Part I Part 39 (1/2)

”Well then,” I said with a certain amount of professional pride. ”That should take care of that.”

I spoke too soon. There was a brittle, grinding sound, and the winds.h.i.+eld of the truck exploded into a hectic spiderweb pattern. The sound repeated itself, and the safety gla.s.s shattered outward, followed by a foot wearing a heavy black combat boot. More gla.s.s flew outward, and then people started crawling out of the pickup, battered and bloodied. Besides Parker, there was the lantern-jawed lout whose nose I had flattened a few days ago, his nose now swollen and grotesque, and the bloodthirsty woman who had led the group into their berserk fit of l.u.s.t. They were all dressed in the same variants of denim and leather, and cuts and bruises from the tossing they'd had were much in evidence.

Parker led them out of the truck, looked back at it, stunned- and then he looked at me. I saw fear flicker in his eyes, and it brought out a satisfied surge within my own pounding heart. Served him right, the jerk. I spun my rod around once in my fingers, started whistling a bit from the overture to Carmen, Carmen, and walked toward them through the gra.s.s, annoyed that I was limping and that I was dressed in a ridiculous blue jumpsuit that left inches of my arms and legs bare. and walked toward them through the gra.s.s, annoyed that I was limping and that I was dressed in a ridiculous blue jumpsuit that left inches of my arms and legs bare.

Flatnose saw me and grunted out some sort of Neanderthal noise of surprise. He drew a handgun from inside his jacket, and it looked tiny in his hands. Without preamble he started squeezing off shots at me.

I lifted my left hand, forced more of my boundless energy through the s.h.i.+eld bracelet, and sang a few phrases in what I supposed could have been taken for Italian to verbally encase the spell. I continued walking forward as bullets bounded off the s.h.i.+eld before my hand in cascades of sparks, and I even had enough breath left over to keep on whistling Carmen Carmen.

Parker snarled and slashed at Flatnose's wrist with the edge of his hand in a martial-arts-style movement. I heard a bone break, very clearly, but Flatnose only jerked his hand back toward his body and flashed Parker a scowl.

”Remember why we're here,” the shorter man said. ”He's mine.”

”h.e.l.lo there, Mr. Parker,” I called cheerfully. I suppose that the image I presented as I walked toward them would have been comic-except for all the blood, and the big smile I felt spreading over my face. It seemed to have a somewhat intimidating effect on the Streetwolves at any rate. The woman snarled at me, and for a second I could feel a wild, savage energy, the same that had surrounded the frenzying lycanthropes at the Full Moon Garage, starting to build in the air around me.

I gave the b.i.t.c.h an annoyed look and slashed my hand at the air, drawling, ”Disperdorus.” ”Disperdorus.” I forced out an effort of will I might have found daunting on another night, one when I was feeling a little less all-powerful, and the woman jerked back as though I had slapped her in the mouth. The energy she had been gathering fractured and flew apart as though it had never been. She stared at me, growing tense and nervous, and reached a hand toward a knife in a case at her hip. I forced out an effort of will I might have found daunting on another night, one when I was feeling a little less all-powerful, and the woman jerked back as though I had slapped her in the mouth. The energy she had been gathering fractured and flew apart as though it had never been. She stared at me, growing tense and nervous, and reached a hand toward a knife in a case at her hip.

”Let's have none of that nonsense. As I was saying,” I continued, ”h.e.l.lo there, Mr. Parker. I know why you're here. Heard about the ruckus on a police scanner and came down by the station looking for me, right? Hate to disappoint you, but I'm not going to allow you to kill me.”

Flatnose scowled and said, ”How did you know th-”

Parker shoved the heel of his hand across Flatnose's mouth in a sharp blow, and the big man shut up. ”Mr. Dresden,” Parker growled. He eyed me up and down. ”What exactly makes you think you can stop me from killing you?”

I had to smile at the man. I mean, you have to smile at idiots and children. ”Oh, I don't know,” I chuckled. ”Maybe because the second you step out of line, I'm going to wreck you a whole h.e.l.l of a lot worse than that truck. And because in just a couple of minutes, the police are going to be arriving to sort you out.” There was a momentary flash of dimness, where the streetlight seemed to fade, the rain to grow very cold, and then it was gone again. I blinked a little blood out of my eyes, and renewed my smile. Mustn't let the children see weakness.

