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The Witch With No Name
Kim Harrison
It’s Rachel Morgan’s ultimate adventure . . . and anything can happen in this final book by New York Times bestselling author Kim Harrison.Rachel Morgan has come a long way since her early days as an inexperienced bounty hunter. She’s faced vampires and werewolves, banshees, witches, and soul-eating demons. She’s crossed worlds, channelled gods, and accepted her place as a day-walking demon. She’s lost friends and lovers and family, and an old enemy has unexpectedly become something much more.But power demands responsibility, and world-changers must always pay a price. Rachel knew that this day would come – and now it is here.To save Ivy’s soul and the rest of the living vampires, to keep the demonic ever-after and our own world from destruction, Rachel Morgan will risk everything . . .
Copyright (#ulink_10a90c20-4716-553a-9843-81df9bb2ad19)
HarperVoyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2014
Copyright © Kim Harrison 2014
Cover Layout Design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2014
Cover Illustration © Larry Rostant.
Kim Harrison asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007555345
Ebook Edition © September 2014 ISBN: 9780007555352
Version: 2014-08-12
Dedication (#ulink_cd1f721e-fb0a-53ce-9af1-f5acd98149f1)
To Tim, the “guy in the leather jacket”
Contents
Cover (#u98798e7d-13d4-5ed8-b59f-a309eccd07cb)
Title Page (#uba75e6ef-1ffd-5550-9e55-9d3ad2a8f407)
Copyright (#uffbc9717-3d52-5017-b82f-6fff1fc355b5)
Dedication (#u66850507-df5d-5fdc-8fa3-f6770fc329fd)
Chapter One (#u0b76c184-65b9-53a9-93c0-e71839b131a5)
Chapter Two (#u9d8c258f-4b5e-5e21-af5e-bbb98eb1828e)
Chapter Three (#ua50e0d47-f618-5055-be66-83c29e3b9864)
Chapter Four (#ua385e288-c298-5271-ba41-d4195400cf44)
Chapter Five (#u1970b34c-a77e-580d-b66a-421f62ed626a)
Chapter Six (#u439c174e-97a3-5f80-85a5-c265df6f2d87)
Chapter Seven (#u111df08e-4ca6-5c25-b002-3c0c3f6b14f1)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Kim Harrison (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#ulink_6476d8e7-46e5-5e3b-8ae1-ac7aaaec3337)
Neck craned, I squinted up between the shadowed apartments. High in the sun, dragonflylike wings threw back the glow with the transparent sheen of glittery tissue paper. The sporadic traffic at the end of the alley was enough to cover the sound of Jenks’s wings, but I could hear them in my memory as the pixy hovered before a pollution-grimed window.
The moist-dirt smell of damp pavement was a hint under the light but growing scent of frightened vampire coming from near my elbow. I doubted Marsha was having second thoughts, but disobeying your master vampire could have lethal consequences.
Still watching Jenks, I surreptitiously edged away from Marsha’s tense, middle-class office professionalism. Her heels were this year’s style, but she wouldn’t be able to run in them. Her hair was a luscious handful that spilled over her shoulders in an ebony wave—again, it made her an easy target in a close fight. A curvaceous figure sealed the deal that she was beautiful. But as a living vampire, her looks had been selected for over the last two generations, and not for Luke’s benefit, the man she’d unfortunately fallen in love with. But she knew she was vulnerable. That’s why Ivy, Jenks, and I were here.
My neck was getting a crick, and I dropped my gaze to the passing cars, confident that distance and recycling bins would hide us from casual sight. A tight hum jerked my attention back in time to see Jenks dart from a winged shadow. A blue jay squawked, and the tips of five feathers spiraled down between the buildings. Flapping wildly, the sheared bird managed to get across the street before thumping to the sidewalk.
Having already dismissed the bird, Jenks cupped his hands around his face and peered through the window. His skintight, thief-black tights and knit shirt helped him blend into the shadows, and the red cap was to tell rival pixies that he wasn’t there poaching, a real issue this close to Eden Park. So far, no one had bothered him, but birds were a constant threat.
