Every Which Way But Dead by Kim Harrison Read Free Book Online Page A

past us to his kids as they descended upon the mouse, who had finally made a dash for the living room and found itself in its own personal hell. “Excuse me,” he said, flitting off to rescue it.
    â€œNo,” I said to Ivy. “I’m not going to dump her in some institution.”
    â€œI’m not saying you should.” Ivy’s pale face had started to color, and the ring of brown about her eyes was shrinking as my body heat rose and my blood grew warm, triggering her instincts. “But she can’t stay here. The woman needs normal, and Rachel? We aren’t it.”
    I took a breath to protest, then let it out. Frowning, I glanced at Ceri. She was wiping her eyes, the hand curled about her mug shaking to make rings on the surface of her tea. My eyes went to the pixy children arguing over who was going to get to ride the mouse first. It was little Jessie, and the tiny pixy screamed in delight when the rodent darted out of the kitchen with her on its back. In a blur of gold sparkles, all but Jih followed. Maybe Ivy was right.
    â€œWhat do you want me to do, Ivy?” I said, calming. “I’d ask my mom to take her in, but she’s a step away from being in an institution herself.”
    Jenks buzzed back. “What about Keasley?”
    Surprised, I looked at Ivy.
    â€œThe old guy across the street?” Ivy said warily. “We don’t know anything about him.”
    Jenks landed on the sill beside Mr. Fish and put his hands on his hips. “He’s old and on a fixed income. What more is there to know?”
    As Ceri collected herself, I sifted the idea through my mind. I liked the old witch whose slow speech hid a sharp wit and high intelligence. He had stitched me up after Algaliarept had torn my neck. He had stitched up my will and confidence, too. The arthritic man was hiding something, and I didn’t think his real name was Keasley any more than I believed his story that he had more medical equipment than a small emergency room because he didn’t like doctors. But I trusted him.
    â€œHe doesn’t like the law and he knows how to keep his mouth shut,” I said, thinking it was perfect. Eyes pinched, I looked at Ceri talking to Jih in soft tones. Ivy’s eyes were doubtful, and peeved, I pushed into motion. “I’m calling him,” I added as I motioned to Ceri that I would be right back and went into the living room for the phone.

Three
    â€œ C eri,” Jenks said as I flipped the switch and got a pot of coffee going. “If tea makes you cry, you gotta try french fries. Come here, I’ll show you how to use the microwave.”
    Keasley was on his way over. It might take him a while since he was racked by arthritis so badly that even most pain charms wouldn’t touch it. I felt bad for pulling him out into the snow, but it would have been even more rude to descend upon his house.
    With an intentness I didn’t understand, Jenks perched himself on Ceri’s shoulder and talked her through the task of microwaving frozen french fries. She bent to watch the little carton spin, my pink slippers on her feet looking overly large and awkward. Pixy girls swirled around her in a whirl of pastel silk and chatter, mostly ignored. The unending noise had driven Ivy into the living room, where she was currently hiding with her earphones on.
    My head came up when the air pressure shifted. “’Ello?” came a strong raspy voice from the front of the church. “Rachel? The pixies let me in. Where are you ladies?”
    I glanced at Ceri, recognizing her sudden apprehension. “It’s Keasley, a neighbor,” I said. “He’s going to check you over. Make sure you’re healthy.”
    â€œI’m fine,” she said pensively.
    Thinking this might be harder than I thought, I padded in my sock feet into the hallway to talk to him before he met Ceri. “Hi, Keasley, we’re back here.”
    His