except for the first two, and all experienced in ley line magic.” I stifled a grimace. I didn’t like ley lines, and I avoided using them whenever I could. They were gateways to the ever-after and demons. One of the more popular theories was that the victims had been dabbling in the black arts and simply lost control. I didn’t buy that. No one was stupid enough to bind a demon—except Nick, my boyfriend. And that had been only to save my life.
Edden nodded, showing me the top of his head of thick black hair. “What has been kept quiet is that all of them, at one point or another, have been taught by a Dr. Anders.”
I rubbed my scraped palms. “Anders,” I murmured, searching my memory and coming up with a thin-faced, sour-looking woman with her hair too short and her voice too shrill. “I had a class with her.” I glanced at Edden and turned to the one-way glass, embarrassed. “She was a visiting professor from the university while one of our instructors was on sabbatical. Taught Ley Lines for the Earth Witch. She’s a condescending toad. Flunked me out on the third class because I wouldn’t get a familiar.”
He grunted. “Try to get a B this time so I can get reimbursed for tuition.”
“Whoa!” Jenks shouted, his tiny voice pitched high. “Edden, you can just plant your sunflower seeds in someone else’s garden. Rachel isn’t going anywhere near Sara Jane. This is Kalamack trying to get his manicured fingers on her.”
Edden pushed himself away from the wall, frowning. “Mr. Kalamack is not implicated in this whatsoever. And if you take this run gunning for him, Rachel, I’ll sling your lily-white witch butt back across the river and into the Hollows. Dr. Anders is our suspect. If you want the run, you leave Mr. Kalamack out of this.”
Jenks’s wings buzzed an angry whine. “Did you all slip antifreeze in your coffee this morning?” he shrilled. “It’s a setup! This has nothing to do with the witch hunter murders. Rachel, tell him this has nothing to do with the murders.”
“This has nothing to do with the murders,” I said blandly. “I’ll take the run.”
“Rachel!” Jenks protested.
I took a slow breath, knowing I would never be able to explain. Sara Jane was more honest than half the I.S. agents I had once worked with: a farm girl struggling to find her way in the city and help her indentured-servant family. Though she wouldn’t know me from Jack, I owed her. She was the sole person who had shown me any kindness during my three days of purgatory trapped as a mink in Trent Kalamack’s office last spring.
Physically, we were as unalike as two people could possibly be. Where Sara Jane sat stiffly upright at the table in her crisp business dress with every blond hair in place and makeup applied so well it was almost invisible, I stood in scraped-up leather pants with my frizzy red hair wild and untamed. Where she was petite, having a china-doll look with her clear skin and delicate features, I was tall with an athletic build that had saved my life more times than I have freckles on my nose. Where she was amply curved and padded in all the right places, I stopped at the curves, my chest not much more than a suggestion. But I felt a kinship with her. We were both trapped by Trent Kalamack. And by now she probably knew it.
Jenks hovered beside me. “No,” he said. “Trent is using her to reach you.”
Irritated, I waved him away. “Trent can’t touch me. Edden, do you still have that pink folder I gave you last spring?”
“The one with the disc and datebook containing evidence that Trent Kalamack is a manufacturer and distributor of illegal genetic products?” The squat man grinned. “Yeah. I keep it by my bed for when I can’t sleep at night.”
My jaw dropped. “You weren’t supposed to open it unless I went missing!”
“I peek at my Christmas presents, too,” he said. “Relax. I won’t do anything unless Kalamack kills you. I still say blackmailing Kalamack is risky—”
“It’s the only thing keeping me alive!” I said hotly, then winced as I wondered if Sara Jane might have heard me through the glass.
“—but probably safer than trying to bring him to justice—at the present time. This, though?” He gestured to Sara Jane. “He’s too smart for this.”
If it had been anyone but Trent, I’d have to agree. Trent Kalamack was pristine on paper, as charming and attractive in public as he was ruthless and cold behind closed doors. I had watched him kill a man in his office, making it look like an accident with a swiftly implemented set of preparations. But as long as Edden didn’t act on my blackmail, the untouchable man would leave me alone.
Jenks darted between me and the mirror. He came to a hovering standstill, worry creasing his tiny features. “This stinks worse than that fish. Walk away. You gotta walk away.”
My gaze focused past Jenks, upon Sara Jane. She had been crying. “I owe her, Jenks,” I whispered. “Whether she knows it or not.”
Edden shifted to stand beside me, and together we watched Sara Jane. “Morgan?”
Jenks was right. There was no such thing as luck—unless you bought it—and nothing happened around Trent without reason. My eyes were fixed upon Sara Jane. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do it.”
My gaze was drawn to Sara Jane’s nails as she fidgeted across from me. Last time I had seen her, they were clean but worn down to the quick. Now they were long and shapely, polished a tasteful shade of red. “So,” I said, looking from the fitfully flashing enamel to her eyes. They were blue. I hadn’t known for sure. “You last heard from Dan on Saturday?”
From across the table, Sara Jane nodded. There hadn’t been a flicker of recognition when Edden introduced us. Part of me was relieved, part disappointed. Her lilac scent pulled the unwelcome memory of helplessness I had felt while a mink caged in Trent’s office.
The tissue in Sara Jane’s hand was about the size of a walnut, clenched into a ball with her trembling fingers. “Dan called me as he