“I shouldn’t have to do this,” the woman at my elbow complained, oblivious that a third of the team here to keep her alive had just had a narrow miss. “It’s my apartment!”
I took a slow breath when Jenks lifted the flap to the bathroom vent and vanished inside. “You want to risk running into Luke?” I said, and she made a sound of frustration. Yes, she did, but to do so would mean her death.
A lingering sensation that something was off dogged me, despite—or perhaps because of—the ease of the run so far. Restless, I resettled my shoulder bag. I wasn’t a slouch when it came to looks, but next to this woman’s structured beauty, my frizzy red hair and low-heel boots fell flat.
Ivy’s confident steps against the hush of the side-street traffic tightened my gut. The vampire next to me stiffened at my increased pulse, and I gave Marsha a look to pull herself together. “Stay here,” I said, not liking that Jenks was still inside. “Jenks will tell you when you can come in.” Hiking my shoulder bag higher, I headed for the sidewalk.
“The hell I will,” Marsha said, then stepped as if to follow.
Spinning, I shoved her shoulder, sending her thumping back against the wall. Shocked, the woman stared, not a hint of anger thanks to a lifetime of conditioning. “The hell you will,” I said. “Stay here until Jenks says you can move, or we turn around and walk. Right here. Right now.”
Only now did her anger show, her pupils widening and the scent of angry vampire prickling my nose. Wanting to nip this show of dominance, I stretched my awareness out and tapped the nearest ley line. Energy flowed in, making the tips of my hair float as it spooled in my chi. My skin tingled, and I leaned into her space, proving I wasn’t scared of her little fangs or her greater strength. “You’re under a conditional death threat, sweetheart,” I breathed. “Once I verify that Luke isn’t in there, you can come get what you want. But if all you’re looking for is a way to die that doesn’t invalidate your life insurance, do it on your own time.”
Sullen, Marsha dropped her eyes, the rim of blue around her pupils returning to normal.
I rocked back, thumbs in my pockets, satisfied that she’d wait. It was unusual for a vampire to listen to anyone outside her camarilla, but she had come to us. Nodding, I looked up and made a sharp whistle. Immediately, Jenks peeked out of the bathroom vent and gave me a thumbs-up. “Park it,” I muttered, and the woman shrank against the Dumpster and out of sight.
Appeased, I started for the front entrance. The run had sounded simple enough when Ivy had brought it up over grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup last night. Helping a woman get her things out of her apartment was a no-brainer—until she told me the separation was being forced by two rival vampire camarillas and if Luke and Marsha didn’t comply someone was going to end up dead. No way was Ivy going to do this one alone.
This was doing nothing to bolster my already low opinion of the undead vampires, the masters who manipulated everyone and everything in their decades-long games. Once they noticed you, the only way to avoid being a victim was to die and become a player yourself.
But not Ivy, I thought as I emerged from the alley and she angled toward me. I wouldn’t let that happen to her. Unfortunately, the harder you squirmed, the more they squeezed.
Ivy’s pace hid a thread of tension I never would’ve noticed if I hadn’t been sharing living space with her for the past three years. Sleek in her black slacks and top, she strode forward with her arms free and swinging. Her long black hair was up in a hard-to-grab bun, and even from here I could see the rims of brown around her eyes were nice and steady. She jumped at the distant sound of a door closing two streets over, though. She’d noticed something was off, too.
Her shoulders eased as she fell in beside me, and we took the steps up to the front common door together. “Luke’s car is still in the lot,” she said as I pulled the door open and we walked into the foyer of the old apartment building as if we belonged. “By the smell of it, it’s not been run for two days.”
“So he’s doing what he’s been told and is still alive.” I glanced up at the camera. Jenks had been through the common areas, and according to him, they were fake. The scuffed tile floor was dirty in the corners, and I leaned against the stairway as Ivy leafed through Marsha’s mail, pulling out everything she might want before putting the rest back in.
“They won’t let one of them die without killing the other,” Ivy said as she made keep and toss piles. “Otherwise the dead will claim the living as his or her scion.”
