7THnTuvp

1Hello, everyone! This is one of the weirdest sites: or your money back! We have ZIM, neopets, music, and much, much, more. E-mail us for questions, comments, complaints and information. Why not click on the Very Weird Stuff link to see more, or click on the music link? We have halloween and christmas pictures on the NeoPics link. Cheese is not a wild thing!!!!!!!!! Now I have decided to go for a world record. I will try to make the longest web page ever, made completely out of text! Won't that be fun? I will just type, and type, and never, ever use copy and paste. Wow...I really must be bored. Just goes to show what boredom can do to you. Any way, that's it for now. Wait, no it isn't, I still have to keep going, and going, and going. Because I do. THE REST OF THE STUFF I TYPE WILL BE COMPLETLY IN CAPS JUST BECAUSE I CAN. THAT IS ALL. SEEYA! Hi, I'm back. So far this is nowhere near the world record. I think. I don't exactly know where it is...oh, well. I'll just have to do the very best that I can. No one is really coming here, anyway. So it doesn't matter. By the way, TAB is a worthwhile, community-service organization. The form link is to a 100% fake TAB registration form that you can fill out just for laughs. I can't believe I'm bothering to do this. I have very low expectations of my site. None ever comes here, I could do this all day long and I still wouldn't have any more hits. This is just a pointless excursive in spelling errors and grammatical imprecision. May your day be shiney! The following is an extremely weird poem-thingy that I wrote when I was in a relatively weird mood:
2never mind that noise my dear can anyone pass the cheese only if you say pretty please oh, boy do I have to sneeze. why must everyone always rhyme, why I’m a poet and don’t I know it? what I fear comes right after here not this life or the next will I ever be able to pass the test? we’re stuck in here, (alone my dear) and we’ll problem never get out so don’t start to shout. it’s dark and I want to go home is where the heart was where is it now? we’ll never know but oh crap it’s starting to snow and it’s time to show and tell about the well that you found last summer at camp when it was damp it was near the ramp oh god why must this be I liked that tree but now it’s gone, farewell so long I’ll miss you as long as you write but then I’m afraid to say good-night. my dear there’s nothing to fear that’s only a box that’s made of blocks next to the wagon that looks like a dragon why are you shaking it’s your fear that is making you shiver and act all a quiver. don’t you know that you only need be afraid of fear and never anything here and certainly not a post that acts like a ghost? 
3See, very weird. At least it fills up my word quota for the day. Not that I exactly have a word quota for the day. It just sounded very professional to say it. Anyway, I still don't think that anyone is actually coming here. You'd have to be an absolute loser (or really bored) to come here. I'd probley come here, but that isn't much of a surprise. After all, I've been to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website over 50 times. Pathetic. But, whatever. As long as I'm happy, right. Humor the crazy person, okay? Oh, guess what? According to someone you problem don't know, this is the second most pointless website ever! Next to the Really Big Button, of course. I feel special. Come on everyone, group hug. Okay, now I'm starting to scare myself...I'm gonna quit for today. Seeya. Now I'm back. Is this getting confusing to you? Too bad. Now I want you to go to http://quiz.ravenblack.net/blood.pl?biter=eon" If you do this I'll get points in the game. Come on all you non-existing people! Help me! You know you want to! It's a worthy cause! Honestly, the more time I waste playing the game, the less time I'll work on this site and the less stuff you gotta read. Although why you'd be here if you didn't want to read is beyond me. Maybe you're lost. Okay, if you want to get out, click the little refresh button, okay? Good...what? You say it didn't let you out? Oh, well. You must be caught in a time warp. Keep pressing it. Maybe you'll break free. What's that. The little counter at the bottom keeps going up? Never mind. That's just how many times you have to click before you can leave. Good-bye.
4
5Hey, I'm once again: back. I don't suppose you fell for that little thing about the refresh button. After all, you're a responsible, intelligent person who apparently has a lot of time on your hands. Well, you can't possibly have more time than I do. I mean, after all, I made this site. You're only browsing it. And most people don't even come here. Not even my friends...*sniffle* The just ignore this poor, pathetic little page. All they do is fill out the TAB form and leave. I think. Maybe they're here right now! HI! HOW ARE YOU DOING? I'M FINE! THANKS FOR COMING! YES, I'M YELLING! Who am I kidding. This page won't get a single hit, unless I bribe people...now that has possibilities. Okay, fill out the TAB form, so I have proof that you bothered to come here and...uh...I'll...uh...send you a sandwich? Please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. I'm bored. I'm gonna go hug a moose. MOOSE! I love-d you moose! Hey, I'm back again! Yea...*waits for applause* okay! Now I want all you loyal fans...*cricket chirps* to go to the link to see what I'm like. I took a whole bunch of personality quizzes and posted them there. I'm an evil villain, kitty and a freakazoid so far. And I only took the quiz once, too. Spooky how accurate they are...anyway, I command you to go! I'm going. I'm back. I'm gonna start counting how many times I say back. Let's see: 1...2...3...4...5! Wow. I must really be desperate for something to do. I now officially have proof that someone has been here! It was one of my friends. Apparently this page really is getting long, because my friend said something to that effect. Maybe. Anyway, moving on! I'm just basically typing nothing. Just like all those reports people have to do. You know? With a specific number of words. They start out with half that number, and then just fill in words until they have the right amount. I salute those people. You're great tradition is being carried out here, on the second most pointless site ever! Well. Maybe eventually some weird, bored person will wander onto my site on accident and be mildly entertained be my site until they wander onto a live video feed of a coffee maker. Or maybe not. I only know that I'm entertaining me, which was my original goal. So. I've done what I've set out to accomplish. Yea, me! I'm so special. You see, most people, they don't like reading or writing. So if you're not most people, you've made it down this far without skipping, skimming or getting the spark notes version. (Which I think does not exist) My point is, if you've bothered to read this, then, (like me) you probley have also read the ketchup bottle so many times that you have it down verbatim. Look verbatim up. It's a word. But, you should know that, since you like reading. Or maybe you're just skimming. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with reading food labels. You might be asked a question about them on a quiz show. And now, for the million-dollar question: How many calories are there in a single serving of Mustard? I can just see it now...It could be called Know-Your-Food. Or You are What you Eat. It'd probley be as popular as those game shows that no one's ever heard of. Speaking of food, what's up with pie? There's strawberry pie, apple, pumpkin and so many others, but there is no grape pie! I know. I'm just as upset about this unfortunate lack of development in the pie division. Think about it. Grapes are used to make jelly, jam, juice and raisins. What makes them undesirable for pie? Would they dry into raisins? Couldn't you just stick some jelly in a piecrust and bake it? It just doesn't make any sense. Another thing that bothers me is organ grinders. You know, the foreign guys with the bellhop hats and the little music thingy and the cute little monkey with the bellhop hat who collects the money? Okay. They're basically begging on the street. How did they ever afford an organ-thingy? Wouldn't it make more sense to get a kazoo, if you're broke? And if they're so poor, what possessed them to buy a monkey? I mean, I don't think I could afford a monkey, and I'm not exactly on the streets. Obviously I at least have a computer...so, back to the organ grinders. I would have sold the monkey and the organ and been able to eat for at least a year. Or, if I was weirder than I am, I could at least kill the monkey with the organ and eat it. Why on earth did they keep the monkey? It must have cost a fortune to feed...not to mention the mess. That's just one of those many facts of life that are better left mysteries. Especially since no one but me would ask the question. I better go. I think I hear a monkey...Okay...now I'm back. That's the sixth time I've said back! I realize that this longest text ever must be very boring and not worth anyone's time. But I'd like to take this time to thank the 2 and 1/2 people in the entire universe who have bothered to read this entire thing. I'm not exactly sure who they are, but: thanks! Right now, my spacebar is malfunctioning...that's not good...I have to press it two or three times just to insert a freaking space. Maybe the evil little faeries with the sharp little teeth have put their evil faerie dust on my computer. Or maybe not. This is too frustrating. Goodbye for now...Now I'm back. And still frustrated. But for a different reason. Today I had the misfortune of playing a Treasure Planet game on neopets.com It was terrible. Apparently the point of the game was to get your character to shout "Whoo-Hoo!" as many times as possible before you splattered your brains on the rocks, all the while listening to a soundtrack that is similar to a dying ceiling fan. Of course, when I started out I accidentally hit the rocks approximately three million times. Halfway though I used my four remaining brain-cells to decide that the game was dumb. So my goal changed from surviving to laughing evilly while my character died. So the game naturally did everything it could to preserve my life. The stupid game is still going on and I refuse to quit because I want my points. My character is actually dodging the stupid rocks better now then when I controlled him. I hate irony. Seeya. Okay. Now I'm back again. Today I added an update page, which is basically a less chaotic, outlined version of this without all the ranting. It's more like techno talk about arrays and how much I suck and whether or not the Braves will win this year. Okay, the whole braves thing is made up. But everything else I've said so far is true. I think. Maybe I should start on a boring disclaimer...Eh-hem. All contents of this site were designed for entertainment purposes only. Any use thereof that is not stated in the above mentioned statement would make the author, hereby referred to as Patron Saint of Paper Clips, very angry. Should you violate the purpose of this site: i.e. become not entertained, the Patron Saint of Paper Clips will be forced to take drastic measures. This is specified in Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook. Ooooo…that’s a great idea! I’m gonna start quoting from the Flaming Chicken Handbook! Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (that’s me) is allowed to cause vague, pain like sensations while the offending person (or alien life form, dog, etc.) isn’t paying attention. Now I have a purpose in life! To make up quotes from the non-existent Flaming Chicken Handbook, which I’m sure you have a copy of. No? Too bad. It’s in the mail, I promise! Now I must take my leave…and remember. Cheese is watching. Okay...I'm back...I think that eventually half of this thing will consist of the word back over and over again...that's just weird. Which fits the motif of the rest of the site. There's even a money back guarantee. Isn’t' that nice? See? Now no one can ever say that I don't take care of my viewers. Especially since I don't have viewers. I have readers. Wait...I really don't even know if anyone bothers to read this. Even if I put it in a less chaotic, more user-friendly format people would still ignore this because it involves: reading. Yes. Sad to admit, but the majority of people would rather read the summary at the back of a book rather than the whole book itself. What has the world come to? It's pathetic. Especially since I'm bothering to write all this. It's not fair! Why can't I have more readers?! All the other internet writers have nothing on me, except they're better at advertising, having a central theme/plot and basically more talented. Whereas I'm more into the whole ranting and raving stage right now. Plus, I am horrible at spelling. Which is bad. Thank the powers that be for spell-check. The single greatest invention of the computer gods. I'm getting bored, so I think I'm done for the day. May your day be shiney! I'm back again! And I feel weird! I found at that yet another one of my friends is reading this. Creepy. Just how much time do they have on their hands. Perhaps their just trying to be nice. I can just see it now...an organization devoted not to feeding the hungry, or peace, or love or whatever, but to giving recognition to all those poor, pathetic, unpopular websites. I wonder what it's name would be. Don't Ignore Sites? Would it be called DIS? Isn't that like a slang term for an insult? Would that be considered poetic justice, or just a nice coincidence? And why do I even care? I'll tell you why. Because I have nothing else to do right now. I could be playing neopets, but ever since my bad experience with Treasure Planet, I don't feel like it. Oh, by the way, I noticed that whenever I use spell-check, my stupid computer turns the word probley into to word problem. To prevent this, I did nothing. So, it is now up to you, the imaginary reader, to decide whether I mean probley or problem...it's almost like a game! But without the bad sound track. And I promise not to force you to live when you would rather die. Moving on, I have nothing else to say, but don't feel like quitting just yet. I'm like the little engine that could. Or maybe the Energizer Bunny. I just keep going, and going and going. Or I could be like that annoying guy on T.V. who keeps asking if you can hear him. If my site manages to last a decade, my readers *snicker* will probley wonder what I'm talking about. My answer is simple. It doesn't matter. I'm just rambling. Which means that it doesn't matter if you understand anything I say. Doesn't that make you feel better? I bet it does. Wow. Look how long this has gotten. I even impress myself. Who would have thought I have this much free time? And I congratulate any reader who has gotten this far. Ooooooo! You must check out the fortunes section of the random stuff page! I've just gotten an idea for some more, original, fortunes...I gotta go!(may the moose be with you) And now I am back. I swear. If iI fill out the fake tab form I'm gonna have to put back as my favorite word...I already have filled it out, though. Would it be cheating to fill it out again? Only if I had multiple personalities. Or would it be cheating if I didn't have multiple personalities? The world may never know. Just like how many licks it takes to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop. Would it vary? The number of licks, I mean. Someone could have super-disolving spit, or watery-spit. Or what if you took big ol' slobbery licks? Does the commercial take that into account? No. It doesn't. And let me tell you, it's an outrage. It deludes all of American's sweet, innocent, candy-loving children into thinking that a cartoon owl is smarter than they are! "Mr. Owl, can you tell us how many licks does it take to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop?" Or whatever. And "Mr. Owl" replies "One...Twoo...Three! Chomp" And he bites it. That teaches our youth that it's okay to agree to help someone, and then ruin their experiment. Well...it's not. I am going to start a protest group. Teens Against Cartoon Owls. We could call ourselves TACO! I love the little tacos, I love them good! That is a direct quote from GIR, co-star and comic-relief on INVADER ZIM. Hmmmm...intersting. I put hyphens in both of his titles...it must be a conspiracy! I gotta go. Those TACO buttons don't make themselves, you know. I'm back again. And not so cheesed off about the whole tootsie roll pop thing. Right now, I have another twenty minutes on the Internet before I'm gonna watch T.V. And I can't think of anything else to do. So, predictably, here I am. It's not like I have anything better to do. Obviously, you know this. After all, look how long this text is. I wonder if I've made the world record? If I did, would I stop this? Why bother asking? I'll will most likely still be adding to this on my death bed. Hmmmmm...has any old, senile person ever written anything? Was it coherent? Did it make more sense that this text? Is it possible to make less sense? Am I enjoying asking retorical questions? Yes. Yes, I am. But I seriously wonder what something written by a senile person would be like. I've heard of poems and stuff written by people who were high, insane or paranoid. But never senile. Can a senile person write? Aren't they regressed to a child-like state? Does it even matter? Is anyone even reading this? Did I resume asking retorical questions? Do you care? Is this eating up time? I feel like I'm playing questions only on whose line is it anway. I probley should have capitalized something, or underlined but I'm feeling lazy...hey, you try to keep your two and a half readers happy! It's really stressfull. Someday, I'm gonna snap and just delete this entire thing. Gee, I hope not! I worked sorta hard on this. It's great for making random topics weave together to form an overall infrastructure of chaos. That made little sense. That's why it's here, and not some critically acclaimed site. Ooooooooooooo! I'm gonna quote from the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK again! Yep! I bet you were just breathless in anticipation. Okay. Here goes. Code: 472 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that this site in no way aknowledges the existance of other, better sites (hereon reffered to as the Losers) The Losers are a myth. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips (me again!) claims no knowledge as to where that particullary nasty rumor started, but confirms that this is the best site ever. It would be a sin against humanity for a better site to exist. Should you refuse to aknowledge the Patron Saint of Paper Clips as the ruler of the Internet, you will be subjected to punishment as stated in Code 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook (i.e. Experience vague, pain-like sensations when you're not paying attention) This has been a public service announcement. This is a test, I repeat only a test. Had this been an actual emergency, we would have bought up all the can openers and charged 3 cows and a pig for each one. I repeat, lock all you doors and windows, this is it. I repeat, there is nothing to worry about. Everything is fine. The end is not here. I'm going, you're on you're own! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm back!