by Jim Butcher
If the table hadn't taken the magical blow, it would have been my head with the hole burned in it. That had been part of the purpose in creating Little Chicago—as a tool and a safety measure for working that kind of magic. All the same, it was a sobering thing to see.
I swallowed. Cowl. It had been Cowl. I'd heard the hatred and venom in his voice, the familiarity—and the overwhelming power of his magic had been unmistakable. He'd survived the Darkhallow. He was working with this "Circle," who were almost certainly the Black Council, and there was some kind of larger mischief afoot in Chicago than I had suspected.
Oh, yeah. This whole situation was definitely starting to make me nervous.
I turned back to Molly and said, "Like I said. This thing is dangerous, grasshopper. So no playing with it until I say so. Got it?"
Molly swallowed. "Got it."
"Go on. Take care of Mouse. Do me a favor, and call Murphy's cell phone. Ask her to come here."
"Do you need me to help you today?" she asked. "Like, go with you and stuff?"
I looked at her. Then at the table. Then back at her.
"Just asking," Molly said defensively, and hurried on up the stairs.
By the time I'd gotten a shower, shaved, and climbed into fresh clothes, I felt almost human, though I still had a whale of a headache. Murphy arrived shortly after.
"What the hell happened to you?" she said, by way of greeting.
"Took a psychic head butt from Cowl," I said.
Murphy greeted Mouse, scratching him under the chin with both hands. "What's a Cowl?"
I grunted. "Right, forgot. When I met Cowl, you were in Hawaii with your boy toy."
Murph gave me a smug smile. "Kincaid isn't a boy toy. He's a man toy. Definitely a man toy."
Molly, lying on the floor with her feet up on the wall while she read, dropped her book onto her face. She fumbled it back into her hands and then tried to appear uninterested in the conversation. It would have been more convincing if she weren't holding the book upside down.
"Long story short," I told her. "Cowl is a wizard."
"Human?" Murphy asked.
"Pretty sure, but I've never seen his face. All I know about him is that he's stronger than me. He's better than me. I stood up to him in a fair fight and got lucky enough to survive it."
Murphy frowned. "Then how'd you beat him?"
"I stopped fighting fair and bumped his elbow while he was handling supernatural high explosives. Boom. I figured he was dead."
Murphy sat down in one of my easy chairs, frowning. "Okay," she said. "Better give me the whole thing."
I rubbed at my aching head and started from where I'd left Murphy yesterday up until the end of my confrontation with Cowl. I left out some of the details about Elaine, and everything about the Circle. That was information too dangerous to spread around. Hell, I wish I didn't know about it, myself.
"Skavis," Murphy mused aloud. "I've heard that somewhere before."
"It's one of the greater Houses of the White Court," I said, nodding. "Raith, Skavis, and Malvora are the big three."
"Right," Murphy said. "Psychic vampires. Raith feed on lust. Malvora on fear. How about these Skavis?"
"Pain," I said. "Or despair, depending on how you translate some of the texts the Council has on them."
"And suicide," Murphy said, "is the ultimate expression of despair."
"With a mind like that," I said, "you could be a detective."
We were quiet for a minute before Murphy said, "Let me see if I've got this right. This Skavis is in town. According to your ex, the private investigator Anna Ash hired, he's killed women in four other cities, and he's doing it again here—four so far, and Anna's meant to be number five."
"Yeah," I said.
"Meanwhile, this Grey Cloak, who works for Cowl, is in town doing more or less the same thing, but you don't think he's here to help the Skavis, whoever he is. But you do think he's working against the killer, along with this Passenger, whoever he is. You think those two left the clues you found on the bodies to pull you into an investigation and take out the Skavis."
"Even better," I said. "I think I know who Passenger was."
"Who?" Murphy asked.
"Beckitt," I said. "It makes sense. He's got his wife on the inside as an information source. He's gone up against me before, and walked away, and I cost him years of his life and a lucrative share of a criminal empire. He's got plenty of reasons not to like me. That's who Grey Cloak the Malvora was talking to."
