Читать книгу The Hollows Series Books 1-4 - Kim Harrison, Ким Харрисон - Страница 25

“I don’t think I’ll ever get my nose clear of the stink in that sack.” Jenks took a dramatic breath of the night air.

“Purse,” I said, hearing the word come out as a bland squeak. It was all I could manage. I had recognized right off what Ivy’s mother’s purse smelled like, and the thought that I had spent a good portion of my day in it gave me the willies.

“You ever smell anything like that?” Jenks continued blithely.

“Jenks, shut up.” Squeak, squeak, chirp. Guessing what a vamp carried when she went hunting wasn’t high on my list. I tried really hard not to think about Table 6.1.

“No-o-o-o,” he drawled. “It was more of a musky, metallic kind of—oh.”

But the night air was pleasant enough. It was edging toward ten, and Trent’s public garden had the lush smell of rising damp. The moon was a thin sliver lost behind the trees. Jenks and I were hidden in the shrubbery behind a stone bench. Ivy was long gone.

She had tucked her purse under the seat this afternoon, pretending to be faint. After blaming her weariness on low blood sugar, half the men on the tour had offered to run up to the pavilion to fetch her a cookie. I had nearly blown our cover laughing at Jenks’s nonstop, overly dramatic parody of what was going on outside her purse. Ivy had left in a swirl of manly concern. I hadn’t known whether to be worried or amused at how easily she had swayed them.

“This feels as wrong as Uncle Vamp at a sweet-sixteen party,” Jenks said as he edged out of the shadows and onto the path. “I haven’t heard a bird all afternoon. No fairies or pixies, either.” He peered up at the black canopy from under his hat.

“Let’s go,” I squeaked as I looked down the abandoned path. Everything was in shades of gray. I still wasn’t used to it.

“I don’t think there are any fairies or pixies,” Jenks continued. “A garden this size could support four clans, easy. Who takes care of the plants?”

“Maybe that way,” I said, needing to talk even though he couldn’t understand me.

“You’ve got that right,” he said, continuing his one-sided conversation. “Lunkers. Thick-fingered clumsy oafs who rip out an ailing plant instead of giving it a dose of potash. Uh, present company excepted, of course,” he added.

“Jenks,” I chittered, “you’re a real piece of work.”

“You’re welcome.”

I didn’t trust Jenks’s belief that there might be no fairies or pixies, and I half expected them to descend upon us at any moment. Having seen the aftermath of a pixy/fairy skirmish, I wasn’t in any hurry to experience it. Especially not when I was the size of a squirrel.

Jenks craned his neck and studied the upper branches as he adjusted his hat. He had told me earlier that it was a flaming red, and that the conspicuous color was a pixy’s only defense when entering another clan’s garden. It was a promise of good intent and quick departure. His constant fussing with it since leaving Ivy’s purse had nearly driven me crazy. Being stuck behind a bench all afternoon had done nothing for my nerves, either. Jenks had spent most of the day sleeping, stirring back to wakefulness when the sun neared the unseen horizon.

A flash of excitement raced through me and was gone. Pushing the feeling away, I chittered for Jenks’s attention and started toward the smell of carpet. The time spent in Ivy’s purse, and then under the bench, had done Jenks a lot of good. Still, though, he was lagging behind. Worried the slight noise of his labored flight might alert someone, I came to a rolling halt, motioning Jenks to get on my back.

“Whatsa matter, Rache,” he said, tugging his hat back down, “got an itch?”

I gritted my teeth. Crouched on my haunches, I pointed to him, then my shoulders.

“No freaking way.” He glanced at the trees. “I won’t be carted about like a baby.”

I don’t have time for this, I thought. I pointed again, this time straight up. It was our agreed sign that he was to go home. Jenks’s eyes narrowed, and I bared my teeth. Surprised, he took a step back.

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled. “But if you tell Ivy, I’m going to pix you every night for a week. Got it?” His light weight hit my shoulders, and he gripped my fur. It was an odd sensation, and I didn’t like it. “Not too fast,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable as well.

Apart from his death grip on my fur, I hardly noticed him. I went as fast as I dared. I didn’t like that there might be unfriendly eyes holding fairy steel watching us, and I immediately struck out off the path. The sooner we were inside, the better. My ears and nose worked nonstop. I could smell everything, and it wasn’t as cool as one might think.

