Death Curse: Chapter 18
Chapter 17
"So what does it mean?" Murphy asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. We were closeted in her office, away from prying eyes, going through all the casebooks one by one. It had already been hours, and my eyes were aching from the strain.
"I think it's a ritual. There's no other explanation. Summoning power for something. Something big."
"How big?"
I shrugged. "Big enough."
"That's not reassuring, Harry."
"It wasn't meant to be," I was tracing the pentagram on a smaller version of the map of Chicago, making notes, and squinting in annoyance at my handwriting, which was even worse than usual. Might have helped if my hands weren't shaking. "You're missing a fifth victim. Probably sometime next week, if the pattern holds up. From what I can tell..." The pen slipped in my grasp, clattered to the floor. I swore, scrabbling after it, and only managed to knock it further, feeling more than a little light-headed all of sudden.
Murphy scooped up the pen, put it on the table, fixed me with one of those patented Murphy-style glares. "What's wrong with you?"
"What? Nothing." Okay, so I was lying through my teeth. Sue me. It's a guy thing.
"Bull, Dresden. Did you eat today? At all? We've been here for hours."
"Uh..." Yeah, smooth, Harry. Skilled investigator, master of deception, that's me.
"That's it. Grab your notes, I'm getting you some food. I swear, Dresden, you make me want to kill you myself."
I've already mentioned that arguing with Murphy is something I don't undertake lightly, right? It's all about picking your battles, and right now the idea of food wasn't entirely repugnant. Murphy hustled me out the back door, parked me in a chair in a booth at the back of the cops' favourite local diner, and didn't even leave me the dignity of ordering my own food. Once I was tucking into a cheeseburger, she pulled out our notes, spread them on the table.
"Better?"
I nodded. "Yeah, thanks."
She snorted, rolling her eyes. "You're an idiot sometimes, you know that?"
"So I've been told."
"So what were you going to tell me?"
I tapped my finger on the map on which I had drawn the pentagram. "I know a couple of these addresses. I'm willing to bet the others all have the same thing in common."
"Are we playing twenty questions, Dresden, or are you going to tell me?"
"Murph," I said chidingly. "You're ruining my pacing here. It's all about the big reveal, right?"
"Dresden..."
"Fine, sorry." Some people have no appreciation for the theatre. "I think all the buildings belong to Johnny Marcone."
Murphy groaned in such a melodramatic manner that I immediately doubted my earlier assessment that she didn't appreciate the theatre. "Tell me you're kidding."
I finished the burger, started on the fries. The food was greasy and a little cold, and tasted absolutely wonderful. "Afraid not. If it's any consolation, he's probably being set up. That's what this feels like."
She buried her head in her hands. "Just great. Why would a bunch of vampires want to set up Marcone?"
"Beats me. He's a Free Lord under the Unseelie Accords, so I'm guessing that probably has something to do with it. It could be any number of reasons. They might be using his territory as a way of getting him in trouble, indirectly. They could be using it as a conduit, could be trying to provoke him into doing something that will violate the Accords, could be anything."
"That's helpful," she said wryly, reaching for yet another cup of coffee. I swear, it's like gasoline for cops.
"We're going to have to talk to him, as much as the prospect delights me. Fair warning, see if he can shore up the defences on his buildings. Hell, I bet Gard and Hendricks would love an opportunity to flex their muscles."
"Okay, but let me set it up. Knowing you, you'll just go barging in there and wreck any chance we have to get him to cooperate."
"You never let me have any fun," I complained. I was already compiling lists in my head, trying to sort out what might be going on, and all it was doing was giving me a splitting headache. I guess something must have showed on my face, because Murphy gave my elbow a gentle nudge.
"Dresden, you look like hell. You need to go home, get some rest."
"I'm fine."
"The hell you are. I'm taking you home."
Okay, maybe I was feeling crappier than I let on, because I couldn't quite find the energy to argue with her, never mind picking my battles. Letting Murphy boss me around was becoming a habit which was pretty hard to break. What can I say, she can be pretty persuasive. So I let her shove me into her car, tried not to cringe as her engine made an unhappy grinding noise and the radio squealed and crackled at eardrum-popping levels.
"I'm taking my mechanic bills out of your next paycheque," Murphy informed me grimly.
"Sorry." I leaned back in the seat, trying to keep my eyes open. How on earth could I be so tired after spending less than half a day looking at paperwork? I shrugged off her attempt to help me out of the car -there's only so much of a beating my ego can take, after all- told her I'd give her a call if I found anything, extracted a promise that she would call once she had word from Marcone. She looked as though she wanted to say something, but mercifully held her tongue.
I stumbled a bit on the stairs going back into my apartment, clutched the railing for support, and made for the nearest flat surface that wasn't the floor, which turned out to be the sofa. After a few minutes I started feeling better, went to the kitchen and grabbed a Coke from the icebox. The headache receded, vanished completely, and the vague feeling of dizziness that had been plaguing me for hours went with it. Not that I was complaining, but it kind of weirded me out.