"Whoa. Grey Cloak the Malvora? How'd you get that?"
"Because," I said, "he talked about sharing some tastes with the Skavis, when it came to letting the prey anticipate what was coming before the kill. The Malvora do it so that their prey will feel more fear. The Skavis do it so that they'll be more tired, be more ready to give in to despair."
Murphy nodded, lips pursed. "And the White Court loves manipulating everything indirectly. Using others to do their dirty work for them."
"Like using me to wipe out his Skavis competition," I said.
"Which makes sense because Malvora and Skavis are rivals."
"Right," I said. "And I'm fairly confident in my guess. Just like I'm fairly confident that Beckitt must be our passenger."
"That's a sound theory, Dresden," Murphy said.
"Thank you, I know."
"But Beckitt died almost seven years ago. He was killed in prison."
"I figure Beckitt must have made a deal with the Malvora and—" I blinked. "He what?"
"Died," Murphy said. "There was a riot. Three prisoners were killed, several injured. He was one of them. As near as anyone can tell, he was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. A prisoner was wrestling for a guard's gun. It discharged and killed Beckitt instantly."
"Um," I said, frowning. I hate it when the real world ignores a perfectly logical, rational assumption. "He faked it?"
She shook her head. "I looked into it, and I talked to the guard. There was an autopsy, an identification of the body from his family, a funeral, the whole nine yards. He's dead, Harry."
"Well, dammit," I said, and rubbed at my headache. "He made sense."
"That's life," Murphy said. "So this hidey-hole you found…"
"Long gone by now," I said.
"Might be worth going anyway, if you take Krypto here with you." She leaned down and planted a kiss on top of Mouse's head. My dog gets more play than me, sheesh. "Maybe Grey Cloak the theoretical Malvora left a good scent behind."
"Worth a shot, I guess," I said. "But I'm pretty sure he's going to be thorough enough to remove that, too."
"Who goes around removing their scent from places?" Murphy asked.
"Vampires. They can track that way, just like Mouse."
"Oh. Right." Murphy sighed. "Another burned building."
"Not—" I began.
"Not his fault!" Molly said.
"Not your fault," Murphy said, "I know. But it's going to look awfully odd. My car gets firebombed. A building less than a block away gets firebombed a few hours later."
I grunted. "Same device?"
"What do you think?"
"Same device."
Murphy nodded. "I'm sure it will be. It's going to take them time to figure it out, though. Were you seen?"
"Me and about a million other people," I said.
"That's something, at least. But a lot of people are going to be asking questions before long. The sooner we get this thing put to bed, the better."
I grimaced. "I shouldn't have gone for the subtle maneuver last night. I should have smashed him to paste right there. I don't have any way to find him now, and he's aware that we're looking."
"Yeah, but Grey Cloak isn't our first problem," Murphy said. "He's a sideshow. The Skavis is the real killer. Right?"
"Yeah," I said quietly. "Right. And we've got no clue who or where he is."
Murphy frowned. "But he's a vampire, right? I mean, you can tell if someone's a vampire, can't you?"
/> "It isn't so simple with the White Court," I said. "They hide themselves a lot better than any other breed. I had no idea what Thomas was when I met him. And you remember talking to Darby Crane."
"Yeah."
"Did you get 'vampire' off him?"
"Mostly I got 'player,' " Murphy said, "But you knew he was really Madrigal Raith."
"I guessed," I corrected her. "Probably because I unconsciously recognized the family resemblance to Lord Raith. That's why I stopped you from touching him. There was no magical tip-off about it." I frowned. "Hell, I wouldn't be shocked if they had some kind of ability to cloud their prey's judgment. When Inari Raith tried to feed on me, even though I was in their freaking house, even though I knew she was a baby succubus, and in my room, it never really occurred to me that she might be dangerous to me, until it was too late."
"Just like that never occurred to me about Crane," Murphy said. "So the Skavis… he could be anyone."
