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I hitched the canvas strap holding the watering canisterhigher up on my shoulder and stretched to get the nozzleinto the hanging plant. Sunlight streamed in, warm throughmy blue institutional jumpsuit. Past the narrow plate-glasswindows was a small courtyard surrounded by VIP offices.Squinting from the sun, I squeezed the handle of the wateringhose, and the barest hint of water hissed through.
There was a burst of clattering computer keys, and Imoved to the next plant down. Phone conversation filtered infrom the office past the reception desk, accompanied by abelly laugh that sounded like the bark of a dog. Weres. Thehigher up in the pack they were, the more human lookingthey managed, but you could always tell when they laughed.
I glanced down the row of hanging plants before the windowsto the freestanding fish tank behind the receptionist'sdesk. Yup. Cream-colored fins. Black spot on right side. Thiswas the one. Mr. Ray raised koi, showing them in Cincinnati'sannual fish show. Last year's winner was always displayedin his outer office, but now there were two fish, andthe Howlers' mascot was missing. Mr. Ray was a Den boy, arival of Cincinnati's all Inderland baseball team. It didn'ttake much to put two and two together and get stolen fish.
"So," the cheerful woman behind the desk said as she stood to drop a ream of paper into the printer's hopper."Mark is on vacation? He didn't tell me."
I nodded, not looking at the secretary dressed in hersnappy cream-colored business suit as I dragged my wateringequipment down another three feet. Mark was taking ashort vacation in the stairwell of the building he had beenservicing before this one. Knocked out with a short-termsleepy-time potion. "Yes, ma'am," I added, raising my voiceand adding a slight lisp. "He told me what plants to water,though." I curled my red manicured nails under my palmsbefore she spotted them. They didn't go with the workingplant-girl image. I should have thought of that earlier. "Allthe ones on this floor, and then the arboretum on the roof."
The woman smiled to show me her slightly larger teeth.She was a Were, and fairly high up in the office pack by heramount of polish. And Mr. Ray wouldn't have a dog for asecretary when he could pay a high enough salary for abitch. A faint scent of musk came from her, not unpleasant."Did Mark tell you about the service elevator at the back ofthe building?" she said helpfully. "It's easier than luggingthat cart up all those stairs."
"No, ma'am," I said, pulling the ugly cap with the plantmanlogo on it tighter to my head. "I think he's makingeverything just hard enough that I don't try to take his territory."Pulse quickening, I pushed Mark's cart with its pruningshears, fertilizer pellets, and watering system fartherdown the line. I had known of the elevator, along with theplacement of the six emergency exits, the pulls for the firealarm, and where they kept the doughnuts.
"Men," she said, rolling her eyes as she sat before herscreen again. "Don't they realize that if we wanted to rulethe world, we could?"
I gave her a noncommittal nod and squirted a tiny amountof water into the next plant. I kinda thought we already did.
A tight hum rose over the whirl of the printer and the faint office chatter. It was Jenks, my partner, and he was clearly ina bad mood as he flew out of the boss's back office and tome. His dragonfly wings were bright red in agitation, andpixy dust sifted from him to make temporary sunbeams."I'm done with the plants in there," he said loudly as helanded on the rim of the hanging pot in front of me. He puthis hands on his hips to look like a middle-age Peter Pangrown up to be a trashman in his little blue jumpsuit. Hiswife had even sewn him a matching cap. "All they need iswater. Can I help you out here with anything, or can I goback and sleep in the truck?" he added acerbically.
I took the watering canister off me, setting it down to unscrewthe top. "I could use a fertilizer pellet," I prompted,wondering what his problem was.
Grumbling, he flew to the cart and started rummaging.Green twist ties, stakes, and used pH test strips flew everywhere."Got one," he said, coming up with a white pellet aslarge as his head. He dropped it in the canister and it fizzed.It wasn't a fertilizer pellet but an oxygenator and slime-coatpromoter. What's the point of stealing a fish if it dies intransport?
"Oh my God, Rachel," Jenks whispered as he landed onmy shoulder "It's polyester. I'm wearing polyester!"
My tension eased as I realized where his bad mood camefrom. "It'll be okay."
"I'm breaking out!" he said, scratching vigorously underhis collar. "I can't wear polyester. Pixies are allergic to polyester.Look. See?" He tilted his head so his blond hair shiftedfrom his neck, but he was too close to focus on. "Welts. And itstinks. I can smell the oil. I'm wearing dead dinosaur. I can'twear a dead animal. It's barbaric, Rache," he pleaded.
"Jenks?" I screwed the cap lightly back onto the canisterand hung it over my shoulder, pushing Jenks from me in theprocess. "I'm wearing the same thing. Suck it up."
"But it stinks!"
I eyed him hovering before me. "Prune something," I saidthrough gritted teeth.
He flipped me off with both hands, hovering backward ashe went. Whatever. Patting my back pocket of the vile bluejumpsuit, I found my snippers ...
The Good, the Bad, and the Undead. Copyright © by Kim Harrison. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
Excerpted from The Good, the Bad, and the Undead by Kim Harrison
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