06. The Outlaw Demon Wails by Kim Harrison

06. The Outlaw Demon Wails by Kim Harrison

Author:Kim Harrison [Harrison, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-01-10T08:51:58+00:00


Seventeen

Jenks clutched at my ear as David’s car cut a sharp right. The small pixy wasn’t feeling well, seeing as it was noon and he was missing his afternoon nap. I had told him he could stay home and spit seeds at the creepy statue in the garden with Bis, but he swore so prettily at me that I had invited him along on David’s and my run. And I say David’s and my run because we both had a vested interest. Now that David had started a real pack, he’d be up for a raise if he could show a significant savings to his company. I just wanted to smack some sense into whoever was summoning Al and freeing him to kill me. Please don’t let it be Nick, I thought, brow furrowed. The woman who owned the house was a witch, but that didn’t mean Nick couldn’t be wrapped up with her.

The day was sunny, and I had my shades on. The cool breeze coming in the open window felt good in my hair, which was loose and flowing. The skies promised to be clear, and with the moon just past full, it was shaping up to be an excellent Halloween night. If this was the group that was summoning Al and I could suitably impress upon them the error of their ways, I might risk going out. Marshal hadn’t called, but I hadn’t expected him to. I think he was backing off after our very quiet car ride back to his truck. Trent had put me in an exquisitely bad mood. Exhaling heavily, I made a face no one could see. Whatever.

At least Ceri and I aren’t still at odds, I thought, smiling faintly. It felt good to settle that so fast, and I was glad I’d taken the initiative. It wasn’t that she’d taught me a new charm that made me feel good, it was knowing that I hadn’t lost a friendship. The only thing bothering me now was not knowing what was going on with Quen. I hoped he was all right and that Trent was being a drama queen.

David glanced across the short width of his gray sports car as he slowed at a crossing. The sun glinted on his long black hair, which was pulled back in a casual clip, making him look good. “You should wear a business suit more often,” he said, his low voice mixing with the sound of fighting sparrows. We were out in the suburbs, and traffic was light. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.” I tugged the blah-brown skirt down over my knees. I had on nylons, and they felt icky. My flat-black, no-heel shoes didn’t do anything for me either. And the purse that went with this outfit was so not me. At least my splat gun fit in it. David had insisted I look the part if I was coming with him. If he had made me dye my hair and put on brown

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