The leaves would shiver at every gust, making me freeze or dart deeper into the foliage. Jenks was singing a bothersome song under his breath. Something about blood and daisies.

I wove my hesitant way through a barrier of loose stone and brambles and slowed. Something was different. “The plants have changed,” Jenks said, and I bobbed my head.

The trees I wove between as I moved downhill were markedly more mature. I could smell mistletoe. Old, well-conditioned earth held firmly established plants. Scent, not visual beauty, seemed more important. The narrow path I found was hard-packed dirt instead of brick. Ferns crowded the trail until only one person could pass. Somewhere, water ran. More wary, we continued until a familiar smell brought me to an alarmed standstill. Earl Grey tea.

From under the shadow of a wood lily, I stood motionless and searched for the smell of people. It was silent but for the night insects. “Over there,” Jenks breathed. “A cup on the bench.” He slipped from me to melt back into the shadows.

I eased forward, whiskers twitching and ears straining. The grove was empty. With a smooth motion, I flowed up onto the bench. There was a swallow of tea left in the cup, its rim decorated with dew. Its silent presence was as telling as the change in plant life. Somehow we had left the public gardens behind. We were in Trent’s backyard.

Jenks perched himself upon the handle, his hands on his hips, scowling. “Nothing,” he complained. “I can’t smell squat off a teacup. I have to get inside.”

I leapt from the bench to make an easy landing. The stink of habitation was stronger to the left, and we followed the dirt path through the ferns. Soon the scent of furniture, carpet, and electronics grew pungent, and it was with no surprise that I found the open-air deck. I looked up, making out the silhouette of a latticework cover. A night-blooming vine trailed over it, its fragrance fighting to be recognized over the stink of people.

“Rachel, wait!” Jenks exclaimed, yanking my ear as I stretched to step onto the moss-covered planks. Something brushed my whiskers, and I drew back, running my paws over them. It was sticky. It caught in my paws, and I accidentally glued my ears flat to my eyes. Panicking, I sat back on my haunches. I was stuck!

“Don’t rub it, Rache,” Jenks said urgently. “Hold still.”

But I couldn’t see. My pulse raced. I tried to shout, but my mouth was glued shut. The smell of ether caught at my throat. Frantic, I lashed out, hearing an irate buzz. I could barely breathe! What the devil was this stuff?

“Turn it all, Morgan,” Jenks all but hissed. “Stop fighting me. I’ll get it off you.”

I yanked my instincts back and sank into a crouch, my breath fast and shallow. One of my paws was stuck to my whiskers and it hurt. It was all I could do not to go rolling in the dirt.

“Okay.” There was a breeze from Jenks’s wings. “I’m going to touch your eye.”

My paws twitched as he pulled the stuff off an eyelid. His fingers were gentle and deft, but from the amount of pain, he was ripping half my eyelid off. Then it was gone and I could see. I squinted through one eye as Jenks rub his palms together, a small ball between them. Pixy dust sifted from him to make him glow. “Better?” he said, glancing at me.

“Heck yeah,” I squeaked. It came out more mangled than usual, seeing as my mouth was still glued shut.

Jenks tossed the ball away. It was that sticky stuff, caked with dust. “Hold still, and I’ll have the rest off you faster than Ivy can pull an aura.” He yanked at my fur, turning the sticky stuff into little balls. “Sorry,” he said as I yelped when he jerked my ear. “I did warn you.”

“What?” I chirped, and for once he seemed to understand.

“About the sticky silk.” Grimacing, he gave a hard yank, pulling a tuft of my hair out. “That’s how I got caught yesterday,” he said angrily. “Trent has sticky silk lacing his lobby ceiling just above human height. It’s expensive stuff. I’m surprised he uses it anywhere else.” Jenks flitted to my other side. “It’s a pixy/fairy deterrent. You can get it off, but it takes time. I bet the entire canopy is netted. That’s why there’s nothing here that flies.”

I twitched my tail to show I understood. I had heard of sticky silk, but the thought that I might run into it never crossed my mind. To anyone larger than a child, it felt like spiderweb.

Finally he was done, and I felt my nose, wondering if it was the same shape. Jenks took off his hat and shoved it under a rock. “Wish I had brought my sword,” he said. Such was the territorial drive between pixies and fairies that if Jenks had trashed the conspicuous hat, I could stake my life that the garden was pixy and fairy free.

