Summer Knight (The Dresden Files #4) - Jim Butcher Page 0,53

floor shook as he grew closer and closer to me.

From the hall, a querulous female voice demanded, "Whats all that racket? I have already called the police, I have! You fruits get out of our hall, or theyll lock you away!"

Grum stopped. I saw frustration and rage flicker over his apelike features. Then he snarled, stepped over me, and picked up the satchel. When he headed for the door, I rolled out of his way. He was big enough to simply crush my chest if he stepped on me, and I didnt want to make it easy for him.

"You got lucky," the ogre growled. "But this is not over." Then his form blurred and shifted, growing smaller, until he wore the same appearance he had a few moments before. He settled his bowler with one hand, then stalked out the door, aiming a kick at me in passing. I cringed away from it. and he was gone.

"Well?" demanded that same voice. "Whats it going to be, you fruit? Get out!"

Police sirens wailed somewhere outside. I got up, wobbled for a moment, and put my hand against the wall to help myself stay up. I turned the other hand over to look at the piece of paper Id stolen from Grums satchel.

It wasnt paper. It was a photograph. Nothing fancyjust an instant-camera shot. It showed old white-haired Reuel, standing in front of the Magic Castle at one of the Disney parks.

Several young people stood beside him and around him, smiling, sunburned, and apparently happy. One was a tall, bull-necked young woman in faded jeans, with her hair dyed a shade of muddy green. She had a wide smile and a blunt, ugly face. Standing beside her was a girl who should have been in a lingerie catalog, all curves and long limbs in her brief shorts and bikini top, her hair also green, but the color of summer grass rather than that of pond scum. On the other side of Reuel was a pair of young men. One of them, a short, stocky fellow with a goatee and sunglasses, had his fingers lifted into a V behind the head of his companion, a small, slender man with his skin sunburned to the color of copper and his blond hair bleached out to nearly white.

Who were they? Why had Reuel been with them? And why had Grum seemed so intent on removing their picture from Reuels apartment?

The sirens grew closer, and if I didnt want to get locked up by some well-meaning member of Chicagos finest, I needed to leave. I rubbed at my aching throat, winced at the wrenching, cramping pain in my back, wondered about the photograph, and stumbled out of the building.

Chapter Twelve

I got out of the old apartment building and back to the Blue Beetle without being mugged by any attackers, inhuman or otherwise. As I pulled out, a patrol car rolled up, blue bubbles flashing. I drove away at a sedate pace and tried to keep my shaking hands from making the car bob or swerve. No one pulled me over, so I must have done all right. Score one for the good guys.

I had time to think, though I wasnt sure I wanted to. Id gone to Reuels apartment on a simple snoop, not really expecting to find much, if anything. But Id gotten lucky. Not only had I shown up at the right place, Id done it at the right time. Someone obviously wanted to hide something thereeither more pictures like the one Id found or other papers from somewhere in the place. What I needed to determine now was what Grum had been trying to collect ornearly as goodwhy he was trying to make some kind of evidence vanish. Failing that, knowing who he was working for would do almost as wellogres arent exactly known for their independent initiative. And given what was going on, it would be ludicrous to assume that one of the heavyweight thugs of the lands of Faerie just happened to be doing an independent contract in the home of the recently deceased.

Ogres were wyldfaethey could work for either Winter or Summer, and they could have a range of personalities and temperaments running the gamut from jovially violent to maliciously violent. Grum hadnt seemed to be on the cheerful end of that particular scale, but he had been both decisive and restrained. The average walking mountain of muscle from Faerie wouldnt have held back from beating me to a pulp,