Dates from Hell(35)
The last was said with dripping sarcasm, and her face hot, Ivy pushed the folder away. “She’s not even a full runner? I’ve worked too hard for my degree to be a babysitter. No way.”
Rat chuckled and pushed it back with a single, thick-knuckled finger. “Yes way. Unless you want to move down to Arcane where you belong.”
Ivy almost growled. She hated her mother. She hated Piscary. No, she hated their control over her. Slowly she pulled the folder to her and opened it. “Oh my God,” she breathed as she looked at the picture, thinking it couldn’t get any worse. “A witch? They partnered me with a witch? Whose bright-ass idea was that?”
Rat laughed, pulling Ivy’s eyes from her “partner’s” picture. Slumping back, she tried not to frown. Though it was clearly meant to be a punishment, this might not be a bad thing. A witch wouldn’t be after her blood, and the relief of not having to fight that would be enough to compensate for the extra work that having such a weak partner would engender. A witch? They were laughing at her. The entire tower was laughing at her.
“You said management doesn’t want her on her own. What’s wrong with her?” she asked and Rat took her shoulder in a thick hand and drew her reluctantly to her feet.
“Nothing,” he said, grinning. “She’s impulsive is all. It’s a match made in heaven, Ivy. You’ll be best friends before the week is out: going shopping, eating chocolate, catching chick-flicks after work. You’ll love it! Trust me.”
Ivy realized she was clenching her jaw, and she forced her teeth apart before she gave herself a headache. Her partner was a flake. She was partnered with a girly-girl flake who wanted to be a runner. This was going to be pure hell. Rat laughed, and seeing no other option, Ivy dragged the folder to her, tucked it under her arm, and headed for the door with Rat, leaving her old office and its comforting walls behind for an open office with pressboard walls and bad coffee.
It was only for a year. How bad could it be?
KIM HARRISON
Born and raised in Tornado Alley, KIM HARRISON now resides in more sultry climates. The bestselling author of Dead Witch Walking; The Good, the Bad, and the Undead; and Every Which Way But Dead, she rolls a very good game of dice, hangs out with a guy in leather, and is hard at work on the next novel of the Hollows.
For more information, go to www.kimharrison.net.
THE
CLAIRE SWITCH
PROJECT
Lynsay Sands
1
“A bunny.” The disgust John Heathcliffe poured into those two words made Claire Beckett roll her eyes as she rinsed out and refilled the water bottle from the rabbit cage. He wasn’t finished with his bitching, however, and continued, “I don’t know why we can’t—”
“You do know why, John,” Kyle Lockhart countered with what Claire considered the patience of a saint. He didn’t raise his head from the report he was reading, but added, “Because we have to follow safety procedures. We test it on animals to ensure that it’s safe before we let it anywhere near humans.”
Claire glanced toward John as she moved back to the rabbit cage, noting the irritation that flashed across his face. John, apparently, didn’t appreciate Kyle’s patience, but then she suspected there was little John appreciated about Kyle. Claire knew he resented Dr. Cohen putting Kyle in charge of the lab. John felt it should have been he. Both men were in the last stage of attaining their doctorates and it made their relationship somewhat competitive, at least on John’s part. Kyle didn’t seem to have the same issues, but then he was the one in charge.
“We’ve already tested it on a dozen mice and rats and now three bunnies,” John pointed out impatiently as Claire reset the water bottle in the rabbit cage.
“Yes,” Kyle agreed. This time he did glance up from the reports as he added pointedly, “And the first couple of those animals ended up a puddle of mush.”
John waved that away as unimportant. “Only the first few, and that was because we were giving them too much juice. We fixed that. We now know the amount needed per pound. We—”
“We are testing it on the rabbit, John,” Kyle said firmly. “And then we’ll test it on a bigger animal, like a—”
“Yes, yes,” the other man said impatiently. “We’ll test it on half a dozen bunnies, then half a dozen cats, and then another half a dozen dogs, and then monkeys, and then, and then, and then…I’ll be an old man before we test it on an actual human. If I’m still alive,” he said with disgust. “What use is it testing it on these animals anyway? They can’t tell us what it’s like. They don’t understand what we’ve done to them, and they can’t follow commands and try to change. They—”