The slightly submissive air he had affected all afternoon vanished. From his point of view, the entire garden was probably now his, since there was no one to say different. He stood beside me with his hands on his hips, severely eyeing the deck.

“Watch this,” Jenks said as he shook a cloud of pixy dust from him. His wings blurred to nothing, blowing the glowing dust toward the deck. The faint haze seemed to catch in the air. As if by magic, the pixy dust fixed itself to the silk, outlining a patch of net. Jenks gave me a sideways, satisfied smirk. “Good thing I brought Matalina’s scissors,” he said, pulling from his pocket the wooden-handled pair of sheers. He confidently strode up to the shimmering net and cut a mink-sized hole. “After you.” He gestured grandly, and I flowed up onto the deck.

My heart gave a thump of excitement before settling down to a slow, deliberate pace. It was just another run, I told myself. Emotion was an expense I couldn’t afford. Ignore that my life was involved. My nose twitched, searching for human or Inderlander. Nothing.

“I think it’s a back office,” Jenks said. “See, there’s a desk.”

Office? I thought, feeling my furry eyebrows rise. It was a deck. Or was it? Jenks lurched excitedly about, like a rabid bat. I followed at a more sedate pace. After about fifteen feet the mossy planking turned into a mottled carpet enclosed by three walls. Well-maintained potted plants were everywhere. The small desk against the far wall didn’t look like much work was done there. There was a long couch and chairs arranged beside a wet bar, making the room a very comfortable place to relax or do a bit of light work. The room was a slice of outdoors, a feeling heightened by opening onto the shaded deck and in turn the garden.

“Hey!” Jenks said in excitement. “Look what I found.”

I turned from the orchids I had been jealously eyeing to see Jenks hovering over a bank of electronic equipment. “It was hidden in the wall,” Jenks explained. “Watch this.” He flew feet first into a button set into the wall. The player and its accompanying discs slid back into hiding. Delighted, Jenks hit it again, and the equipment reappeared. “Wonder what that button does,” he said, and distracted by the promise of new toys, he darted across the room.

Trent, I decided, had more music discs than a sorority house: pop, classical, jazz, new age, even some head-banger stuff. No disco, though, and my respect for him went up a notch.

I longingly ran a paw over a copy of Takata’s Sea. The disc sank out of sight and into the player, and I jerked back. Alarmed, I jumped up to hit the button with a scrabbling of nails to send everything back into the wall.

“There’s nothing here, Rache. Let’s go.” Jenks looked pointedly at the door and alighted on the handle. But it wasn’t until I jumped up to add my weight that it clicked open. I fell to the floor in an awkward thump. Jenks and I listened at the crack for a breathless moment.

Pulse racing, I nosed the door open enough for Jenks to slip out. In a moment he buzzed back. “It’s a hallway,” he said. “Come on out. I’ve already fixed the cameras.”

He disappeared around the door again, and I followed, needing all my weight to pull the door shut. The click of the lock was loud, and I cowered, praying it went unheard. I could hear running water and the rustling of night creatures being piped in from unseen speakers. Immediately I recognized the hallway as the one I had been in yesterday. The sounds had probably been there before, but so soft they were subliminal to anything but a rodent’s hearing. My head bobbed in understanding. Jenks and I had found Trent’s back office where he entertained his “special” guests.

“Which way?” Jenks whispered, hovering beside me. Either his wing was fully functional or he didn’t want to risk being spotted riding a mink. I confidently started up the corridor. At every juncture I took the path less appealing and more sterile. Jenks played vanguard, setting every camera for a fifteen-minute loop so we were unseen. Fortunately, Trent went by a human clock—at least publicly—and the building was deserted. Or so I thought.

“Crap,” Jenks whispered the same instant I froze. Voices were coming from up the hall. My pulse raced. “Go!” Jenks said urgently. “No! To the right. That chair and the potted plant.”

I loped forward. The smell of citrus and terracotta blossomed, and I tucked behind the earthen pot as soft footsteps moved along the floor. Jenks flitted up to hide in the plant’s branches.

“As much as that?” Trent’s voice came sharp to my sensitive ears as he and another turned the corner. “Find out what Hodgkin is doing to get such an increase in productivity. If it’s something you think can be applied to other sites, I want a report.”

