The Hollows Series Books 1-4. Kim Harrison

vat and pulled out a metal one. “Until I get my ceramic spoons back, it’s metal for cooking and wooden for spells. Rinse the macaroni well. It ought to be okay.”

      Nick’s eyebrows rose. “I would think you would use metal spoons for spells and wooden for cooking since spells don’t stick to metal.”

      I made my slow way to the fridge, feeling my heart pound from even this little exertion. “And why do you suppose spells don’t stick to metal? Unless it’s copper, metal screws everything up. I’ll do the spell crafting if you don’t mind; you do dinner.”

      Much to my surprise, Nick didn’t get all huffy and testosterone laden but only gave me that lopsided smile of his.

      A jolt of pain broke through the amulets as I tugged the fridge open. “I can’t believe how hungry I am,” I said as I looked for something that wasn’t wrapped in paper or plastic foam. “I think Ivy may have slipped me something.”

      There was a whoosh of water as Nick dumped the macaroni to drain. “Little cake thing?”

      I pulled my head out and blinked at him. Had Ivy given him one, too? “Yes.”

      “I saw it.” His eyes were fixed on the tomato, steam billowing around him as he rinsed the macaroni. “When I was doing my master’s thesis, I had access to the rare-book vault.” His brow pinched. “It’s right next to the ancient-book locker. Anyway, the architectural designs of preindustrial cathedrals are boring, and one night I found a diary of a seventeenth-century British priest. He had been tried and convicted of murdering three of his prettiest parishioners.”

      Nick dumped the pasta back in the bowl and opened a jar of alfredo. “He made reference to such a thing. Said it made the vampire’s orgies of blood and lust possible on a nightly basis. From a scientific point of view, you should consider yourself lucky. I imagine it’s only rarely offered to someone not under their sway and compelled to keep their mouth shut about it.”

      I frowned in unease. What the devil had Ivy given me?

      His eyes still on the tomato, Nick dumped the sauce over the pasta. A rich smell filled the kitchen, and my stomach growled. He stirred it in, and I watched Nick watch the tomato. He was starting to look rather sick. Exasperated with humanity’s groundless revulsion of tomatoes, I closed the fridge and hobbled to the window. “How did this get in here?” I muttered, pushing it through the pixy hole and into the night. It hit with a soft thud.

      “Thanks,” he said, taking a relieved breath.

      I returned to my chair with a heavy sigh. One would think Ivy and I had a decaying sheep’s head on our counter. But it was nice to know he had at least one human hang-up.

      Nick puttered about, adding mushrooms, Worcestershire sauce, and pepperoni to the concoction. I smiled as I realized it was the last of my pizza fixings. It smelled wonderful, and as he plucked the ladle from the island rack, I asked, “Enough for two?”

      “It’s enough for a dorm room.” Nick slid a bowl before me and sat down, curling his arm protectively about his bowl. “Student food,” he said around a full mouth. “Try it.”

      I glanced at the clock above the sink as I dipped my spoon. Ivy and Jenks were probably at the FIB right now, trying to convince the front guy they weren’t loons, and here I was, eating macaroni alfredo with a human. It didn’t look right. The food, I mean. It would have been better in a tomato sauce. Dubious, I took a taste. “Hey,” I said, pleased. “This is good.”

      “Told you.”

      For a few moments there was only the scraping of spoons and the sound of the crickets in the garden. Nick’s pace slowed, and he glanced at the clock over the sink. “Hey, uh, I’ve got a big favor to ask,” he said hesitantly.

      I swallowed as I looked up, knowing what was coming. “You can crash here for the night if you want,” I said. “Though there are no guarantees you’ll wake up with all your fluids intact or even at all. The I.S. is still spelling for me. Right now it’s just those tenacious fairies, but as soon as the word gets out that I’m still alive, we might be up to our armpits in assassins. You’d be safer on a park bench,” I finished wryly.

      His smile was relieved. “Thanks, but I’ll risk it. I’ll get out of your hair tomorrow. See if my landlord has anything left that’s mine. Go visit my mom.” His long face puckered, looking as worried as when he thought I was bleeding to death. “I’ll tell her I lost everything in a fire. This is going to be a rough one.”

      I felt a stab of sympathy. I knew what it was like to find yourself on the street with only a box left of your life. “Sure you don’t want to stay with her tonight?” I asked. “It’d be safer.”

      He went back to eating. “I can take care of myself.”

      I bet you can, I thought, my mind going back to that demon book he took from the library. It wasn’t in my bag anymore, a tiny smear of blood the only thing to say it had ever been there. I wanted to come right out and ask if he worked black magic. But he might say yes, and then I’d have to decide what I was going to do about it. I didn’t want to do that right yet. I liked Nick’s easy confidence, and the novelty of seeing that in a human was decidedly … intriguing.

      A part of me knew and despised that the attraction probably stemmed from my “hero rescuing the damsel in distress syndrome,” but I needed something safe and secure in my life right now, and a magic-working human who could keep demons from tearing my throat out fit the bill nicely. Especially when he looked as harmless as he did.

      “Besides,” Nick said, ruining it, “Jenks will pix me if I leave before he gets back.”

      My breath slipped from me in bother. He was a babysitter. How nice.

      The sound of the phone ringing echoed through the walls. I looked up at Nick and didn’t move. I was sore, darn it.

      He gave me that half smile of his and stood. “I’ll get it.” I took another bite as I watched his vanishing backside, thinking I might offer to go shopping with him when he bought himself some new clothes. Those jeans he had on were way too loose.

      “Hello,” Nick said, his voice dropping and taking on a surprisingly professional tone. “You’ve reached Morgan, Tamwood, and Jenks. Vampiric Charms Runner Service.”

      Vampiric Charms Runner Service? I thought. A little of Ivy, a little of me. It was as good as anything else, I suppose. I blew on a spoonful, thinking his cooking wasn’t bad, either.

      “Jenks?” Nick said, and I hesitated, looking up as Nick appeared in the hallway with the phone. “She’s eating. You’re at the airport already?”

      There was a long pause, and I sighed. The FIB was more open-minded and eager for Trent than I had anticipated.

      “The FIB?” Nick’s tone had shifted to concern, and I stiffened as he added, “She did what? Is anyone dead?”

      My eyes closed in a long blink and I set my spoon aside. Nick’s concoction went sour in my stomach, and I swallowed hard.

      “Um, sure,” Nick said, the skin around his expressive eyes crinkling as he met my gaze. “Give us a half hour.” The beep of the phone as he turned it off was loud. He turned to me and blew out his breath. “We have a problem.”

       Twenty-Nine

      I fell against the side of the cab as it made a tight turn. Pain broke past my amulets, and I clutched one-handed at my bag in misery. The driver was human, and he had made it painfully clear he didn’t like driving out to the Hollows after dark. His constant muttering hadn’t abated until he crossed the Ohio River and was back where “decent people kept themselves.” In his eyes, my and Nick’s only saving grace was that he had picked us up at a church and that we were going to the FIB, “A fine and decent establishment upholding the right side of the law.”

      “Okay,”