"It gets sort of Zen after a while," Butters said brightly. "Life is a journey. Time is a river. The door is a jar."
Kirby gave him a skeptical look. I grabbed Butters by the shoulder and hauled him into the building and up to the apartment.
Billy opened the door before we even got to it, and looked out expectantly. He stepped a bit to one side, holding the door open for us, watching up and down the hallway. "Heya, Harry."
The apartment was a typical college place-small, a couple of bedrooms, nothing permanent on the walls, furniture that wasn't too expensive or hard to move, and equipped with an expensive entertainment center. Georgia sat on the couch reading from one of a small mountain of medical books. I walked in and introduced everyone.
"I need a computer," I told Billy.
He arched an eyebrow at me.
I waved a hand in a vague motion. "Tell him, Butters."
Butters pulled the jump drive from his pocket and showed it to Billy. "Anything with a USB port."
Georgia frowned and asked, "What's on it?"
"I'm not sure," I said. "I need to know."
She nodded. "Better let him use the one on the far wall of the computer room, Will. The farther from Harry the better."
"Feel the love." I sighed. I pointed at the little table next to the door and asked, "Can I make a few calls while I wait?"
"Sure." Billy turned to Butters. "Right this way."
They went into one of the bedrooms. Georgia went back to her book. I picked up the phone.
The phone at my place rang a dozen times before it rattled, and then Thomas slurred, "What?"
"It's me," I said. "You all right?"
"I was all right. I was asleep. Stupid Mouse woke me up to get the phone."
"Any sign of visitors? Calls?"
"No and no," he said.
"Get some more sleep," I said.
He made a grunting noise and hung up.
I called my answering service next. They had recently phased over to stored voice mail. I was suspicious of it on general principles. From a purely logical standpoint, I knew my issues with technology wouldn't extend all the way across town over the phone lines, but all the same I didn't trust it. I would much rather have dealt with an actual person taking messages, but it cost too much now to keep someone manning the phones when voice mail could do all the work. I punched the buttons and had to go through all the menus only twice to get it to work.
Beeeeeep. "Harry, it's Murphy. We got into Hawaii all right, and there was no problem with the hotel, so you can reach me at those contact numbers. I'll call in again in a couple of-" Her voice broke off into a sudden high-pitched noise. "Would you "Harry, it's Murphy. We got into Hawaii all right, and there was no problem with the hotel, so you can reach me at those contact numbers. I'll call in again in a couple of-" Her voice broke off into a sudden high-pitched noise. "Would you stop stop that?" she demanded, with a lot more laughter than anger in her voice. "I'm on the phone. In a couple of days, Harry. Thanks for taking care of my pants. Er, plants, that?" she demanded, with a lot more laughter than anger in her voice. "I'm on the phone. In a couple of days, Harry. Thanks for taking care of my pants. Er, plants, plants. plants." Beeeeeep. Beeeeeep.
I wondered what had caused Murphy to make a high-pitched noise and a big old Freudian slip. And I wondered what to read into the fact that she had left me a message instead of calling me at home. Probably nothing. She probably didn't want to wake me up or something. Yeah. She was probably only thinking of me.
Beeeeep. "Harry. Mike. The Beetle will be ready at noon." "Harry. Mike. The Beetle will be ready at noon." Beeeeep. Beeeeep.
God bless Mechanic Mike. If I heard a car complaining about its closed doors being open one more time, I would have to disintegrate something.
Beeeeep. "Oh," said a young woman's voice. "Mister Dresden? It's Shiela Starr. We met at Bock Ordered Books last night?" There was the sound of her taking an unsteady breath. "I wondered if I could ask for a few minutes of your time. There have been...I mean, I'm not completely certain but...I think something is "Oh," said a young woman's voice. "Mister Dresden? It's Shiela Starr. We met at Bock Ordered Books last night?" There was the sound of her taking an unsteady breath. "I wondered if I could ask for a few minutes of your time. There have been...I mean, I'm not completely certain but...I think something is wrong. wrong. Here at the store, I mean." She let out a snippet of laughter that was half anxiety and half weariness. "Oh, hell, I probably sound crazy, but I would really like to speak to you about it. I'll be at the shop until noon. Or you can call my apartment." She gave me the number. "I hope you can come by the store, though. I would really appreciate it." Here at the store, I mean." She let out a snippet of laughter that was half anxiety and half weariness. "Oh, hell, I probably sound crazy, but I would really like to speak to you about it. I'll be at the shop until noon. Or you can call my apartment." She gave me the number. "I hope you can come by the store, though. I would really appreciate it." Beeeep. Beeeep.