I held my breath as Trent and Jonathan walked past.

“Yes, Sa’han.” Jonathan scribbled on an electronic notepad. “I’ve finished screening the potential applicants for your new secretary. It would be relativity simple to clear your calendar tomorrow morning. How many would you like to see?”

“Oh, limit it to the three you think are best suited and one you don’t. Anyone I know?”

“No. I had to go out of state this time.”

“Wasn’t today your day off, Jon?”

There was a pause. “I opted to work, seeing as you lacked your usual secretary.”

“Ah,” Trent said with a comfortable laugh as they turned a corner. “So there’s the reason for your zeal in finishing the interviews.”

Jonathan’s soft denial was the merest hint as they walked out of sight.

“Jenks,” I squeaked. There was no response. “Jenks!” I squeaked again, wondering if he had gone and done something stupid like following them.

“I’m still here,” he grumbled, and I felt a wash of relief. The tree shuddered as he shimmied down the trunk. He sat on the edge of the pot and dangled his feet. “I got a good sniff of him,” he said, and I sank back on my haunches in expectation.

“I don’t know what he is.” Jenks’s wings shifted to a dismal shade of blue as his circulation slowed and his mood dulled. “He smells meadowy, but not like a witch. There’s no hint of iron, so he’s not a vamp.” Jenks’s eyes crinkled in confusion. “I could smell his body rhythms slowing down, which means he sleeps at night. That rules out Weres or any other nocturnal Inderlander. Turn it all, Rache. He doesn’t smell like anything I recognize. And you know what’s more odd? That guy with him? He smells just like Trent. It’s got to be a spell.”

My whiskers twitched. Odd wasn’t the word. “Squeak,” I said, meaning, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He rose on slow dragonfly wings, slipping out to the middle of the hallway. “We should finish the run and get out of here.”

A jolt shook me. Out of here, I thought as I left the security of the citrus tree. I was willing to bet we couldn’t get out the way we came in. But I’d worry about that after I burgled Trent’s office. We had already done the impossible. Getting out would be a snap.

“This way,” I chittered, turning down a familiar hallway just before the lobby. I could smell the salt from the fish tank in Trent’s office. The frosted glass doors we passed were black and empty. No one was working late. Trent’s wooden door was predictably shut.

Swift and silent, Jenks went to work. The lock was electronic, and after a few moments of tinkering behind the panel bolted to the doorframe, the lock clicked and the door cracked open. “Standard stuff,” Jenks said. “Jax could have done it.”

The soft gurgling of the desk fountain drifted into the hall. Jenks pushed his way in first, taking care of the camera before I followed him in.

“No, wait,” I squeaked as he angled feet first at the light switch. The room was bathed in a painful glare. “Hey!” I squeaked, hiding my face behind my paws.

“Sorry.” The light went out.

“Turn on the light over the fish tank,” I chittered, trying to see with my light-shocked eyes. “The fish tank,” I repeated uselessly, sitting back on my haunches and pointing.

“Rache. Don’t be stupid. You don’t have time to eat.” Then he hesitated, dropping an inch. “Oh! The light. Hee hee. Good idea.”

The light flickered on, illuminating Trent’s office in a soft green glow. I scrambled onto his swivel chair and then the desk, awkwardly flipping his datebook back a few months and tearing out a page. My pulse raced as I sent it to the floor, following it down.

Whiskers twitching, I pried open the desk drawer and found the discs. I wouldn’t have put it past Trent to move everything. Maybe, I thought with a stab of pride, he didn’t think I was that much of a threat. Taking the disc marked ALZHEIMERS, I eased back to the carpet and threw my weight against the drawer to shut it. His desk was made of a scrumptious cherry wood, and I dismally thought of the coming embarrassment of my pressboard furniture among Ivy’s.

Sitting back on my haunches, I gestured to Jenks for the string. Jenks had already folded the paper into a wad he could manage, and as soon as I had the disc tied to me, we’d be gone.

“String, right?” Jenks dug in a pocket.

The overhead light exploded into existence, and I froze, cowering. Breath held tight, I crouched to look under the desk toward the door. There were two pairs of shoes—a soft slipper and an uncomfortable leather—framed in the light spilling into the hall.

