by Jim Butcher
“Murphy,” I said, frowning. “I had a thought. If there’s an APB out for me, maybe we shouldn’t go back to my place.”
“Harry,” she said, “we’ve been here for two hours. You’re sitting on your couch.”
I looked around. She was right. The fireplace was going, with Mister in his favorite spot by the mantel, and the notch-eared puppy was lying on the couch next to me, using my leg as a pillow. I tasted Scotch in my mouth, one of Ebenezar’s own brews, but I didn’t remember drinking it. Man, I must have been in worse shape than I thought. “So I am,” I said. “But that doesn’t make my concerns any less valid.”
Murphy had hung my coat up on its hook by the door and was wearing a pair of my knee-length knit shorts. They fell to halfway down her calf, and she’d had to tie a big knot in the front to keep them on, but at least she wasn’t walking around in her panties. Dammit.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I’ve talked to Stallings. He said there’s an APB for someone matching your description, but your name isn’t attached to it. Only that the suspect is wanted for questioning and may be using the alias Larry or Barry. There were no prints on the weapon, but it was registered to the witness.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how that happened. I’d say you got lucky, but I know better. And you’d make some wiseass remark about it.”
I let out a broken little laugh. “Yeah,” I said. “Hell’s bells. Trixie Vixen has got to be the most vacuous, conceited, small-minded, petty, and self-absorbed baddie I’ve ever snooped out. That’s what happened.”
“What?” Murphy asked.
“My name,” I said, still wheezing laughter. “She never got it straight. The woman got my freaking name wrong. I don’t think she bothers to keep very close track of other people’s existence if it doesn’t profit her.”
Murphy arched an eyebrow. “But there were other people there, weren’t there? Someone must have known your name.”
I nodded. “Arturo for sure. Probably Joan. But everyone else only knew my first name.”
“And someone had to wipe any of your prints from the gun. They’re covering for you,” Murphy said.
I pursed my lips, surprised. Not so much that Arturo and his people had done it, but because of my reaction to the news—it made a warm spot somewhere inside me that felt almost completely unfamiliar. “They are,” I said. “God knows why, but they are.”
“Harry, you saved the lives of some of their people.” She shook her head. “In the business they’re in, I doubt Chicago’s finest are exactly making them feel like valued members of the community. That kind of isolation brings people together—and you helped them. Makes you one of them when trouble comes.”
“Makes me family,” I said.
She smiled a little and nodded. “So you know who dunnit?”
“Trixie,” I said. “Probably two others. My sense is that it’s the Ex-Mr.-Genosa club, but that’s just a hunch. And I think they had help.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Trixie was getting instructions from someone on the phone when she was holding a gun on me,” I said. “And they’ve been invoking that curse with a ritual. Unless someone’s actually got some talent, it takes two or three people to raise the energy that’s needed. And let’s face it, three witches cackling over a cauldron somewhere is pretty much stereotyped into the public awareness.”
“Macbeth,” Murphy said.
“Yeah. And that movie with Jack Nicholson as the devil.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You told me about rituals once. The cosmic vending machine, right? An outside power offers to give you something if you fulfill a specific sequence of events.”
“Yeah.”
Murphy shook her head. “Scary. People can just do a dance and someone dies. Regular people, I mean. What happens if someone publishes a book?”
“Someone has,” I said. “Plenty of times. The White Council has pushed it to happen a couple of times—like with the Necronomicon. It’s a reasonably good way to make certain the ritual in question isn’t going to work.”
She frowned. “I don’t get it. Why?”
“Supply and demand,” I said. “There are limits to what outside forces can deliver to the mortal world. Think of the incoming power as water flowing through a pipeline. If a couple of people are using a rite once every couple of weeks, or every few years, there’s no problem pumping in enough magic to make it work. But if fifty thousand people are trying to use the rite all at once, there isn’t enough power in any one place to make it happen. It just comes out as a little dribble that tastes bad and smells funny.”
Murphy nodded, following me. “So people who have access to rituals don’t want to share them.”
“Exactly.”
“And a book of dark rituals is not something your average vacuous princess of porn picks up at the mall. So she had help.”
“Yeah,” I said, frowning. “And that last run on the curse had a professional behind it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It was a hell of a lot faster, for one thing, and deadlier. It hit so quick I didn’t have time to redirect it away from the victim, even though I knew it was coming. It was stronger, too. A lot stronger, like someone who knew the business had taken the trouble to focus or amplify it somehow.”
“What can do that?” Murphy asked.
“Coordination between talented wizards,” I said. “Uh, sometimes you can use certain articles and materials to amplify magic. They’re usually expensive as hell. Sometimes special locations can help, places like Stonehenge, or certain positions of stars on a given night of the year. Then there’s the old standby.”
“What’s that?” Murphy asked.
“Blood,” I said. “The destruction of life. The sacrifice of animals. Or people.”
Murphy shivered. “And you think they’re coming after you next?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m in the way. They have to if they want to get away clean.”