*smiles brightly* And apparantly delusional! Anyway, I just finished rereading my longest text ever. And I became inspired to talk about nothing. You see, I periodically read the longest text ever to check the constant downward spiral of my sanity. Hmmm...I seem to be entertaining myself though, even while reading what I wrote. Which is why I still go to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website. Because I am easily amused and have lots and lots of time on my hands. Maybe, some day far in the future (like next Thursday) I'll print a copy of this insane text. And then go door to door distributing it. Eventually, this would become a monthly tradition. Whole families would gather around their front door, in breathless anticipation while they attempted to barracade me out. I can just see the whole community rising to thwart my attempts to spread love, joy and insane chaos. I probley wouldn't actually print this out (think how much paper it would take!) but if I do, only friends and enemies will receive copies. Hmmmm...maybe my condition is worsening. Or not. I'm still peeved about the cartoon owl from the Tootsie Roll Pop commercials. He is pure evil. TACO will eventually destroy him. Unless he has already been destroyed by an even more radical Anti-Cartoon-Owl group. I hope not. Or, would that be good? I suppose I could let someone else have the glory. After all, I'm not in this line of buisness for the fame, fortune and power. What line of buisness, do you ask? Why, the assasinating annoying cartoon characters buisness. (Actually I just question them untill they spontaneously combust, I ask lots of questions) So, in conclusion, ladies and gentleman of the jury(that's you) I could not have possibly tortured "Mr. Owl" to death. I love owls. Hmm...I seem to be jumping from one subject to another more frequently. Either I am growing more comfortable with my on-line writing, or I am progressivly getting more insane and chaotic. I also am psyco-analyzing myself a lot today...hmmmm...I'm even saying "hmmmmm..." a lot. Just like a real psychologist. Hmmmmmmm. Time for another boring disclaimer!!!!!!! Code: 742 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that in no part does the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (That's still me!) actually claim to be mentally ill. That's either a) a publicity stunt b) An attempt at humor c) a cry for help or d) none of the above You can e-mail your responses by conducting a scavenger hunt of this site. Some of the pages of this site contain a link encouging the two and a half people to e-mail the Patron Saint of Paper Clips. There may also be evil little links that are designed to confuse you. These links send stuff to someone named johnjones333@hotmail.com The Patron Saint of Paper Clips does not know who this individual is, but sincerly wishes that you send all your hate mail to him. Not that the aformentioned individual claims to have received hate mail (or mail of any kind) via a website link. Thank-you for your time. Remember to send your answers to my sanity quiz to the e-mail account, flamingchickens333@hotmail.com Oh, and once I refer to myself in the first person again, the handbook quote is over. I just thought that I might like to mention that. Oh. You're still here. I figured you rush right on over to e-mail me. Perhaps you don't have time to waste e-mailing me. HA! HA! HA! That's funny!!!! If you you don't have time to waste, what are you doing here?!!! Oh, who am I kidding. I figure that even the people I manage to lure onto my site from neopets don't even bother to come to this particular page. Maybe I should make the link come here directly...Hey! What a good idea! That way I can spread my love, joy and insane chaos to more people! I'm a genius. Gotta go, must lure innocent victems to the second most pointless site ever!!!! I'm back. And really angry, and confused. I've always known that I was weird, that's always been a given. But now I realize that I am considerably more normal than the rest of my family. Today we had a "family outing." Now, most families will go bowling, or putt-putt golfing. They may go to a resteraunt with an arcarde, or the movies or to a theme park. Not my family! No, we got the greatest family outing of all. We got to go to a bar and play pool!!!!!*waits for readers to become insanely jealous* Yep, that's right, a bar with a pool table! Not only did we get world class cuisine (under-cooked hotdogs and over-cooked hamburgers), my little sister (age 10) got taught pool by someone I strongly supect is an ex-convict! Naturally when it was announced that we'd be eating dinner in this place, I could hardly contain my excitment(I glared at my mother and asked why we couldn't go to Pizza Hut) When we arrived, we were promptly served (after thirty minutes) In the meantime, we played a family game of pool(my parents played while my brother and sister and I watched) After two rousing rounds, our food came. The food was superb, (our food came the exact opposite of how we ordered it, and half of the onion rings were missing) Then we joyfully returned to our game(my sister and the ex-con played my mom) We spent hours there (from 5p.m.-7:15p.m.) There were many people that were the same age as me and my siblings (no one in the room but us were under 30) Us kids had to be dragged kicking and screaming from the bar ( I almost fell asleep during the last game I watched) As we left, there was a feeling of goodwill and fellowship between all(my sister locked me out of the car and wouldn't let me in untill I started yelling profanity in her general direction) The high point of the entire night was when my mother gave me $21 for my report card. She promptly borrowed $1 to help with the waitresses tip(This part I'm not being sarcastic about) All in all it was a night I'll remember forever (as the lowest point in "family outing"history, except for that time my mom dragged me to a church thing on the concept of truth.) My brother(age 13) even decided upon a new job he wants when he's old enough to work, a busboy at the bar. We had to tell him that he would probley have to wait untill he was 21.(Absolutly nothing about that statement was sarcastic) As you can see, I love my families outings(Not unless you're blind...or stupid) &#!#%&&!!!(*%$ WHAT THE %$#@ WAS MY MOTHER $#$#%$# THINKING!!!!!!!???? BRINGING $#$$# KIDS IN A BAR!? I know it was her idea, 'cause my dad hates it, too. My mom and my stupid little 10-year old sister loves it, though. *sighs* Why does my life have to be so weird? I'm leaving...now I'm back! And not so pissed at my weird family. Now is the time to mourn the loss of one of my most loyal readers (I think she's read the entire thing one time, which is more than anyone else has done so far) She has been banned from accesing any portion of the Internet, do to reasons that must remain confidental due to security reasons. If I told you, I'd have to kill you and all that stuff. So...now I am down to one and a half readers. Untill such time that I have more. I wonder why anyone would read this? You would have to have several characteristics that I possess. First of all, you'd have to have an extrodinary amount of free time. Second of all, you would have to have the patience to read through all of this. And lastly, you'd have to know where the heck this site is. I admit it. I haven't exactly advertised this site. Nor can I find it on any search engines. Some of my pages have stuff written in to make search engines recognize me, but it doesn't seem to be working. What must I do to rise above obscurity? I tell people I know about this site, but they either ignore this page, or don't even bother coming to the site in the first place. I suppose that is the bane of all authors. To pour your heart and soul into a passage, and have everyone ignore it. *sniffle* Why must this be? Maybe I should just give up. After all, no one would really care if I quit updating this site. But I can't help but think of stuff like the evil over lord list and REALLY REALLY BIG BUTTON THAT DOESN'T DO ANYTHING. They are not great neccesarily because of the content, (although that helps some) they are great because of their sheer length. You can read a little each day. And almost never finish. Also, I guess I still am trying to get the world record. I have heard some feedback suggesting that I make someway for people to remember where they stopped reading. It can be very confusing, especially if you weren't paying attention in the first place. Well, I dont want to organize this page, in any manner. This is chaos. And insanity. Not neat little text in classifiable rows, in alphabetical order. If you want neat, go to some other site(though, as mentioned in Flaming Chickens Code:472 there is no such thing as a site better than this one). Otherwise, I guess you're stuck with me. Awwwww...I'm touched! You didn't run screaming to another site, thankfull for the chance to escape this insanity. You're still here, which must mean that you'd rather be here than anywhere else! Hey, where are you going?! I thought you were gonna stay here and keep me company?! *drags reader back* See, I knew you'd stay! *gagged reader glares* What's that? I know this is the best site ever, thanks for the compliment! *reader starts inching towards freedom* I better go...I think that I may have a problem brewing. I'm back. And very concerned about this new, younger generation (all 10 year olds who were born in 1992) They are supposed to be the future. Instead they appear to be a nuclear armagedon in the form of a fifth grader. I chanced to have an interview with an informant from this evil generation (my little sister) who will be called Mrs. X for security reasons (no, she's not married, the "Mrs" makes it good as a disguise) I was quizing Mrs. X on Civil War History for an upcoming test in her classroom (whose location can not be devulged) Mrs. X seemed fluent in the subject. Using prior knowledge, I deduced that Mrs. X was full of crap. Out of sheer curiosity, I asked Mrs. X who participated in the Civil War. She immediatly replied "Clara Barton". I clarified, which countries fought in the Civil War. She answered: England, Russia, and (out of sheer desperation) Iraq. I believe that she was just listing countries she knows America has fought against. Now, correct me if I'm wrong...but Iraq? I don't know if Iraq even existed in the Civil War Era! Why on earth would we go have way across the world to fight them when we didn't even really need oil?!! Moving on, I finaly managed to coax my sister (I'm tired of writing Mrs. X) to tentativly guess that America fought in the Civil War. I mean, who'd a thought? America? Fighting in the American Civil War? In a moment of inspiration, I asked her who America fought. Her first guess was enslaved africans. Well, at least she knows that slaves were involved in the war. Before she could start listing all of America's enemies, I gave her a hint. I said "The Union fought..." With a crack, snaple and pop, some random synapses in her brain connected in the right order and she said "CONFEDERACY!!!" I was very proud of her, just as you would be proud of a two-year-old who has just announced: "I WENT POO-POO ON THE POTTY!!!!!" What I mean is, you wouldn't be very proud if the average person said that they just took a dookey on the toilet, and you wouldn't be very proud if they knew who fought against the Union in the Civil War. I confirmed that the Union was Northern and Free, and that the Confederacy was Southern and Slave. We resumed quizzing and she got every question on the worksheet correct. This is because she memorizes the questions. That way, she can pass the test without actually learning anything. You see, if you memorize stuff, you only have to remember that the answer to number 6 is Clara Barton for a week, rather than having to remember that Clara Barton started the Red Cross for the rest of you life. I sincerely appologize if anyone is offended by my view of memorization. I also would like such persons to immediatly leave my site. You don't belong here. You see...knowledge is good. If my sister...uh...Mrs. X were ever asked a question on the Civil War on a quiz show, she'd come up with nothing. With knowledge you can win money and the opportunity to look like a dork on national television. My sister is a big believer in the memorization system. I previous time when I was studying with her (American Revolution, this time) I was trying to help her remember the difference between the Patriots(Patriotic to America) and the Loyalists (Loyal to Britain) She didn't know what the word patriotic meant. I tried to explain. I asked her how you dress on the forth of july (she said nice) I asked what the colors red, white and blue were (pretty). I gave up in exasperation. More recently, I was trying to instill a sense of empathy and niceness in her. I asked her what the golden rule of christianity was. She didn't know. When I pressed her, she confessed she didn't know what chrisianity was. Completly defeated, I told her that it was the religion she practiced every Sunday when she went with her friends to church. This confirmed my suspicion that she only went so that she could have the use of the church's playground equipment. My family also strongly suspects that she stole $20 from the donation thingy. Anyway, that's my rant on the new generation that contains my little sister. When someone of her generation runs for president, I'm gonna do a complete background check. If they're anything like my sister, I'm movin' to Canada. Gotta go...the Russian-Brittish-Iraqi-enslaved-Africans are coming to defeat the Mexicans. I'm back! *there's that darn cricket again* And I have a genuine question to ask all of my loyal readers *cough-cough* Okay, here it is: Is it normal for a non-gender specific sibling to carry around various dead reptiles (snakes, turtles, lizards etc.) Furthormore, is it considered accepted behavior to talk to these dead reptiles, in a cooey, baby talky kind of voice? Finnaly, is it expected for said sibling's non-gender specific parent to encourage such behavior, citing "I was just like that as a child" as an excuse? It's an honest question as I fear that my non-gender specific sibling is weird. Who am I kidding? My entire family is weird. It's just a matter of degree. Hey, by the way. I'm sorry that my last few entries have been only about my various family antics. Although I can't see why you care, because there is a large probability that you do not exist, because I don't think anyone is reading this anymore. How discouraging. People need to make the time to waste time. It's a time honored tradition. Who'd thought that I could use time that many times in only a few sentences? It's been pretty quiet here lately, which is why I haven't added anything to this text in awhile. I know, you were just crushed that nothing new was happening. It's a sad, cold, cruel world out there and you had nothing to relieve the monotony of it. *sniffle* I feel so sorry for you! Next thing you know, you're internet connection will die. Well, too bad! Do you know I never even had a computer untill just a few months ago (that's why I'm obsessivly writing here) So I won't pity you if you're computer dies for unexpected reasons. Time for another quote from the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK!!! Code: 843 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that in no way is the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who?) responsible for any faulty wiring or lack thereof in your computer. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips in no way wishes harm on your computer. Any derogatory statement is simply an opinion of an individual, not of the flaming order of the flaming chickens. Said order will in no way be held responsible for any damages, injuries, loss of life, limb, head, or organs. Okay, quote is done. Maybe I should put quotation marks around them...nah, too much work. But I probably will eventually get around to having a seperate page just for the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK. That way all the members (what members) can print out a copy of it for themselves (if they didn't get that copy in the mail) I guess I'm done for the day...I know. You want me to stay. It's okay. Because eventually, I'll be back! Seeya! I'm back. And once again suprised. When I was at a TAB poetry thingy (TAB is good TAB is great We love TAB) I met some new people. One of these people (who shall remain nameless untill such time that I have explicit permission to use her name) turned out to be almost as weird as me. As in...she read the ENTIRE Longest Text Ever. The whole thing. So far two whole people (to my knowledge) have read the entire thing, and a few people have skimmed it. That means I really can justify claiming to have two and a half readers! I'm so happy! That means my pointless obsession has actually entertained someone besides me! Perhaps, one day, far in the future, this will actually be a world record and random people will acutally voluntarily read this text every day. Or maybe not. The point is that it is nice to have readers. Or maybe it's not...I mean...won't the quality *snicker* of my work deteriorate if I am no longer writing for the target audience of me? If that happens, then no one will read this. And then I'll be writing for me again. And then the quality will rise. And then people will start reading. And then the quality will go down and the vicious spiral of good and bad will continue untill I either give up this text, or go crazy...er. In any case...I should probably find a topic. Yeah...a topic would be good. Or...I could just continue to write about finding a topic. Ooooo! I know a topic! Ice cream trucks! This has been bothering me for a while. You see...when it's hot, you want something cold to eat. Conviently, ice cream trucks come around during the hottest part of the year (it must be a conspiracy). As you may or may not know, small children swarm the ice cream trucks. The vendors even play whimsical music which I strongly suspect contains subliminal messages to make you hungry for ice cream. The vendors get oodles of cash, and the kids get ice cream. Now, in today's society of buying groceries on-line and getting them delivered, why hasn't any other food industry marketed this ingenius idea to bring the product to the consumer. I can just see Hot Dog, and Pizza trucks roaming the neighbor hoods, selling treats to hungry children...and adults. Of course, said adults would have to peel their butt-cheeks off the couch...but they'd have to do that for the delivary man anyway. The food trucks could even play music that made you hungry for their food. Then the problem with obesity in America would be blamed on evil food truck drivers as opposed to the harmless, benificient television and computer. We could all breath a sigh of relief as parents kept their children inside, away from the evil truck drivers and near the T.V. Gone would be the days when parents told children to play outside, it's a nice day. Parents would buy their children computers, video games and other television neccesities. This, of course would expand the market for such products. This would lead to a better, more stable economy. Food industires would be buying cars, gas and music. Parents would increase the purchase of entertainment items. In return companies would make a profit, pay their workers better. The workers would then be able to afford more entertainment items and the upward spiral would continue, as opposed to the evil downward spiral of my writing. In conclusion, Ladies and Gentlemen...if you implement my idea, there will be peace and prosperity for all. As long as you don't mind a few more couch potatoes. Gotta go...I think I hear a catchy jingle. I'm back...it's been awhile since I've written here. A lot has happened. Like my EVIL school computer deleting my updates page. But it's all good. Especially since I just saw The Matrix: Reloaded. The following text may spoil the movie for you, so WARNING: do no read this unless you have already seen the movie. Okay. What I liked best was the philosophy on choices. (the mindless fight scenes were really cool, too). It's like this. In the beginning of the movie, Neo is having dreams about Trinity's death. Later, The Oracle tells him that he has already decided her fate. Towards the end of the movie, Neo chooses to tell Trinity to stay out of the Matrix, since he saw her die in it. She agrees, but only after seeing how important it is to him. After a horrific chain of events (is it coincidence, or fate) the people who will deactivate the secondary power source of the building Neo is infiltrating, die. So...the plan is going to fail. Unless someone does something, Neo, Morpheus and many others will die. Trinity, who is of course outside of the Matrix, knows this and chooses to enter the Matrix to save the day. The events of Neo's dream unfold. So...when the oracle said that the choice had already been made, she was completely correct. The moment Neo woke from dreams of Trinity's death, he made a choice. He would do everything in his power to keep his dream from becoming reality. So he kept her out of the Matrix, and she saw the problem, and entered the Matrix to fix it. If she had been in the Matrix, she would have likely been with Morpheus, never would have known about the plan's failure, would therefore not have been in the situation that resulted in her death. And the plan would have failed and Neo might have died, along with a large portion of the city (the building was set to blow if there was any intruders) So...Neo's choice to attempt to save Trinity triggered the sequence of events that led to her death. As Neo realizes all of this, through a nearly omniscient Architect of the Matrix, he makes another choice. This choice is simply an extension of his original choice: he will save Trinity at all costs. Neo is told that he has two choices. He can save mankind, and doom Trinity. Or he can try to save Trinity and doom mankind. No guarantee that he'll succeed in saving Trinity. He goes for Trinity, makes it just in time to catch her body, and starts her heart back up. In return for not taking the easy route, he gains a power in the more or less real world. He can deactivate the machines, (squidies) but at great personal cost. The movie ends with him in a coma. Now, you must realize that I have described only one aspect of this movie of all movies. There are not enough words in the English language to describe the sheer coolness of the fight choreography, special effects and the plot. I highly recommend you see the movie yourself. I'm sorry that today's rant isn't random, insane or completely chaotic, but I must right my experience with The Matrix before I forget. I am so buying this movie when it comes out on DVD. I love it! You have to admit its sheer coolness. I mean, come on! It's the sequel to the movie that revolutionized the standard by which we judge special effects. I better stop typing before I have a heart attack...just remember...The Matrix has you...I'm back. And throughly pissed off at my school system in general. You see...they feel that the only way to reward academic achievement...yada-yada-yada...is to force the smart kids to be ushers for Senior Honor Nite, and Graduation. Where is the logic in this? I for one, didn't know about such dire consequences for not deliberatly failing classes. It was bad enough that I was forced to "volunteer" my precious time (i could have worked on this site)...no...I was forced to wear formal attire. My school system is stuck in the past...and formal attire means...a dress...a white dress...