"Uh, Harry?"
I turned to find Molly in the doorway. "How come you're not in school?"
She rolled her eyes. "Hi to you too, Harry. For one, I finish early on Thursdays, remember? For two, I was here doing my homework, and for three I was worried about you."
"I'm fine."
"Sure, you are."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, suddenly tired. "Come on, Molly. Leave off, please."
"But..."
I'd already snapped at Molly way too many times in the past week. I forced myself to take a breath, to keep calm. "Molly, please. I'm as well as I'm going to get until this is over, okay? I just... need you to lay off with the concern."
"Fine," she folded her arms across her chest, went into a full-blown adolescent sulk, a skill she'd mastered years before.
I finished my Coke. "Okay, grasshopper. You want to help? Now's your chance. How do you feel about brewing up some potions?"
Her eyes lit up. "You mean... solo?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I, uh..." I swallowed hard -pride is very large and unwieldy when you're trying to cram it down your own throat. "I can't do it like this. I don't have the focus, or the stamina, and definitely not enough energy to go sparking a potion, but I have a feeling I'm going to need them before too long. So, it's time for you to spread your wings, try a couple of laps around the nest on your own."
"Oh my God that's awesome!" She didn't quite jump up and down and clap her hands, but I could tell it cost her not to do it.
I grinned in spite of myself. "Okay, grasshopper, cool it. I'll be supervising, and you'll be working from a manual of sorts." I hesitated, knowing this was it, the moment I had to make a decision, although I hadn't planned on it for a while, at least not until she was of legal age. "I'm going to have to swear you to secrecy on this, Molly. Can you do that for me?"
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. "Okay."
"All right." I shrugged off my duster, reached for my robes. She was already wearing hers, and I guessed that the homework she'd been talking about hadn't been for school. "Follow me."
I made my way slowly down the ladder into the workshop, Molly close on my heels, motioned to her to grab a seat, then murmured a spell to light the candles. One of them sputtered, sparked, then guttered out almost immediately, and for a second I saw nothing but black spots dancing in front of my eyes.
"Harry?"
I waved a hand at her. "It's okay. I just... maybe you'd better do it."
She lit the candles, using matches. Fire spells are more my thing, and she was conserving energy for the potions. I reached out and rapped with one finger on the skull on the shelf. "Bob, come on out. Meet Molly. Molly, this is Bob."
She turned, her eyes wide. "Cool."
"So what does it mean?" Murphy asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. We were closeted in her office, away from prying eyes, going through all the casebooks one by one. It had already been hours, and my eyes were aching from the strain.
"I think it's a ritual. There's no other explanation. Summoning power for something. Something big."
"How big?"
I shrugged. "Big enough."
"That's not reassuring, Harry."
"It wasn't meant to be," I was tracing the pentagram on a smaller version of the map of Chicago, making notes, and squinting in annoyance at my handwriting, which was even worse than usual. Might have helped if my hands weren't shaking. "You're missing a fifth victim. Probably sometime next week, if the pattern holds up. From what I can tell..." The pen slipped in my grasp, clattered to the floor. I swore, scrabbling after it, and only managed to knock it further, feeling more than a little light-headed all of sudden.
Murphy scooped up the pen, put it on the table, fixed me with one of those patented Murphy-style glares. "What's wrong with you?"
"What? Nothing." Okay, so I was lying through my teeth. Sue me. It's a guy thing.
"Bull, Dresden. Did you eat today? At all? We've been here for hours."
"Uh..." Yeah, smooth, Harry. Skilled investigator, master of deception, that's me.
"That's it. Grab your notes, I'm getting you some food. I swear, Dresden, you make me want to kill you myself."
I've already mentioned that arguing with Murphy is something I don't undertake lightly, right? It's all about picking your battles, and right now the idea of food wasn't entirely repugnant. Murphy hustled me out the back door, parked me in a chair in a booth at the back of the cops' favourite local diner, and didn't even leave me the dignity of ordering my own food. Once I was tucking into a cheeseburger, she pulled out our notes, spread them on the table.
"Better?"
I nodded. "Yeah, thanks."
She snorted, rolling her eyes. "You're an idiot sometimes, you know that?"
"So I've been told."
"So what were you going to tell me?"
I tapped my finger on the map on which I had drawn the pentagram. "I know a couple of these addresses. I'm willing to bet the others all have the same thing in common."
"Are we playing twenty questions, Dresden, or are you going to tell me?"
"Murph," I said chidingly. "You're ruining my pacing here. It's all about the big reveal, right?"
"Dresden..."
"Fine, sorry." Some people have no appreciation for the theatre. "I think all the buildings belong to Johnny Marcone."
Murphy groaned in such a melodramatic manner that I immediately doubted my earlier assessment that she didn't appreciate the theatre. "Tell me you're kidding."
