For A Few Demons More. Kim Harrison

doll with the key. Catching it, the rims of the upright, meticulous F.I.B. officer’s ears darkened in embarrassment.

      “Rachel?” Kisten murmured as we all headed that way. “Ah, if you can get a ride home with David, I need to fly on out of here.”

      I stopped. Glenn turned from holding the door open for me. Through it I could see the comfortable seating arrangement and Iceman’s work partner puttering around with a clipboard, peering over his glasses at us. Kisten is afraid of the dead?

      “Kisten …” I coaxed, not believing it. I had wanted to stop at The Big Cherry on the way home to pick up Glenn’s tomato fix, at a charm shop for the lilac wine, and just about anywhere for a box of birthday candles for me in the hopes that a cake might be in my future. But Kisten backed up a step.

      “Really,” he said. “I have to go. There’s some rare cheese coming in today, and if I’m not there to sign for it, I’ll have to go to the post office and pick it up.”

      Rare cheese, my ass. And I hate not having my own car. Hip cocked, I took a breath to complain, but David interrupted with an easy, “I’ll get you home, Rachel.”

      Kisten’s eyes were pleading. Giving up, I muttered, “Go on. I’ll call you later.”

      He jiggled on his feet, his usual poise gone to make him look charmingly vulnerable. Leaning in, he gave me a quick kiss on my neck. “Thanks, love,” he whispered. His hand on my shoulder tightened, and with a quick hint of teeth he sent a spike of desire to my core.

      “Stop that,” I whispered, gently pushing him away and feeling myself flush.

      Grinning, he retreated. With a self-assured nod to the rest of the men, he stuck his hands into his pockets and sauntered out.

      Lord help me, I thought, pulling my hand down from my neck. I had the feeling he’d just used me to restore his confidence. Sure, he was afraid of the dead, but I was his girlfriend, and apparently proving it in front of three other guys had reaffirmed his masculinity. Whatever.

      My face was still warm when Glenn cleared his throat. “What?” I muttered as I entered before him. “He’s my boyfriend.”

      “Mmmm-hmm,” he murmured back, shaking the Bite-Me-Betty doll to make the key jingle. The living vamp intern checking tags left at Glenn’s look. It was just us and whatever newly dead vamps were cooling their heels until dark.

      David was cracking his knuckles when Glenn stopped beside a drawer, eyeing the Were. “You think you know these women?” he said, and I bristled. There had been more than a hint of distrust, his need to have someone to blame for their deaths, coming to the fore.

      “Yes,” I interjected before David could open his mouth. “He has a couple of girlfriends he can’t reach, and since he was holding something for me that the right person would kill to get, we thought it better to check it out so we could sleep at night.”

      David seemed relieved at my explanation, but Glenn wasn’t happy. “Rachel,” he said as his short fingers worked the key, but he didn’t open the drawer. “They are Weres. Technically this isn’t a FIB matter. If someone calls foul, I could be in a lot of trouble.”

      I could sense David’s rising fear and anticipation, and I wondered if that was why Kisten had left. Though not directed at him, it would have pushed his buttons. “Just open the drawer,” I said, starting to get mad. “You really think I should bring Denon into this? He’d have David in the tower and under a spotlight. And besides,” I said, praying I was wrong, “if I’m right, then this is an F.I.B. matter.”

      Glenn’s brown eyes narrowed, and with David’s brow pinched, the FIB detective opened the drawer. I glanced down at the harsh sound of the bag opening, seeing the pretty woman in a new light, imagining her fear and the pain of turning into a wolf and not having a clue. God, she must have thought she’d been dying.

      “That’s Elaine,” David breathed, and I took his arm as his balance wobbled. Glenn tripped into detective mode, his gaze bright and his stance stiffer, more threatening. I told him to be quiet with my eyes. His questions could wait. We had two more Pandora boxes to open.

      “God, I’m sorry, David,” I said softly, wishing Glenn would shut the drawer.

      As if hearing my unspoken request, he slowly slid Elaine away.

      David’s face was pale, and I had to remind myself that though he could take care of himself and was no slouch when it came to confidence, these were women he had known intimately. “Show me the next one,” he said, the thickening scent of musk in the closed air.