(for those you who never bothered to find out...I am indeed female). So...for the first time in about 5 years...I wore a dress...and something that was complelty white. What cruel fate is this? To compound the EVIL situation...I was forced to wear feminine shoes. In other words...they hurt. And they pushed my toes together. Since I have a rather weird phobia of touching my own skin...this made my evening my own personall torture session. I think that such gender-specific torture should be deemed inhumane and abolished from our great society...of flaming chickens. Henceforth...Code: 666 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that under no circumstance will the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who) be forced to wear anything other than a t-shirt and preferably black jeans. Should you violate this right, you will become destroyed or possibly dizzy. I'm leaving now...I have some destruction to do. i'm back. from graduation. we had to get there one hour and fifteen minutes early because there was traffic. After standing around a lot...the ceremony started. Lots of people spoke. by the time I had to do my part (tell people where to stand before getting their diploma) it was dark. there were bugs. they liked landing on me. then...i got to go stand while people said a lot of stuff. i couldn't hear it because someone had put the speakers facing the audience. we clapped. the whole time, even during the name-calling, seniors were playing with silly string and beachballs. afterwards...they turned off the lights. there were lots of fireworks. i wandered around for 20 minutes looking for a cell phone. i called home, and waited another hour for my ride...traffic to the school was one way. i felt sorry for my dad. i am tired...but cannot go to sleep. i'll copy and paste this to my site. maybe the longest text ever. you will all suffer as i have suffered when and if you graduate. i cannot feel my feet. i hate dress shoes. I'm back. Today, I'm here to salute the Pointless Signs Of America! The PSOA have been whole-heartedly working for you, and what have you done for them? NOTHING! These so-called "pointless" signs are doing just what they were meant to do: entertain you! You cannot judge them simply because they have no apparant function. They expand your mind, making you think about all the things they could do. They could do anything they wanted to, if they just put their minds to it. If you judged everything by what it doesn't acomplish, then the entire world is populated by pointless beings. Noone can do everything, so how can you expect a SIGN, with the I.Q. of toilet paper, to do everything. You people sicken me. You expect far to much of the inanimate world. The inanimate world, on the otherhand, expects nothing of you. Which is exactly what it gets. If you expect nothing, and get nothing, you feel nothing. If you expect nothing and get something, you're happy. But, if you expect something and get something you feel nothing. And if you expect something and get nothing, you feel cheated. If you're following along, and not completly confused, you'll realize that it is better to be a pessimist than an optomist. Yep that's right. This entry went from saluting the PSOA to making a statement about my ideals. This has been a weird day. You can thank my associate "Meg" she came up with the PSOA acronym. Everyone, clap for "Meg".I gotta go...seeya later! I'm finnaly back! Today, I took a long look at this site, which is the acomplishment of almost a year of work. And I asked myself "How could I have better spent my time?" And so, in the interest of wasting even more time, I made a list. Here we go! Number One: I could have cured cancer. Not that I know anything about medicine...or cancer for that matter. But I'm sure that if I just would have put my mind to it, I could have done it. Number Two: I could helped the earth to find eternal and lasting peace. Which would be boring. So I at least have an excuse for not doing that. Number Three: I could have studied and stuff. Uh...don't think so...Number Four: I could have learned to drive. This would have resulted in the deaths of numerous pedistrians...and I would still probably be wondering around in search of a McDonalds. Number Five: I could have read more books, played more video games and watched more mindless television. Gee...I wish I'd thought of that sooner. Number Six: I could have implemented one of several plans for world domination. Or, as an alternative, I could have ruined several plans for world domination that other people made. Number Seven: I could drive people crazy. Wait...aren't I already doing that? Scratch number seven. And on to: Number Eight: I could have...uhhhh...ummmmm...actually thought up these things before hand. Number Nine: Now it's just getting redundant, isn't it? Number Ten: This is the list that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friend. One person, started typing it not knowing what it was, and they'll continue typing it forever just because this is the list that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends, some person started typing it not...etc, etc. Okay...I admit it. I have officialy run out of ways I could have better spent my time. I don't think there actually are any. Except for maybe five and six. Now, those have possibilities. However, I am currently content to just sit here and type. For the benefit of you, the reader...who may or may not exist. Either way, I'm continuing to sort of entertain myself. I feel like I should be outraged about some topic or another. I just can't work up the energy to be outraged. Perhaps a nice, soothing mistrust. Yeah. I can work with mistrust. I definitly mistrust lots of stuff. Like organ grinders, and the evil conspiracies. Did you know, that Kodak was part of the conspiracy to assasinate John F. Kennedy. Now, some of you are probably thinking "Gee, Really?", or "Wow, I never knew that!" while others are thinking "Who's John F. Kennedy?" or possibly "Who or What is Kodak". I fervently hope that you're not thinking the last two...especially about Kodak. Kodak, as you may know, is a film developing company. And John F. Kennedy (JFK) was an alien bent on global domination. Or possibly a really good president who wanted to fly to the moon. Either way, he got assasinated. And ever loony in America decided that it was a conspiracy. Some even go so far as to claim that Kodak "changed" the pictures of the assasination to make an assasination in the bushes become a tree's shadow. I didn't know that they had such good technology back then. I have to wonder...why would Kodak do such a thing. Perhaps Kodak is actually a front organization for a shadowy governmental system that controls the entire world and didn't want mankind to obtain the freedom of the stars and so tried to sabotauge the space program even though it didn't work as well as they planned. Or perhaps not. Either way, Kodak is undeniably evil. How can any company that takes so many "wholesome" pictures not be? You can just bet that they look at every one that get's turned in to them, judging blackmail value, and whether or not you could get arrested. It's just sickening, you can't even take a simple photo nowadays. Unless you have a digital camera, which are a symbol of freedom from the old ways and willing enslavement to the new ways. We can only hope that the digital camera manufacturers are kinder masters than the evil Kodak Lords. I better go...I think Kodak is tracing my site....I'm back now! And, once again, I have proof that someone actually took the time (two hours) to read this entire Longest Text Ever! It's amazing, it's incredible, it's unbelievable. But true. Even more incredible, this time it's someone I don't even know! Wooooooo! I feel inspired and happy and other really good emotions and stuff. And so, I'll take a trip down memory lane, to the dark depths of the past, to when I decided to make this page. It was inspired, in part, by my sheer and utter boredom. In school, back before I even owned a computer, I'd type random words for long periods of time, 'cause I had nothing better to do. Once I got this computer, I decided to do something similar on my beloved site. But, it ended up making more sense than I anticipated (scary thought, huh). Oh, well...I tired of nostalgia. Back to the present. Right now, I'm just typing so that no one can say that I've been slacking off. I don't think I have any conspiracy theories...except pop-ups/pop-unders. Have you ever had the evil pop-up that says that if you click here, it'll get rid off all the annoying pop-ups? Isn't that sort of ironic? Could the pop-up blocker people have chosen a better means to advertise their product? It's like grand-theft auto 3's talk show, you know, the one where there are Citizens Raging Against Phones? Or CRAP, for short. And the lady representing them, calls the radio station...on a phone. It's stupid and ironic and just shouldn't exist in a better world. Pop-Up ad's help you get rid of pop-up ads? Insane, chaotic...hmmmmm...I wonder who thought of it? Was it on purpose, or was it just some mistake? It is now my civic duty to discover this ancient mystery, and reveal it to the uncaring world. Or maybe I'll go make a frozen pizza. Yeah. That sounds good, too. Since I'm not particualarly inspired at the moment, I should leave and let you gather what is left of your sanity. I just can't seem to stop, though. Okay...I can do it. I'm leaving. I'm back...and it's several hours later. I've decided to imortalize the stupidity of my dog, Moose. She is a heavy-set Yorkshire Terrior (12 lbs.) In otherwords, she's a small yappy dog who is big for her breed. Today, I met her arch-enemy. An enemy so terrifying that Moose cannot stop shaking. An enemy so hideous that Moose must destroy it at all costs. An enemy so dangerous that Moose fears it above all others. Now you may be wondering what horrible beast is Moose's arch-enemy. And you probably suspect that it is something pathetic. You would be correct in your suspiciousness...for Mooses arch-enemy is...*dramatic drumroll*...a small, white, feather. Now, Moose has seen many feathers, birds even. But none have struck terror in her little moose heart like this particular feather. So...naturally I put her arch-enemy in my pocket and brought it home with me. This action has made her very suspicious of where my loyalties lie. She tracks the feather smell all over the house, and goes crazy whenever I take it out of my pocket. She even got her sister and mother in the spirt of things. Now her sister sounds an alarm whenever she sees the evil feather. Now, you may be wondering what is so terrifying about a small, white, feather. So am I. It doesn't smell funny, (I asked my brother, since I don't have a sense of smell), it seems perfectly ordinary. So, I've decided that Moose works for some secret government organization, and that the feather is the key to the destruction of the world, and I am just blithely letting it enter our home, so that it may furthur its evil plans to destroy the universe. That is the only possible explanation as to why it upsets her so much. Or...maybe it's the feather off of the cartoon owl from the tootsie-roll pop comercials (one...two...three..*crunch*). Whatever the case, I decided that the whole world, (or three of four random people) deserve to know that if the world and or universe are destroyed, it's the evil, little, white, feather's fault. Now I'd better go and torture my Moose with it...:) I am officially back. And you, the potentially non-existant reader gets a once in a lifetime chance to hear me rant and rave about my Horrible, Horrible Family Vacation. I know. You feel very, very honored. It's like this. My mother is a control freak, and she decided on the spur of the moment that we were going north to visit relatives. Later that day, she decided we were NOT going north, we were going south to a beach resort. Still later that day, she got offended at some trivial thing and decided that we weren't going anywhere at all. The very next day, she decided that we were going north, after all. So, we packed everthing up. Before we knew it, we were on the road. The first part of the trip was fairly easy. As in, I was half-asleep, hoping that we'd arrive while I slept. Then, in an inspired move, my brother talked my mother into letting him sit up front. That meant that my mother would be in the back, with me and my younger, eviler sister. Immediatly, my mother started complaining. It was uncomfortable in the back, it was too hot, it was too cold. Then, she accidently woke our three yappy dogs up, and they relized that they were in a car. That meant only one corse of action for them. They started shaking and barked their little heads off. This annoyed my mother further, untill she asked, no, demanded that my father turn the car around so that we could go home. Unfortuantly, we had already driven 337 miles toward our destination. After much argument, my father was going to turn around, untill he realized that my mother was going to drop the dogs and me off, and then turn around and continue north. This seemed slightly unpracticle, so we ended up not taking that 337 mile detour. We eventually reached our destination after 16 hours of virtually non-stop driving. We got there, we ate. We slept. My mother visited relatives. And so the week went by. I got to go to a huge library, and see Terminator 3 at the local theater. That was the high point of the entire trip. The last day, we were deciding where to eat. My mom said that she didn't care. So my dad picked a steak place. My mother tried to order a mushroom-swiss burger...only to discover that the place had no swiss-cheese. So she decided on a salad, only to discover that they didn't have her favorite salad dressing. After much deliberation, she decided that she wouldn't eat. After complaining how hungry she was, and about the poor quality of the resteraunt, she walked out of the resteraunt, instructing the rest of us to "enjoy our meals". And I wonder where my little sister gets her annoyingness. Not that my mother is annoying...just set in her ways. The whole meal thing was about the only interesting thing to happen during the week. On the way home, we had gotten approximatly 4 hours into the trip when my mother predicatably decided that we had to go back and eat at the 50th aniversary of her favorite ice cream place. Needless to say, we ignored her. Oh, and when my sister had to go to the bathroom very badly during a traffic jam, my mother had the good taste to making hissing/water noises to make my sister's problem worse. She claimed that my little sister always did it to her, and she was getting pay-back. Between her bickering with my sister, and obsessivly playing neopets games, I don't know what to do with her. Anyway...that was my family vacation rant. It sucked. No suprise. At least it's over. Sorry if I complained a lot. If you don't like it, start your own longest text ever. Anyway, I promise to go back to my usual routine the next time I rant here. I thought of a topic on the way home, but forgot it. Seeya. I'm back! I know, I took you completly by suprise. You thought you'd gotten rid of me. *cheesy super-hero voice* Well, fear not, random citizen, for I, PSOPC am here! *normal voice* Today I have a very important to discuss with you in this: PERFECTLY NORMAL PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCMENT. Yes, that's right. It's time to warn you, the viewer...er...reader...about the evils of various stuff. Today's lesson is: subliminal messages . That's right, folks, mass hypnosis via commercials. Now, I'm sure you've at least heard of subliminal messages , right? No? Well...prepare to be enlightened. Subliminal messages are an advertising technique that puts hidden pictures and words into a main image. You don't see them, but your subconsious (dreaming) mind does. Your subconsious mind acts on whatever it is told. What does this mean to you? It means that WAL-MART TV IS EVIL! EVIIIIIIIIIIIIL!!!!!! Why else would they invest all that money to show commercials in their own store? Because they put subliminal messages in them, of course! Subliminal messanging also explains the successes of certain fast-food resteraunts, and brand name items. BEWARE YOUR TOASTER OVEN! Okay. That had nothing to do whatsoever with subliminal messages...it's just cool to say. Anyway, only watch wal-mart if you WANT to be subliminaly entertained into purchasing a new set of TUPERWARE, even though your old set is PERFECTLY fine. This has been a public service announcment. Pretty cool, huh? Uh...you don't have to take the subliminal stuff seriously. It's true, and all, but I have no proof about wal-mart, or certain fast food resteraunts. It makes sense, though. Wal-mart TV is evil. You cannot deny it. Seeya...hmmm..I wonder if there's subliminal stuff in my computer...I'm back. And I feel that it's time for a FAKE commercial break, for the highly informed, obviously brain-dead consumer. And now, a word from our non-existant sponsor. Ketchup: The only food that you'll want to eat after traveling to the 5th Dimension. It's been practically proven that Ketchup transforms into a highly intoxicating (non-addictive) delicious substance upon returning from the 5th Dimension. Stock up now with our Valu-Pak to recieve 3-metric tons of Ketchup, all for the low, low price of your brain, since you're obviously not using it anyway. Then, just wait for technology to "catch-up" (get it, catch-up, Ketchup?)so you can travel to the 5th Dimension like our scientists almost did. (Next Commercial) Get ready fo: Faux's new "reality" TV show, "How Low Can We Go?" It's about six contestants who compete to create the worst, least likely "reality" TV show. The winner not only gets the million-dollar prize, they get the chance to produce the show they created. Remember: if the show sucks, it's their fault, not ours!(Next exciting commercial!)And for all the idiots out there: Try new and improved Dum-B-Gon! Dum-B-Gon stimulates brain activity, making you up to 10 times smarter! Not only that, Dum-B-Gon: stimulates weight loss, cures "any" illness, does simple houshold chores, never leaves the toilet seat up and is the perfect gentle companion for your kids. How can you pass up this revolutionary new product? It's yours for only 3 bi-monthly payments of $3.95 ($3,95,000 on days ending in "y")Don't forget, Dum-B-Gon is practically guaranteed!