The Undead Pool
The Hollows - 12
by
Kim Harrison
Dedication
To the man who knows what makes the perfect date night
Acknowledgments
Id like to thank my editor, Diana Gill, for her fabulous insights that make the Hollows the most it can be, and my agent, Richard Curtis, for seeing it before I did.
One
How does the man make checkered shirts and pastels look good? I thought as Trent lined up his drive, head down and feet shifting, looking oddly appealing outside of the suit and tie I usually saw him in. The rest of his team and their caddies were watching him as well, but I doubted they were rating the way his shoulders pulled the soft fabric, or how the sun shone through his almost translucent blond hair drifting about his ears, or how the shadows made his slim waist look even trimmer, unhidden beneath a suit coat for a change. I found myself holding my breath as he coiled up, exhaling as he untwisted and the flat of the club hit the ball with a ping.
Yeah, the elf looks good in the sun, Jenks smart-mouthed, the pixy currently sitting on the bottom of my hooped earrings and out of the moderate wind. When you going to put us all out of your misery and boink him?
Dont start with me. With a hand held up to shade my eyes, I watched the ball begin to descend.
All Im saying is youve been dating him for three months. Most guys you date are either dead or running scared by now.
The ball hit with an audible thump, rolling onto the par-three green. Something in me fluttered at Trents pleased smile as he squinted in the sun. Damn it, Im not doing this. Im not dating him, Im working his security, I muttered.
This is work? Wings humming, the pixy darted off my earring, flying ahead to do a redundant check of the area before we walked into it.
Jenkss silver dust quickly vanished in the July heat, and I felt a moment of angst as Trent accepted the congratulations of his team. He looked relaxed and easy out here, the calm he usually affected true instead of fabricated. I liked seeing him this way, and feeling guilty, I dropped my gaze. I had no business even caring.
As one, the rest started to the green with a clinking of clubs and masculine chatter, undoubtedly feeling pushed by the next team waiting just off the tee. The big guy in the lime-green pants had been talking loudly the entire time, trying to throw Trents game off, no doubt, but Trent had outplotted corporate takeovers, evaded genetic trafficking charges, slipped murder accusations, and survived demon attacks. One overweight man huffing and puffing for him to move faster would not break his cool.
Sure enough, Trent needlessly fussed over the divot as the rest went on ahead, refusing to relinquish the tee area until he was ready. Smirking, I hoisted his bag, the three other clubs he used clinking lightly as I came to take his driver. I wasnt a caddie, but it was the only way theyd let me on the course and there was no way that Trent would ever be in public without some kind of security.
Even if he could take care of himself, I thought, smiling as I took his club and our separate paces became one. My God, its nice out here.
Subtle, I said as we found the manicured grass, and he snorted to make me flush, not because Id seen through him, but because I was one of the few people Trent would drop his mask around. It shouldnt have been that important. But it was. What am I doing?
Watch the guy in the green pants, he said, looking over his shoulder. He has a tendency to drop his ball into the players ahead of him.
Sure. Head down, I paced beside Trent, his clubs banging into my back, feeling as if I belonged there almost. Id been working with him the last three months while Quen, Trents usual security adviser, was on the West Coast with the girls. This new feeling of . . . responsibility, I guess, bothered me. Jenkss words, though crass, had been echoing in my thoughts in quiet moments, and I looked at Trents hand, wishing I had the right to take it.
Are you okay?
I looked up, almost panicking. Sure. Why?
Trents eyes ran over me as if searching for the truth. Youre quiet today.
I was quiet today? Meaning wed been spending enough time together that he knew the difference. Forcing a smile, I handed him his putter. Just trying to stay in the background.
He took it, eyebrows high, and Id swear I heard him sigh as he turned away. Head coming up, he stepped onto the green and joined in the light banter between the other CEOs. My heart was pounding, and I dragged my melancholy ass out of the way to rest under the shade of the storm shelter.
Just trying to stay in the background, Jenks said in a high falsetto. My God, woman. Your aura is glowing. Just admit you like him, bump uglies, and get on with your life!
Jenks! I exclaimed, then wiggled my fingers apologetically at the man lining up his putt.
Smirking, Jenks landed on the storm shelters rafters, his hand carefully going over a small wing tear to even out a raw edge. Thats how pixies know were in love, he said as he folded his dragonfly-like wings and wiggled out of his red jacket, wincing as something pulled. If the girl has glow, she wont say no.
