by Jim Butcher
Harris’s head twitched in a slight nod.
“The bargain,” I said. “You’re Hexenwulfen, so you’ve made a bargain with someone to get the power to change, to get the belts. Who is it?”
“I don’t know,” Harris said, and his eyes widened. “God, I don’t know. Denton handled all of it.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and drew back the hammer on the gun.
“Please,” he squealed, breathless. “I don’t know. I swear to God, Denton handled all of that. He just came to us, asked us if we wanted to back him, if we wanted to nail some of the scum that kept getting away from the law, and I told him I did. Jesus, I didn’t know it was going to lead to this.”
“Lead to what, Roger?” I asked, my tone frosty. “Start from the beginning, and make it quick.”
“Marcone,” he said, eyes on the gun. “It was all about Marcone. Denton wanted to take him down.”
“You mean kill him.”
His eyes flickered up to me. “He told us there was no other way to get to him. That he was doing more to poison this city than anyone alive. And he was right. Marcone’s bought enough influence in this town to stay clear of city police forever, and he carries weight on the national level, too. The bureau has had more than one investigation on him called off. He’s untouchable.”
“So you planned to use the belts to kill him.”
He nodded. “But there would be evidence. No one would believe he’d just been mauled by wild dogs. There would be a full investigation, forensics, the works.”
I understood and nodded. “So you needed someone to make it a neat package. Let me guess: the Streetwolves.”
Harris showed his teeth. “A gang of felons and troublemakers with a wolf motif. Murder of a criminal figure by persons with a wolf motif. No one would bother to check the figures on that one. It’s obvious. And we get one more dangerous group off the street.”
“Yeah, Roger, except that they’d be innocent of that particular crime. Did you think of that? Innocent like those other people who died the nights around the full moon last month. You killed them. You and the rest of Denton’s team.”
He closed his eyes, his face going pale, and he shuddered. “The change. When . . . when you’re changed, when you’re a beast, it’s so incredible. So much speed, power. Your body just sings with it. I tried coke once, in college, and it was nothing compared to this. The blood . . .” His tongue flicked out again over his bloodstained lips, a thirsty motion this time, rather than a nervous one.
“I think I’m starting to see. Denton didn’t tell you about that part. About how your thoughts are influenced. He probably didn’t know himself. And when you’ve done it once . . .”
Harris nodded emphatically. “You just can’t stop, man. It gets to where you’re pacing the room at night. And it’s better than sleep, when you get finished hunting, you feel so alive.” He opened his eyes again, staring up at me, pleading. “I didn’t mean to kill those people. We started off with criminals. Some gangsters dealing drugs. We were just going to scare them, but it was too much. They screamed and ran and we were after them, and . . . We killed them. And my God, Dresden, it was beautiful.”
“And it happened again,” I said. “A couple of times. Innocent people. Just poor schmucks in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Harris turned his head away from me and nodded. “Denton said that we could salvage it. He said that we could pin those killings on the Streetwolves as well. Make everyone think they had done it. And we just went along with him.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t explain why you dragged MacFinn into this.”
“Denton,” the kid said. “It was all him. He said there was someone else we could also set up to take the blame, to be certain we’d be in the clear. That he had the man for it. We broke into MacFinn’s house, and there was all this occult stuff. We messed up some of it and left. And . . . the next night, more people were dead. And more, the next night. That’s when we went after that slime Marcone’s business partner, and wasted the bastard and his goon.”
“And then you laid low for a month.”
Harris swallowed and nodded. “Denton took the belts. He hid them from us. He’d held out better than anyone. And my God, poor Benn was so far gone, it was like she wasn’t even human anymore. Wilson wasn’t much better. But we lasted out the month.”
“And then you killed Marcone’s bodyguard at the Varsity.”
Harris’s eyes flared. “Yes. You should see his record. The things we know he did, but that we can’t get through a court. My God, Dresden, he had it coming.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Who are we to judge?”
“Who are we not to?” Harris demanded. “The power was in our hands. We had a responsibility to use it for the good. To do our jobs. Hell, Dresden. If you’re such a do-gooder, you should be helping us, not getting in the way. These men are untouchable and you know it.”
I shifted my weight uncomfortably. “I don’t agree with your methods. With setting people up to take the blame for your killings.”
Harris sneered. “Like MacFinn has never killed anyone. Hell, he’s a murderer now, isn’t he? After that scene at the police station, anyone would be convinced he was a killer.”
“Except me,” I said. "MacFinn would never have been there if you hadn’t messed up the circle that held him.”
“Yeah,” Harris said, a spiteful, frustrated edge to his tone. “Except you. You got to poking around in our business. Christ, that crazy report to Murphy even talked about the belts. That was when Denton started taking you seriously. If you had any brains at all, you’d pull that trigger and get the hell out now, before Denton and the others come out of the haze and come after you. Because you know way too much.”
“Why the Streetwolves?” I said, instead of shooting him. “Why send me off to check them out?”
“Denton figured they’d kill you,” Harris spat. “And get you out of our hair.”