* (*Not a guarantee) (Next commercial)Have you ever wondered why food sometimes goes bad in your fridge, even if you've only had it a few years? It's because of the "evil little faeries with sharp little teeth." These "faeries" sprinkle your food with highly toxic "age dust" and ruin a perfectly good four-year-old meatloaf. How do you stop them? With our patented "spray". Our "spray" kills over 99.9% of "faeries" (which are much to small to see) Our "spray" also kills most disease causing agents, like rats, or pigeons. WARNING: Leave food sit in an open, well-venilated spot for a week before eating. And now, back to our featured presentation. Wasn't that semi-entertaining? I bet you wanna go eat some Ketchup covered Dum-B Gon right now, while watching "reality" TV. Just make sure you "spray" your food first. Pathetic, wasn't it? Oh, well. I was bored, and a dilligent reader suggested I make fake commercials, so...therer they are. Happy? Good. I'm leavin', for now. I'm back. And I'm willing to enlighten you, the potentially you-know-what reader. Today, I was checking out some weird news. At one point, I read an article that stated that it had been proven, conclusivly, that Kansas was flatter than the standard pancake. The researches even used highly advanced technololgy to map the surface of a pancake and compare it to documented geology of Kansas. Some people disagree, the director of the Kansas Geological Survey said "I think this is part of a vast breakfast food conspiracy to denigrate Kansas. It's a cheap shot." So...doesn't that make you want to take Kansas' side (I sincerly appologize if you are from Kansas). It just seems extremly weird (and worthy of mentioning) that this semi-important guy from Kansas believes in a "vast breakfast food conspiracy". Makes you think that the long held belief that Kodak conspired with the JFK assasin(s) is normal. Another article claims that an anitseptic turned a polar bear purple, drawing large crowds of people. I sure hope other zoos won't copy them. Before you know it, we'll have orange alligators, pink tigers and blue lions. School children won't be able to correctly identify the color of a zebra. Random people will think they've gone crazy, after a seemingly innocent visit to the zoo. It's wrong, I tell you. A complete and total degregation of our societies values. What values, you say? The basic moral belief that Polar bears should be WHITE. Unless we spray-painted the snow purple, too. Then it would be okay. As long as the bear blends in, you know? Speaking of animals, there's a cat in California who is a kleptomaniac (likes to steal stuff). He sneaks into neighboring homes, and takes clothing, wrapped christmas presents, and anything he can find. He then leaves them under his owners car. Okay, better leave. I'm back. And I don't really have a topic today. I'm just bored. Sometimes I just do this, you know? Start typing without any idea about what it is I intend to say. Maybe I subconsiously DO know what I'm doing here, but refuse to admit it to myself. Or maybe I am monumentally bored and don't have anything else to do at the moment. Either way, I'm here. You must be pretty bored, too. Otherwise, why on earth (beta, krpto, zkdjf, Planet X, whatever) would you be here? It would make no sense. If you have something better to do, why wouldn't you be doing it right now? I would be. But, maybe that's just the difference between you and me. Yeah. That must be it. Unless you're bored. Then I completly understand. I need to find a topic. Here, topic, topic, topic! Come on, I won't hurt you, I promise! *hides large ax behind back* Come here, topic! Why are you afraid of little ol' me? *sigh* There are no topics anywhere near me. Kinda like me and "Meg" webcomic we are trying to do. It's called Hit-Or-Miss, any topics, plot, etc. are completly accidental and are not the fault/responsibility of the creators. That was sort of a topic, even though it was sort of random. Which is what I do best. Okay, I'm done with that litte commercial. What now...hmmmmm...should I share with you more of my paranoid/delusional conspiracy theories? Or have I been doing that too much lately? Oooooo! I know, I'll start of list of why it's fun/good to be insane/weird! #1You can say or do anything and normal people will agree with you in the hopes that you'll be satisfied, shut up, and go away. Far away. I will show you an example with this completly true stuff that I experienced several years ago. ME: My vicious, psychotic, flesh-eating bunny-rabbit wants to rule the world. RANDOM PERSON: Uh-huh, that's nice. ME: Yeah, but I told her that she'd be a terible ruler. I mean, she traded Asia for a carrot! And she doesn't even LIKE carrots! RANDOM PERSON: You don't say? ME: Yep. She also is the goddess of red jello. RANDOM PERSON: *head explouding from sheer insanity* As you can see, I was a very weird child (this happened in elementary school...uh...except for that head-explouding part). Okay...on to: #2 You can get out of practically anything by saying: a)It's against my religion b)I'm allergic to that. c)I have an extremly irrational fear of that. d)I already did that in a past life and it sucked. e)My psychotic bunny predicted I'd die doing it. Unfortunalty, several of those reasons LEGITAMITLY apply to a certain activity I do every Tuesday, which WILL NOT BE NAMED HERE LEST I GIVE IT POWER OVER ME! I'm allergic to parts of it, have irrational fears about others and I'm pretty sure it's against my Jenny religion...along with eating mashed potatoes, or potatoes of any kind. I'll add that to the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK. Thou shalt not eat spuds. Hmmmm...time for #3You can obsessive over ANYTHING, and people will think nothing of it. I, personally, am obsessed with, kitties, bunnies, bats, this website, drawing, making intriate little patterns with strings, doing mildly repetitive activities, being weird, apparantly making lists and cheese...and chickens...and flame. Fire is good. Fire is free. Fire is my friend...until it burns me. Then it must die...painfully. And on to:#4You make your friends look normal in comparison. And #5: You can give each of your pets several weird names such as: Ringling-Raison-Bailey-Suzana-Midnight-Schultz, Squirell, Moose, Moose-Moose, Moosey-Moose, Linzey-Moose, Muffin, Squirell-Muffin, Yabby-Doodle, Abby Normal, Wiggle-Baby, Wiggle-Muffin, Witle-Baby, Cheese-Monkey, Muffin-With-Squirell-Juice, Squirell-With-Muffin Juice, Moosey-Juice, Squirell-Monkey, etc. Now, wasn't that a fun list!? Doesn't that just make you proud to be weird? I should make bumber stickers saying that. Proud to be weird. It'd be cool. Anyway, gotta go! *yawn* I'm back. Last night I was super-charged with lots of sugar and not a lot of sleep. I ended up writing things during the time of night when EVERYTHING is hilarious, including the word sheep. To compound things, I wasn't alone, and things just escalated. The following is everything I wrote during that sugar-coated time period. Some are answers to e-mails, the rest are just stuff I wrote.
6
7Definitly. THen we go to library. Guess what? Me and Josh ate lots and lots of sugar, and it's late at nite and everything is funny but we can't laugh 'cause everybody is sleepin' so it's even funnier but ever since we drank the water we sobered up even though we weren't drunk but we ate sugar...lots and lots of sugar. MOstly donut cake. Okay. JOsh says it was only one piece of cake. WE got it at Wal-mart. Or his mom did. OR something. Goodbye...oh, and the fresh chicken wings might be to blame. they were special wings. I hope I remember doing this. I think it's pretty funny. > You have blue hari..*gigles* I like hair. Josh says I probably won't remember writing any of this, but I can't sleep. THe cake was good. aSk anybody. Big Brother may be listening right now so I beter go. They're listening for a secrret...no it's cause of a secret. But the secret doesn't exist so they are stupid. *g8ggles* bye. Yes. Megan has hair. I've seen it. *giggling* It's very, very late at nite. ONly not really. i like sugar. NO, wait. It's early. WE have been having very profound thoughts lately. We think. THey might havve been important, but we keep forgetting them. We're not sure. Josh wants his thought back. *sniffle* i do, too. It's not fair. I think mine involved a jaunty song to sing. But I couldn't have sung it 'cause it would have woken everyone up and they would have called me inconsiderate. I have to get up really early to leave for home. I should be asleep. *gigles* It milght have been a sugar rush 'cause now we're having a sugar crash. OR, maybe it's the writing. Okay, maybe it was the ranch dressing instead of the special, fresh buffalo wings. But they really were'nt buffoal wings 'cause buffalo's don't have wings...cause they come off when they are babies, JOsh says so and he must be right causse he's been having Profound Thoughts even though he cannot remember them. But, the wings were'nt really special. I don't think. Maybe we're just really, really tired and had sugar. I don't want to play the stupid animal war card game 'cause the stupdi bear gets eaten by an eaagle.. ...goodbye ssslllee0yyyyslllllllleeeeeeeepppppppppppppyyyyyyyyyyy iiiiiiiiissssssssssssss gggggggggoooooooooooooddddddddddddd............. 
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9As you can see, I was in a very interesting state of mind. I hadn't had a genuine sugar rush since I was 11. It was fairly fun. Although I acted like an idiot. Oh, well. I have more stuff to write, but I gotta go right now. Stay tuned to hear my thoughts on tanning, and an evil card game, and who knows what else...Okay I'm back. Here's what I wrote this weekend: Woooooo! 5000 hits! Aren't I special? *sigh* I can't think of anything to write. But I must. I must defeat the sister site of the Longest Text Ever! I mean, I've been doing this much, much longer than the other person. Hmmmmm...monkey. Why do weird people (myself included) obsess about monkeys? And, are monkeys spelled monkies? It just looks weird. Like a division of mounties made entirely out of monks. I bet it's spelled monkeys. It looks right. Maybe I should use spell-check. But...that'd be a lot of work, unlike ranting, raving and rambling. Hey, it's the 3 r's! No longer does school teach use reading, riting and 'rithmitic, it now teaches us ranting, raving and rambling! (and redundancy!) After all, isn't that basicly what the best teachers do? It sets a perfect example for you young, impressionable minds. Those are the best kind. *yet another highly dramatic, time-consuming sigh* I need a topic. A good one. Not one of those bargain ones anyone can find at your local topic discount outlet store. I'll rant and rave and ramble about the EVILS of sunlight. Most people actually like to spend long periods of time exposing their vulnerable skin to the harmful rays of the sun. These people have obviously suffered major brain damage from their prolonged exposure to the sun. The actually think that their skin's efforts to protect them are ATTRACTIVE. It'd be like someone thinking that scabs are atractive, 'case they protect you from disease. Then everyone would cut and scrape themselves to be covered in scabs. That's exactly what tanning is like. Purposly damaging the skin so you can look "attractive". Now, a long time ago, people were sort of smarter. They avoided the sun at all costs. They associated tans with hard, manuel labor. Then, some fasion bimbo went on a fasionable safarii to get some fasionable furs, or whatever. When she came back, 'lo and behold, she had a tan. This resourceful young vanguard of fasion decided to cover her extreme embarassment by acting like she meant to horribly damage herself. And because she was the head fasion bimbo, everyone agreed that the look was definitly "in". So, everyone went to the beach and got tans. Girls began wearing skimpier, and skimpier bathing suits. Men, of course, had no complaints. (Though whether it was the tan or the skimpy suits, no one will ever know.) As you read this Historicly Accurate Anecdote, you must realize the parallel between it and the fable The Emperoro's New Clothes. Someone did something incredbly stupid, but because they were powerful, everone acted like it was a stroke of genius. And the preceding generations became brain-washed (possibly through subliminal messages in sun-tan lotion commercials) to believe tans were expected. Those few who actually could think and avoided the sun were considered to be outcasts. I don't mean to insult you if you DO have a tan. I am simply explaining why I, personally, refuse to swim, go to the beach, sunbathe, leave the house, etc. Alrighty then. I'm gonna quit for now. I'm back. I'm so very, very tired. School has been on for four days now. I have three very hard academic classes. They give lots and lots of homework. Two and a half hours of homework (total) to be precise. I get home from work at 5:30p.m. and eat dinner. Then I do my homework. I get done at 9:15. Then I wait for my mom and dad to stop playing Collapse II so that I can get on. I usually have less than 30 minutes. It sucks. I can't really work on this site even though I now have a more in depth understanding of variables. I learned this from my calculator. I made a virtual pet for it. It was fun. I'm tired. Did I mention that, yet. My calculator is nifty. Sometimes, it is lazy. It tells me stuff like: "Warning: More Solutions May Exist" and "Questionable Accuracy". So...it doesn't bother to find all solutions, and it may be wrong. Geee....that is comforting. I love my calculator, though. It does all my Math for me. I hate Math. Math is so picky. In English, and stuff, if you miss one little detail, at most you lose partial credit, but you usually get it all right. In Math, one teeny, tiny little mistake will make you get the entire thing wrong. I tend to make those tiny mistakes, and get bad grades, even if I understand the concepts. I hate Math. I'm tired. Are you tired. I sure am. Guess what I wanna do. How did you ever guess? That's right, I wanna sleep. Why can't I? Hmmmm...good question. I think I'm so tired I can't sleep. Plus...I gots oblimagations...obligaton....obligations to this site. yeah. thats it...i so tired...bye-bye. I'm back. And more than slightly embarassed. Today my frazzled-brain produced something that is decidedly Jenny (that's my more or less "real" name). I was contemplating how my heavy load of books made me like a bulldozer and than I was about to suggest to my friend, "Meg" that we invent one. Then I realized that the buldozer already HAD been invented. That's how I knew it's name, picture and what it did. That is just...pathetic. School is taking its toll. *sigh* *sniffle* *snort* *insert word that is a sound that begins with an "s" here* I don't have much time, so, I must be brief. I'm not sure how I CAN be brief since I have absolutly nothing to say. The best way to be brief is to quit now. Right now. Which is what I'm about to do. Any miniute now. I promise. Okay. Bye! *sigh* My dogs are just weird. You remember my Moose's arch-enemy, don't you? You know, the small, white feather. Well, my squirell now has an arch-enemy. At least her's makes sense...sort of. Her enemy is a fake Yorkshire Terrior (same species as her) made entirely out of goat hair. She HATES and FEARS it. She'll shake and run from it, then suddenly dive and bite it's head. She goes crazy if someone holds it, 'cause it's getting attention and not her. I'm fairly certain she knows it's not alive, though. Maybe she just doesn't like goat-smell. In any case, she is clearly insane. Just like everyone else in my family. In other news, I participated in the Second Battle of the Asparagus Wars and chronicled them here. I'll add a link to the main page when I get around to it. It gave me new insight into how weird I am. I fought with vegitables, covered myself in bubble wrap, groveled before the Great Banana and dodge skittles and flying doughnuts and rubber chikens. The entire message board was like one big insane asylum. Needless to say, I felt right at home. Well, seeya *waves brightly* I got to go to my Grendel (really cool book) project for school. I's making fake soundtracks like the teacher told me! BYE!!! Okay...I'm back. Today's rant is a panic rant. There are not going to be conspiracies...or humor of any kind. I think. *let the panic begin!* IT'S NOT FAIR! Why do I have to work year round? I only signed up for a semester. I was looking forward to having A elective, while everyone else was enjoying three or four...or even more. Oooo..I'm a poet, and don't I know it? In any case...it's awful. It's bad enough to go to school, leave school, go to work, leave work, do homework and then wait for my dad to get off of the computer so that I can do stuff. I want SOME free time. That's all. Is that too much to ask? I spend from 8-5 doing what everyone else wants. When is it MYturn? Next semester will be almost exactly like this one. Even though my schedule is technically supposed to be completly differnt. You see, my school has "block" scheduling. That means I take four classes this semester and four different classes next year. But one of my classes is work, and two others are horrible year-round classes. So next semester I'll still have work, AP Lit, and AP Physics. It's not FAIR. Physics is so FREAKIN' hard! I don't understand it. I have no problem with Lit. Okay. Work. I love my work, I love the kids I work with. But I HATE spending three hours of every day in a "class" when everyone else's class is only an hour and a half. I don't care if I have to ride the bus home if I stop work. I don't care if I'd get home only an hour or so before I normaly do. I want an elective. Maybe. I think. All I know is that I've been assuming one thing while the person in charge has been assuming a completly different thing. Neither of us thought to question the other. And so I'm in deep doo-doo. *sniffle* I just want to have some FREAKIN' variety in my daily grind, you know? I don't WANT to do the same thing for an entire year. Yeah, I know, regular schedule schools do that. I pity them, I really do. I've spent the past three years of my life EXPECTING each semester to be like a mini-year. I DO NOT LIKE CHANGE! This is just way too much of a change at once. I don't want year-round classes. I don't want a full year of work. I don't want to be in this mess...I'm going to bed. I'm back. I don't have much of a choice about the whole work thing. Plus, the kids at the daycare (where I work, obviously) say that I'm "cool to talk to". That makes me feel alll warm and fuzzy inside. Like a muffin. They just like how I know lots of pointless laws and random facts. Okay. ON TO THE CONPIRACY OF THE DAY!: I've had this nagging fear that I am part of some random but vast conspiracy (about what I'm not sure but it must be vast). Meanwhile there is a vast conspiracy at school to keep me ignorant about my pawn roll in the other vast conpiracy by keeping me vastly bored. (In a very vast sense) And: did you ever notice that the word "conspiracy" is vastly similar to the word "constipation". I only mention this 'cause I've accidently spelled constipation instead of conspiracy a few times. (on accident, vast number of times) Hee-Hee! Isn't vast a funny word? You can just picture sterotypical pirates saying, "A vast ye mateys!". I'm not exactly sure what that means, but it sure is funny:) You don't agree? Shame on you! Code: 888 of The Flaming Chickens Handbook states that The Patron Saint of Paperclips (still me) is always right. ALWAYS. If the facts beg to differ, than the facts are wrong. End of story. Seeya. I'm back. I've been playing one of the new neopets slot machines (black pawkeet). I'm completly and totally addicted. Gambling is so much fun! I've won 500 np, at least and I'm on a roll. Now sure, I could have won more than 500 at some game in which you don't have to pay to play. But, what would be the fun in that? I even came up with a mathematical explanation for why gambling is fun (while I was eating a hyper-speed dinner, thinking nothing of getting back to the slot machine). Okay. If you don't understand the concept of numbers less than zero, (negative numbers) just skip this part. Imagine a number line that points in the positive and negative direction. When I start playing a game, I am on 0. I have neither won nor lost money/neopoints. When I win 500np on a normal game, I move to the 500 point. There is exactly 500 units of distance between the two extremes of winning amounts (0 and 500) BUT! When I play a gambling game, there is a possibility that I'll lose everything, so I start on negative however much NP I have with me. If