I found myself frowning. Shiela hadn't said it outright, but she had sounded pretty scared. That wasn't terribly surprising, given what she'd probably seen happening right outside Bock's shop the night before, but it made me feel uncomfortable to hear fear in her voice. Or maybe it's more correct to say that I'm not comfortable with fear in any woman's voice.
It's not my fault. I know it's sexist and macho, and it's retrograde social evolution, but I hate it when bad things happen to women. Don't get me wrong; I hate bad things to happen to anyone-but when it's a woman that's in danger, I hate it with a reflexive, bone-deep, primal mindlessness that borders on insanity. Women are beautiful creatures, and dammit, I enjoy making sure that they're safe and treating them with old-fashioned manners and courtesy. It just seems right. I'd suffered for thinking that way more than once, but it still didn't change the way I felt.
Shiela was a girl, and she was scared. Therefore, if I wanted to have any peace of mind, I was going to have to go talk to her.
I checked the clock. Eleven. She was still at the store.
I dialed one more number, and got an answering machine with no message, only a tone. "This is Dresden," I told the machine. "And we need to talk."
Butters and Billy reappeared. I hung up the phone and asked them, "Well?"
"Numbers," said Billy.
"More specific?" I asked.
Butters shook his head. "It's hard to be any more specific than that. There was only one file on the jump drive, and it was empty. The only information on it was the file name, and it was just a number." He offered me a piece of white paper with a string of numerals printed on it in his spidery scrawl. I counted. There were sixteen of them. "That's it."
I took the paper and frowned at the numbers. "That is spectacularly useless."
"Yeah," Butters said quietly.
I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. "Okay. Let me think." I tried to prioritize. Grevane was out there looking for Butters. Maybe Marcone was looking for him too. Maybe the dead professor's two assistants to boot. "Butters, we have to get you behind my wards again."
He blinked at me. "But why? I mean, they wanted me so that they could get to the information. I'm useless to them now."
"You and I know that. They don't."
"Oh."
"Billy," I said, "could you please take Butters over to my place?"
"No problem," he said. "What about you? Won't you need wheels?"
"The Beetle is ready. I'll take a cab."
"I can drop you off," Billy offered.
"No. It's the opposite way from my apartment, and Butters needs to get there yesterday. Go around the block once or twice before you pull in. Make sure no one is watching the door."
Billy smiled. "I know the drill."
"Don't try to open the door yourself, Butters. Knock and wait for Thomas to do it."
"Right." Butters fretted at his lip a little. "What are you going to be doing?"
"Detective stuff. I have places to go and people to see."
And with a little luck, none of them would kill me.
Chapter Sixteen
Billy's apartment was only a couple of blocks from Bock Ordered Books, and while I could have taken a couple of alleys to make the trip even shorter, I kept on the open streets, where there were plenty of people. I didn't see anyone following me, but if there was a good enough team on me-or if they were using veils to hide their presence, of course-I might miss them. I kept my staff in my right hand and made sure my shield bracelet was ready, in case anyone tried some kind of variant on the old drive-up assassination. I'd survived them before, but the classics never go out of style.
I got to Bock's in one piece, and no one so much as glared at me. I felt sort of rejected, but comforted myself with the knowledge that there were at least half a dozen people in town who were sure to keep making my life dangerous. More if you counted Mavra, who technically wasn't a person.
Bock didn't open the doors of his store until eleven, so when I went in I was probably the first one to show up for the day. I paused outside the door. Two of the store windows and the glass panel of the door were all gone, replaced by rough sheets of plywood. Bock had gotten off better than the boutique next door-all the glass was gone, doubtless shattered by one kind of flying debris or another during my conversation with Cowl and his sidekick. I went inside.
