Grave Peril (The Dresden Files #3) - Jim Butcher Page 0,47

had an invitation?"

"How could it have gotten that?" Bob said. "Ding-dong, Soul Eater Home Delivery, may I come in?"

"Bite me," I said. "What if it took Lydia? Once she was out of the church, she could have been vulnerable to it."

"Possession?" Bob said. "Possible, I guessbut she was wearing your talisman."

"If it could get around a threshold, maybe it could get around that too. She goes to Malone's, looks helpless, and gets an invite in."

"Maybe." Bob did a passable imitation of scrunching up his eyes. "But then why were all those little animals torn up outside? We are going way out on a branch here. There are a lot of maybes."

I shook my head. "No, no. I've got a feeling about this."

"You've said that before. You remember the time you wanted to make 'smart dynamite' for that mining company?"

I scowled. "I hadn't had much sleep that week. And anyway, the sprinklers kicked in."

Bob chortled. "Or the time you tried to enchant that broomstick so that you could fly? Remember that ? I thought it would take a year to get the mud out of your eyebrows."

"Would you focus, please," I complained. I pushed my hands against either side of my head to keep it from exploding with theories, and whittled them down to the ones that fit the facts. "There are only a couple of possibilities. A, we're dealing with some kind of godlike being in which case we're screwed."

"And the Absurd Understatement Award goes to Harry Dresden."

I glared at him. "Or," I said, lifting a finger, "B, this thing is a spirit, something we've seen before, and it's using smoke and mirrors within the rules we already know. Either way, I think Lydia knows more than she's admitting."

"Gee, a woman taking advantage of Captain Chivalry. What are the odds."

"Bah," I said. "If I can find her and find out what she knows, I could nail it today."

"You're forgetting the third possibility," Bob said amiably. "C, it's something new that neither of us understand and you're sailing off in ignorance to plunge into the mouth of Charybdis."

"You're so encouraging," I said, fastening on the bracelet, and slipping on the ring, feeling the quiet, humming power in them both.

Bob somehow waggled his eyebrow ridges. "Hey, you never went out with Charybdis. What's the plan?"

"I loaned Lydia my Dead Man's Talisman," I said.

"I still can't believe after all the work we did, you gave it to the first girl to wiggle by."

I scowled at Bob. "If she's still got it, I should be able to work up a spell to home in on it, like when I find people's wedding rings."

"Great," Bob said. "Give 'em hell, Harry. Have fun storming the castle."

"Not so fast," I said. "She might not have it with her. If she's in on this with the Nightmare, then she could have dumped it once she had it away from me. That's where you come in."

"Me?" Bob squeaked.

"Yes. You're going to head out, hit the streets, and talk to all of your contacts, see if we can get to her before sundown. We've only got a couple of hours."

"Harry," Bob pointed out, "the sun's up. I'm exhausted. I can't just flit around like some kinda dew-drop fairy."

"Take Mister," I said. "He doesn't mind you riding around. And he could use the exercise. Just don't get him killed."

"Hooboy," Bob said. "Once more into the breech, dear friends, eh? Harry, don't quit your job to become a motivational speaker. I have your permission to come out?"

"Yep," I said, "for the purposes of this mission only. And don't waste time prowling around in women's locker rooms again."

I put out the candles and the heater and started up the stepladder. Bob followed, drifting out of the eye sockets of the skull as a glowing, candleflame-colored cloud, and flowed up the steps past me. The cloud glided over to where Mister dozed in the warm spot near the mostly dead fire, and seeped in through the cat's grey fur. Mister sat up and blinked his yellow-green eyes at me, stretched his back, and flicked his stump of a tail back and forth before letting out a reproachful meow.

I scowled at Mister and Bob, shrugging into my duster, gathering up my blasting rod and my exorcism bag, an old black doctor's case full of stuff. "Come on, guys," I said. "We're on the trail. We have the advantage. What could possibly go wrong?"

Chapter Sixteen

Finding people is hard, especially when they don't want to be found.