Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files #8) - Jim Butcher Page 0,35

teeththe girls had probably made them with their own fingers from craft plastic. I let out my breath in a steady exhalation and relaxed again, releasing the power Id begun to channel through my staff.

Relax, Harry. Hells bells, that would be a great story for the papers. Professional Wizard Incinerates Amateur Vampire. News at ten.

The two girls went on by, none the wiser, and even Molly only frowned at them and then back at me for a second, her face tilted into an expression of silent inquiry.

I shook my head. Sorry, sorry. Been a long day already. Look, I need to get a look at the bathroom where this theater owner was attacked.

All right, Molly said. But first well get you a name tag at registration.

We will? I asked. Why?

Because youre not supposed to have access to the convention if you havent registered for it, she said. Con security and hotel security might get confused. It would be inconvenient for you.

Right, I said. Good thinking. Im not sure how Id react to inconvenience.

I followed her over to a set of tables set up to receive dozens or hundreds of people at once, each designated with white paper signs marked with A-D, E-J, and so on down the alphabet. A tired-looking, brown-haired woman of early middle age sat behind the first table, doing some kind of paperwork.

Molly, she said, and her voice warmed with tired but genuine pleasure. Who is your friend?

Harry Dresden, Molly said. This is Sandra Marling. Shes the convention chair.

Youre a horror fan? Sandra Marling asked me.

My life is all about horror, these days.

You should find plenty here to entertain you, she assured me. Were showing movies in several rooms as well as in the theater, and theres the vendors room, and some autograph signings tomorrow, and of course there are several parties active already, and the costume contests are always fun to watch.

Isnt that something, I said, and tried not to drown in my enthusiasm.

Sandy, Molly said, stepping in, I want to use my freebie for Harry, here.

Sandra nodded. Oh, Rosanna was looking for you a few minutes ago. Have you spoken to her yet?

Not since this afternoon, Molly said, and fretted at her lower lip. Did she remember to take her vitamins?

Rest easy, girl. I reminded her for you.

Molly looked visibly relieved. Thank you.

Sandra, meanwhile, had me filling out a registration form, which I scribbled through fairly quickly. At the end, she passed me a plastic badge folded around a card that said, SPLATTERCON!!! HI, Imhellip; She gave me a black ink marker to go with it and said, Sorry, the printers been off-line all day. Just write your name in.

I promptly wrote the words An Innocent Bystander onto the name tag before folding it up in the plastic badge and pinning it to my shirt.

I hope you enjoy SplatterCon, Harry, Sandra said.

I picked up a schedule and glanced at it. Make Your Own Blood and Custom Fangs at ten A.M., to be followed by How to Scream Like a Pro.

I dont see how I can avoid being entertained.

Molly gave me a level look as we walked away. You dont have to make fun of it.

Actually I do, I said. I make fun of almost everything.

Its mean, she said. Sandra has poured her whole life into this convention for a year, and I dont want to see her feelings hurt.

Where do you know her from? I asked. Not church, I guess.

Molly looked at me obliquely for a second and then said, Shes a part-time volunteer at one of the shelters where Im doing community service.

She helped Nelson out when he was younger. Rosie too, and her boyfriend.

I lifted a hand in acquiescence. Fine, fine. Ill play nice.

Thank you, she said, her voice still prim. Its very adult of you.

I started to get annoyed, but was struck by the disturbing thought that if I did, I would be coming down on the same side of the situation as Charity, which might be one of the signs of the apocalypse.

Molly led me down to the end of one of the long conference room hallways, where there were the usual restroom doors. One of them had been marked over with three bars of police tape, shutting it, and a uniformed cop sat in a chair beside the door.

The cop was a large black man, grey in his hair at the temples, and he sat with the chair leaned on its rear two legs so that his head rested back