The Hollows Series Books 1-4

“Hey, Rache,” Jenks said, dropping down from who knew where. “Your back is clear. And what is Plan B?”

My eyebrows rose and I looked askance at him as he flew alongside, matching my pace exactly. “Grab the fish and run like hell.”

Jenks laughed and landed on my shoulder. He had ditched his tiny uniform, and he looked like his usual self in a long-sleeve hunter-green silk shirt and pants. A red bandana was about his forehead to tell any pixy or fairies whose territory we might walk through that he wasn’t poaching. Sparkles glittered in his wings where the last of the pixy dust stirred up by the excitement remained.

My pace slowed as we reached Fountain Square. I scanned for Ivy, not seeing her. Not worried, I went to sit on the dry side of the fountain, running my fingers under the rim of the retaining wall for my shades. She’d be here. The woman lived and died by schedules.

While Jenks flew through the spray to get rid of the last of the “dead dinosaur stink,” I snapped open my shades and put them on. My brow eased as the glare of the September afternoon was muted. Stretching my long legs out, I casually took off the scent amulet that was around my neck and dropped it into the fountain. Weres tracked by smell, and if they did follow me, the trail would end here as soon as I got in Ivy’s car and drove away.

Hoping no one had noticed, I glanced over the surrounding people: a nervous, anemic-looking vampire lackey out doing his lover’s daytime work; two whispering humans, giggling as they eyed his badly scarred neck; a tired witch—no, warlock, I decided, by the lack of a strong redwood smell—sitting at a nearby bench eating a muffin; and me. I took a slow breath as I settled in. Having to wait for a ride was kind of an anticlimax.

“I wish I had a car,” I said to Jenks as I edged the canister of fish to sit between my feet. Thirty feet away traffic was stop-and-go. It had picked up, and I guessed it was probably after two o’clock, just beginning the span of time when humans and Inderlanders started their daily struggle to coexist in the same limited space. Things got a hell of a lot easier when the sun went down and most humans retired to their homes.

“What do you want with a car?” Jenks asked as he perched himself on my knee and started to clean his dragonfly-like wings with long serious strokes. “I don’t have a car. I’ve never had a car. I get around okay. Cars are trouble,” he said, but I wasn’t listening anymore. “You have to put gas in them, and keep them in repair, and spend time cleaning them, and you have to have a place to put them, and then there’s the money you lavish on them. It’s worse than a girlfriend.”

“Still,” I said, jiggling my foot to irritate him. “I wish I had a car.” I glanced at the people around me. “James Bond never had to wait for a bus. I’ve seen every one of his movies, and he never waited for a bus.” I squinted at Jenks. “It kinda loses its pizzazz.”

“Um, yeah,” he said, his attention behind me. “I can see where it might be safer, too. Eleven o’clock. Weres.”

My breath came fast as I looked, and my tension slammed back into me. “Crap,” I whispered, picking up the canister. It was the same three. I could tell by their hunched stature and the way they were breathing deeply. Jaw clenched, I stood up and put the fountain between us. Where was Ivy?

“Rache?” Jenks questioned. “Why are they following you?”

“I don’t know.” My thoughts went to the blood I had left on the roses. If I couldn’t break the scent trail, they could follow me all the way home. But why? Mouth dry, I sat with my back to them, knowing Jenks was watching. “Have they winded me?” I asked.

He left in a clatter of wings. “No,” he said when he returned a bare second later. “You’ve got about half a block between you, but you gotta get moving.”

Jiggling, I weighed the risk of staying still and waiting for Ivy with moving and being spotted. “Damn it, I wish I had a car,” I muttered. I leaned to look into the street, searching for the tall blue top of a bus, a cab, anything. Where the hell was Ivy?

Heart pounding, I stood. Clutching the fish to me, I headed for the street, wanting to get into the adjacent office building and the maze I could lose myself in while waiting for Ivy. But a big black Crown Victoria slowed to a stop, getting in my way.

I glared at the driver, my tight face going slack when the window whined down and he leaned over the front seat. “Ms. Morgan?” the dark man said, his deep voice belligerent.

I glanced at the Weres behind me, then at the car, then him. A black Crown Victoria driven by a man in a black suit could only mean one thing. He was from the Federal Inderland Bureau, the human-run equivalent of the I.S. What did the FIB want? “Yeah. Who are you?”

Bother crossed him. “I talked to Ms. Tamwood earlier. She said I could find you here.”

Ivy. I put a hand on the open window. “Is she all right?”

He pressed his lips together. Traffic was backing up behind him. “She was when I talked with her on the phone.”

Jenks hovered before me, his tiny face frightened. “They winded you, Rache.”

My breath hissed in through my nose. I glanced behind me. My gaze fell on one of the Weres. Seeing me watching him, he barked out a hail. The other two started to converge, loping forward with an unhurried grace. I swallowed hard. I was dog chow. That’s it. Dog chow. Game over. Hit the reset button.

Spinning, I grabbed the door handle and jerked it up. I dove in, slamming the door behind me. “Drive!” I shouted, turning to look out the back window.