“Get away with their big old fund intact?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Seems pretty extreme for a greed killing,” Murphy said. “I’ve got nothing against greed as a motivator, but damn. It’s like some people just never grasp the idea that other people actually exist.”
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “I guess this time there just happened to be three of them standing in the same place.”
“Heh,” Murphy said. “God only knows what kind of unholy bad luck got three ex-wives together. I mean, what are the odds, you know?”
I sat up straight. Murphy had put her finger on it. “Stars and stones, you’re right. How could I have missed that?”
“You’ve been a little busy?” Murphy guessed.
I felt my heart speed up. It beat with a dull pressure on my hand. It wasn’t pain yet, but it was coming. “Okay, let’s think, here. Arturo didn’t announce that he was getting married again. I mean, I only found out because someone who knows him made a sharp guess. And I doubt the ex-wives knew about it firsthand. In fact, I’d be willing to bet they were informed of the fact by a third party.”
“Why?” Murphy asked.
“Because if you want to work magic on someone, you’ve got to believe in it. You’ve got to want it. Otherwise it just fizzles. That means that they want someone dead. Genuinely want it.”
“Because when they found out it was a nasty surprise,” Murphy said. “Maybe whoever told them tilted things even further before the ex-wives found out. Made it hit them really hard, make them really mad. I don’t know, Harry. You’d need a fourth party to want Arturo’s new squeeze nixed for that to hold water.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. Then I felt my eyes widen. “Unless that wasn’t what they wanted at all. Murph, I don’t think this is about money.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Genosa’s in love,” I said. I felt myself rise to my feet. “Son of a bitch, it was right there
in front of me the whole time.”
Murphy frowned and rose with me, putting her hand on my good arm. “Harry, you need to sit back down. All right? You’re hurt. You need to sit down until Ebenezar gets back.”
“What?”
“Ebenezar. He thinks he can do something for your hand, but he had to pick up something first.”
“Oh,” I said. My head spun a little. She tugged at my arm and I sat back down. “But that’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“Trixie and the other stregas are just weapons for someone else. Genosa is in love. That’s why he didn’t react to Lara like everyone else. They can’t touch him. That’s what this is all about.”
Murphy frowned. “What do you mean? Who is using them as weapons?”
“The White Court,” I said. “Lord Raith and the White Court. It’s no coincidence that he and his second-in-command are in Chicago this weekend.”
“What does Genosa’s being in love have to do with anything?”
“The White Court can control people. I mean, they seduce them, get close, and before long they can sink in the psychic hooks. They can make slaves of the people they feed on, and make them like it to boot. That’s the source of their power.”
Murphy arched an eyebrow. “But not if someone is in love?”
I laughed weakly. “Yeah. They just said it out loud. It was an internal matter. Hell, it was practically the first thing she said about him. That Arturo was always falling in love.”
“What who said?”
“Joan,” I said. “Plain old practical, flannel-wearing, doughnut-scarfing Joan. And Lara the wonder slut. Not in that order. I’m sure of it.”
Murphy scowled. “Egad, Holmes. You’ve got to provide me with some context if you want me to understand.”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “Here’s the setup, all right? Raith is the leader of the White Court, but over the past several years he’s been losing face. His personal power base is slowly eroding.”
“Why?”
“Thomas, mainly,” I said. “Raith apparently murders his sons before they start getting ideas of knocking him off and taking over the family business. He sent Thomas to get killed at the vampire masquerade ball, but Thomas hooked up with Michael and me and came out of it alive. Then Raith set Thomas up again last year, at the duel with Ortega, but Thomas got through that one, too. And from what I’ve deduced, Papa Raith isn’t putting the fear of himself into his own children very well anymore.”
“What’s that got to do with Genosa?” she asked.
“Genosa publicly defied Raith’s authority,” I said. “Arturo told me that someone had been slowly buying up the adult-movie companies, manipulating things from behind the scenes. Trace the money trail back and I’d bet you dollars to doughnuts that you’ll find that it’s Raith and that he owns Silverlight. By leaving Silverlight Studios and going off to break stereotypes by doing his own movies, Genosa was defying Raith’s authority in a very public way.”
“So you’re saying that the White Court controls the erotica industry?”
“Or at least a bunch of it,” I confirmed. “Think about it. They can influence people’s opinions of all kinds of things—what physical beauty is, what sex is, how one should react to temptation, what is acceptable behavior in intimate relationships. My God, Murph, it’s like training deer to come to a particular feeding point to make stalking and killing them easier.”
Her mouth fell open for a moment. “God. That’s . . . that’s sort of terrifying. That’s huge.”
“And insidious,” I said. “I never even thought about something like that happening. Or maybe it’s fairer to say that it’s been happening. Maybe Raith was just taking over the business from some other player in the White Court.”
“So when Genosa thumbed his nose at Silverlight, it made Lord Raith look even weaker.”
“Yeah,” I said. “A mere human defying the White King. And Raith couldn’t send Lara to control him, either, because Genosa is in love.”
