Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files #8) - Jim Butcher Page 0,41

to plant my staff on the ground to keep from falling over. My headache flared up with a vengeance, and the light of my amulet and staff both faded.

There were a few more screams, the quick, light sound of frightened feet, and I whirled. I saw someone flee the room from the corner of my eye, but I didnt get much of a look at them. A second later, the room returned to normal, the lights back, the broken projector still spinning one reel at reduced speed, a loose tongue of film slap-slap-slapping the broken casing.

Rawlins advanced, gun still out, his eyes very wide, down to the far end of the room. He went past the screen and looked behind it, gun in firing position. He looked around for a second, then back at me, his expression baffled.

Hes not here, Rawlins said. Did you see him go that way?

I just didnt have enough left in me to speak right at that moment. I shook my head.

Theres a dent in the wall, he reported. Covered inhellip; I dunno what. Some kind of slime.

Hes gone, I grunted. Then I started forward, toward the downed people. Two of them were young men, the third a young woman. Help me.

Rawlins holstered his weapon and did. One of the young men was dead. There was a crescent-shaped cut in his thigh that had opened an artery. Another lay mercifully unconscious, a bruise on his head, several hideous inches of bloody innards protruding from a slash across his belly. I was afraid that if we moved him, his guts might come popping out. The girl was alive, but the sickles tip had drawn a pair of long lines down her back along the spine, and the cuts had been vicious and deep. Bits of bone showed and she lay on her belly, her eyes open and blinking but utterly unfocused, either unwilling or unable to move.

We did what we could for them, which wasnt much more than jerking the tablecloths off the water tables in the corner and improvising soft pads out of them to apply to open wounds. The second girl lay on her side nearby, sobbing hysterically I checked on the old woman, who had just had the wind knocked out of her. I hauled the guy whod fallen from his wheelchair into a slightly more comfortable position and he nodded thanks at me.

See to the other victim, Rawlins said. He held the pad against the boys opened abdomen, putting gentle pressure on it as he jerked out his radio. It squealed with feedback and static when he used it, but he managed to get emergency help headed our way.

I went to the sobbing girl, a tiny little brunette wearing much the same clothes as Molly had been. Shed been bruised up pretty well, and from the way she lay on the floor she could evidently not move without feeling agony. I went to her and felt over her left shoulder gently. Be still, I told her quietly. Its your collarbone, I think. I know it hurts like hell, but youre going to be all right.

It hurts, it hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts, she panted.

I found her hand with mine and squeezed tight. She returned it with a desperate pressure. Youll be all right, I told her.

Dont leave me, she whimpered. Her hand was all but crushing mine. Dont leave.

Its all right, I said. Im right here.

What the hell is this? Rawlins said, panting. He looked around him, at the corpse, at the movie screen, at the dent in the wall beyond. That was the Reaper, the freaking Reaper. From the Suburban Slasher films. What kind of psycho dresses up as the Reaper and startshellip; His face twisted in sudden nausea. What the hell is this?

Rawlins, I said, in a sharp voice, to get his attention.

His frightened eyes darted to me.

Call Murphy, I told him.

He stared at me blankly for a second, then said, My captain is the one who has to make the call on that one. Hell decide.

Up to you, I said. But Murphy and her boys might actually be able to do something with this. Your captain cant. I nodded at the corpse. And we arent playing for pennies here.

Rawlins looked at me. Then at the dead boy. Then he nodded once and picked up his radio again.

Hurts, the girl whimpered, breathless with pain. Hurts, hurts, hurts.

I held her hand. I patted it awkwardly with my gloved left hand while we heard