“Trent,” Jinks mouthed as he landed next to me with the folded paper.

Jonathan’s voice was angry. “They’re gone, Sa’han. I’ll alert the grounds.”

There was a tight sigh. “Go. I’ll see what they took.”

My pulse pounded, and I scrunched under the desk. The leather shoes turned and went into the hall. My adrenaline rushed as I considered darting out, but I couldn’t run with the disc in my front paws. And I wasn’t going to leave it behind.

The door to Trent’s office closed, and I cursed my hesitation. I edged to the back panel of the desk. Jenks and I exchanged glances. I gave him the sign to go home, and he nodded emphatically. We scrunched down as Trent came around and stood before his fish tank.

“Hello, Sophocles,” Trent breathed. “Who was it? If you could only tell me.”

He had lost his business jacket, making him look vastly more informal. I wasn’t surprised at the firm definition in his shoulders as they bunched under his lightweight shirt at his slightest movement. Sighing, he sat in his chair. His hand went to the drawer with the discs, and I felt myself go weak. I swallowed hard as I realized he was humming the first track to Takata’s Sea. Double damn. I had given myself away.

“‘Is it no wonder the newborn cry?’” Trent said, whispering the lyrics. “‘The choice was real. The chance is a lie.’”

He went still, his fingers on the discs. Slowly he pushed the drawer shut with a foot. Its small click made me jump. He tucked closer under the desk, and I heard the sound of the datebook scraping across the desktop. He was so close, I could smell the outside on him. “Oh,” he said with a soft surprise. “Imagine that.

“Quen!” he said loudly.

I stared at Jenks in confusion until a masculine voice came echoing into the room from a hidden speaker. “Sa’han?”

“Loose the hounds,” Trent said. His voice reverberated with power, and I shivered.

“But it isn’t the full of the—”

“Loose the hounds, Quen,” Trent repeated, his voice no louder but carrying a deep anger. Under the desk, his foot began to shift rhythmically.

“Yes, Sa’han.”

Trent’s foot stilled. “Wait.” I heard him take a deep breath, as if tasting the air.

“Sir?” came the hidden voice.

Trent sniffed again. He slowly rolled his chair away from the desk. My heart pounded, and I held my breath. Jenks flitted up to hide behind the back of a drawer. I froze as Trent stood, backed from his desk, and crouched down. I had nowhere to go. Trent’s eyes met mine, and he smiled. Fear paralyzed me. “Belay that,” he said softly.

“Yes, Sa’han.” The speaker went dead with a soft pop.

I stared at Trent, feeling as if I was going to burst.

“Ms. Morgan?” Trent said, inclining his head cordially, and I shivered. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure.” Still he smiled, inching forward. I bared my teeth and chittered. His hand drew back and he frowned. “Come out of there. You have something that belongs to me.”

I felt the presence of the disc beside me. Being caught, I went from successful thief to village idiot in a heartbeat. How could I have thought I could get away with it? Ivy was right.

“Come along, Ms. Morgan,” he said, reaching under the desk.

I sprang into the empty spaces behind the drawers, trying to escape. Trent reached up after me. I squeaked as a tight grip fastened on my tail. My nails grated as he pulled. Terrified, I twisted, sinking my teeth into the fatty part of his hand.

“You canicula!” he shouted, pulling me out in a helpless scrabbling. The world spun as he rose to his feet. Violently shaking his hand, he smacked me into the desk. Stars exploded into existence, seeming to go with the dusky cinnamon taste of his blood. The pain in my head loosened my jaws, and I spun from my tail as he held me.

“Let her go!” I heard Jenks cry.

The world gyrated in quick swings. “You brought your bug,” Trent said calmly, slamming the flat of his hand against a panel on his desk. A faint smell of ether tickled my nose.

“Get out, Jenks!” I squeaked, recognizing the smell of sticky web.

Jonathan flung open the door. He stood in the threshold, his eyes wide. “Sa’han!”

“Shut the door!” Trent shouted.

I twisted frantically to escape. Jenks darted out just as my teeth closed upon Trent’s thumb again. “Damn you, witch!” Trent shouted, swinging me into the wall. Stars exploded anew, dying to black embers. The embers grew, and I watched, numb, as they slowly overtook my sight until there was nothing else. I was warm, and I couldn’t move.

I was dying.

I had to be.