The Hollows Series Books 1-4

Keasley gave her a dark look, then went to see how Nick was doing with the steaks.

“It’s been over a week,” I said, peeved as I wiped my hand free of the condensation from Keasley’s wine. “When are you going to let me open my own mail?”

Ivy said nothing, pulling the citronella candle closer to read the return address. “As soon as Trent stops sending you mail,” she said softly.

“Trent!” I exclaimed. Worried, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, thinking about the folder I’d given Edden two days ago. Nick turned from the steaks, his long face showing concern. “What does he want?” I muttered, hoping they couldn’t tell how agitated I was.

Ivy glanced up at Jenks, and the pixy shrugged. “It’s clean,” he said. “Open it up.”

“Of course it’s clean,” Keasley grumbled. “You think I’d give her a spelled letter?”

The envelope felt light in my grip as I took it from Ivy. Nervous, I slid a freshly painted nail under the flap, tearing it. There was a bump inside, and I shook the envelope over my hand.

My pinky ring slid out and fell into my grip. My face went slack in shock. “It’s my ring!” I said. Heart pounding, I looked at my other hand, frightened to not see it there. Eyes rising, I took in Nick’s surprise and Ivy’s worry. “How …” I stammered, not remembering even having missed it. “When did he—Jenks, I didn’t lose it in his office, did I?”

My voice was high, and my stomach tightened when he shook his head, his wings going dark. “You didn’t have any jewelry that night,” he said. “He must have taken it afterwards.”

“Is there anything else?” Ivy asked, her tone carefully neutral.

“Yeah.” I swallowed, and slipped my ring on. It felt odd for a moment, then comfortable. Fingers cold, I pulled out the thick slip of linen paper smelling of pine and apples.

“‘Ms. Morgan,’” I read softly in unease. “‘Congratulations on your newfound independence. When you see it for the illusion it is, I’ll show you true freedom.’”

I let the paper fall to the table. My thick feeling of disquiet that he had seen me sleeping broke apart in the knowledge that that was all he did. My blackmail was tight. It had worked.

Slumping, I put my elbows on the table and dropped my forehead into my hands in relief. Trent had taken the ring from my sleeping finger for one reason only. To prove he could. I had infiltrated into his “house” three times, each one more intimate and unguarded than the last. That I could do it again whenever I wanted was probably intolerable to Trent. He had felt the need to retaliate, to show that he could do the same. I had gotten to him, and that went a long way toward ridding myself of my angry, vulnerable feeling.

Jenks darted down to hover over the note. “The sack of slug salt,” he said, and angry pixy dust sifted from him. “He got past me. He got past me! How the hell did he do that?”

Steeling my face, I picked up the envelope, noticing the postmark was the day after I had escaped him and his dogs. The man worked fast. I’d give him that. I wondered if it had been him or Quen who did the actual pilfering. I was betting it was Trent.

“Rache?” Jenks landed on my shoulder, probably concerned at my silence. “You okay?”

I glanced at Ivy’s worried expression across from me, thinking I ought to be able to get a laugh out of this situation. “I’m gonna get him,” I bluffed.

Jenks flitted up and away, his wings clattering in alarm. Nick turned from the grill, and Ivy stiffened. “Whoa, wait a moment,” she said, flicking Jenks a look.

“No one does that to me!” I added, clenching my jaw so I wouldn’t smile and ruin it.

Keasley’s brow furrowed. Eyes pinched, he sat back.

Ivy went paler than usual in the candlelight. “Slow down, Rachel,” she warned. “He didn’t do anything. He just wanted to get the last word. Let it go.”

“I’m going back!” I shouted, standing to put some distance between us in case I was yanking her chain too hard and she came after me. “I’ll show him,” I said, waving an arm. “I’ll sneak in. I’ll steal his freaking glasses and mail them back to him in a freaking birthday card!”

Ivy stood, her eyes going black. “You do that, and he’ll kill you!”

She actually thinks I’d go back? Was she nuts? My chin trembled as I tried not to laugh. Keasley saw it, and he chuckled, reaching for his unopened wine.

Ivy spun with a vamp quickness. “What are you laughing about, witch?” she said, leaning forward. “She’s going to kill herself. Jenks, tell her she’s going to kill herself. I’m not going to let you do this, Rachel. I swear, I’ll tie you to Jenks’s stump before I let you go back!”

Her teeth were a gleam in the moonlight and she was wound tight enough to pop. One more word, and she might make good her threat. “Okay,” I said lightly. “You’re right. I’ll leave him alone.”

Ivy froze. A heavy sigh slipped from Nick at the grill. Keasley’s gnarly fingers were slow as they pulled the foil from the top of his bottle. “Oooh doggies, she got you, Tamwood,” he said, laughing low and rich. “She got you good.”

Ivy stared, her pale, perfect face marred with shock and the sudden realization that she’d been had. A stunned bewilderment, quickly followed by relief and then bother, crossed her. She took a breath. Holding it, her face went sullen. Eyes tight and angry, she dropped back down to the picnic table’s bench and shook out the paper.

Jenks was laughing, making circles of pixy dust to sift down like sunbeams to glitter on her shoulders. Grinning, I rose and went to the grill. That had felt good. Almost as good as stealing the disc. “Hey, Nick,” I said, slipping up behind him. Those steaks done yet?”

He gave me a sideways smile. “Coming right up, Rachel.”

Good. I’d figure everything else out later.

Acknowledgements (#ulink_cd1964db-8b13-5d9f-af13-4cb3efc534c2)

I’d like to thank the people who suffered through me during the rewrites. You know who you are, and I salute you. But I’d especially like to thank my editor, Diana Gill, for her wonderful suggestions that opened up delightful avenues of thought, and my agent Richard Curtis.

(#uc04a35fd-08e8-5bd7-9cfc-a4f024d9a3ea)

THE GOOD, THE BAD,

AND THE UNDEAD

KIM HARRISON

Dedication (#u3a30ca0f-3a45-57e5-8ff8-30b3a3291f61)

To the man who knows caffeine comes first, chocolate comes second, romance comes third—and when they ought to be reversed.

Contents

Cover (#u89ae9051-64b3-53ff-88c2-67edb22b0c8f)

Title Page (#ub1c75099-8ef8-5a23-bd5f-db1dae50e7e3)

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six