“Meaning?”
“The White Court can’t touch someone who is in love,” I said. “Real love. If they try to feed on them, it causes them physical agony. It’s . . . their holy water, I guess you could say. Their silver bullet. They’re terrified of it.”
Murphy’s eyes brightened and she nodded. “Raith wasn’t able to control Genosa, so he had to find a way to torpedo the guy instead, or lose face.”
“And be torn from his position of power. Exactly.”
“Why not just kill Genosa?”
I shook my head. “The White Court seems to pride itself on elegance when it comes to power games. Thomas told me that when the Whites go to war with one another, they do it through indirect means. Cat’s-paws. The more untraceable the better. They believe that intelligence and manipulation are more important than mere strength. If Raith just popped a cap in Arturo, it would have been still another loss of face. So . . .”
“So he finds someone he can control,” Murphy said. “He sets them up to find out that the new wife is a danger to their positions, and he does it in the worst possible way, to make them readier to take action. He even hands them the murder weapon—a big, nasty dark ritual. He’s not sure who it is, so he tells them to get rid of whoever Genosa is secretly engaged to. They’ve got a means, a motive, and an opportunity. Even in magical circles, I’ll bet no one’s going to be able to easily prove it was Raith who was responsible for the death of the woman Arturo was engaged to.”
“And in love with,” I said. “For Lord Raith it’s a win-win situation. If they kill the fiancée, it will destabilize Genosa and hamper his ability to produce films. Hell, maybe Raith planned to wait until he fell into a depression afterward, and then send one of the ex-wives after a while to offer comfort, seduce him, and leave him vulnerable to Lara’s control. If they don’t manage to kill the fiancée, they might still create enough havoc and confusion to derail Genosa’s work.”
“And even if someone on the spooky end of the block figures out whodunit, Raith has it set it up so that they can’t be traced back to him.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Meanwhile, Arturo is back in the fold and Raith has reconsolidated his power base. End of problem.”
“But not if you interfere and stop him.”
“Not if I interfere and stop him,” I agreed. “So once Raith gets word that I’m sticking my nose into his business, he brings in Lara to keep an eye on me and take me out if she can.”
“Or just take you,” Murphy said. “If this guy is a schemer, maybe he thought it would be great to have this Lara get hooks into you.”
The puppy stirred, disturbed. I shivered and petted him. “Ugh,” I said. “But it didn’t work, and I’m close to blowing the whole thing wide open. Now he’ll have to take a swing at me and get me out of the picture.”
Murphy made a growling sound. “Gutless bastard. Going through other people like that.”
“It’s smart,” I said. “If he really has been weakened, he wouldn’t want to take on anyone from the White Council directly. Only a fool goes toe to toe with a stronger enemy. That’s why Thomas did the same thing as his father—recruiting me to go up against him.”
Murphy whistled. “You’re right. How the hell did you get this bag of snakes?”
“Clean living,” I said.
“You should tell Thomas to get lost,” Murphy said.
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
I looked at her in silence.
Her eyes widened. She understood. “It’s him. He’s family.”
“Half brother,” I said. “Our mother used to hang around with Lord Raith.”
She nodded. “So what are you going to do?”
“Survive.”
“I mean about Thomas.”
“I’ll burn that bridge when I come to it.”
“Fair enough,” Murphy said. “But what is your next move?”
“Go to Thomas,” I said. “Make him help.” I looked down at
my bandaged hand. “I need a car. And a driver.”
“Done,” said Murphy.
I frowned, thinking. “And I might need something else from you tonight. Something tough.”
“What?”
I told her.
She stared silently past me for a moment and then said, “God, Harry.”
“I know. I hate to ask it. But it’s our only shot. I don’t think we can win this one with simple firepower.”
She shivered. “Okay.”
“You sure? You don’t have to do it.”
“I’m with you,” she said.
“Thank you, Karrin.”
She gave me a small smile. “At least this way I feel like I get to do something to help.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “The image of you gunfighting in your panties is going to boost my morale for years.”
She kicked my leg gently with hers, but her smile was somewhat wooden. She looked down to focus on the puppy, who promptly rolled over on his back, chewing at her fingers.
“You okay?” I asked. “You got kinda quiet.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Mostly. It’s just . . .”
“Just?”
She shook her head. “It’s been sort of a stressful day for me, relationship-wise.”
I know what you mean, I thought.
“I mean, first that asshole Rich and Lisa. And . . .” She glanced at me, her cheeks pink. “And this thing with Kincaid.”
“You mean him taking your pants off?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. It’s been . . . well, it’s been a really, really long time since a good-looking man took my pants off. I sort of forgot how much I enjoyed it. I mean, I know this is just a reaction to the danger and adrenaline and so on, but still. I’ve never reacted that strongly to a simple touch.”
“Oh,” I said.
She sighed. “Well, you asked. It’s got me a little distracted. That’s all.”
“Just so you know,” I said, “I don’t think he’s human. I think he’s pretty major bad news.”