Parker snarled his thin lips into a smile. He had bad teeth. ”The cops are after your a.s.s too, Dresden,” he said. ”I don't believe you.”

”Once they're here, I'm going to mysteriously disappear,” I said. ”Just like, well, gosh, magic. But you guys are ...” I forgot what I had been going to say for a moment. There was something nagging at the back of my mind, a detail I had forgotten.

”I can smell your blood, wizard,” Parker said, very quietly. ”G.o.d, you got no idea what it smells like.” Parker didn't move, but the woman let out a little mewling sound and pressed against Flatnose's side. Her eyes were focused intently on me.

”Get a good whiff,” I managed to say. ”It's the last time you'll smell it.” But my smile was gone. A creeping vine of uncertainty was beginning to crack the wall of confidence I had been enjoying. The rain was getting colder, the lights dimmer. My extended left arm began to ache, starting at the wounded shoulder, and my hand shook visibly. Pain started leaking in again, from every part of my battered body.

Sanity returned in a rush. The potion. The potion was giving out on me. I had pushed myself way too hard while the first euphoria was going over me. Dispelling the intimate aura of rage and l.u.s.t that the woman had begun to gather over them had been a feat I would never have considered in a stable frame of mind. There were too many unknowns. My heart was laboring along now, and I started panting. I couldn't get enough breath to slow down my rocketing heartbeat.

Parker and his two companions grew tense together, all at once, with no visible signal pa.s.sing between them. I could feel that wild energy again, coursing down to the lycanthropes from beyond the rain clouds overhead. I swear to you, I could see the cuts on their body, from the crash, closing up before my eyes. Flatnose rolled the wrist that had just been broken, flexed his fingers at me, and gave me a grim smile.

Okay, Harry, I told myself. Keep calm. Do not panic. All you have to do is to hold them until the cops get here, and then you can bleed to death in peace. Or get to a doctor. Whichever hurts less.

”You know, Parker,” I said, and my voice had a fluttering quaver to it, a fast, desperate quality. ”I didn't really mean to show up at your garage. h.e.l.l, I wouldn't have been there at all if Denton's goon hadn't turned me on to the idea.”

”That doesn't matter now,” Parker said. His voice had a quiet, certain tone to it, and he had visibly relaxed. He smiled at me, and showed me more of his teeth. ”That's all in the past.” Then Parker took a step forward, and I panicked.

I jammed the rod at him and snarled, ”Fuego.” ”Fuego.” I funneled my will through it, and to h.e.l.l with what the Council thought of me killing someone with magic. I funneled my will through it, and to h.e.l.l with what the Council thought of me killing someone with magic.

Nothing happened.

I stared in disbelief, first at Parker, and then at the blasting rod. My fingers went numb as I looked at them, and the rune-engraved ash rod fell to the ground, though I tried a clumsy grab to catch it. Instead, my weight came down on my torn foot, and the ripped muscles went into a sudden cramp that sent fresh agony up through my leg. It buckled and pitched me forward into the weeds and the mud. The last wisps of my s.h.i.+eld vanished as I fell. My magic had failed me altogether.

Parker laughed, a low and nasty sound. ”Nice trick. Got another?”

”One more,” I rasped, and fumbled at the jumpsuit's tool pouch. Parker walked slowly toward me, confident, relaxed, and moving like a man thirty years younger than he. My fingers were aching with cold, torn from the asphalt, numb from all the pain and sc.r.a.pes and bruises. But the handle of my Chief's Special was easy enough to find.

I drew it out, thumbed back the hammer, and pointed it up at Parker. His eyes widened and his weight settled back on his heels-not quite retreating, but not coming any closer, either. From three feet away, even down in the mud, it would be tough to miss him, and he knew it.

”I didn't pick you for the kind to carry a gun,” he said. The rain plastered his greasy hair down over his eyes.

”Only on special occasions,” I said back. I had to delay him. If I could hold him in place, just for a few minutes, the cops would show up. I had to believe that they would, because if they didn't I was dead meat. Maybe literally. ”Stop where you are.”

He didn't. He took a step toward me.

So I shot him.

