Dead Witch Walking Read Online Free PDF

handlings had ruined them. Giving him a pained look, I dumped the charms into the chipped cup holder.
    I turned to Ivy, sprawled in the back. One hand was up to keep her owl from falling out of the rear window as we bounced along, the other was propped behind her neck. Passing cars and the occasional functioning streetlight briefly illuminated her black silhouette. Dark and unblinking, her eyes met mine, then returned to the window and the night. My skin prickled at the air of ancient tragedy about her. She wasn’t pulling an aura—she was just Ivy—but it gave me the willies. Didn’t the woman ever smile?
    My take had pressed herself into the other corner, as far from Ivy as she could get. The leprechaun’s green boots just reached the end of the seat, and she looked like one of those dolls they sell on TV. Three easy payments of $49.95 for this highly detailed rendition of Becky the Barmaid. Similar dolls have tripled, even quadrupled, in value! This doll, though, had a sneaky glint in her eye. I gave her a sly nod, and Ivy’s gaze flicked suspiciously to mine.
    The owl gave a pained hoot as we hit a nasty bump, opening its wings to keep its balance. But it was the last. We had crossed the river and were back in Ohio. The ride now was smooth as glass, and the cabbie’s pace slowed as he seemed to remember what traffic signs were for.
    Ivy removed her hand from her owl and ran her fingers through her long hair. “I said, ‘You never took me up on a ride before.’ What’s up?”
    “Oh, yeah.” I draped an arm over the seat. “Do you know where I can rent a cheap flat? In the Hollows, maybe?”
    Ivy faced me squarely, the perfect oval of her face looking pale in the streetlights. There were lights now at every corner, making it nearly bright as day. Paranoid norms. Not that I blamed them. “You moving into the Hollows?” she asked, her expression quizzical.
    I couldn’t help my smile at that. “No. I’m quitting the I.S.”
    That got her attention. I could tell by the way she blinked. Jenks stopped trying to dance with the tiny figure on the dash and stared at me. “You can’t break your I.S. contract,” Ivy said. She glanced at the leprechaun, who beamed at her. “You’re not thinking of…”
    “Me? Break the law?” I said lightly. “I’m too good to have to break the law. I can’t help it if she’s the wrong leprechaun, though,” I added, not feeling a bit guilty. The I.S. had made it abundantly clear they didn’t want my services anymore. What was I supposed to do? Roll on my back with my belly in the air and lick someone’s, er, muzzle?
    “Paperwork,” the cabbie interjected, his accent abruptly as smooth as the road as he switched to the voice and manners needed to get and keep fares on this side of the river. “Lose the paperwork. Happens all the time. I think I’ve Rynn Cormel’s confession in here somewhere from when my father shuttled lawyers from quarantine to the courts during the Turn.”
    “Yeah.” I gave him a nod and smile. “Wrong name on the wrong paper. Q.E.D.”
    Ivy’s eyes were unblinking. “Leon Bairn didn’t just spontaneously explode, Rachel.”
    My breath puffed out. I wouldn’t believe the stories. They were just that, stories to keep the I.S.’s flock of runners from wanting to break their contracts once they learned all the I.S. had to teach them. “That was over ten years ago,” I said. “And the I.S. had nothing to do with it. They aren’t going to kill me for breaking my contract; they want me to leave.” I frowned. “Besides, being turned inside out would be more fun than what I’m doing now.”
    Ivy leaned forward, and I refused to back away. “They say it took three days to find enough of him to fit in a shoe box,” she said. “Scraped the last off the ceiling of his porch.”
    “What am I supposed to do?” I said, pulling my arm back. “I haven’t had a decent run in months. Look at this.” I gestured to my take. “A tax-evading