Bock was at his place behind the counter, and looked tired. He glanced up at the sound of his door chimes. His expression became something closed and cautious when he saw me.
"Bock," I said. "You here all night?"
"End-of-the-month inventory," he said, his voice careful and quiet. "And repairing the windows. What do you need?"
I looked around the inside of the store. Shiela appeared from behind one of the shelves at the back of the store, looking anxious. She saw me and exhaled a little, then gave me a quiet smile.
"Just here to talk," I told Bock, nodding toward Shiela.
He glanced at her, then back at me, frowning. "Dresden. There's something I need to say to you."
I arched an eyebrow at him. "What's wrong?"
"Look. I don't want to make you upset."
I leaned on my staff. "Bock, come on. You've known me ever since I came to town. If something's wrong, you aren't going to upset me by telling me about it."
He folded his thick forearms over his paunch and said, "I don't want you coming into my store anymore."
I leaned on my staff a little more. "Oh."
"You're a decent enough man. You've never jumped down my throat like the other folks from the Council. You've helped people around here." He took a deep breath and made a vague gesture toward the plywood patches on his shop. "But you're trouble. It follows you around."
Which was true enough. I didn't say anything.
"Not everyone can drop a car on someone who attacks them," Bock went on. "I've got a family. My oldest is in college. I can't afford to have the place wrecked."
I nodded. I could understand Bock's position. It's terrifying to feel helpless in the face of a greater power-more so than it is painful to be told you aren't wanted somewhere.
"Look. If you need anything, give me a call. I'll order it or pull it off the shelves for you. Will or Georgia can come pick it up. But..."
"Okay," I said. My throat felt a little tight.
Bock's face got red. He looked away from me, at the ruined door. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," I said. "I understand. I'm sorry about your shop."
He nodded.
"I'm just here for a minute. After that I'll go."
"Right," he said.
I walked down the aisles back to Shiela, and nodded to her. "I got your message."
Shiela was wearing the same clothes as the night before, only more rumpled. She'd pulled her hair back and held it in place with a pair of ballpoint pens thrust through a knot at right angles. With her hair like that, it showed the pale, clean lines of her jaw and throat, and I was again struck by the impulse to run my fingers over her skin and see if it was as soft as it looked.
She glanced at Bock, then smiled up at me and touched my arm with her hand. "I'm sorry he did that. It isn't fair of him."
"No. It's fair enough. He has the right to protect himself and his business," I said. "I don't blame him."
She tilted her head to one side, studying my face. "But it hurts anyway?"
I shrugged. "Some. I'll survive." The chimes rung at the front of the store as another customer came in. I glanced back at Bock, and sighed. "Look, I don't want to be here very long. What did you need?"
She brushed back a few strands of hair that had escaped the knot. "I...well, I had a strange experience last night."
I lifted my eyebrows. "Go on."
She picked up a small stack of books and started shelving them as she spoke. "After all the excitement, I went back to the inventory in the back room, and Mr. Bock had gone to get the plywood for the windows. I thought I heard the chimes ring, but when I looked no one was there."
"Uh-huh," I said.
"But..." She frowned. "You know how when you go into an empty house, you know know it's empty? How it just it's empty? How it just feels feels empty?" empty?"
"Sure," I said. I watched her stretch up onto the tips of her toes to put a book away on the top shelf. It drew her sweater up a little, and I could see muscles move under a swath of the pale skin of her lower back.
"The store didn't feel empty," she said, and I saw her shiver. "I never saw anyone, never heard anyone. But I was sure someone was here." She glanced back at me and flushed. "I was so nervous I could hardly think straight until the sun came up."
"Then what?" I asked.
"It went away. I felt a little silly. Like I was a scared little kid. Or one of those dogs that's staring at something growling when nothing is there."
I shook my head. "Dogs don't just stare and growl for no reason. Sometimes they can perceive things people can't."
She frowned. "Do you think something was here?"
I didn't want to tell her that I thought a Black Court vampire had been lurking unseen in the shop. Hell, for that matter I didn't particularly want to think think about it. If Mavra had been here, there wouldn't have been anything Shiela or Bock could do to defend themselves against her. about it. If Mavra had been here, there wouldn't have been anything Shiela or Bock could do to defend themselves against her.