"I'm pretty sure he's not me," I said. "I'm almost as sure he's not you."
"Are you sure you're a professional investigator?"
"I sometimes wonder."
"What about Thomas?" Murphy asked.
"He's more of a hired thug than a shamus."
Murphy glared.
It drew a little bit of a smile from me, but it faded quickly in the light of reality. "I left messages. Nothing yet."
"That's not what I meant, either," Murphy said quietly. "Could he still be involved? Could he have been the passenger?"
"He wasn't."
Again, she held up a hand. "Harry. Is it possible?"
"Look, we know the killer is a Skavis."
"We know what Grey Cloak thinks," Murphy corrected roe, "But you're forgetting something."
"What?"
"That at least one of those women was killed in the throes of supernatural passion. Not amidst fear. Not amidst despair."
I scowled at her.
"Is it physically possible, Harry? Possible. That's all I'm asking."
"I suppose," I said quietly. "But Thomas isn't Grey Cloak's partner. What if…" I couldn't finish the sentence.
"What if your passenger has him?" Murphy asked. "What if the 'endeavor' he's talking about is pressing Thomas for some kind of information?"
I grimaced. "Thomas should have been in touch by now."
"We've got a little time. Grey Cloak thought it would be another day or so before the Skavis moved again, right?"
"Yeah."
"So far, you think he's been smart about most things. Maybe he's smart about that, too."
"We can hope," I said. "What did you find about Jessica Blanche?"
"Still working on it. I've got feelers out, but I'll need to follow up with some legwork."
I blew out a breath. "And I need to get in touch with Elaine and the Ordo. Maybe I can get Helen Beckitt to talk. And I can make some calls to other Wardens. Maybe someone's heard something about recent White Court activities."
Murphy rose. "Sounds like we have a plan."
"If we repeat it often enough, maybe we'll even believe it," I said. "Let's go."
Chapter Seventeen
Ramirez's contact number went to a restaurant his family ran in eastern Los Angeles. I left a message with someone whose English sounded like a second or third language. It took Ramirez only about ten minutes to call me back.
"White Court?" my fellow Warden said. "Can't think as I've heard anything about them lately, Harry."
"How about a professional wizard investigator?" I asked him. "Works out of Los Angeles."
"Elaine Mallory?" he asked. "Tall, pretty, smart, and nearly as charming as myself?"
"That's the one," I said. "What do you know about her?"
"Far as I know, she's straight," he said. "Moved to town five or six years ago, college in San Diego, and working for an investigative agency out here. She's got a decent grounding in thaumaturgy from somewhere, but when I ran her through the standard tests, she didn't score quite high enough to be considered for Council membership." He was quiet for a second, before saying, in a tone of forced cheer, "Unless we keep on losing people to the vamps, in which case I guess we might lower our standards."
"Uh-huh," I said. "But you think she knows what she's doing?"
"Well," Ramirez drawled, "I hinted that she might want to advertise as something other than a 'wizard,' eventually. If we get the time to look away from the war, some hidebound dinosaur might take exception to someone claiming the title."
I snorted. "Don't call me a dinosaur. It isn't fair to the dinosaurs. What did a dinosaur ever do to you?"
"Other than give me a ride right next to this big skinny lunatic? Mallory's not stupid, and she's done people some good out here," Ramirez said. "Lost kids, especially. Couple of exorcisms I wouldn't have had time to handle. Maybe she can be of some help to you. Though I've got one reservation about her."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Her taste in men. I keep asking her out, and she's turned me down about a dozen times, now."
"Shocking," I said.
"I know," Ramirez replied. "Makes me wonder how smart she could really be. Why?"
I gave him the brief on what I knew about the murders, and on what Elaine had told me about the other cities.
"Someone's framing the Wardens," he said.
"Looks that way. Sow seeds of distrust and all that."
"Five cities. Bastards." He paused to say something off the phone, and then told me, "Hang on. I'm pulling the file on recent White Court reports."