Nice. Arms over my middle, I set the bag down and watched Trent, glad the girls were coming back tomorrow. With Quen taking up security, Id be able to wrap my head around reality. I was confusing my work with everything elseand I was done with being confused.
Hows Cookie Bitss game? Jenks asked. He looks as distracted as you.
Frowning, I raised my hand as if to bob him, but it would never land. Cookie Bits. Thats what Jenks had been calling Trent ever since he caught us sitting in his car outside the church after a job. Id only wanted to hear the end of the news, but try telling Jenks that.
Tinks little pink rosebuds, the local pixies are more stuck up than a fairy nailed to my churchs steeple, Jenks said, giving up on getting a rise out of me since it wasnt working. Im wearing red for a reason, not because I look good in it. Look! Look what they did to my coat!
Disgusted, Jenks held up the bright red jacket Belle had made for him, poking his finger through a hole just under the armpit. I stiffened, suddenly seeing his small wing tear in a new way. A pixy wearing red shouldve been given free passage. Id been seemingly everywhere in Cincinnati with Trent the last couple of months, but the country club was the worst. I hadnt known Jenks was having issues. Hed probably been too proud to tell me. You okay?
Jenks froze, his pale face becoming red to make his shock of curly blond hair look even more tousleable. His wings hummed, sifting a pale yellow dust to color his head to toe working black. He looked like a theater guy, but the sword hanging from his belt was real enough, having had deterred everything from bees bothering his children to assassins bothering me.
Yeah, sure, he said, embarrassed. I just dont like dodging arrows when I shouldnt have to. Were cool as a breath strip. He squinted at me, head tilting. You sure youre all right? Im serious about your aura glowing. You got a temp or something?
Jenks, Im not in love, I replied grumpily, ignoring the odd tingle rising through me as Trent crouched to line up his putt. Cincinnatis ley lines were faint but discernible, the upwellings of power usable even at this distance if not for the courses ward of no-magic, in place to prevent tampering with the game. Id found a way around it weeks ago. But it almost felt as if there was a line the next hole over, and I looked back the way wed come.
That big man in the lime-green pants was standing between the markers with his club. We were too close for them to be teeing off, but even the practice swings were making me nervous. It was only a par threeas in on the green in one drive.
Ah, Rache? Jenks rose up, hovering by my ear as Mr. Lime-Green Pants swung. There was the crack of a ball, and my heart jumped. Oh no he didnt! Jenks said, and I stiffened, tracking the balls path.
What do you think? I whispered, skin tingling as if Id tapped a line already.
I think its going to be a problem.
Fore! I shouted, lurching out into the sun. Heads turned and Trent remained crouched where he was. Instinctively I sent out a ribbon of awareness, easily bypassing the no-magic ward and tapping the nearest ley line. Energy flowed in with an unusual sharpness, burning the inside of my nose as it seemed to come from everywhere, not just the line as I filled my chi and forced the energy back out through the pathway of nerves and synapses to my hands.
My eyes widened as I tracked the balls path, energy burning as it flowed in smaller and smaller channels until it reached my fingertips. Shit, it was headed right for him.
Derivare! I shouted, hand moving in the simple gesture that harnessed the ley line charm and gave it direction. It was a small spell, one Id been using for weeks to tweak Trents ball to make him slice as I practiced getting around the courses no-magic ward. It wasnt much, but it would divert the balls path from the green. I didnt even need a focusing object anymore.
My intent sped from me with the surety of an electron spinning. I watched, breath held as it headed for the ball arching down. Men were scattering, but Trent stood firm, confident that I had this.
And then the charm hit the ball, pain flaring simultaneously from my gesture hand.
I yelped, clutching my wrist as a thunderous boom shook the air, flinging me back to land on my butt. Shocked, I stared as chunks of sod and dirt rained down. Men were shouting, and Jenks was swearing, tangled up in my hair. My lips parted, and I blinked at the car-size crater ten feet off the green and in the fairway. That wasnt there before, was it? I said, dazed.
No fairy farting way! Jenks said, my tangled red curls pulling as he worked his way out. Did you have to explode it? My God, woman!
My hand burned, and I didnt dare rub at the stinging red flesh. Dirt and grass was still raining down, and people were running in from all points. From the nearby clubhouse came an irritating hooting. I think I broke the courses ward, I said, awkward as I got up and brushed myself off with my good hand.