I nodded. It figured, that someone else had been trying to kill me the whole while, and I hadn’t really noticed. “And he knew that they were after me, after I got away from them the first time.”
“Yeah. And had me tailing them, so we could find you and make sure you were dead. When I saw you in the back of that car, I figured you were. So we planned the hit on the Streetwolves to go down tonight, before MacFinn went after Marcone.”
“How’d you know about that?” I asked.
Harris snorted. “Marcone told us. The snake called asking for police protection.”
I almost smiled. “Did he get it?”
“Hell, no,” Harris answered me. He lifted his chin, and balled his hands into fists, and I felt him tighten up beneath me. “I’m done talking,” he said. “If you aren’t going to sign on with us, then get the hell out of here. Or pull the trigger. But quit wasting my time.”
“I’m not done talking,” I said, and I jammed the gun crosswise over the kid’s throat, strangling him. “You’re going to give Denton a message for me. I’m sick of dancing around. Tell him that he’ll get his shot at me at moonrise, at Marcone’s place.”
Harris squirmed beneath me, making rasping, gagging sounds. His eyes widened at my words. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’ll try to be there when MacFinn shows up,” I said. “That he’ll want to make sure everyone there is dead so that he’s the only one who can report what happened. You tell him that I’ll be there. And tell him that he’s not going to get away with it. Do you understand me, kid?”
I let up on the pressure, and Harris croaked out a vague affirmative. I rose away from him, keeping the gun in one hand and the belt in the other. I saw his eyes flicker to the belt, tracking its movement with a tense, strained sort of hunger.
“Why tell me?” the kid asked. “Why warn us?”
I stared down at him for long seconds before I answered him in a quiet voice. “Because I don’t like what you’re doing. What you are. You aren’t using the power you’ve been given. It’
s using you. You’re turning into animals. You’re using savagery and fear to try to uphold the peace. Now it’s your turn to see what it’s like to be afraid.”
Harris rose to his feet, his red hair askew, blood drying on his mouth, and backed several paces from me, his eyes darting around. “My belt,” he said. “I want my belt.”
“Forget it, kid,” I told him. “The smartest thing you can do is go lock yourself in your room, and stay there until all of this is over. Because one way or another, you aren’t using this belt again.”
His face whitened, and he took a step toward me. I pointed the gun at him, and he froze, his hands balling into fists. “You won’t get away with this,” he said, his voice thick with tension.
“Moonrise,” I told him, then turned on my heel and walked quickly from the alley, although my sock feet on the gravel, combined with my limp, probably spoiled the badass image.
Thirty feet down the alley, Tera appeared from the shadows and fell into step beside me, close enough to support me if I should fall. “You were wrong, wizard,” she said.
I looked down at her, and she met my gaze with her soulless amber eyes. “How so?”
“They have not become animals.” She looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. “Animals do not do what they have done. Animals kill to eat, to defend themselves or their own, and to protect their territory. Not for the joy of it. Not for the lust of it.” She looked back up at me. “Only humans do that, wizard.”
I grimaced, but couldn’t really refute her. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course,” Tera said. We walked in silence for a moment.
“You will try to help my fiancé?”
“I’ll try,” I said. “But I can’t let his curse claim any more lives.”
She nodded, her eyes dark. “He would want it that way. He thinks of others before himself.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
She shrugged, but there was a sudden, worried weight in her shoulders. “And these others. The FBI. They will try to stop you.”
“Yes.”
“And when they do?”
“I can’t let them go on like they have. They’re out of control. I don’t think they can stop themselves from killing, now.” I didn’t look down at Tera, just focused on taking steps, one at a time. “When they do . . .” I said. “When they do . . . I guess I’m going to need to get very human.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Tera and I walked toward the shores of Lake Michigan.
There, along Forty-ninth Street, idled a big old van, its engine rattling. Its headlights came on as we approached, and the driver got out to roll open the side door for us.
“Harry?” she said. “Oh, God. What did they do to you?” She hurried over to me, and then I felt Susan’s warmth against me as she slid one of my arms over her shoulder and pressed up against my side. She was wearing jeans that showed off her long legs, and a dark red jacket that complemented her dark skin. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail, and it made her neck look slender and vulnerable. Susan felt soft and warm beyond belief, and smelled clean and delightfully feminine, and I found myself leaning against her. All the aches and pains that had faded into the background came throbbing back to the forefront of my awareness, in comparison to her soft warmth and gentle support. I liked the way Susan felt better than the way I did.
“They beat him,” Tera explained. “But they kept him alive, as I told you they might.”
“Your face looks like a sack of purple potatoes,” Susan said, her dark eyes studying me, the lines in her face deepening.
“You say the sweetest things,” I mumbled.
They loaded me into the van, where Georgia, Billy, and the other Alphas were crouched. Two of the young people, a boy with blinking, watery blue eyes, and a girl with mousy brown hair, lay on their backs, gasping quietly. Clean white bandages had been wrapped around their wounds. Georgia had, evidently, been the attending medic. All of the Alphas were dressed in plain, dark bathrobes, rather than in their birthday suits, and I felt an oddly grateful feeling toward them for it. Things were weird enough without needing to ride around in a van with a bunch of naked, somewhat geeky college students.