I finished the burger, started on the fries. The food was greasy and a little cold, and tasted absolutely wonderful. "Afraid not. If it's any consolation, he's probably being set up. That's what this feels like."
She buried her head in her hands. "Just great. Why would a bunch of vampires want to set up Marcone?"
"Beats me. He's a Free Lord under the Unseelie Accords, so I'm guessing that probably has something to do with it. It could be any number of reasons. They might be using his territory as a way of getting him in trouble, indirectly. They could be using it as a conduit, could be trying to provoke him into doing something that will violate the Accords, could be anything."
"That's helpful," she said wryly, reaching for yet another cup of coffee. I swear, it's like gasoline for cops.
"We're going to have to talk to him, as much as the prospect delights me. Fair warning, see if he can shore up the defences on his buildings. Hell, I bet Gard and Hendricks would love an opportunity to flex their muscles."
"Okay, but let me set it up. Knowing you, you'll just go barging in there and wreck any chance we have to get him to cooperate."
"You never let me have any fun," I complained. I was already compiling lists in my head, trying to sort out what might be going on, and all it was doing was giving me a splitting headache. I guess something must have showed on my face, because Murphy gave my elbow a gentle nudge.
"Dresden, you look like hell. You need to go home, get some rest."
"I'm fine."
"The hell you are. I'm taking you home."
Okay, maybe I was feeling crappier than I let on, because I couldn't quite find the energy to argue with her, never mind picking my battles. Letting Murphy boss me around was becoming a habit which was pretty hard to break. What can I say, she can be pretty persuasive. So I let her shove me into her car, tried not to cringe as her engine made an unhappy grinding noise and the radio squealed and crackled at eardrum-popping levels.
"I'm taking my mechanic bills out of your next paycheque," Murphy informed me grimly.
"Sorry." I leaned back in the seat, trying to keep my eyes open. How on earth could I be so tired after spending less than half a day looking at paperwork? I shrugged off her attempt to help me out of the car -there's only so much of a beating my ego can take, after all- told her I'd give her a call if I found anything, extracted a promise that she would call once she had word from Marcone. She looked as though she wanted to say something, but mercifully held her tongue.
I stumbled a bit on the stairs going back into my apartment, clutched the railing for support, and made for the nearest flat surface that wasn't the floor, which turned out to be the sofa. After a few minutes I started feeling better, went to the kitchen and grabbed a Coke from the icebox. The headache receded, vanished completely, and the vague feeling of dizziness that had been plaguing me for hours went with it. Not that I was complaining, but it kind of weirded me out.
"Uh, Harry?"
I turned to find Molly in the doorway. "How come you're not in school?"
She rolled her eyes. "Hi to you too, Harry. For one, I finish early on Thursdays, remember? For two, I was here doing my homework, and for three I was worried about you."
"I'm fine."
"Sure, you are."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, suddenly tired. "Come on, Molly. Leave off, please."
"But..."
I'd already snapped at Molly way too many times in the past week. I forced myself to take a breath, to keep calm. "Molly, please. I'm as well as I'm going to get until this is over, okay? I just... need you to lay off with the concern."
"Fine," she folded her arms across her chest, went into a full-blown adolescent sulk, a skill she'd mastered years before.
I finished my Coke. "Okay, grasshopper. You want to help? Now's your chance. How do you feel about brewing up some potions?"
Her eyes lit up. "You mean... solo?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I, uh..." I swallowed hard -pride is very large and unwieldy when you're trying to cram it down your own throat. "I can't do it like this. I don't have the focus, or the stamina, and definitely not enough energy to go sparking a potion, but I have a feeling I'm going to need them before too long. So, it's time for you to spread your wings, try a couple of laps around the nest on your own."
"Oh my God that's awesome!" She didn't quite jump up and down and clap her hands, but I could tell it cost her not to do it.
I grinned in spite of myself. "Okay, grasshopper, cool it. I'll be supervising, and you'll be working from a manual of sorts." I hesitated, knowing this was it, the moment I had to make a decision, although I hadn't planned on it for a while, at least not until she was of legal age. "I'm going to have to swear you to secrecy on this, Molly. Can you do that for me?"
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. "Okay."
"All right." I shrugged off my duster, reached for my robes. She was already wearing hers, and I guessed that the homework she'd been talking about hadn't been for school. "Follow me."
I made my way slowly down the ladder into the workshop, Molly close on my heels, motioned to her to grab a seat, then murmured a spell to light the candles. One of them sputtered, sparked, then guttered out almost immediately, and for a second I saw nothing but black spots dancing in front of my eyes.
"Harry?"
I waved a hand at her. "It's okay. I just... maybe you'd better do it."
She lit the candles, using matches. Fire spells are more my thing, and she was conserving energy for the potions. I reached out and rapped with one finger on the skull on the shelf. "Bob, come on out. Meet Molly. Molly, this is Bob."
She turned, her eyes wide. "Cool."