Small Favor - By Jim Butcher Page 0,135

and arched an eyebrow as her voice turned dry. “But I think you’re already familiar with that one.”

“I was going to put the dinosaur back,” I said. “But I was unconscious.”

“Which brings us to number four,” Luccio said. Her fingertip came to rest on a cluster of tiny islands out in the center of the lake, northeast of the city, and the heavy, dark purple line running through it. “Here.”

Molly leaned across me and frowned down at the map. “There aren’t any islands in that part of Lake Michigan. It’s all open water.”

“Listens-to-Wind gave this map to me, Miss Carpenter,” Luccio said seriously. “He’s spent several centuries living in this general region.”

I grunted. “I hear a lot of things. I think that there are some islands out there. They were used as bases for wilderness fighters in several wars. Bootleggers used them as a transfer point for running booze in from Canada, back in the Prohibition days. But there were always stories around them.”

Molly frowned. “What kind of stories?”

I shrugged. “The usual scary stuff. Hauntings. People driven insane by unknown forces. People dragged into the water by creatures unknown, or found slaughtered by weaponry several centuries out-of-date.”

“Then why aren’t they on the maps and stuff?” Molly asked.

“The islands are dangerous,” I said. “Long way from any help, and the lake can be awfully mean in the winter. There are stone reefs out there, too, that could gut a boat that came too close. Maybe someone down at city hall figured that the islands would prove less of a temptation to people if everyone thought they were just stories, and invested some effort in removing them from the public record.”

“That wouldn’t be possible,” Molly said.

“It might be,” Luccio responded. “The energies concentrated around those islands would tend to make people unconsciously avoid them. If one did not have a firm destination fixed in mind, the vast majority of people in the area would swing around the islands without ever realizing what they were doing.”

I grunted. “And if there’s that much bad mojo spinning around out there, it would play merry hell with navigational gear. Twenty bucks says that the major flight lanes don’t come within five miles of the place.” I thumped my finger on the spot and nodded. “It feels right. She’s there.”

“If she is,” Molly asked, “then what do we do about it?”

Luccio tilted her head at me, frowning.

“Captain, I assume you already contacted the Council about getting reinforcements?”

“Yes,” she said. “They’ll be here as soon as possible—which is about nine hours from now.”

“Not fast enough,” I said, and narrowed my eyes in thought. “So we call in some favors.”

“Favors?” Luccio asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I know a guy with a boat.”

Chapter Forty

I rushed around setting up details for the next half an hour. Everyone left to get into position except for me, Molly, and Kincaid. And Mouse.

My dog was clearly upset that I wasn’t going to be bringing him along, and though he dutifully settled down on the floor near Molly’s feet, he looked absolutely miserable.

“Sorry, boy,” I told him. “I want you here to help Molly and warn her about any danger.”

He sighed.

“I got along just fine without you for quite a while,” I told him. “Don’t you worry about me.”

He rolled onto his back and gave me another pathetic look.

“Hah. Just trying to cadge a tummy rub. I knew it.” I leaned down and obliged him.

A minute later the back door opened, and Thomas came in. “Finally,” he said. “I’ve been sitting in my car so long, I think I left a dent in the seat.”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll live. What can I do to help?”

“Get back in your car and give me a ride to my place.”

Thomas gave me a level look. Then he muttered something under his breath, pulled his keys out of his pocket, and stalked back out into the snow.

“You’re horrible,” Molly said, grinning.

“What?” I said. “I’m expressing my brotherly affection.”

I shrugged into my coat and picked up my staff. “Remember the plan?”

“Man the phone,” Molly said, ticking off each point on her fingers. “Keep my eyes open. Make sure Mouse stays in the same room as me. Check on Kincaid every fifteen minutes.”

At one time she would have been sullen about the prospect of being forced to sit at home when something exciting was under way—but she had grown up enough to realize just how dangerous things could be out there, and to respect her own limitations. Molly was extraordinarily sensitive when it came to

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