I put my seat belt on and noted the bruises on my hands and forearms—ugly, dark purple-and-brown splotches, so thickly scattered over my skin that in places I couldn’t tell where one stopped and the next began. I sat down and leaned against the window, pillowing my head on my right hand.
“What are you doing here with these people?” I asked Susan when she got into the driver’s seat.
“Driving,” she said. “I was the only one old enough to rent the van.”
I winced. “Ouch.”
“Tell me about it,” she said and started the engine. “After you jumped out of the car, and I finished with my heart attack, we called the police, just like you said. Tera went to look for you and told me that the police had shown up too late, and that the Streetwolves had taken you. How did that truck crash like that?”
“Bad luck. Someone made all their tires explode at the same time.”
Susan gave me an arch look and started up the van. “Those bastards. Just lie still, Harry. You look like a train wreck. We’ll get you to someplace quiet.”
“Food,” I said. “I’m starving. Tera, can you keep track of moonrise?”
“I will,” she said. “The clouds are moving away. I can see the stars.”
“Fantastic,” I mumbled. And then I went to sleep, ignoring the jostling of the van. I didn’t wake up until the smell of fried grease and charred meat made me look up at the drive-thru window of a fast-food burger joint. Susan paid for everything in cash, passing paper sacks to everyone. I snagged a golden paper crown from one of the bags and idly joined it into a circle and put it on my head. Susan blinked at me, then let out a brief laugh.
“I am,” I intoned, with an imperious narrowing of my eyes, “the burger king.” Susan laughed again, shaking her head, and Tera gave me a serious, level gaze. I checked the status of the young people in the back of the van, and found them, even the wounded ones, hungrily wolfing (no pun intended) down the food.
Tera caught the direction of my glance and leaned toward me. “Puppies,” she said, as though the word should explain more than it did. “They were not hurt so badly as they thought. They will hardly have scars to show for it.”
“That’s good to know,” I said and sipped at my cola and chomped down steaming-hot french fries. “But what I’m really interested in,” I said, “is in knowing why your blood was in Marcone’s restaurant the night before the full moon.”
Tera took the hamburger patty off of the bun and started nibbling on it, holding it in her fingers. “Ask another time.”
“No offense,” I said, “but I’m not so sure there’s going to be another time. So tell me.”
Tera took another bite of meat, and then shrugged. “I knew that the pack that had harassed my fiancé was about. I deduced where they might strike, and went there to attempt to stop them.”
“All by yourself?”
Tera sniffed. “Most of those who turn themselves into wolves know little about being wolf, wizard. But these had taken too much of the beast inside. I ran through the window glass and fought, but they outnumbered me. I left before I could be killed.”
“And what about these kids?” I said, nodding toward the back of the van.
She glanced back at them, and for a moment, I saw warmth and pride gleaming in her eyes, subverting the remote, alien lines of her face. “Children. But with strong hearts. They wished to learn, and I taught. Let them tell you their tale.”
“Maybe later,” I said and finished off the french fries. “Where are we going?”
“To a safe place, to arm and prepare ourselves.”
“Myself,” I contradicted her. “To prepare myself. I’m not taking you with me.”
“You are incorrect,” Tera said. “I am going with you.”
“No.”
She fastened her amber eyes on mine. “You are strong, wizard. But you have not yet seen my beast. The men you will oppose would take my fiancé from me. I will not allow that. I will be with you, or you will kill me to stop me.”
This time, it was I who looked away first. I sipped at my drink, scowling, while Tera placidly ate more of the hamburger patty. “Who are you?” I asked her finally.
“One who has lost too many of her family already,” she said. And then she settled back on the seat and withdrew from the conversation, falling silent.
“One who has lost too many . . .” I grumbled, frustrated, mocking her beneath my breath. I turned back to the front of the van and hunched my shoulders over my burger. “Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don’t-even-blink wench.”
There was a hissing sound from the backseat, and I flicked a scowl back over my shoulder. Tera was chewing on her meat. Her eyes were shining, her mouth was curved at the corners, and her breath was puffing out her nostrils in near-silent laughter.
The safe place we were going to turned out to be a big house up near the Gold Coast, not far from Marcone’s own minipalace. The house wasn’t large, by the neighborhood’s standards, but that was like saying that a bale of hay isn’t much to eat, by elephant standards. Susan drove the van up through a break in a high hedge, up a long driveway of white concrete, and into a six-car garage whose doors rolled majestically up before us.
I got out of the van, in the garage, and stared at the Mercedes and the Suburban also parked in it. “Where are we?” I said.
Tera opened the side door of the van, and Georgia, Billy, and the other young man emerged, assisting the two wounded werewolves. Georgia stretched, which did interesting things to the dark bathrobe, and drew her mane of tawny hair back from her lean face with one hand. “It’s my parents’ place. They’re in Italy for another week.”