I had 500np with me, I'd be at-500. Then, when I win 500 additional np, I move to the 500np point. The distance between the two extremes of how much I could have won is 1000np, making me feel like I've won much more than if I'd played a normal game. Did you understand that? Good. I probably won't later. But that is irrelevant. Goodbye! I am back. And I hava a very, almost special rant for you. The previous sentence made absolutly no sense. Good for it. In a recent article, humorist Dave Barry discussed the addictive quality of the snack food, Cheez-Its. Naturally, I had many mixed feelings, primarily disgust, as I have not voluntarily eaten a Cheez-It in quite some time. They're disgusting, bland and definitly not made of cheez, whatever that is. My family has always bought Cheez-Its, to the point of making me physically sick at the thought of eating one. (To this day, however, I will almost literally kill for a box of Cheez-It party mix, as it is a rare commodity at my house.) Fortunatly, my mom recently finnaly switched our snack food preference. To Cheese Nips. Say it. Out loud. What does it sound like? When you look at them they are identical to the evil little Cheez-Its. The only difference is the taste, which I enjoy, since it is new and different. What I want to know is this: are there no intelectual property rights in the world of food products? I mean, don't you think the creators of Cheese-Nips had a box of Cheez-Its out when they were designing their product? It seems like blaggerent plagerism. The only reason the makers of Cheese-Nips don't get sued is because of the tast difference and Cheese Nips are made of real "cheese" rather than cheez. It makes you think of Name-Brand vs. Generic cereal brands. They are the samething, with the same look, and almost same name. But people buy name brands. Why, because they assume it's better quality. Plus, boxes are more convient than bags. A profound statement, if I ever heard one. Any way, I'm leaving to eat some Cheessy goodness! I'm back. Apparantly my standards of weird have gone up. This morning, my Mom came home from work. She was upset, because she had accidently run over an armidillo. She said she hurt it the first time, and wanted to put it out of it's misery, so she went back and ran over it 11 more times. But it's legs were still moving and it was alive. She was extremly upset. When I related this story to my friends (including "Meg") they thought it was hilarious. They couldn't stop laughing. I thought it was sad...and normal. They particularly liked how I said that she went back and ran over it 11 more times. I'm not sure why. Of course, when I next saw my Mom, she retold the story to me, several times. With the exact same words, motions and emotions. She didn't think it was weird, either. Perhaps my family is just so weird, we've lost all sense of perspective. Or maybe it's everybody else that's weird. I just don't know. What do you think, Hypothetical Reader? You don't know either? Hmmmmm...what is this world coming to? Oh, by the way, I was paid a decent compliment today. One of my friends (who laughed at the armidillo story) named Tonileigh said "Jenny (that's me) is weirder than the average Psycho." and " You think Jenny's weird? Wait till you see her in angry mob form!" Now THAT'S just weird. "angry mob form"? That just sounds nifty! I can clone myself and form and angry mob? In anycase, this was particularly funny because Tonileigh is one of my "normaler" friends. Although I tell you she can't possibly be normal, since she hangs out with me. Anyway, I'm gonna go. I gots stuff to do! I'm back. If you'll look toward the bottom of this page, you'll notice that I added a nifty little thing called the "babel fish". It will translate any thing, to anything else. Ain't it nifty? What's really fun is to translate an English saying, like out of sight, out of mind. Then, when it's in German, or whatever, translate it back to English. It's so completly garbled, it's funny. For instance, I wrote: "I am the Crazy Taco!", and translated it to German. I then copied and pasted the German and put it in the text box. I translated it from German to English and got "I am the Moved Taco!" See? Hours of completly useless fun! This has been my hourly Public Service Announcement that I only do when I feel like it. Seeya! I'm back! Woooo! And do I ever have a topic today! I've been a paranoid, conspiracy seeking mood lately and the newest threat to my sanity is: smoke detectors! Come on, think about it! In all those 911 shows, people wake up and their house is engulfed in flames. The smoke detector either never went off, or went off and the people just slept through it. Okay, fire is loud. And hot...and smoky. If you can sleep through a raging fire, close enough to set off the smoke detector, then you are definitly going to sleep through the smoke detector. Plus, the fire gradually gets louder, and hotter, and smokier. The sleeping person will gradually get used to it (and incorporate it into their dreams). By the time the smoke dector goes off, the fire has drowned it out to no more than an annoying buzz. My point is that smoke detectors have very little value in home security. Okay, one day, in the future, smoke dectectors will probably activate litte fire-fighter bots that every home will have. But untill that day, the concept of the smoke detector is useless. If you're awake to hear it, chances are that you've already noticed the smoke, fire and eminent danger. If you're asleep, the fire will wake you. So, that leads us to the evil paranoid conspiracy I thought of the other night. What if the smoke detectors have tiny litte cameras in them? That would explain that annoying green little blinkie light in them. Unless, of course, the government was smart enough to have cameras without the blinkie light. In any case, wouldn't the blinkie light help night-vision cameras see in the dark? It only takes a little light to help those thingies, and smoke detectors provide more than a little. I can even see the shadow of my hand on the wall from the light those things shed. It's annoying. Here I am, trying to get a decent nights sleep and there's this green light that periodically blinks to red directly in front of me. It's a small light, but it's sooooooo annoying. There MUST be some sort of conspiracy involved, 'cause if there is, I can get rid of the EVIL thing! So, fellow conspiracy nuts: Take down the evil governmental safety device and take it apart. If you can still think during all that incessent beeping, you'll probably find evidence that I'm really paranoid. Or possibly right...that would be scary. In any case...I guess that smoke detectors are a neccesary evil...but...WHY DO THEY HAVE TO HAVE THAT STUPID LIGHT? Does it serve an obvious purpose? No! That's why it MUST be EVIL! You cannot deny the logic of my thinking! Now...I'm gonna go and worry about the light on my toaster oven...seeya! *sighs dramatically* I'm back. It's not fair, ya know? Each Friday, I wait (all tingly with anticipation) for the weekend so that I can stay up 'till the wee hours of the morning and sleep past noon. But my idiotic body has an automatic alarm clock, or something. During the weekdays, I get about seven hours of sleep (usually less) and wake up at 6:11 a.m. Yep. Now, some of you are probably calling me a whiner, 'cause you have to get up at 4:30, or whatever. And lots of you are probably gloating 'cause you don't have to get up 'till 8:30. The reason I have to get up at 6 something is that I...I...I ride the bus to school. Yeah...I know...pathetic. (Believe me, though, you never want to see me drive...I get easily distracted by clouds and signs saying FREE KITTIES!...kitties are hugable...but if you hug them...they'll scratch your eyes out...so then you have to hiss at them and establish dominence...but kitties don't like that...even though dogs do...but kitties are obviously not dogs...even though they are fuzzy.) So...my lack of a car and driving skills force me to use the bus, which comes for me 45 minutes before my school even starts. It's stupid. It only takes me a few minutes to get ready, then I can go back to bed. Now...I bet you're wondering why I don't just wake up a few minutes before I have to go. My sister. My evil, EVIL sister. That's why. She's evil. SHE has to get up at 6:11 to put on make-up, do her hair and basically annoy the heck out of me. So rather than battle her over the concept of getting dressed in the dark, I get up. Oh...I'm rambling again, aren't I? Back to the original topic! So...when the weekend rolls around, I'm fairly exhausted. But, my stupid internal alarm clock is starting to wake me up around six. I can usually fall back asleep (if I don't panic and think I'm late for school), but the stupid thing wakes me up again exactly seven hours after I originally fell asleep. Which is why it's not even 10:00 and here I am, typing. Which I suppose may be a good thing, seeing as how I'm currently in a Longest Text Ever Rivalry with Galaxy Dreamer's site. *cough*She's winning*cough* But that's just because I have so much to do to mantain and update this site, I rarely get a chance to just sit here and type. Oh, and I would like to mention to my *snicker* LOYAL fans that this Longest Text Ever DOES get updated at least once a week, so please, please, please, PLEASE do not read this once, in one sitting and then leave forever, and ever and ever! It makes me sad...*sniffle* Well...I feel better now. Did you know that I now possess a DOMAIN NAME? Yep. That's right! It'll be ready soon, ain't it great? Okay, back to the flaming-chickens LTE rivalry. Another reason why this isn't as long as Galaxy's is that I refuse to write every day as it would--this is the funny part--LOWER THE QUALITY OF MY OVERALL WORK! HA-HA! HILARIOUS! "lower the quality"? Sometimes I crack myself up. If this was quality work, I'd publish it and make a fortune. Speaking of publishing, I do plan on somehow, someday publishing this as the first rambling narrative that makes no sense, and is about as interesting as rereading the almanac. I'd probably lose money, but the concept is interesting. I think. Anyway, I better go or the quality of this will go down in that evil downward spiral thing I discussed a few months back. Seeya. I'm back. Wooooo! I's can get to my site again! It was down for a whole day or so 'cause of all the traffic I got from my new quizes. I have an extra-special rant for you all today, to celebrate the new domain name! www.flaming-chickens.com! Okay. I am now barophobic (afraid of gravity). I recently learned in my EVIL Physics class that on average, humans lose one inch of height during the day due to gravity pushing on their spine. The height is regained at night, when you're laying down. This naturally alarmed the HECK out of me! GRAVITY IS EVIL! It's pushing down on me, squishing my spine. MY SPINE IS SQUISHY! That's is just so extremly creepy. What if, eventually, Earth's gravity get's very very strong, and we all imploud from the squishyness? It'd be like when you go to the bottom of the ocean, only with gravity instead of pressure...*shudders* Pressure is evil, too. Air pressure. Did you know that there is over two miles of air sitting on you right now? Even though air is light, that much air adds up. TWO MILES? Even the air is conspiring to squish me! If you don't believe that all that air has weight, try going into space sometime. Space is notorious for not having air. When you're in space (without a space suit) you don't SUFFUCATE, you don't FREEZE. You exploud. Since all that nifty air isn't pressin' on you, your guts and stuff are free to go wherever they want, and the EVIL little things decide to roam around. Outside your body. It's creepy. So...air pressure can be a good thing. Even though it gains pleasure from squishing my spine. That's it, I'm gonna take drastic measures! I'm gonna launch THE OFFICIAL FLAMING CHICKENS LUNAR COLONY! The moon has one-sixth of Earth's gravity. And absolutly NO air-pressure. We can all wear spiffy space-suits and feel all superiour to all those stupid earthlings. So...if you wish to contribute to this great and magneficent and magestic and MOOSEY project...we need the following things: 739 rolls of aluminium foil (preferably the extra shiny kind) 417 refridgerator boxes, 9000 rolls of "sticky on both sides" duct tape, 300 lbs of chicken feathers (preferably white) and 1 (one) thermo-nuclear-rocket-thruster. If you can spare any of these items, please e-mail them to me. Yes. E-mail. Did you really think I'd give you guys my ADDRESS? Now...I know what you guys are thinking...some of those items on that list are gonna be hard to find. Especially that duct tape. But, believe me, it's MUCH more practical than the alternative. What is the alternative, you ask? I'll tell you. Making me(The Patron Saint of Paperclips) the Ruler of the Laws of Nature! That way I can just outlaw the need for gravity and air pressure! I'm already half way there, since I conclusivly proved (in Physics class) that gravity actually causes things to slow down and EVENTUALLY GO UP! Sure, my TEACHER said that was because I was doing the problems wrong, but once I'm the Ruler of the Laws of Nature, I'll change the problems so that I'm right! Oooo! I thought of another very good reason to assist with the Official Flaming Chickens Lunar Colony! As we all know, the world is going to end in about 380,695 days! This means that we only have a very short while to prepare. And I sugest that we build the rocket so that we can go to the Official Flaming Chickens Lunar Colony so that we can laugh at the stupid earthlings who are blowing up because they didn't listen to us when we tried to warn them about the impending doom! Once we are on our Lunar Landing Site, we will engage in many exciting activites, primarily related to suffucating and starving. If (and this is a big if) the world DOES survive, we can beg them for food, oxygen and other supplies. They'll probably just call us weird and laugh at us, but that's beside the point! I can even see the Official Flaming Chicken Rocket. It'll be covered in chicken feathers, and shaped like a chicken. The foil will make up the beak and the folded legs, and the thruster can simulate the tail. It will be a truly magestic site, as it launches from the earth, spewing excess oxygen, cardboard, feathers and tape. But, act now, or it will be too late, and you will be one of the losers that we'll be laughing at, assuming we have air to laugh with. Remember, e-mail psopc@flaming-chickens.com the much needed supplies...if that is possible. If not, then some day, when the Internet is down and I'm really bored, I will construct a model OFCR and attempt to launch it. That will be a wonderous day. I think I'll get my little sister to be the test piolet. Well...better go...I need to plan this out more...I'm back. And mildly weirded-out. My dad...was on this site. My dad. It even SOUNDS weird. He took the TAB member quiz and turned out to be me, he took the JOB quiz, and was a repo man (which had a pic of my brother) He said he wanted to see what I was doing, and to make sure that I wasn't saying anything derrogatory about my parents. He looked me upvia yahoo's search engine using flaming-chicken as the keyword. It took him to my quiz page. So he probably didn't see the majority of my site. It's just weird. All along, my entire family has scoffed (nifty word, isn't it?) about my site, and called me weird. I dunno...I guess I'm just kinda freaked out. Oh, and don't forget to celebrate Mad Hatter Day on October the 6th. Seeya. I'm back. I had some conspriacy or another to rant about. But then I listened to some of the new music I put on my site and mellowed out. I can't remember what I was gonna rant about. Oh, yeah. Now I do. "Purified" water. Just wait a sec while I stop the music. *content sigh* There we go...that's much better. Now I can think. That's right, folks. "Purified" water. Now...just stop a second and contemplate that. Pure means, well, no extra stuff. 100% of something. Right? Well, next time you buy your $3 FREAKIN' dollar bottle of water, consider this. On almost all the "purified" water bottles I've ever seen it has the following mesage: "Purified through reverse osmosis. Minerals added for a pure, fresh taste." In other words, they take all that extra "stuff" out to make it pure. Then they add other "stuff" in to make it TASTE pure. But it's not. For all you, the uninformed consumer, could know, it might have rat poison in it. "Pure" water manufactuerers are not required to list the ingredients of water, because the average consumer believes that it should be obvious. But that is false! They add random minerals to our water to make it taste better, and then advertise it as pure! It's an outrage! I'd rather drink the "impure" tap water where at least I KNOW that someone, somewhere tested it. It's a law, I think. But does anyone test "pure" water? Most likely they test it BEFORE they add the extra stuff..."Yep, Bob, this is some mighty pure water." "Yep, Bill, time to dump the arsnic in so it tastes pure!" What kind of reasoning is that? Wouldn't pure water TASTE pure, and impure water TASTE impure? The insanity and stupidity is mind boggling! That's why I like fast-food salt. It actually lists what random minerals they through in to make it TASTE like salt. There's salt, of course, and aluminum sulfate, and other compounds. But the point is, if I were, say, freakily allergic to a random mineral, I could read the ingredients and not eat the salt. That's what they need to do with the water. Or, at the very least, not label it as "pure". Okay. That's the rant of the week, month, year, whatever. I'll probably have another one soon, but that whole water thing has been buggin me for awhile. Well...seeya! Er...yeah...I'm back. It's been awhile, (at least two weeks) since I've written here. I've been obsessed with various webcomics, creating the stupidly long new Phobia Quiz and being maniacly hysterical about my site always being down due to bandwith issues. I'm goin' light on the advertising at the moment, which is why I'm free to write here. I WANT to write. But I can't think of anything to write about. Typical. I finnaly get some free time to rant and rave and all my topics just magically melted away. Let's see...what have I ranted about before, subliminal messages, vast breakfast cereal conspiracies, water, uh...reality tv? And that's just what I can list from memory. Oh, yeah! How could I forget the stupid Tootsie Roll Pop Commercials? TACO is still in my heart. *sighs*...now...let's see...what to rant about today... ... ... ... ... I can't think of anything!? Is this writer's block?! Or maybe I just wanna go to bed. Sleeping is fun. Well...let's see. Did you know that statistics prove that 45% of all statistics are completly made up by me (The Patron Saint of Paperclips)? Well...they are. Ha! I see you have no reaction to that, do you Hypothetical Reader? I have once again caused that explody sensation in your brain meats! You cannot DEFEAT me! I rule the...er...*random Loyal Minion whispers in ear* That's right! I rule the Internet! The Official FLaming-Chickens Handbook already confirms that fact! You CANNOT DENY it! It says that in black and...er lime green! It MUST be true! Because it is in those veyr colors that the Matrix is programmed! Ahhh...I see your confusion! You cannot follow the vast, mind-boggling logic that is ME! Wait...how...how can I BE logic? That doesn't make any sense...you can't BE something abstract...can you? Now MY brain meats feel explody. That's not fair! I see your EVIL plot now, Hypothetical Reader! You just let me rant on and on for you KNEW that eventually I would confuse myself with my vast puddle of knowledge. You are devious...I give you that. Unfortunantly...I must leave...before the confusion spreads and I do something stupid...like revealing my one weakness before you...THAT'S IT! Code 452 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paperclips (ME!!!) does not, has never, and will absolutly NOT admit to having any weakness...besides the aformention indivduals own skin, which isn't even a weakness anyway since no representative of the Dark, Fluffier Side can BE the Patron Saint of Paperclips (Guess, who...no...no...THAT'S IT!) and even if they could it wouldn't do them any good because it would scare them instead of the aformentioned individual. Boy...I really enjoy confusing myself!:) Seeya! I'm baaaaa-ack! Aren't you happy? Here, see if you can find the super-secret message!
