Chapter One
I leaned over the glass counter, squinting at the price
of the high-grade redwood rods, safe in their airtight
glass coffins like Snow White. The ends of my scarf
slipped to block my view, and I tucked them behind my
short leather jacket. I had no call to be looking at
wands. I didn’t have the money, but more important, I
wasn’t shopping for business today-I was shopping for
pleasure.
“Rachel?” my mom said from halfway across the store,
smiling as she fingered a display of packaged organic
herbs. “How about Dorothy? Make Jenks hairy, and he
could be Toto.”
“No friggin’ way!” Jenks exclaimed, and I started when
the pixy took off from my shoulder where he’d been
nestled in my scarf’s warmth. Gold dust sifted from him
to make a temporary sunbeam on the counter and brighten
the drab evening. “I’m not going to spend Halloween
handing out candy as a dog! And no Wendy and Tinker Bell
either. I’m going as a pirate!” His wings slowed as he
settled atop the counter next to the stand of low-grade
redwood dowels suitable for amulets. “Coordinating
costumes is stupid.”
Normally I’d agree, but, silent, I drew back from the
counter. I’d never have enough disposable income for a
wand. Besides, versatility was key in my profession, and
wands were one-spell wonders. “I’m going as the female
lead in the latest vampire flick,” I said to my mom.
“The one where the vampire hunter falls in love with the
vamp?”
“You’re going as a vampire hunter?” my mother asked.
Warming, I plucked an uninvoked amulet from a vanity
rack to size my chest up. I was hippy enough to pass for
the actress I was trying to mimic, but my excuse of a
chest wouldn’t match her spell-enhanced bust. And it had
to be spell enhanced. Naturally big-chested women don’t
run like that. “No, the vampire,” I said, embarrassed.
Ivy, my housemate, was going as the hunter, and despite
my agreement that coordinating costumes was stupid, I
knew Ivy and I would stop conversation when we walked
into the party. And that was the point, wasn’t it?
Halloween was the only time doppelgänger charms were
legal-and Inderland and the braver slice of humanity
made the most of it.
My mother’s face went serious, then cleared. “Oh! The
black-haired one, right? In the slut outfit? Good God, I
don’t know if my sewing machine can go through leather.”
“Mom!” I protested, though used to her language and lack
of tact. If it came into her head, it came out of her
mouth. I glanced at the clerk with her, but she clearly
knew my mother and wasn’t fazed. Seeing a woman in
tasteful slacks and an angora sweater swearing like a
sailor tended to throw people off. Besides, I already
had the outfit in my closet.
Frowning, my mother fingered the charms to change hair
color. “Come over here, honey. Let’s see if they have
anything that will touch your curls. Honestly, Rachel.
You pick the hardest costumes. Why can’t you ever be
anything easy, like a troll or fairy princess?”
Jenks snickered. “‘Cause that’s not slutty enough,” he
said loud enough for me to hear, but not my mother.
I gave him a look, and he simpered as he hovered
backward to a rack of seeds. Though only about four
inches tall, he cut an attractive figure with his
soft-soled boots and the red scarf Matalina, his wife,
had knitted him wrapped about his neck. Last spring, I’d
used a demon curse to make him human-size, and the
memory of his eighteen-year-old, athletic figure, with
its trim waist and broad, muscular shoulders made strong
from his dragonfly-like wings, was still very much in my
memory. He was a very married pixy, but perfection
deserved attention.
Jenks made a darting path over my basket, and a package
of fern seed for Matalina’s wing aches thumped in.
Catching sight of the bust enhancer, his expression
turned positively devilish. “Speaking of slutty …”
he started.
“Well-endowed doesn’t equal slutty, Jenks,” I said.
“Grow up. It’s for the costume.”
“Like that’ll do anything?” His grin was infuriating,
and his hands were on his hips in his best Peter Pan
pose. “You need two or three to even make an impression.
Fried eggs.”
“Shut up!”
From across the store came my mother’s oblivious “Solid
black, right?” I turned to see her hair color shifting
as she touched the invoked sample amulets. Her hair was
exactly like mine. Sort of. I kept mine long, the wild,
frizzy red just past my shoulders, instead of in the
close cut she used to tame hers. But our eyes were the
same green, and I had her same skill in earth magic,
fleshed out and given a professional stamp at one of the
local colleges. She had more education than I did,
actually, but had few opportunities to use it. Halloween
had always been a chance for her to show off her
considerable earth magic skills to the neighboring moms
with a modest vengeance, and I think she appreciated me
asking for her help this year. She had been doing great
these last few months, and I couldn’t help but wonder if
she was doing better because I was spending more time
with her, or if she simply appeared more stable because
I wasn’t seeing her just when she was having problems.
Guilt slithered through me, and giving Jenks a glare at
his song about big-busted ladies tying their shoes, I
wove through the stands of herbs and racks sporting
premade charms, each having a distinctive sticker
identifying who had made it. Charm crafting was still a
cottage industry despite the high level of technology
available to smooth out the rough spots, but one tightly
regulated and vigorously licensed. The owner of the
store probably only crafted a few of the spells she
sold.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from The Outlaw Demon Wails
by Kim Harrison
Copyright © 2008 by Kim Harrison .
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Eos
Copyright © 2008
Kim Harrison
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-06-078870-4
