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Rachel, my itchy witch, Al said as he tugged the lace at his cuffs. We've talked about this. You simply must stop collecting nasty little men. How many do you really need, love?

Kim Harrison

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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Needs
Talked
Itchy
Really
Simply
Cuffs
Men
Stop
Rachel
Love
Littles
Lace
Little
Collecting
Need
Witch
Many
Als
Must
Nasty
Tugged

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Together we made our way from the service entrances in back to the front, Jenks shedding clothes and handing them to me to stuff in my bag every few yards. It was terribly distracting, but I managed to avoid running into the Dumpsters and recycling bins.
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Anything worth having is going to be hard
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But a slow, deeply satisfied smile came over him, and his breath quickened. 'So softly it starts,' he whispered. 'Foolishly clever and with an unsurvivable trust. It just saved your miserable life, that questionable show of thought, my itchy-witch.' Al’s smile shifted, becoming lighter. 'And now you will live to possibly regret it.
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Al was standing a bare three feet away, his mood almost jovial as he took the paper and it vanished in a wash of black sparkles. “Thank you, Rachel,” he said, carefully reaching for my hand as Trent stiffened. “Welcome back, my itchy witch.
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You are the devil to talk to, Rachel, he said curtly. Will you shut up and listen?
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Pierce made a calculating noise, accidentally brushing my knee as he shifted. As Jenks would say, you snore nice. I smiled back unconvincingly. I snore nice. Not I opine that your auditory nasal exhalations are most pleasing.
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Hey,” the other said, coming to life. “You’re supposed to be in jail.” Al grinned at him, his white-gloved grip tightening on the wooden handle, which was intricately carved in the shape of a naked, writhing woman. Nice. “And your momma wanted you to have a brain,” he said, yanking the door open and slamming it into the guy’s face.
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Ford put a hand to his head. “Back up. Back up!” he cried. “You’re too close.” Heart pounding, I looked at the eight feet between us and pressed into the fridge. “I think he meant for the ghost to back up,” Jenks said dryly.
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Life was going on, and no one but a handful of people cared if I lived or died.
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And if he is lying and he double-crosses you, I’ll kill him for you.” From anyone else, it would have been an idle threat, and I smiled, feeling loved. (Ivy and Rachel)
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Why aren't you afraid of me? I've seen my death, and you're not it.
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He's going to hurt you, Al said, looking at Pierce. I can take care of you, teach you to survive. Be there for you, even if you do hate me. I shivered. I don't want him, I said, and Al turned away, seeming smaller somehow.
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if I’d been hit with the same thing as Glenn, I probably had his doctor. The thought seemed about right when Glenn shrank back in his chair with a guilty expression. The tomato, too, was in hiding somewhere. I didn’t want to know where. I truly didn’t.
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I didn’t know what I was going to say, a feeling that was compounded when the line clicked open and Trent’s very muzzy voice murmured, “Rachel? Mmm, hi.
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She was only a year old, but elves grew up fast. Not like witches, who Jenks swore were not able to be on their own until they were thirty. Ahem.
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A demon was asking me what I wanted. My eyes flicked to Al, and he shrugged. “What do you want?” he said softly.
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Good God,” I whispered, sitting on the van’s cot and looking at my legs, horrified. They were hairy—not wolf hairy, but an I-couldn’t-find-my-razor-the-last-six-months hairy. Utterly grossed out, I took a peek at my armpit, jerking away. Oh, that’s just…nasty.
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