10While you wait for yesterday's tomorrow, lunge back and remember that day.  You know the one.  Yeah, this doesn't mean anything to you.  Are you surprised?  Obviously not.  Answer me, you blobby looking freak! Or suffer my blindingly moronic nail messages.
11
12Did you find it? Wasn't it super? And secret? I thought it was. But then, I'm me...and you're you. I think. I'm pretty sure you're not me...but you could be that other guy. Yeah...that...guy...you know who I'm talking about. No? Do not MOCK me! I know where you are right now! Spooky, huh? Ooooo...time for today's topic. My favorite stuff...JTHM...I have my libraries copy of JTHM...I shall quote Noodle Boy for you:) (Full copyright/credit to Jonhnen Vasquez for writin' the stuff, I'm just sharing the spleeny goodness with you). (it's edited, of course, to stay PG13...**** signifies a random naugty word:)) "HEY, DOG ENTITY! RISE UP AND BARE YOUR BISCUIT FILTY FANGS AT THE LEASH WIELDING DEMON!! **** MY NAVEL ITCHES!! MEOW!MEOW!MEOW! CAT CHOW!!! CEASE YOUR FLATULENT WINDS AND HEAR MY MIND NUMBING EXPULSIONS OF WICKED NOISE! GRRR!! CHEESE!!! I SENSE YOUR ENVY OF MY NECK!! AND I DONT BLAME YOU!! DROOOOOL OVER MY MAGICAL POWERS!! I HAVE POWERS PINTO BEANS CAN ONLY DREAM OF! WANNA SEE ME PULL A TAPEWORM OUTTA MY ****!! HUH?!...STARE DEEP INTO THE STINKING ABYSS OF MY INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED SLICES!!! HOLY WAX! CHECK OUT MY ARMPITS!!! HEEEEY! WAIDAMINIT!! WAIT JUST A POLYP PICKING MINUTE!! I SEE YOUR GAME! YOU WILL NOT SINK MY CHEERIO!! I SEE WHAT IS TRANSPIRING HERE!!! YOU'RE ALL ZOMBIE THIGH-FAT PEOPLE BROUGHT INTO ANIMATION BY SOME EVIL FORCE OF FORCEFUL EVIL!!! **** THAT LIPSTICKS THE WRONG COLOR FOR YOU!! MOOOO! WOOF! OH, DON'T YOU SEE THE TOENAILS?!! OH, SO SPLENDID!! A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K...! UNDER SUCH EXTREME HEAT, WEAR AND DEGRADATION IS INEVITABLE!! PARTS BREAK AFTER OVERUSE!! AND THAT IS WHY TOASTER PASTRIES WILL BURST INTO FLAMES IF YOU DON'T KEEP AN EYE ON THEM! Now, wasn't that entertainment. I added to the lenghth of the LTE without even thinking! That's talent. Lots of gooey talent. Unfortunatly, I once again am devoid of a topic. And any weirdness I could come up with would be normal compared to Noodle Boy, so...I bid thee farewell...seeya! I'm back. And I've realized that I am a complete idiot. For an ENTIRE MONTH I have possesed the arcane knowledge, but I forgot to share it with you, my loyal potentially imaginary reader. I know. You're shocked at my selfish, bad, memory. I apologize from the depths of my moosey soul. For, you see...my life long goal has been fufilled...*anticipatory silence*...THERE ACTUALLY IS GRAPE PIE!!!! I know...you are as shocked as I am. One day I was randomly looking up images via Google...and 'lo and behold, there it was. Grape Pie. It was as if it had been just sitting there...waiting for me to discover it. Apparantly Grape Pie isn't mainstream, but it has existed for some time. In obscure cookbooks. Well...that just makes me filled with gooey happiness. Of course, there is also regret...after all, I could have made a fortune if I'd been the first to think of it. Oh, well. There was something else I had to tell you loyal *cricket chirps, someone coughs* fans. I can't remember what. I guess I'll just rant and rave about that whole vicious downward spiral of my writing. I mean, I KNOW people are coming here...I have proof! *holds up a piece of paper, which, from a distance, appears to have writing on it* Yes, undenyable proof! But this proof degrades this mysterious, mystical and mystifying "quality" of my words. After all, how can I be self derisive, and full of low expectations for this site if I KNOW people are here...several thousand of them in fact, in just a few months. It's strange. I felt more fufilled when this site was a barren wastland of useless space. But, if it had remained that way, I would have had no impetus to continue my pointlessly insane ranting. Oh, speaking of insane, I STILL need those much needed supplies for the Official Flaming-Chickens Lunar Colony! No one has even bothered to e-mail them to me...*sniffle*. I needs the duct tape! How can I survive without the sticky goodness? HOW, I ask you!? It cannot be...hmmmm...maybe I should just use IMAGINARY duct tape...it's easier to come by ,but it's much more expensive...I'm not sure what to do. *enter Squirell* What's that, little Squirell? That's just silly. You KNOW I ran out of imaginary money last week when I bought that imaginary country. WHAT!? Just "imagine" I have more!? What a crazy idea. So crazy it just might work! *scrunches eyes and makes funny sounds* Nope. It didn't. I guess I'll just have to wait untill my imaginary clone hijacks that imaginary bank truck. Until then...I have absolutly no imaginary money. What ever shall I do? I won't be able to feed my various imaginary pets and friends their beloved imaginary food! Squirell? You gots extra money, don't you? *nods* I thought so. You give to me? No? I gives you imaginary IOU's...here...yours. Thank you Squirell. *Squirell wanders off in search of electrical sockets to sniff* What's that, Hypothetical Reader? You don't know who Squirell is? You haven't been paying attention have you? She's my little puppy...she fears grape flavored stuff, wind, rain, television, noise, silence, small children and pretty much everything. She likes sniffing potentially dangerous stuff, like electrical sockets. Surely you have heard of her? Still no? Oh, well. You know...I enjoy having these conversations with you. It really lets me get to know you. What's that? You say I'm really just talking to myself? What an eccentric idea! To think, YOU are trying to tell ME that YOU aren't here. How absurd. After all, I'm talking to you, aren't I? *nods* Well, yeah...I KNOW I'm actually typing instead of talking. Wait a minute...so you're saying that I'm talking and responding to you, but you won't be reading this until long after I have finished typing? Now who's the crazy one? For that theory to work, I'd have to be psychic...or in possesion of a freaky time-traveling computer. Because what you're saying is that I'm talking to people in the future. That my words somehow travel accross time (if only a few minutes) and are somehow picked up by future you, and that my responses are dictated by future you's reactions. What? You mean that I'm just randomly responding regardless of your reactions? Why, that would be insane, wouldn't it? That's the point you're trying to get across? *pauses* Oh. I see. You wanna play that way. Well...two can play by THOSE rules. You wanna try to convince me I'M crazy? Well, look at you? How do you know I even exist? For all you know you could be staring at that freaky 3-D maze screen saver with a blank look on your face while you THINK you're reading an inhumanly long text. For all you know, you could be halucinating my entire site! For that matter, how do you know that ANYTHING but you exists! You could be floating out in empty space, conjuring nice little fantasies to relieve the monotony of being the only living being! Every single person you know could just be figments of your imagination, you could even be in a crazy house! Not only that, but how do you know that YOU actually exist? You could be the figment of someone else's dream. What would happen when that dreamer woke? Are you happy? You got me started. I may NEVER shut up. I'll just go on and on about how crazy you COULD be. All because YOU tried to convince me that I was crazy. *blinks* And I STILL can't remember what else I was gonna say to you people. Strange, huh? Well, I better leave before I go on and on about more "reality" theories. Makes you wonder about "reality" television, huh? Seeya. I'm back. Grrrr...I had a nifty rant all planned out in my head. And then I was unable to get on the computer and I forgot most of it. Oh, but I did remember what else I wanted to say to you people. Remember that rant I did on how there could be a secret camera in the smoke detector? I few months ago I saw a movie about that. It was pretty good. Maybe I'd seen it before, and that's where I got the idea. I forgot it's name. Well...I DO have a special treat for you weirdos who apparantly like wasting time! Today, in my (Honors) English class, we did group work. My group...well...we either went hysterical or crazy, I can't decide which. We had to do an essay on a book. There was a sample essay online. It sucked. It tooked about envelooping (enveloping) cracked nuts and parables. So we were already off to a bad start. Here is the sum total of my group's work. (Note: I wrote virtually none of this, so I cannot be blamed, credited with any of this. "Lots of death, lots and lots of death in this section. Death is like life in that after you die some things start life again inside of you. 'Ah the power of cheese!' The author's vision was unique in that only he put biscuits and death in the same sentence. 'I found nothing else to do but to offer him on of my good Swede's ship's biscuits I had in my pocket'" And we're supposed to be GOOD in English! We KNEW how terrible it was, but we just didn't bother to change it. Especially the part about the biscuits and cheese. We just picked random words in the selection and wrote about them. It was sad. In any case, I hope you enjoyed our patheticness. Seeya! I'm back. Today I will be mercifully brief. I am here to bring AWARNESS to your moosey soul! Right now, while you are sitting in your "chair" and eating your "junk food", millions of almonds are commiting suicide. Yes...that's right...suicide. I was alerted to this growing problem in our world community by (Kat, the ruler of all that is almondy)...and it greatly concerns me. People just don't realize that their almonds and mixed nuts may be having depression and other problems. We need to act now! For more information, e-mail EnpuUnknown@msn.com Well...seeya! I'm so very, very tired. Today was Halloween. I worked for four hours at the "Library of Terror" sponsered by TAB. TAB members got pizza...lots of pizza...and candy. Ugh. It was fun, but exhausting. I was almost completly covered in (fake) blood...it was sticky toward the end. One guy was a "shock therepy" patient...he was a good actor. He acted like he was really being tortured and stuff. I'm tired. I bet you couldn't tell. Why am I writing? Because this is the first time I've been on a computer all day. You can't blame me. Don't worry, I'll go to bed soon. In the mean time, I'll just sit here and type with my eyes closed. It's hard to type because of the bandaid on my finger. I accidently cut it with scizzors. It hurt. The fake blood seeped into the open wound. Gee...I sure hope it wasn't poisonous. If so, I guess I won't be writing here for quite awhile...seeya. Okay, this next rant has nothing to do whatsoever with Halloween...which is to be expected because it's been several days since then. Anyway, today's rant is about one of my many and various pet peeves: fasion and...stuff. My definition of fasion includes clothes, shoes, jewelery and all things of that nature. Now, don't get me wrong. I can appreciate a spiffy black outfit as much as the next person, but everytime I consider actually buying clothes for aesthetic value, I think about how I could better spend my money. On video games. Sure, some of this "fasion" stuff is cool and all, but all it shows is that you had the three and three-quarters brain cells required to copy someone else's "look". And don't even get me started on earrings. My little, eviler sister got her ears pierced when she was relativly younger. My mom did it to her because it was free. OF FREAKIN' COURSE IT WAS FREE! Just like thos so called "diet supplements" that give you a "free" sample because they know that once you try it, you'll like it so much you'll spend oodles of cash on it. (There's probably drugs in it). Anyway, like the "diet supplement" people, the earring manufacturers KNOW that once they pierce you, you'll be hooked for life. *pauses* *groans* I'm sorry for that pun (pierced, hooked, getit?). AS soon as you're pierced, you have to buy "starter" earrings. Then you'll need an "extra" pair...for special occasions. Before you know it you'll realize that you need Christmas earrings, Halloween earrings, Valentine's Day earrings, St. Patrick's Day earrings, for crying out loud! You'll wear these "festive" earings for about a day and then abandon them in some dark cranny of your closet because you simply can't wear the same earrings two years in a row for heaven's sake! Then you'll see these cute little "days-of-the-week" earrings at the mall, and you'll just have to get a few sets, just in case you lose some. By the time you're eighty, you'll have enough ear jewelry to open up your own jewelry shop. Of course, you won't want to do that becuase you still need more earrings so people won't think you wear the same ones over and over again. When I think of how much money people WASTE on appearences, it makes me feel like projectile vomiting. If that's not a vast conspiracy, then nothing on this Earth is. Now, I'm not speaking from personal experience here. No one I know is that obsessed with earrings, it was just an example. (Although my mother does have a "earring tree".) Sure, certain members of my family do pay WAY to much attention to fasion, but that's just because of the expectations of society. I, being weird, am pretty much immune to such expectations. Except those specially formulated for weird-o's like me. If I were to suddenly convert this entrie site into a *shudders* Backstreet Boys fan site or something, you wouldn't be any more suprised than I would be if my brother woke up one day and suddenly realized that he's shallow. It's the same concept. (No, I don't like any of those creepy "pop" stars. I think that they should routinly die a slow, savage, agonizing death...I was just saying a random thing that I would never, ever do.) Well...any way...seeya! I'm back. And today's rant is a sort of philosophical one. It's about the (supposedly) infinite nature of the universe. Suprised? It's spiffy. You see, if the universe is indeed infinite, that means that literally EVERYTHING is possible, and in fact, is happening somewhere in the universe. Think about it. No matter how unlikely something is, if the universe is infinite, it's happening an infinite number of times. Think about that old saying about "If you gave an infinite number of monkeys an infinite number of typewriters, eventually they would reproduce the entire works of Shakespear". That makes complete and total sense! Anyone just randomly typing letters will eventually accidently write a word, right? Now think of 100 people typing randomly. You figure that one of those 100 people would actually have a coherent phrase. And one out of a million people would probably have a few sentences. So if you have an infinite number of people, some are going to have entire books of coherent stuff. And, you have to remember that because infinity is infinite, you can divide it an infinite number of times. Try it. If you have a decent graphing calculator, plug in the infinity symbol divided by anything, (even infinity). The answer is still infinity. Using my philosopy, that EVERYTHING exists because the universe is infinite...well...think about it. In some far off world, there are pokemon...there are an evil race of muffin like creatures, there is a world with ABSOLUTLY NO COMMERCIALS DURING TELEVISION! I know, unlikely, huh? But somewhere, it exists. Think about it. If the universe is infinite it would be crazy to think that we're alone. With an infinite universe, there are infinite possibilites. There ARE aliens. Not only that, but there are an infinite number of different kinds of intelligent life. Which means that there are an infinite number of worlds with humanoid life. (Think of the fake-looking Star Trek aliens). If there are an infinte number of worlds with human life, than there are an infinte number of worlds that have someone exactly like you, with only a few key differences. (Like alternate dimensions and stuff) So, there is a world where you are the creator of this Longest Text Ever. There is a world where you are a faerie. There is a world where you were never born. There is a world where you are a slave to your TOASTER OVEN. The possibilities are literally endless. Every fantasy the human mind has concieved exist at some place in the universe. There are an infinite number of worlds with Harry Potter. Think about it. I came up with this philosophy when I was in fifth grade. I'd tell it to my little brother as a bed time story. He always enjoyed it because it meant that somewhere, he was the Supreme Dictator of the Galaxy. That made him happy. He ignored the fact that he was also a 72 year old "sanitation engineer" somewhere. All the good possibilities effectivly cancel out the bad ones, leaving the sum total of you and your counterparts experiences as nothing. You don't have the best life of your counterparts, but you don't have the worst either. Because that would be impossible. There is always someone worse off and better off than you. Because there are an infinite number of people on either side of the spectrum. Confusing, huh? But that's the kind of thing I like. That also explains why normal stuff confuses me. I'm sure some so called "scientist" can prove all my theories wrong...but how? How do you PROVE something is not infinite? You'd have to find the end, of course. But how, may I ask, can you find the end of the FREAKIN' universe? What, is there a giant sign saying, "DEAD END"? The universe is EVERYTHING, how can it end? At the same time, how can you prove something IS infinite? You could travel in a straight line at the speed of light for a million years and all you'd prove is that the universe is really, really big. But you'd never prove it was infinite. How could you? Our mind's cannot conceive of the vastness of infinity. We'd probably go crazier. In any case, my theory means that playing video games is very cruel. Why, you ask? Because in some world, the video game is real. So when you kill, or whatever, in the game, you are actually ending life somewhere in the universe. Of course, you also end life by sneezing, eating, sleeping, and watching T.V. According to my theory that everything is real. Of course, if everything is real...then the Universe is pretty contradictory. The paradox of my system of beliefs leads me to believe that the universe, in fact, is not infinite. Because nature supposidly abhors a paradox. Although, as I said, there's no way to prove me wrong OR right. That's what I like about making abstract theories... Anyway, sorry for the lack of relative weirdness, conspiracy theories and doughnuts (my Moose ate them all). Well...now that I think about it...according to my theory, ALL conspiracies are real and mislabled "paranoid" people are really the only ones who see the truth. *blinks* Wow...so I'm NOT paranoid. Who'da thought it? Well...better go before one of my two and half sane readers falls asleep:) Seeya! I'm back! Boy, are you mythical, mystical readers in for a treat, today! I have a guest rant/fake commercial written by "Meg" (who is once again banned from accessing the almighty Internet). Are you ready? No? Too Bad! The magic eight-ball glows with knowledge! With a shake, the future is revealed! The magic eight-ball is a plastic casing with an unknown, possibly toxic liquid inside. The future is determined by the triangles, in a startling blue color which spin around in a zany manner. Wheather you're saved or doomed, find out now! Is that old lady on the street corner really an ex-convict? Is fat-free food more delicious than food loaded with fat? Is your school playground a gateay to the underworld? All this information and more is yours for the low, low price of 5 payments of $29.99! And, if you call within the next ten minutes you get a free eight ball with the one you buy! But wait! There's more! Get the free Lil' Ball for your traveling needs! Warning: this product is illegal in most states) Wasn't that entertaining? "Meg" wrote it for a school assignment. We were supposed to write about a cherished child-hood toy, and attempt to turn our fond memories into a commercial. I wrote about furby, and how it was fun to watch it die. No, really. Somehow, I managed to make my furby die. It would sneeze, then start it's eight-hour-long death hum. It would hum, and hum, and hum...and then mercifully die. I don't exactly have a good track record with virtual pets. I once...*embarassed pause* had "Hey, You! Pikachu!"...a pokemon game. I'll only say that it was the first game you could "talk" to and was the first (and only) N64 virtual pet. Pikachu...well...he didn't like me. I gave him cupcakes, and presents, and did everything I could to befriend him! And what did he do to me? He snuck up on me one day in our room (in the game) with a sword! That's right, a sword! He tried to kill me! I heard something and turned around, and there he was! He even tried to hide the sword behind his back! When I tried to talk to him, he tossed it away nonchalantly and pretended he hadn't heard me. Then he preceeded to trash my room, scattering kleenex everywhere. I'm pretty sure that the "smelly yellow ball" that he started throwing was his own feces (poo). That dirty little rat. Awwww...isn't he cute? Hmmmm...I suppose I should clarify that the Pikachu game was 3-D and your character was in first person mode(you see through character's eyes). Otherwise you'd think I was delusional, or something. Everyone I know who has played that game is shocked when I tell them...oh, well. Speaking of virtual pets, I'm revamping the ones on this site. I've finnally figured out sorta, maybe, kinda, how to do stuff to make it more real. Anyway, seeya! OOooooo! I'm back, and I had yet another Asparagus War with some people. We made a guild, and I wrote out the transcripts of the first ever Asparagus War in narrative form (mock epic, very cheesey) Since it's very, very long, I'll post it here to meet my imaginary word quota for the day! Oh, and all those weird squiggly lines and symbols, those are supposed to be apostrophes, but neopet's code is weird, and I'm not gonna bother to edit it. Enjoy!
