Grave Peril (The Dresden Files #3) - Jim Butcher Page 0,36
pin down the source of the odd sensations. The leaves in the trees, all in their autumn motley, rustled and sighed in the wind, occasionally falling. Dried leaves rattled and scraped over the streets. Cars drove by in the distance. A jet rumbled overhead, a deep and distant sound.
"Dresden," Rudolph snapped. "Let's go."
I lifted a hand, extending my senses out, pushing my perception out along with my will. "Hang on a second," I said. "I need to " I quit trying to speak, and searched for the source of the sensation. What the hell was it?
"Fucking showboat," Rudolph growled. I heard him start toward me.
"Hang on, kid," Stallings said. "Let the man work. We've both seen what he can do."
"I haven't seen shit that can't be explained," Rudolph growled. But he stayed put.
I drifted across the street, to the yard of the house in question, and found the first body in the fallen leaves, five feet to my left. A small, yellow-and-white furred cat lay there, twisted so that its forelegs faced one way, its hindquarters the opposite. Something had broken its neck.
I felt a pang of nausea. Death isn't ever pretty, really. It's worst with people, but with the animals that are close to mankind, it seems to be a little nastier than it might be elsewhere in the wild kingdom. The cat couldn't have reached its full growth, yetmaybe a kitten from early in the spring, roaming the neighborhood. There was no collar on its neck.
I could feel a little cloud of disturbance around it, a kind of psychic energy left by traumatic, agonizing, and torturous events. But this one little thing, one animal's death, shouldn't have been enough to make me aware of it all the way over from my seat in the police car.
Five feet farther on, I found a dead bird. I found its wings in two more places. Then two more birds, without heads. Then something that had been small and furry, and was now small and furry and squishymaybe a vole or a ground squirrel. And there were more. A lot moreall in all, maybe a dozen dead animals in the front yard, a dozen little patches of violent energies still lingering. No single one of them would have been enough to disturb my wizard's sense, but all of them together had.
So what the hell had been killing these animals?
I rubbed my palms over my arms, a sickly little feeling of dread rolling through me. I looked up to see Rudolph and Stallings following me around. Their faces looked kind of greenish.
"Jesus," Stallings said. He prodded the body of the cat with one toe. "What did this?"
I shook my head and rolled my shoulders in a shrug. "It might take me a while to find out. Where's Micky?"
"Inside."
"Well then," I said, and stood up, brushing off my hands. "Let's go."
Chapter Twelve
I stopped outside the doorway. Micky Malone owned a nice house. His wife taught elementary school. They wouldn't have been able to afford the place on his salary alone, but together they managed. The hardwood floors gleamed with polish. I saw an original painting, a seascape, hanging on one of the walls of the living room, adjacent to the entryway. There were a lot of plants, a lot of greenery that, along with the wood grain of the floors, gave the place a rich, organic glow. It was one of those places that wasn't just a house. It was a home.
"Come on, Dresden," Rudolph snapped. "The lieutenant is waiting."
"Is Mrs. Malone here?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Go get her. I need her to invite me in."
"What?" Rudolph said. "Give me a break. Who are you, Count Dracula?"
"Drakul is still in eastern Europe, last time we checked," I replied. "But I need her or Micky to ask me in, if you want me to do anything for you."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
I sighed. "Look. Homes, places that people live in and love and have built a life in have a kind of power of their own. If a bunch of strangers had been trouping in and out all day, I wouldn't have any trouble with the threshold, but you're not. You guys are friends." Like Murphy had saidthis one was personal.
Stallings frowned. "So you can't come in?"
"Oh, I could come in," I said. "But I'd be leaving most of what I can do at the door. The threshold would mess with me being able to work any forces in the house."