Which wouldn’t do at all, I thought, looking up the dimly lit stairwell. It reminded me a little of my first place. “I don’t like this.”
A rare smile came over Ivy, and the letter box snapped shut with a click. “You worry too much. These two aren’t that important.”
My eyebrows rose. Despite my comments, Marsha was gorgeous. It would be hard for a master to let that much beauty go. “Worry? I only worry about you. I don’t like this run.”
Ivy handed me Marsha’s mail, and I tucked it in my bag. “You just don’t like the undead,” she said, and I pulled my splat gun out and checked the hopper.
“Golly, I can’t imagine why.”
Making a soft sound of agreement, Ivy started up the stairs. I knew she wasn’t interested in the mail, but it had given us a chance to stand at the foot of the stairs while she breathed the air and decided if anyone was waiting for us on the way up—Jenks’s assurance or not. “Relax,” she said as I fell into place behind her. “They agreed to not see each other. We go in, get her stuff, get out. End of story.”
“Then why did you ask me to come with you?” I said, rounding the first landing.
Not looking back, she whispered, “Because I don’t trust them.”
Me either. The door downstairs clicked open, and I spun. My hold on the ley line zinged through me, but it was just Jenks and Marsha. I put a finger to my lips, and she closed the door behind her to seal out the shush of cars. Even three stories up, I could see a new, healthy fear in her. Maybe Jenks had talked to her.
The pixy’s wings softly hummed as he rose straight up in less than a second. “We’re clear,” he said, the silver dust slipping from him making a temporary sunbeam on my shoulder.
Clear, sure, but he couldn’t detect charms unless they were active. “Keep her in the hall till I say,” I asked. “And let me know if anyone pulls up.”
Jenks nodded, dropping down to where Marsha was trying to creep up the stairs without her heels clicking. Ivy was waiting for me at the end of the hall, and I closed the gap quickly, eyeing the new detector charms on my bracelet. It had been a pain in the ass to make them that small, but if they were on my bracelet, I could watch them and point my gun at the same time. The wooden apple detected lethal spells, and the copper clover would glow in the presence of a strong charm. The two were not always synonymous.
Ivy was starting to smell really good, a mix of vampire incense and leather. I tried to ignore it as I gripped my splat gun tighter, amulets clinking. Marsha’s front door had a corkboard for leaving notes, decorated with flowers and a smiley face with fangs. I could hear the woman’s heels scrape on the stairwell, and I grimaced. It was noon, a time when most day walkers would be at work and the night walkers safely underground—but there were ways around that.
The amulets were a nice steady green and I nodded, splat gun level as I crouched opposite the door’s hinges. Ivy worked the key and pushed it open to stand in the opening. Jenks flew in, confident that his first look was sufficient, but I listened as Ivy tasted the air, running it through her incredibly complex brain. “Hi, honey. I’m home,” she said, and I followed her in.
I had to walk right through Ivy’s scent, and even with my breath held, I shivered at the touch of pheromones she was kicking out—wafting over my skin like the memory of black silk. Though still sharing our investigation firm’s letterhead, she’d been pulling away from me the last six months or so. I had a good idea why, and though I was happy for her, I missed working with her on a more daily basis.
My old vampire bite tingled at the obvious aroma of amorous vampires that permeated the one-bedroom, open-floor-plan apartment. Or maybe I just miss the intoxicating mix of sexual thrill and heart-pounding adrenaline she pumped into the air when she got tense. Frowning at my own shallowness, I looked over the small, plush, well-decorated sunlit apartment and the evidence of their love. I knew what it was like having people tell you who not to fall in love with, and my thoughts pinged on Trent before spinning away.
“Stay there,” I said to Marsha, now at the door. My amulets were still green, but I was only five feet into the place. “There could be person-specific spells.”
Person-specific spells: a nice way of saying a bullet with your name on it—and Jenks couldn’t detect them. They were a necessity when making lethal, illegal charms. Vampire politics would keep the hit quiet, but if the spell took out an innocent, they’d track down and jail the black witch who’d made the lethal charm.
