The Hollows Series Books 1-4. Kim Harrison

“What do you suggest?” I asked, and her tension eased.

      “Why don’t you take him up and see if those clothes in the belfry fit him while I book a seat on that plane?” she asked. “What flight did you say it was?”

      I tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “Why? All we need to know is when it leaves.”

      “We might need more time. It’s going to be close as it is. Most airlines will hold a plane if you tell them you have daylight restrictions. They blame it on the weather or a small maintenance issue. They won’t take off until the sun isn’t shining at 38,000 feet.”

      Daylight restrictions? That explained a lot. “Last flight to L.A. before midnight,” I said.

      Ivy’s face grew intent as she fell into what I remembered as her “planning mode.” “Jenks and I will go to the FIB and explain everything,” she said in a preoccupied voice. “You can meet us there for the actual take.”

      “Whoa, wait a minute. I’m going to the FIB. It’s my run.”

      Her frown was obvious in the dark of the hallway, and I stepped back, uncomfortable. “It’s still the FIB,” she said dryly. “Safer, yes. But they might tag you for the prestige of nailing a runner the I.S. couldn’t. Some of those guys would love to kill a witch, and you know it.”

      I felt ill. “Okay,” I agreed slowly, my mouth starting to water at the sound of gurgling coffee. “You’re right. I’ll stay out of it until you’ve told the FIB what we’re doing.”

      Ivy’s determined look shifted to one of shock. “You think I’m right?”

      The smell of coffee was pulling me into the kitchen. Ivy followed me in, her footsteps soundless. I clasped my arms around myself as I entered the brighter room. The memory of hiding in the dark from fairy assassins quashed any feeling of excitement that the prospect of tagging Trent had given me. I needed to make some more spells. Strong ones. Different ones. Really different ones. Maybe … maybe black. I felt sick.

      Nick and Jenks had their heads together as Jenks tried to convince him to open the jar of honey. By Nick’s grin and continuous soft refusals, I guessed he knew something about pixies as well as vamps. I went to stand by the coffeemaker, waiting for it to finish. Ivy opened the cupboard and handed me three mugs, the question in her eyes demanding an answer as to why I was suddenly on edge. She was a vamp; she read body language better than Dr. Ruth.

      “The I.S. is still spelling for me,” I said softly. “Whenever the FIB moves to make a major play, the I.S. always follows to get involved. If I’m going to make a public appearance, I need something to protect myself from them. Something strong. I can make it while you’re at the FIB, then join you at the airport,” I said slowly.

      Ivy stood at the sink, her arms crossed suspiciously. “That sounds like a good idea,” she prompted. “Some prep work. Fine.”

      Tension pulled me tight. Black earth magic always involved killing something before adding it to the mix. Especially the strong spells. Guess I was about to find out if I could do that. Dropping my eyes, I arranged the mugs in a straight row. “Jenks?” I questioned. “What’s the assassin lineup like outside?”

      The wind from his wings shifted my hair as he landed by my hand. “Real light. It’s been four days since you’ve been spotted. It’s just the fairies now. Give my kids five minutes, and we’ll distract them enough that you can slip out if you need to.”

      “Good. I’m going out to find some new spells as soon as I get dressed.”

      “What for?” Ivy asked, her tone going wary. “You have plenty of spell books.”

      I felt the dampness of sweat on my neck. I didn’t like that Ivy knew it was there. “I need something stronger.” I turned, finding Ivy’s face curiously slack. Dread pulled my shoulders tight. I took a deep breath and dropped my eyes. “I want something I can use for an offensive,” I said in a small voice. With one hand cupping an elbow, I put a hand over my collarbone.

      “Whoa, Rache,” Jenks said, his wings clattering as he forced himself into my line of sight. His tiny features were pinched in worry, doing nothing for my sense of well-being. “That’s dipping kind of close to dark magic, isn’t it?”

      My heart was pounding, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. “Dipping? Hell, it is,” I said. I flicked a glance at Ivy. Her posture was carefully neutral. Nick, too, didn’t seem upset as he rose, coming close at the promise of coffee. Again, the thought of him practicing black magic raced through me. Humans could tap into ley lines, though wizards and sorceresses were thought of as little more than a joke in most Inderland circles.

      “The moon is waxing,” I said, “so that will be on my side, and I wouldn’t be making spells to hurt anyone in particular.…” My words trailed off. The silence was uncomfortable.

      Ivy’s relatively mild response was unnerving. “Are you sure, Rachel?” she asked, only the barest hint of warning in her voice.

      “I’ll be fine,” I said as I looked away from her. “I’m not doing this out of malice but to save my life. There’s a difference.” I hope. God save my soul if I’m wrong.

      Jenks’s wings blurred in fitful spurts as he landed on the ladle. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, clearly agitated. “They burned all the black spell books.”

      Nick pulled the coffee carafe out from under the stream of coffee and slipped a mug in its place. “The university library has some,” he said as the hot plate sizzled against what spilled in the bare second it took.

      We all turned to Nick, and he shrugged. “They keep them in the ancient book locker.”

      A wisp of fear tugged at me. I shouldn’t be doing this, I thought. “And you have a key, right?” I said sarcastically, taken aback when he nodded.

      Ivy exhaled in a puff of disbelief. “You have a key,” she scoffed. “You were a rat an hour ago, and you have a key to the university’s library.”

      He suddenly looked far more dangerous as he casually stood in my kitchen with Ivy’s black robe hanging loose on his tall, lean body. “I did my work-study there,” he said.

      “You went to the university?” I asked, pouring myself a cup after Nick.

      He took a sip of coffee, his eyes closed in what looked like bliss. “Full scholarship,” he said. “I majored in data acquisition, organization, and distribution.”

      “You’re a librarian,” I said in relief. That’s how he knew about the black spell books.

      “Used to be. I can get you in and out, no problem. The lady in charge of us work-study peons hid keys to locked rooms near the doors so we wouldn’t keep bothering her.” He took another sip, and his eyes glazed as the caffeine hit him.

      Only now did Ivy look worried, her brown eyes pinched. “Rachel, can I talk to you?”

      “No,” I said softly. I didn’t want to go into that hallway again. It was dark. I was on edge. That my heart was pounding because I was afraid of black magic and not her would mean nothing to her instincts. And going to the library with Nick was a hindsight less dangerous than making a black spell—for which she didn’t seem to have any care. “What do you want?”

      She eyed Nick, then me. “I was only going to suggest you take Nick up to the belfry. We’ve got some clothes up there that might fit him.”

      I pushed myself from the counter, my untasted coffee tight in my grip. Liar, I thought. “Give me a minute to get dressed, Nick, and I’ll take you up. You don’t mind wearing a minister’s hand-me-downs, do you?”

      Nick’s look of startlement eased into question. “No. That would be great.”

      “Fine,” I said, my head pounding. “After you’re dressed, you and I will go out to the library and you can show me all their