I waited a few more minutes. Then he came back and said, "According to what we've heard out on this end, the White King has met with emissaries from the Council under a flag of truce, and declared a temporary cease-fire. He's agreed to approach the Reds about sitting down to negotiate an end to the war."
"I've met him," I said. "Kissinger he ain't. Gandhi, neither."
"Yeah. Sorta makes you wonder what he's getting out of the war ending, don't it."
I grunted. "There's not a lot of love lost between the Reds and the Whites. A cease-fire won't cost him anything. His people don't get involved in the messy stuff anyway."
Ramirez let out a thoughtful hum. "The way you tell it, looks like maybe not everybody in the White Court agrees with his take on the war."
"They're pretty factional. Triumvirate of major houses. Raith happens to be on top right now. If Raith is pushing for peace, it would be consistent for the other major houses to oppose it."
"Gotta love those vampires. So arbitrarily contrary."
"Say that five times fast," I said.
He did, flawlessly, rolling the Rs as he went. "See there?" he said. "That's why the ladies love me."
"It's not love, Carlos. It's pity."
"As long as the pants come off," he said cheerfully. Then his voice turned more sober. "Dresden, I've been meaning to call you. Just… wanted to see how you were doing. You know. Since New Mexico."
"I'm good," I told him. "I'm fine."
"Uh-huh," Ramirez said. He sounded skeptical.
"Listen," I said. "Forget New Mexico. I've forgotten it. We need to move on, focus on what's in front of us right now."
"Sure," he said, without conviction. "You want to fill in the Captain or should I?"
"Go ahead."
"Will do," he said. "You need any backup out there?"
"Why?" I asked. "You got nothing to pay attention to where you are?"
He sighed. "Yeah, well. All the same. If the Whites are trying to shut down the peace talks, I could pry a few of the boys loose to come help you boot some head."
"Except I don't yet know whose head it is or how to boot it," I said.
"I know. But if you need help, it's here."
"Thanks."
"Watch your ass, Dresden," he said.
"I'd tell you to do the same, but you probably gaze at your own ass in admiration all the time anyway."
"With an ass like mine? Who wouldn't?" Ramirez said. "Vaya con Dios."
>
"Happy trails."
I hung up the phone and leaned back in the chair, rubbing at my still-aching head. I closed my eyes and tried to think for a minute. I thought about how much my head hurt, which was nonproductive.
"Harry?" Molly asked me.
"Hmmm?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Um…" She was quiet for a moment, as though thinking about her words before she spoke.
That got my attention.
"I'm just wondering why you were asking Warden Rodriguez about Elaine Mallory."
I closed my eyes and tried thinking again.
"I mean, Sergeant Murphy said she was your ex. But you asked about her as if you didn't know her."
I mumbled something.
"So I figure that means that you do know her. And you wanted to know what Warden Rodriguez knew about her, without him knowing that you already knew her." She took a deep breath and said, "You're keeping secrets from the Wardens."
I sighed. "For years, kid. Years and years."
"But… I'm under the Doom of Damocles, and that means you are, too. This is the kind of thing that could make them decide to invoke it. So, um… why are you doing it?"
"Does it matter?" I asked.
"Well," she said, her tone cautiously diffident, "since I could get beheaded over this just as much as you can, it matters to me. And I think that maybe I deserve to know."
I started to growl at her that she didn't. I stopped myself because she had a point, dammit. Regardless of how inconvenient I thought it, she did have an undeniable right to ask me about it.
"I was an orphan," I told her. "A little while after my magic came to me, I got adopted by a man named DuMorne. He's the one who gave me most of my training. He adopted Elaine, too. We grew up together. Each other's first love."
Molly set her book aside and sat up, listening to me.
"DuMorne was a warlock himself. Black wizard as bad as they come. He planned on training us up to be his personal enforcers. Trained, strong wizards, under mental compulsion to be loyal to him. He nailed Elaine with it. I got suspicious and fought him. I killed him."
Molly blinked. "But the First Law…"