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30I heard the mailman approach my office door, half an hour earlier than usual. He didn't sound right. His footsteps fell more heavily, jauntily, and he whistled. A new guy. He whistled his way to my office door, then fell silent for a moment. Then he laughed.
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32Then he knocked.
33 
34I winced. My mail comes through the mail slot unless it's registered. I get a really limited selection of registered mail, and it's never good news. I got up out of my office chair and opened the door.
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36The new mailman, who looked like a basketball with arms and legs and a sunburned, balding head, was chuckling at the sign on the door glass. He glanced at me and hooked a thumb toward the sign. "You're kidding, right?"
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38I read the sign (people change it occasionally), and shook my head. "No, I'm serious. Can I have my mail, please."
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40"So, uh. Like parties, shows, stuff like that?" He looked past me, as though he expected to see a white tiger, or possibly some skimpily clad assistants prancing around my one-room office.
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42I sighed, not in the mood to get mocked again, and reached for the mail he held in his hand. "No, not like that. I don't do parties."
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44He held on to it, his head tilted curiously. "So what? Some kinda fortune-teller? Cards and crystal balls and things?"
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46"No," I told him. "I'm not a psychic." I tugged at the mail.
47 
48He held on to it. "What are you, then?"
49 
50"What's the sign on the door say?"
51 
52"It says 'Harry Dresden. Wizard. »
53 
54"That's me," I confirmed.
55 
56"An actual wizard?" he asked, grinning, as though I should let him in on the joke. "Spells and potions? Demons and incantations? Subtle and quick to anger?"
57 
58"Not so subtle." I jerked the mail out of his hand and looked pointedly at his clipboard. "Can I sign for my mail please."
59 
60The new mailman's grin vanished, replaced with a scowl. He passed over the clipboard to let me sign for the mail (another late notice from my landlord), and said, "You're a nut. That's what you are." He took his clipboard back, and said, "You have a nice day, sir."
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62I watched him go.
63 
64"Typical," I muttered, and shut the door.
65 
66My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Conjure by it at your own risk. I'm a wizard. I work out of an office in midtown Chicago. As far as I know, I'm the only openly practicing professional wizard in the country. You can find me in the yellow pages, under "Wizards." Believe it or not, I'm the only one there. My ad looks like this:
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68HARRY DRESDEN - WIZARD
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70Lost Items Found. Paranormal Investigations.
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72Consulting. Advice. Reasonable Rates.
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74No Love Potions, Endless Purses, Parties, or Other Entertainment
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76You'd be surprised how many people call just to ask me if I'm serious. But then, if you'd seen the things I'd seen, if you knew half of what I knew, you'd wonder how anyone could not think I was serious.
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78The end of the twentieth century and the dawn of the new millennium had seen something of a renaissance in the public awareness of the paranormal. Psychics, haunts, vampires - you name it. People still didn't take them seriously, but all the things Science had promised us hadn't come to pass. Disease was still a problem. Starvation was still a problem. Violence and crime and war were still problems. In spite of the advance of technology, things just hadn't changed the way everyone had hoped and thought they would.
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80Science, the largest religion of the twentieth century, had become somewhat tarnished by images of exploding space shuttles, crack babies, and a generation of complacent Americans who had allowed the television to raise their children. People were looking for something - I think they just didn't know what. And even though they were once again starting to open their eyes to the world of magic and the arcane that had been with them all the while, they still thought I must be some kind of joke.
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82Anyway, it had been a slow month. A slow pair of months, actually. My rent from February didn't get paid until the tenth of March, and it was looking like it might be even longer until I got caught up for this month.
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84My only job had been the previous week, when I'd gone down to Branson, Missouri, to investigate a country singer's possibly haunted house. It hadn't been. My client hadn't been happy with that answer, and had been even less happy when I suggested he lay off of any intoxicating substances and try to get some exercise and sleep, and see if that didn't help things more than an exorcism. I'd gotten travel expenses plus an hour's pay, and gone away feeling I had done the honest, righteous, and impractical thing. I heard later that he'd hired a shyster psychic to come in and perform a ceremony with a lot of incense and black lights. Some people.
85 
86I finished up my paperback and tossed it into the DONE box. There was a pile of read and discarded paperbacks in a cardboard box on one side of my desk, the spines bent and the pages mangled. I'm terribly hard on books. I was eyeing the pile of unread books, considering which to start next, given that I had no real work to do, when my phone rang.
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88I stared at it in a somewhat surly fashion. We wizards are terrific at brooding. After the third ring, when I thought I wouldn't sound a little too eager, I picked up the receiver and said, "Dresden."
89 
90"Oh. Is this, um, Harry Dresden? The, ah, wizard?" Her tone was apologetic, as though she were terribly afraid she would be insulting me.
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92No, I thought. It's Harry Dresden the, ah, lizard. Harry the wizard is one door down.
93 
94It is the prerogative of wizards to be grumpy. It is not, however, the prerogative of freelance consultants who are late on their rent, so instead of saying something smart, I told the woman on the phone, "Yes, ma'am. How can I help you today?"
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96"I, um," she said. "I'm not sure. I've lost something, and I think maybe you could help me."
97 
98"Finding lost articles is a specialty," I said. "What would I be looking for?"
99 
100There was a nervous pause. "My husband," she said. She had a voice that was a little hoarse, like a cheerleader who'd been working a long tournament, but had enough weight of years in it to place her as an adult.
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102My eyebrows went up. "Ma'am, I'm not really a missing-persons specialist. Have you contacted the police or a private investigator?"
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104"No," she said, quickly. "No, they can't. That is, I haven't. Oh dear, this is all so complicated. Not something someone can talk about on the phone. I'm sorry to have taken up your time, Mr. Dresden."
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106"Hold on now," I said quickly. "I'm sorry, you didn't tell me your name."
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108There was that nervous pause again, as though she were checking a sheet of written notes before answering. "Call me Monica."
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110People who know diddly about wizards don't like to give us their names. They're convinced that if they give a wizard their name from their own lips it could be used against them. To be fair, they're right.
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112I had to be as polite and harmless as I could. She was about to hang up out of pure indecision, and I needed the job. I could probably turn hubby up, if I worked at it.
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114"Okay, Monica," I told her, trying to sound as melodious and friendly as I could. "If you feel your situation is of a sensitive nature, maybe you could come by my office and talk about it. If it turns out that I can help you best, I will, and if not, then I can direct you to someone I think can help you better." I gritted my teeth and pretended I was smiling. "No charge."
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116It must have been the no charge that did it. She agreed to come right out to the office, and told me that she would be there in an hour. That put her estimated arrival at about two-thirty. Plenty of time to go out and get some lunch, then get back to the office to meet her.
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118The phone rang again almost the instant I put it down, making me jump. I peered at it. I don't trust electronics. Anything manufactured after the forties is suspect - and doesn't seem to have much liking for me. You name it: cars, radios, telephones, TVs, VCRs - none of them seem to behave well for me. I don't even like to use automatic pencils.
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120I answered the phone with the same false cheer I had summoned up for Monica Husband-Missing. "This is Dresden, may I help you?"
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122"Harry, I need you at the Madison in the next ten minutes. Can you be there?" The voice on the other end of the line was also a woman's, cool, brisk, businesslike.
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124"Why, Lieutenant Murphy," I gushed, overflowing with saccharine, "It's good to hear from you, too. It's been so long. Oh, they're fine, fine. And your family?"
125 
126"Save it, Harry. I've got a couple of bodies here, and I need you to take a look around."
127 
128I sobered immediately. Karrin Murphy was the director of Special Investigations out of downtown Chicago, a de facto appointee of the Police Commissioner to investigate any crimes dubbed unusual. Vampire attacks, troll mauraudings, and faery abductions of children didn't fit in very neatly on a police report - but at the same time, people got attacked, infants got stolen, property was damaged or destroyed. And someone had to look into it.
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130In Chicago, or pretty much anywhere in Chicagoland, that person was Karrin Murphy. I was her library of the supernatural on legs, and a paid consultant for the police department. But two bodies? Two deaths by means unknown? I hadn't handled anything like that for her before.
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132"Where are you?" I asked her.
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134"Madison Hotel on Tenth, seventh floor."
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136"That's only a fifteen-minute walk from my office," I said.
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138"So you can be here in fifteen minutes. Good."
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140"Um," I said. I looked at the clock. Monica No-Last-Name would be here in a little more than forty-five minutes. "I've sort of got an appointment."
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142"Dresden, I've sort of got a pair of corpses with no leads and no suspects, and a killer walking around loose. Your appointment can wait."
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144My temper flared. It does that occasionally. "It can't, actually," I said. "But I'll tell you what. I'll stroll on over and take a look around, and be back here in time for it."
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146"Have you had lunch yet?" she asked.
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148"What?"
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150She repeated the question.
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152"No," I said.
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154"Don't." There was a pause, and when she spoke again, there was a sort of greenish tone to her words. "It's bad."
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156"How bad are we talking here, Murph?"
157 
158Her voice softened, and that scared me more than any images of gore or violent death could have. Murphy was the original tough girl, and she prided herself on never showing weakness. "It's bad, Harry. Please don't take too long. Special Crimes is itching to get their fingers on this one, and I know you don't like people to touch the scene before you can look around."
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160"I'm on the way," I told her, already standing and pulling on my jacket.
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162"Seventh floor," she reminded me. "See you there."
163 
164"Okay."
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166I turned off the lights to my office, went out the door, and locked up behind me, frowning. I wasn't sure how long it was going to take to investigate Murphy's scene, and I didn't want to miss out on speaking with Monica Ask-Me-No-Questions. So I opened the door again, got out a piece of paper and a thumbtack, and wrote:
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168Out briefly. Back for appointment at 2:30. Dresden
169 
170That done, I started down the stairs. I rarely use the elevator, even though I'm on the fifth floor. Like I said, I don't trust machines. They're always breaking down on me just when I need them.
171 
172Besides which. If I were someone in this town using magic to kill people two at a time, and I didn't want to get caught, I'd make sure that I removed the only practicing wizard the police department kept on retainer. I liked my odds on the stairwell a lot better than I did in the cramped confines of the elevator.
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174Paranoid? Probably. But just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that there isn't an invisible demon about to eat your face.
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176----------
177 
178Karrin Murphy was waiting for me outside the Madison. Karrin and I are a study in contrasts. Where I am tall and lean, she's short and stocky. Where I have dark hair and dark eyes, she's got Shirley Temple blond locks and baby blues. Where my features are all lean and angular, with a hawkish nose and a sharp chin, hers are round and smooth, with the kind of cute nose you'd expect on a cheerleader.
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180It was cool and windy, like it usually is in March, and she wore a long coat that covered her pantsuit. Murphy never wore dresses, though I suspected she'd have muscular, well-shaped legs, like a gymnast. She was built for function, and had a pair of trophies in her office from aikido tournaments to prove it. Her hair was cut at shoulder length and whipped out wildly in the spring wind. She wasn't wearing earrings, and her makeup was of sufficient quality and quantity that it was tough to tell she had on any at all. She looked more like a favorite aunt or a cheerful mother than a hard-bitten homicide detective.
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182"Don't you have any other jackets, Dresden?" she asked, as I came within hailing distance. There were several police cars parked illegally in front of the building. She glanced at my eyes for a half second and then away, quickly. I had to give her credit. It was more than most people did. It wasn't really dangerous unless you did it for several seconds, but I was used to anyone who knew I was a wizard making it a point not to glance at my face.
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184I looked down at my black canvas duster, with its heavy mantling and waterproof lining and sleeves actually long enough for my arms. "What's wrong with this one?"
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186"It belongs on the set of El Dorado."
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188"And?"
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190She snorted, an indelicate sound from so small a woman, and spun on her heel to walk toward the hotel's front doors.
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192I caught up and walked a little ahead of her.
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194She sped her pace. So did I. We raced one another toward the front door, with increasing speed, through the puddles left over from last night's rain.
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196My legs were longer; I got there first. I opened the door for her and gallantly gestured for her to go in. It was an old contest of ours. Maybe my values are outdated, but I come from an old school of thought. I think that men ought to treat women like something other than just shorter, weaker men with breasts. Try and convict me if I'm a bad person for thinking so. I enjoy treating a woman like a lady, opening doors for her, paying for shared meals, giving flowers - all that sort of thing.
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198It irritates the hell out of Murphy, who had to fight and claw and play dirty with the hairiest men in Chicago to get as far as she has. She glared up at me while I stood there holding open the door, but there was a reassurance about the glare, a relaxation. She took an odd sort of comfort in our ritual, annoying as she usually found it.
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200How bad was it up on the seventh floor, anyway?
201 
202We rode the elevator in a sudden silence. We knew one another well enough, by this time, that the silences were not uncomfortable. I had a good sense of Murphy, an instinctual grasp for her moods and patterns of thought - something I develop whenever I'm around someone for any length of time. Whether it's a natural talent or a supernatural one I don't know.