The man’s long face took on a tinge of disgust as he glanced behind him in his rearview mirror. “Are they with you?”

“No! Does this thing move, or do you just sit in it and play with yourself?”

Making a low noise of irritation, he accelerated smoothly. I spun in my seat, watching the Weres come to a halt in the middle of the street. Horns blew from the cars forced to stop for them. Turning back around, I clutched my fish canister and closed my eyes in relief. I was going to get Ivy for this. I swear, I was going to use her precious maps as weed block in the garden. She was supposed to pick me up, not send some FIB flunky.

Pulse slowing, I turned to look at him. He was a good head taller than me, which was saying something—with nice shoulders, curly black hair cut close to his skull, square jaw, and a stiff attitude just begging for me to smack him. Comfortably muscled without going overboard, there wasn’t even the hint of a gut on him. In his perfectly fitting black suit, white shirt, and black tie, he could be the FIB poster boy. His mustache and beard were cut in the latest style—so minimal that they almost weren’t there—and I thought he might do better to lighten up on his aftershave. I eyed the handcuff pouch on his belt, wishing I still had mine. They had belonged to the I.S., and I missed them dearly.

Jenks settled himself at his usual spot on the rearview mirror where the wind wouldn’t tear his wings, and the stiff-necked man watched him with an intentness that told me he had little contact with pixies. Lucky him.

A call came over the radio about a shoplifter at the mall, and he snapped it off. “Thanks for the ride,” I said. “Ivy sent you?”

He tore his eyes from Jenks. “No. She said you’d be here. Captain Edden wants to talk you. Something concerning Councilman Trent Kalamack,” the FIB officer added indifferently.

“Kalamack!” I yelped, then cursed myself for having said anything. The wealthy bastard wanted me to work for him or see me dead. It depended on his mood and how well his stock portfolio was doing. “Kalamack, huh?” I amended, shifting uneasily in the leather seat. “Why is Edden sending you to fetch me? You on his hit list this week?”

He said nothing, his blocky hands gripping the wheel so tight that his fingernails went white. The silence grew. We went through a yellow light shifting to red. “Ah, who are you?” I finally asked.

He made a scoffing noise deep in his throat. I was used to wary distrust from most humans. This guy wasn’t afraid, and it was ticking me off. “Detective Glenn, ma’am,” he said.

“Ma’am,” Jenks said, laughing. “He called you ma’am.”

I scowled at Jenks. He looked young to have made detective. The FIB must have been getting desperate. “Well, thank you, Detective Glade,” I said, mangling his name. “You can drop me off anywhere. I can take the bus from here. I’ll come out to see Captain Edden tomorrow. I’m working an important case right now.”

Jenks snickered, and the man flushed, the red almost hidden behind his dark skin. “It’s Glenn, ma’am. And I saw your important case. Want me to take you back to the fountain?”

“No,” I said, slumping in my seat, thoughts of angry young Weres going through my head. “I appreciate the lift to my office, though. It’s in the Hollows, take the next left.”

“I’m not your driver,” he said grimly, clearly unhappy. “I’m your delivery boy.”

I shifted my arm inside as he rolled the window up from his control panel. Immediately it grew stuffy. Jenks flitted to the ceiling, trapped. “What the hell are you doing?” he shrilled.

“Yeah!” I exclaimed, more irate than worried. “What’s up?”

“Captain Edden wants to see you now, Ms. Morgan, not tomorrow.” His gaze darted from the street to me. His jaw was tight, and I didn’t like his nasty smile. “And if you so much as reach for a spell, I’ll yank your witch butt out of my car, cuff you, and throw you in the trunk. Captain Edden sent me to get you, but he didn’t say what kind of shape you had to be in.”

Jenks alighted on my earring, swearing up a blue streak. I repeatedly flicked the switch for the window, but Glenn had locked it. I settled back with a huff. I could jam my finger in Glenn’s eye and force us off the road, but why? I knew where I was going. And Edden would see that I had a ride home. It ticked me off, though, running into a human who had more gall than I did. What was the city coming to?

A sullen silence descended. I took my sunglasses off and leaned over, noticing the man was going fifteen over the posted limit. Figures.

“Watch this,” Jenks whispered. My eyebrows rose as the pixy flitted from my earring. The autumn sun coming in was suddenly full of sparkles as he surreptitiously sifted a glowing dust over the detective. I’d bet my best pair of lace panties it wasn’t the usual pixy dust. Glenn had been pixed.

I hid a smile. In about twenty minutes Glenn would be itching so bad he wouldn’t be able to sit still. “So, how come you aren’t scared of me?” I asked brazenly, feeling vastly better.

“A witch family lived next door when I was a kid,” he said warily. “They had a girl my age. She hit me with just about everything a witch can do to a person.” A faint smile crossed his square face to make him look very un-FIBlike. “The saddest day of my life was when she moved away.”

I made a pouty face. “Poor baby,” I said, and his scowl returned. I wasn’t pleased, though. Edden sent him to pick me up because he had known I couldn’t bully him.

I hated Mondays.

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