Part 32 (1/2)

”She's adjusting,” I replied. ”Madrigal and his Malvora buddy are still out there.”

”Yeah,” Thomas said. ”So?”

”So that means that this was just a warm-up. They're still a threat,” I said. ”They've got enough bodies to lay the whole thing out to the White Court and make people like the Ordo look like a casino buffet. If that happens, it won't just be one Skavis running around with a point to prove. It will be a quiet campaign. Thousands of people will die.”

Thomas grunted. ”Yeah. There's not a lot we can do about that, though.”

”Says who?” I replied.

He frowned at me and tilted his head.

”Thomas,” I said quietly, ”by any chance, is there a gathering of the White Court anytime soon? Perhaps in relation to the proposed summit talks?”

”If there was a meeting of the most powerful hundred or so n.o.bles of the Court scheduled to meet at the family estate the day after tomorrow, I couldn't tell you about it,” Thomas said. ”Because I gave my sister my word.”

”Your sister has guts,” I said. ”And she sure as h.e.l.l knows how to put on a show.” I glanced at the ruined hotel, and dropped my hand to scratch Mouse's ears. They were about the only part of him not stained with too-pale blood. ”Of course, I've been known to bring down the house once or twice, myself.”

Thomas folded his arms, waiting. His smile was positively vulpine.

”Call Lara,” I said. ”Pa.s.s her a message for me.”

Thomas narrowed his eyes. ”What message?”

I bared my teeth in an answering smile.

CHAPTER Thirty-Two

Murphy might not have been officially in charge of Special Investigations, but I don't think that made much difference to many of the other detectives there. She needed help, and when she called, they came. End of story.

For them, at least. For Murphy, it was the beginning of the story. She had to tell a lot of stories around police headquarters. It was a part of her job. Oh, no, those reports of vampire attacks were the results of hysterical drug-induced hallucinations. Troll? It was a large and ugly man, probably drunk or on drugs. He got away, investigation ongoing. Everyone buys it, because that's what SI gets paid to do-explain away the bogeyman.

Murphy should be a novelist, she writes so much fiction.

We had a big mess here, but Murph and her fellow cops in SI would make it fit in the blanks. Terrorists were hot right now. This report would probably have terrorists in it. Scared religious nuts and terrorists who set off incendiary devices at an apartment building and in her car, and who also doubtless set the device that blew up an entire room at a cheap south-side motel. There weren't any corpses to clean up-just one wounded woman who probably needed to see a shrink more than a jail cell. I debated with myself over whether or not to suggest she add in a bit with a dog. People love dogs. You can never go wrong adding a dog to the story.

”Right, Mouse?” I asked him.

Mouse looked unhappily up at me. Thomas had gotten the women and kids clear of the scene and handled what was left of the Skavis agent while I'd gone to a car wash and cleaned his blood off of my dog with the sprayer. Mouse's fur keeps out just about everything, but when it finally gets wet, it soaks up about fifty gallons and stays that way for a long time. He doesn't like it, and he was apparently feeling petulant about the entire process.

”Everybody loves a bit with a dog,” I said.

Mouse exhaled steadily, then shook his head once and laid it back down, politely and definitely ignoring me.

I get no respect.

I sat on a hospital bench near the emergency room entrance with Mouse pressed up against one of my legs as he lay on the floor, just in case anyone wondered who he was with. It had been a long night, and despite Elaine's incredible hands, my headache had begun to return. I tried to decide whether Cowl's mental whammy or Madrigal and his stupid a.s.sault rifle deserved more blame for that.

A brawny kid in a brown uniform s.h.i.+rt came up to me the way good security guys do in the Midwest-all friendly and nice, until it's time to not be nice. The wit and wisdom of Patrick Swayze movies lives on. ”Sorry, mister,” he said in a friendly tone, one hand resting congenially on his nightstick. ”No dogs allowed. Hospital rules.”

I was tired. ”If I don't take him out,” I said, ”are you going to tonfa me to death?”

He blinked at me. ”What?”

”Tonfa,” I said. ”Imagine all the meal that isn't getting ground so that you can do your job. All the knives going unsharpened.”

He smiled, and I could see him cla.s.sify me as ”drunk, harmless.” He put out one hand in a come-along sort of gesture.

”Your nightstick there. It's called a tonfa. It was originally a pin that held a millstone or a big round grinding stone in a smithy. It got developed into an improvised weapon by people in southeast Asia, Okinawa, places like that, where big friendly security types like yourself took away all the real weapons in the interest of public safety.”

His smile faded a little. ”Okay, buddy...” He put his hand on my shoulder.

Mouse opened his eyes and lifted his head.

That's all. He didn't growl at the brawny kid. He didn't show his teeth. Like all the most dangerous people I know, he didn't feel a need to make any displays. He just sort of took notice-with extreme prejudice.

The security kid was smart enough to get the picture and took a quick step back. His hand went from the nightstick to his radio. Even Patrick Swayze needed help sometimes.

Murphy came walking up, her badge hanging on a chain around her neck, and said, ”Easy there, big guy.” She traded a nod with the security kid and hooked a thumb back at me. ”He's with us. The dog is a handicap-a.s.sist animal.”

The kid lifted his eyebrows.

”My mouth is partially paralyzed,” I said. ”It makes it hard for me to read. He's here to help me with the big words. Tell me if I'm supposed to push or pull on doors, that kind of thing.”

Murphy gave me a gimlet glance, and turned back to the guard. ”See what I mean? I'll have him out of your hair in a minute.”

The security guard glanced dubiously at me, but nodded at Murphy and said, ”All right. I'll check back in a bit, see if you need anything.”

”Thanks,” Murphy said, her tone even.

The guard departed. Murphy sighed and sat down next to me, her feet on the other side of Mouse. The dog gave her leg a fond nudge and settled back down again.

”He'll be back to see if you need help,” I told Murphy in a serious voice. ”A sweet little thing like you could get in trouble with a big, crazy man like me.”

”Mouse,” Murphy said. ”If I knock Harry out and write, 'Insufferable wisea.s.s,' on his head in permanent marker, will you help him read it?”

Mouse glanced up at Murphy and c.o.c.ked his head speculatively. Then he sneezed and lay back down.

”Why'd you give him a hard time?” Murphy asked me.

I nodded at a pay phone on the wall next to a drinking fountain and a vending machine. ”Waiting for a call.”

”Ah,” Murphy said. ”Where's Molly?”

”She was falling asleep on her feet. Rawlins took her home for me.”

Murphy grunted. ”I said we'd talk about her.”