White Night (The Dresden Files #9) - Jim Butcher Page 0,45
volume, rising from a distant, ghostly murmur to simple ambience, as if I'd been standing there. Traffic sounds. A distant siren. The almost subliminal sound of wheels rushing by on the highway a mile off. The cricketlike chirrup of a car alarm. To me, it was the orchestra tuning and warming up before the overture.
Footsteps, swift and confident, coming closer. The curtain was going up.
The passenger door of the green car opened, and a second shadowy figure joined the first. The door closed, harder than it needed to.
"Are you insane," the passenger asked, "meeting here?"
"What's wrong with here?" Grey Cloak asked. His voice was a light tenor, though it sounded distant, hazy, like a partially obscured radio transmission. An accent? Something from Eastern Europe, maybe. It was hard to make out the particulars.
"It's a bloody upper-class WASP neighborhood," the passenger snarled. His voice was deeper, similarly obscured, and bore no trace of foreign accent. He sounded like a newscaster, standard Midwestern American. "There's private security here. Police. If anyone raises any kind of alarm, it's going to attract a great deal of attention in short order."
Grey Cloak let out a low laugh. "Which is why we are safe. It's late at night. All the little dears are sleeping the sleep of the fat and happy. No one is awake to see us here."
The other said something rude. There was a flicker of light in the passenger seat, and it took me a second to work out that he'd just lit a cigarette. "Well?"
"No."
"No?" the passenger said. "No kine? No wizard? What do you mean, no?"
"Both," Grey Cloak said. His tone turned cold. "You told me he was afraid of fire."
"He is," the passenger said. "You should see his fucking hand."
I felt my left hand clench tight, and the crackle of popping knuckles in my very real laboratory drifted through the magical simulation of the city.
Grey Cloak's head whipped around.
"What?" the passenger asked.
"Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"Something…" Grey Cloak said.
I felt myself holding my breath, willing my fingers to unclench.
The passenger looked around for a moment, then snorted. "You're nervous about him. That's all. You missed him and you're nervous."
"Not nervous," Grey Cloak said. "Understandably cautious. He has more resources and more versatility than your people realize. It's quite possible that he's keeping track of me in some way."
"I doubt that. It would take a subtle worker of the Art to manage that. He isn't one."
"No?" Grey Cloak asked. "He managed to sense the fire before it could cut him off, to somehow waken the entire building from sound sleep all at the same time, and to track me after I departed."
The passenger tensed. "You came here with him behind you?"
"No. I lost him before he could do so. But that does not preclude the use of more subtle means to engage in pursuit."
"He's a thug," the passenger said. "Plain and simple. His talents make him good at destruction and little else. He's a beast to be prodded and directed."
There was silence for a moment. "It amazes me," Grey Cloak said then, "that an idiot such as you survived crossing the wizard once."
Aha. Interesting. The passenger, at least, was someone I'd seen before. He'd walked away from it, too. Most of the individuals I'd faced hadn't done that—which bothered me a hell of a lot, at times—but even so, there'd been more than a couple, and the passenger could be any number of them. That did narrow it down considerably from the several billion possibilities I'd had a moment before, though.
And I felt something of a chill at Grey Cloak's words. He was more aware of his surroundings than anyone running on five simple senses should be, and he was a thinker. That's never a good quality in an enemy. A smart foe doesn't have to be stronger than you, doesn't have to be faster, and doesn't even really have to be there to be a lethal threat. Hell, if that car bomb hadn't been set off early, he'd have cooked Murphy and me both, and I would have died without even knowing he existed.
"To be honest, I'm surprised the wizard lived the night," the passenger said. "It doesn't matter, either way. If we'd killed him, we could have claimed credit for his demise and it would have served our purpose. Now we let him rampage over the Skavis, and it does nothing but help."
"Unless," Grey Cloak said sourly, "he happens to rampage over us as well."