Part I Part 138 (2/2)
”I woke you up, huh?”
”Some.”
”Yeah, late nights suck. Look, there's something odd going on and I thought maybe I could ask you something.”
”Sure.”
”Sullen monosyllabism, a sure sign of sleep deprivation.”
”Eh.”
”Now descending into formless vocalization. My time is short.” b.u.t.ters cleared his throat and said, ”The germs are gone.”
”Germs?” I asked.
”In the samples I took from that body. I ran all the checks again just to be sure, and better than half of them turned up negative. Nothing. Zip, zero.”
”Ungh,” I said.
”Okay, then, Caveman Og. Where germs go?”
”Sunrise,” I said. ”Poof.”
b.u.t.ter's voice sounded bewildered. ”Vampire germs?”
”The tiny capes are a dead giveaway,” I said. I started pulling my train of thought into motion at last. ”Not vampire germs. Constructs. See, at sunrise it's like the whole magical world gets reset to zero. New beginnings. Most spells don't hold together through even one sunrise. And it takes a lot to make them last through two or three.”
”Magic germs?” b.u.t.ters asked. ”Are you telling me I've got magic germs?”
”Magic germs,” I confirmed. ”Someone called them up with magic.”
”Like an actual magic spell?”
”Usually you call nasty hurtful spells a curse. But by tomorrow or the next day, those other samples will probably have zeroed out too.”
”Are they still infectious?”
”a.s.sume they are. They're good as real until the energy that holds them together falls apart.”
”Christ. You're serious. It's for real.”
”Well, yeah.”
”Is there a book or a Cliff's Notes or something on this stuff?”
I actually smiled that time. ”Just me. Anything else?”
”Not much. I swept the body for genetic remains but got nothing. The cuts on the corpse were made with either a surgical scalpel or some other kind of small, fine blade. Maybe a utility knife.”
”I've seen cuts like that before, yeah.”
”Here's the best part. The same blade evidently took off the hands and head. The cuts are cleaner than a surgeon could manage on an operating table. Three single cuts. The heat from it half cauterized parts of the wounds. So what kind of tool can cut fine, precise lines and cleave through bones too?”
”Sword?”
”Have to be one h.e.l.l of a sharp sword.”
”There's a few around like that. Any luck identifying the victim?”
”None. Sorry.”
”'S okay.”
”You want to know if anything changes?”
”Yeah. Or if you see anyone else come in like that guy.”
”G.o.d forbid, will do. You find anything on that tattoo?”
”Called the Eye of Thoth,” I said. ”Trying to narrow down exactly who uses it around here. Oh, give Murphy a call. Let her know about those samples.”
”Already did. She's the one who told me to keep you in the loop. I think she was heading toward sleep too. Would she want me to wake her up to talk to you?”
I talked through a yawn. ”Nah, it can wait. Thanks for the call, b.u.t.ters.”
”No trouble,” he said. ”Sleep is G.o.d. Go wors.h.i.+p.”
I grunted, hung up the phone, and didn't get to take the second step toward my bed when someone knocked at the door.
”I need one of those trapdoors,” I muttered to Mister. ”I could push a b.u.t.ton and people would fall screaming down a wacky slide thing and land in mud somewhere.”
Mister was far too mature to dignify that with a response, so I kept a hand near my gift rack as I opened the door a crack and peeked out.
Susan tilted her head sideways and gave me a small smile. She was wearing jeans, an old tee, a heavy grey fleece jacket, and sungla.s.ses. ”Hi,” she said.
”Hi.”
”You know, it's hard to tell through the door, but your eyes look sunken and bloodshot. Did you sleep last night?”
”What is this thing you speak of, 'sleep'?”
Susan sighed and shook her head. ”Mind if I come in?”
I stepped back and opened the door wider. ”No scolding.”
Susan came in and folded her arms. ”Always so cold in here in the winter.”
<script>