Free Sudden Backtrack: A Hollows Short by Kim Harrison Page A

and I can do more as a martyr anyway.” Her red eyes fell from his, failing to hide the sheen of fear. “It’s time. Tell Dali thank you for the robe. At least I will die well dressed.”
    Well dressed. It was rags, and they both knew it. “Newt,” he said, drawing her to a stop before she could take a step. “We’re only five. Don’t make us four when we can form a collective to do it together and all survive.”
    But she was resolute and pulled from his grip. “The Goddess demands payment,” she said, eyes flicking to the fire where Kalla had begun to pose impatiently. “I do this, or we live and die as playthings.”
    Goddess. There was no Goddess; he clenched his hands until his nails left dents.
    “Thank you for standing with me,” she whispered, her gentle fingers opening his fist and stretching his hand across hers. “They never would have agreed to this if you weren’t here to give sanction to a dialogue. But when I fall, run. You will need every second to slip Kalla’s snare. He’s very good at what he does.”
    “Newt . . .”
    “Promise me. Don’t let your pride make our number fall to three.”
    Gally’s breath slipped from him in resignation, his grip on the ley lines tightening until the tips of his hair began to float. “I won’t leave you to him.”
    But he started when she turned his hand over and rubbed the indentation where the slaver ring had been two years ago. It lingered still, the burn having scarred him forever. “They cursed our children from us, Gally. We are things to be bought and sold as if we have no soul. Beneath their noble airs and words is nothing but black, old blood, soured and rotting. This is a chance, your only chance, to get Celfnnah back. She suffers for you, believing you’ll find a way. She loves you, even now. Promise me you will run.”
    He grimaced, feeling as if he’d been hit in the gut as he nodded. Satisfied, Newt arched her eyebrows and walked away. Upon reaching the edge of the firelight, she turned back and mouthed, “Run.”
    Gally settled deeper under the trees, peering into the misty shadows to try to spot the circling elves. The curse was down to three words, but if Newt didn’t say them before Kalla sundered her connection to the line, he’d try himself, futile as it would be. The renewed ache for Celfnnah scoured through him, and he vowed to live to see the next sunrise if only to find out which of the elven bastards had her. He hadn’t seen her for two years. Two tormented years.
    At the fire, Kalla graciously lowered himself to a cushion and invited Newt to sit. There was nowhere for her to go but the cold dirt, and Gally’s jaw tightened. Perhaps the separation had been a blessing. To have had a child warped by elven magic would have broken Celfnnah’s heart—as if taking them as infants and exchanging them for favors wasn’t enough. The elves didn’t even call them demons, they were so broken, giving them to their children to play with as if they were ponies to learn with before being given a stallion.
    Pleasantries were being observed at the fire, but Gally was more concerned with the seven elves creeping forward, tightening their grip with slow, even paces. It was a delicate balance. Let them get too close, and Kalla would spring his net before Newt spun her curse. Too far, and only Kalla would carry the curse, slowing its spread through the elven society.
    “There were supposed to be ten of you to hear our grievances. Where are the others?” Newt said, boldly going to Kalla’s horse and petting his soft nose because it would bother the man.
    Sure enough, the elf stood, peeved she’d negated his insult of offering her a chair that didn’t exist. “Finding lost property is my job, not theirs. Don’t make me beat you, Newt. I get paid more if your owners can beat you themselves.”
    There was a flicker of movement across the glen, and Gally strengthened his hold on the ley line. There’d never been a chance that