The Witch with No Name by Kim Harrison

Author:Kim Harrison [Harrison, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Supernaturals, UF
ISBN: 9780062356017
Published: 2014-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

The thumps of car doors closing pulled my attention to Cormel. “Ivy . . . ,” I whispered, and Trent tersely shook his head. His brow was pinched in thought, as calm and collected as ever. I wished I had his trust in vampiric deals and agreements.

“If he wanted Ivy, he’d have her already,” Trent said as he tucked his phone away. “My guess is he wants to talk to us about the surface demons.”

Jenks had said he’d warned us off them, but we hadn’t done anything. Yet. And I sent Jenks to assess the situation since Cormel seemed to be content to chat with his thugs while his people checked out the back. Paranoid much?

FIB officers watched a safe two blocks down since getting a coffee wasn’t illegal. I didn’t expect them to help. Didn’t want them to. They’d only get themselves killed. What had I been thinking telling Edden to make a stand?

“Ivy had better be okay,” I muttered as Mark sighed from behind the counter and Cormel entered the shop, his motions graceful with the ease and inevitableness of death. The man had run the country during the Turn, and his confidence was absolute. Handing his felt hat to the man coming in behind him, he stood just inside and breathed in the air, nose wrinkling as he scented demons under the rich coffee and tang of spent magic.

“Demons,” the man said, his Bronx accent obvious. “Have you gotten rid of them, then?”

“No. Why?” I said, and Cormel nodded to Trent as he shrugged out of his coat and carefully set it on the chair by the door.

“You’re a hard man to find lately, Kalamack.”

“Cormel,” Trent said in greeting, the thinnest trace of magic flowing through him making my skin tingle.

Blinking, I turned to Trent when Jenks whistled appreciatively. Not only was Trent’s hair slicked back and clean, but he was clean shaven. “H-how . . . ,” I stammered, then, “When did you learn that?”

A hint of red about his ears, Trent adjusted his collar. “It came with the, ah, circumcision curse. Kind of an all-encompassing trim-and-neat . . . spell.”

Do tell . . . I gave him an askance, approving look. Cormel was eight feet away, and all I wanted to do was run my hand over Trent’s smooth face. My eyes lost their focus, and when Cormel cleared his throat, I flushed.

“If Ivy is not okay, I’m going to slice your chest open with a plastic spork and rip your wrinkly heart out.”

“Charming . . . ,” Cormel drawled, and my eyes narrowed as he shifted one foot to stand directly on a painted line, in effect preventing Trent or me from circling him with the patterns in the floor. “I’m glad the rumors of your demise were premature.”

Premature? I thought dryly. Was that a threat?

Making a show of breathing in my rising anger, Cormel smiled. “Get me a small black coffee,” he said to the tidy man with him. “No cream. And whatever anyone else wants?” he asked pleasantly.

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