a thinking mind, trying to reason its way to what was happening, to fall for a psychological ploy like that one.
And it probably said something about me that it completely failed to startle me. Or maybe it wasn’t that big a deal. As the Scarecrow, I felt that I had amply proven that I didn’t have much of a brain with which to be messed.
So instead of finding a helpless target waiting for him, the Red Court vampire found a field of adamant, invisible power as I brought my shield up. And while it might have supernatural strength, that didn’t increase its mass. It bounced off my shield like any other body would if abruptly meeting someone’s front bumper at fifty or sixty miles an hour.
There was a flash of blue light, and I released the shield with a little English on it, tossing the vampire to sprawl on the ground on the righthand side of the hallway, squarely in Murphy’s line of fire, and started moving forward again.
Murphy calmly put two bullets into the vampire’s head, which made an unholy mess of the wall behind it. She put two more into its blood-gorged belly on the way by, and as Susan passed, I heard an ugly, moist sound of impact.
Tilly stood there staring for a second, frozen. Then Susan nudged him into motion again. The agent grabbed Rudolph and dragged him after Murphy and me.
We found the first human body several steps later, a glassy-eyed young woman covered in her own blood. Beyond her, a man in a suit lay sprawled on his face in death, and the corpses of two more women lay within a few feet of him.
There was the most furtive of sounds from a darkened supply closet near an intersection of hallways, its doorway gaping wide open. I didn’t let on that I’d heard it.
“You know what?” I said quietly to no one in particular. “That makes me mad.”
I turned with my blasting rod’s runes blazing into sudden life and roared, “Fuego!”
A spear of white-hot fire erupted from the rod, blowing through the interior wall in a concussive chorus of shattering materials. I slewed it along the length of the closet at waist height, cutting through the wall like an enormous buzz saw.
A surprised scream of inhuman agony greeted my efforts, and I spun in place at once, bringing up the shield again. A second vampire bounded around the intersection ahead, running on all fours along the wall, and threw itself at me. At the same time, another of the rubbery black creatures exploded out of an air vent I would have sworn was too tiny to contain it, coming down from almost straight overhead.
I rebounded the first vamp from my shield, as I had only moments before, and Murphy’s gun began to bark the instant it bounced off the wall and to the floor.
I couldn’t get my shield up in time to stop the one plunging down from overhead.
It landed on me, a horrible, squishy weight, and with the crystalline perceptions of surging adrenaline I saw its jaws dropping open nightmarishly wide, unhinging like a snake’s. Its fangs gleamed. Black claws on all four limbs were poised to rake, and its two-foot-long tongue lashed at me as well, seeking exposed skin in order to deliver its stupefying venom.
I went down to the floor on my face, hurriedly covering my head with my arms. The vampire raked at me furiously, but the defensive spells on my duster held and prevented its claws from scoring. The vampire shifted tactics quickly, tossing me over like a rodeo cowboy taking down a calf. The writhing, slimy tongue lashed at my face, now vulnerable.
Susan’s hand closed on that tongue in midmotion, and with a twist of her wrist and shoulders, she ripped it out of the vampire’s mouth. The vamp threw its head back and shrieked—and my ex-sweetie’s improvised mace smashed its skull down into its torso.
The vampire in the closet, still out of sight, continued to wail its agony as I rose again and checked around me to make sure everyone was there. “Anyone hurt?”
“W-we’re fine,” Tilly said. For a guy who’d just had a couple of close encounters with imaginary creatures, he seemed to be fairly coherent. Rudolph had retreated to his happy place, and just kept on rocking, crying, and whispering. “What about you, Dresden?”
“Peachy.”
Murphy turned toward the closet, her face grim, her gun in her hand. I shook my head at her. “No. Let it