The gun roared, and the bullet smacked into his right knee-cap. It exploded in a burst of blood and flying chips of bone, and the leg went out from under him, hurling him to the muddy ground. He blinked once, surprised, but the pain he must have been feeling didn't seem to register. He scooted back a couple of feet and stared at me for a second, rea.s.sessing me.

Parker then drew his legs beneath him, and ignoring his ruined knee, hunkered down on his heels and rested his elbows on his thighs as if we were old friends, keeping his hands in plain sight. ”You're tougher than you look. We tried to catch you at your apartment, you know,” he said, as though I hadn't just shot him. ”But the cops were all over it. Police band said you'd gotten arrested, but I guess you got away. We paid the jailer to let us know when they rounded you up.” He grinned his snaggle-toothed grin and looked almost friendly. ”h.e.l.l, kid. We were hanging around in a bar two blocks from the station for almost two days, just hoping to be there when they brought you up the steps. Drive-by.” He pointed his finger at me in a bang-bang motion, and let his thumb fall forward.

”Sorry to disappoint you,” I mumbled. I was working hard not to give in to the shakes, the cold, or the darkness. I knew he was up to something, but there was too much to deal with- too much injury, too much exhaustion, too much blood on my hands. I squinted past him to see Flatnose and the woman still in the same spot, both of them watching me with the intent look of hungry animals.

Parker chuckled. ”And instead, everything goes to h.e.l.l at the station. Gunshots, explosions, sounds like a war inside. Which was fun to watch. And then we see you stumbling out of the middle of it, right there in front of the cop station, with a cute little piece on either side helping you down the stairs. We just rolled out right after your a.s.s.”

”I hope you're insured.”

Parker shrugged. ”Truck wasn't mine.” He plucked up a long blade of gra.s.s and traced it over the ruin of his knee, painting it red with his blood before crus.h.i.+ng it up in his fingers. ”Most of my people are out by the lake tonight. They got to let off some steam during the full moon. d.a.m.n, but I want to take you out right there in front of all of them. You got a real bada.s.s reputation, kid.”

”Can't have everything you want,” I said. I blinked rain, or blood, from my eyes.

Parker's smile widened. ”You know, kid. I think there's something you don't know.”

In the distance, I could hear the sound of sirens speeding down the freeway toward me. Hot d.a.m.n, I thought. I finally did something right. ”Oh yeah?” I asked, daring to feel a satisfied thrill of victory.

Parker nodded and looked off to one side. ”There were two cars behind you.”

And something smashed down on my right hand, making it go numb, and sending the gun to earth. I looked up and had time to see another of the lycanthropes from the garage lift a lead pipe wrapped in electrical tape, and bring it down hard at me. The woman screamed and rushed toward me. She had steel-toed boots. Flatnose lumbered after her, and was content to use the barrel of his pistol as a dumb club.

Parker just sat there, squatting on his heels, and watched them. I could see his eyes. My blood spattered onto his cheek.

I don't like thinking about what they did. They didn't want to kill me. They wanted to hurt me. And they were good at it. I couldn't fight. I couldn't even curl up into a ball. There wasn't that much spirit left in me. I could hear myself making choking sounds, gagging on my own blood, sobbing and retching in pathetic agony. I would have screamed if I could have. You hear stories about men who keep silent through all the torture and agony that anyone inflicts on them, but I'm just not that strong. They broke me.

At some point, the mind says ”no more” and it gets the h.e.l.l away from all that pain. I started going there, to that away-place, and I wasn't sorry to do it at all.

I could dimly hear Parker shoving people off of me, once I stopped moving. He broke a few more of their bones, and they backed off with snarls of rage. He was walking on the leg again already, though my shot must have torn the joint to pieces. At his orders, they picked me up and carried me to another car, just lugged me along like a sack of broken parts. Duct tape went around my wrists and ankles, knees and elbows and mouth. Then they threw me in the trunk.

Parker reached up to close the lid. I didn't have enough energy to move my eyes. I just stared out, letting them focus wherever they would.

I saw a face behind the wheel of a car going past on the access road-just a sedan, something that would blend in with all the other cars in the city. The face was young, strained, sprinkled with freckles, the hair red, the ears big.

Roger Harris, FBI. Denton's redheaded lackey.