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204My instincts told me that Murphy was tense, stretched as tight as piano wire. She kept it off her face, but there was something about the set of her shoulders and neck, the stiffness of her back, that made me aware of it.
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206Or maybe I was just projecting it onto her. The confines of the elevator made me a bit nervous. I licked my lips and looked around the interior of the car. My shadow and Murphy's fell on the floor, and almost looked as though they were sprawled there. There was something about it that bothered me, a nagging little instinct that I blew off as a case of nerves. Steady, Harry.
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208She let out a harsh breath just as the elevator slowed, then sucked in another one before the doors could open, as though she were planning on holding it for as long as we were on the floor and breathing only when she got back in the elevator again.
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210Blood smells a certain way, a kind of sticky, almost metallic odor, and the air was full of it when the elevator doors opened. My stomach quailed a little bit, but I swallowed manfully and followed Murphy out of the elevator and down the hall past a couple of uniform cops, who recognized me and waved me past without asking to see the little laminated card the city had given me. Granted, even in a big-city department like Chicago P.D., they didn't exactly call in a horde of consultants (I went down in the paperwork as a psychic consultant, I think), but still. Unprofessional of the boys in blue.
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212Murphy preceded me into the room. The smell of blood grew thicker, but there wasn't anything gruesome behind door number one. The outer room of the suite looked like some kind of a sitting room done in rich tones of red and gold, like a set from an old movie in the thirties - expensive-looking, but somehow faux, nonetheless. Dark, rich leather covered the chairs, and my feet sank into the thick, rust-colored shag of the carpet. The velvet velour curtains had been drawn, and though the lights were all on, the place still seemed a little too dark, a little too sensual in its textures and colors. It wasn't the kind of room where you sit and read a book. Voices came from a doorway to my right.
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214"Wait here a minute," Murphy told me. Then she went through the door to the right of the entryway and into what I supposed was the bedroom of the suite.
215 
216I wandered around the sitting room with my eyes mostly closed, noting things. Leather couch. Two leather chairs. Stereo and television in a black glossy entertainment center. Champagne bottle warming in a stand holding a brimming tub of what had been ice the night before, with two empty glasses set beside it. There was a red rose petal on the floor, clashing with the carpeting (but then, in that room, what didn't?).
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218A bit to one side, under the skirt of one of the leather recliners, was a little piece of satiny cloth. I bent at the waist and lifted the skirt with one hand, careful not to touch anything. A pair of black-satin panties, a tiny triangle with lace coming off the points, lay there, one strap snapped as though the thong had simply been torn off. Kinky.
219 
220The stereo system was state of the art, though not an expensive brand. I took a pencil from my pocket and pushed the PLAY button with the eraser. Gentle, sensual music filled the room, a low bass, a driving drumbeat, wordless vocals, the heavy breathing of a woman as background.
221 
222The music continued for a few seconds more, and then it began to skip over a section about two seconds long, repeating it over and over again.
223 
224I grimaced. Like I said, I have this effect on machinery. It has something to do with being a wizard, with working with magical forces. The more delicate and modern the machine is, the more likely it is that something will go wrong if I get close enough to it. I can kill a copier at fifty paces.
225 
226"The love suite," came a man's voice, drawing the word love out into luuuuuuuv. "What do you think, Mister Man?"
227 
228"Hello, Detective Carmichael," I said, without turning around. Carmichael's rather light, nasal voice had a distinctive quality. He was Murphy's partner and the resident skeptic, convinced that I was nothing more than a charlatan, scamming the city out of its hard-earned money. "Were you saving the panties to take home yourself, or did you just overlook them?" I turned and looked at him. He was short and overweight and balding, with beady, bloodshot eyes and a weak chin. His jacket was rumpled, and there were food stains on his tie, all of which served to conceal a razor intellect. He was a sharp cop, and absolutely ruthless at tracking down killers.
229 
230He walked over to the chair and looked down. "Not bad, Sherlock," he said. "But that's just foreplay. Wait'll you see the main attraction. I'll have a bucket waiting for you." He turned and killed the malfunctioning CD player with a jab from the eraser end of his own pencil.
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232I widened my eyes at him, to let him know how terrified I was, then walked past him and into the bedroom. And regretted it. I looked, noted details mechanically, and quietly shut the door on the part of my head that had started screaming the second I entered the room.
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234They must have died sometime the night before, as rigor mortis had already set in. They were on the bed; she was astride him, body leaned back, back bowed like a dancer's, the curves of her breasts making a lovely outline. He stretched beneath her, a lean and powerfully built man, arms reaching out and grasping at the satin sheets, gathering them in his fists. Had it been an erotic photograph, it would have made a striking tableau.
235 
236Except that the lovers' rib cages on the upper left side of their torsos had expanded outward, through their skin, the ribs jabbing out like ragged, snapped knives. Arterial blood had sprayed out of their bodies, all the way to the mirror on the ceiling, along with pulped, gelatinous masses of flesh that had to be what remained of their hearts. Standing over them, I could see into the upper cavity of the bodies, I noted the now greyish lining around the motionless left lungs and the edges of the ribs, which apparently were forced outward and snapped by some force within.
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238It definitely cut down on the erotic potential.
239 
240The bed was in the middle of the room, giving it a subtle emphasis. The bedroom followed the decor of the sitting room - a lot of red, a lot of plush fabrics, a little over the top unless viewed in candlelight. There were indeed candles in holders on the wall, now burned down to the nubs and extinguished.
241 
242I stepped closer to the bed and walked around it. The carpet squelched as I did. The little screaming part of my brain, safely locked up behind doors of self-control and strict training, continued gibbering. I tried to ignore it. Really I did. But if I didn't get out of that room in a hurry, I was going to start crying like a little girl.
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244So I took in the details fast. The woman was in her twenties, in fabulous condition. At least I thought she had been. It was hard to tell. She had hair the color of chestnuts, cut in a pageboy style, and it seemed dyed to me. Her eyes were only partly open, and I couldn't quite guess at their color beyond not-dark. Vaguely green?
245 
246The man was probably in his forties, and had the kind of fitness that comes from a lifetime of conditioning. There was a tattoo on his right bicep, a winged dagger, that the pull of the satin sheets half concealed. There were scars on his knuckles, layers deep, and across his lower abdomen was a vicious, narrow, puckered scar that I guessed must have come from a knife wound.
247 
248There were discarded clothes around - a tux for him, a little sheath of a black dress and a pair of pumps for her. There were a pair of overnight bags, unopened and set neatly aside, probably by a porter.
249 
250I looked up. Carmichael and Murphy were watching me in silence.
251 
252I shrugged at them.
253 
254"Well?" Murphy demanded. "Are we dealing with magic here, or aren't we?"
255 
256"Either that or it was really incredible sex," I told her.
257 
258Carmichael snorted.
259 
260I laughed a little, too - and that was all the screaming part of my brain needed to slam open the doors I'd shut on it. My stomach revolted and heaved, and I lurched out of the room. Carmichael, true to his word, had set a stainless-steel bucket outside the room, and I fell to my knees throwing up.
261 
262It only took me a few seconds to control myself again - but I didn't want to go back in that room. I didn't need to see what was there anymore. I didn't want to see the two dead people, whose hearts had literally exploded out of their chests.
263 
264And someone had used magic to do it. They had used magic to wreak harm on another, violating the First Law. The White Council was going to go into collective apoplexy. This hadn't been the act of a malign spirit or a malicious entity, or the attack of one of the many creatures of the Nevernever, like vampires or trolls. This had been the premeditated, deliberate act of a sorcerer, a wizard, a human being able to tap into the fundamental energies of creation and life itself.
265 
266It was worse than murder. It was twisted, wretched perversion, as though someone had bludgeoned another person to death with a Botticelli, turned something of beauty to an act of utter destruction.
267 
268If you've never touched it, it's hard to explain. Magic is created by life, and most of all by the awareness, intelligence, emotions of a human being. To end such a life with the same magic that was born from it was hideous, almost incestuous somehow.
269 
270I sat up again and was breathing hard, shaking and tasting the bile in my mouth, when Murphy came back out of the room with Carmichael.
271 
272"All right, Harry," Murphy said. "Let's have it. What do you see happening here?"
273 
274I took a moment to collect my thoughts before answering. "They came in. They had some champagne. They danced for a while, made out, over there by the stereo. Then went into the bedroom. They were in there for less than an hour. It hit them when they were getting to the high point."
275 
276"Less than an hour," Carmichael said. "How do you figure?"
277 
278"CD was only an hour and ten long. Figure a few minutes for dancing and drinking, and then they're in the room. Was the CD playing when they found them?"
279 
280"No," Murphy said.
281 
282"Then it hadn't been set on a loop. I figure they wanted music, just to make things perfect, given the room and all."
283 
284Carmichael grunted, sourly. "Nothing we hadn't already figured out for ourselves," he said to Murphy. "He'd better come up with more than this."
285 
286Murphy shot Carmichael a look that said "shut up," then said, softly, "I need more, Harry."
287 
288I ran one of my hands back over my hair. "There's only two ways anyone could have managed this. The first is by evocation. Evocation is the most direct, spectacular, and noisy form of expressed magic, or sorcery. Explosions, fire, that sort of thing. But I doubt it was an evocator who did this."
289 
290"Why?" Murphy demanded. I heard her pencil scritching on the notepad she always kept with her.
291 
292"Because you have to be able to see or touch where you want your effect to go," I told her. "Line of sight only. The man or woman would have had to be there in the room with them. Tough to hide forensic evidence with something like that, and anyone who was skilled enough to pull off a spell like that would have had the sense to use a gun instead. It's easier."
293 
294"What's the other option?" Murphy asked.
295 
296"Thaumaturgy," I said. "As above, so below. Make something happen on a small scale, and give it the energy to happen on a large scale."
297 
298Carmichael snorted. "What bullshit."
299 
300Murphy's voice sounded skeptical. "How would that work, Harry? Could it be done from somewhere else?"
301 
302I nodded. "The killer would need to have something to connect him or her to the victims. Hair, fingernails, blood samples. That sort of thing."
303 
304"Like a voodoo doll?"
305 
306"Exactly the same thing, yes."
307 
308"There's fresh dye in the woman's hair," Murphy said,
309 
310I nodded. "Maybe if you can find out where she got her hair styled, you could find something out. I don't know."
311 
312"Is there anything else you could tell me that would be of use?"
313 
314"Yes. The killer knew the victims. And I'm thinking it was a woman."
315 
316Carmichael snorted. "I don't believe we got to sit here and listen to this. Nine times out of ten the killer knows the victim."
317 
318"Shut up, Carmichael," Murphy said. "What makes you say that, Harry?"
319 
320I stood up, and rubbed at my face with my hands. "The way magic works. Whenever you do something with it, it comes from inside of you. Wizards have to focus on what they're trying to do, visualize it, believe in it, to make it work. You can't make something happen that isn't a part of you, inside. The killer could have murdered them both and made it look like an accident, but she did it this way. To get it done this way, she would have had to want them dead for very personal reasons, to be willing to reach inside them like that. Revenge, maybe. Maybe you're looking for a lover or a spouse.
321 
322"Also because of when they died - in the middle of sex. It wasn't a coincidence. Emotions are a kind of channel for magic, a path that can be used to get to you. She picked a time when they'd be together and be charged up with lust. She got samples to use as a focus, and she planned it out in advance. You don't do that to strangers."
323 
324"Crap," Carmichael said, but this time it was more of an absentminded curse than anything directed at me.
325 
326Murphy glared at me. "You keep saying 'she, " she challenged me. "Why the hell do you think that?"
327 
328I gestured toward the room. "Because you can't do something that bad without a whole lot of hate," I said. "Women are better at hating than men. They can focus it better, let it go better. Hell, witches are just plain meaner than wizards. This feels like feminine vengeance of some kind to me."
329 
330"But a man could have done it," Murphy said.
331 
332"Well," I hedged.
333 
334"Christ, you are a chauvinist pig, Dresden. Is it something that only a woman could have done?"
335 
336"Well. No. I don't think so."
337 
338"You don't think so?" Carmichael drawled. "Some expert."
339 
340I scowled at them both, angry. "I haven't really worked through the specifics of what I'd need to do to make somebody's heart explode, Murph. As soon as I have occasion to I'll be sure to let you know."
341 
342"When will you be able to tell me something?" Murphy asked.
343 
344"I don't know." I held up a hand, forestalling her next comment. "I can't put a timer on this stuff, Murph. It just can't be done. I don't even know if I can do it at all, much less how long it will take."
345 
346"At fifty bucks an hour, it better not be too long," Carmichael growled. Murphy glanced at him. She didn't exactly agree with him, but she didn't exactly slap him down, either.
347 
348I took the opportunity to take a few long breaths, calming myself down. I finally looked back at them. "Okay," I asked. "Who are they? The victims."
349 
350"You don't need to know that," Carmichael snapped.
351 
352"Ron," Murphy said. "I could really use some coffee."
353 
354Carmichael turned to her. He wasn't tall, but he all but loomed over Murphy. "Aw, come on, Murph. This guy's jerking your chain. You don't really think he's going to be able to tell you anything worth hearing, do you?"
355 
356Murphy regarded her partner's sweaty, beady-eyed face with a sort of frosty hauteur, tough to pull off on someone six inches taller than she. "No cream, two sugars."
357 
358"Dammit," Carmichael said. He shot me a cold glance (but didn't quite look at my eyes), then jammed his hands into his pants pockets and stalked out of the room.
359 
360Murphy followed him to the door, her feet silent, and shut it behind him. The sitting room immediately became darker, closer, with the grinning ghoul of its former chintzy intimacy dancing in the smell of the blood and the memory of the two bodies in the next room.
361 
362"The woman's name was Jennifer Stanton. She worked for the Velvet Room."
363 
364I whistled. The Velvet Room was a high-priced escort service run by a woman named Bianca. Bianca kept a flock of beautiful, charming, and witty women, pandering them to the richest men in the area for hundreds of dollars an hour. Bianca sold the kind of female company that most men only see on television and the movies. I also knew that she was a vampiress of considerable influence in the Nevernever. She had Power with a capital P.
365 
366I'd tried to explain the Nevernever to Murphy before. She didn't really comprehend it, but she understood that Bianca was a badass vampiress who sometimes squabbled for territory. We both knew that if one of Bianca's girls was involved, the vampiress must have been involved somehow, too.
367 
368Murphy cut right to the point. "Was this part of one of Bianca's territorial disputes?"
369 
370"No," I said. "Unless she's having it with a human sorcerer. A vampire, even a vamp sorcerer, couldn't have pulled off something like this outside of the Nevernever."
371 
372"Could she be at odds with a human sorcerer?" Murphy asked me.
373 
374"Possible. But it doesn't sound like her. She isn't that stupid." What I didn't tell Murphy was that the White Council made sure that vampires who trifled with mortal practitioners never lived to brag about it. I don't talk to regular people about the White Council. It just isn't done. "Besides," I said, "if a human wanted to take a shot at Bianca by hitting her girls, he'd be better off to kill the girl and leave the customer healthy, to let him spread the tale and scare off business."
375 
376"Mmph," Murphy said. She wasn't convinced, but she made notes of what I had said.
377 
378"Who was the man?" I asked her.
379 
380Murphy looked up at me for a moment, and then said, evenly, "Tommy Tomm."
381 
382I blinked at her to let her know she hadn't revealed the mystery of the ages. "Who?"
383 
384"Tommy Tomm," she said. "Johnny Marcone's bodyguard."
385 
386Now it made sense. «Gentleman» Johnny Marcone had been the thug to emerge on top of the pile after the Vargassi family had dissolved into internal strife. The police department saw Marcone as a mixed blessing, after years of merciless struggle and bloody exchanges with the Vargassis. Gentleman Johnny tolerated no excesses in his organization, and he didn't like freelancers operating in his city. Muggers, bank robbers, and drug dealers who were not a part of his organization somehow always seemed to get ratted out and turned in, or else simply went missing and weren't heard from again.
387 
388Marcone was a civilizing influence on crime - and where he operated, it was more of a problem in terms of scale than ever before. An extremely shrewd businessman, he had a battery of lawyers working for him that kept him fenced in from the law behind a barricade of depositions and papers and tape recordings. The cops never said it, but sometimes it seemed like they were almost reluctant to chase him. Marcone was better than the alternative - anarchy in the underworld.
389 
390"I remember hearing he had an enforcer," I said. "I guess he doesn't anymore."
391 
392Murphy shrugged. "So it would seem."
393 
394"So what will you do next?"
395 
396"Run down this hairstylist angle, I guess. I'll talk to Bianca and to Marcone, but I can already tell you what they'll tell me." She flicked her notebook closed and shook her head, irritated.
397 
398I watched her for a minute. She looked tired. I told her so.
399 
400"I am tired," she replied. "Tired of being looked at like I'm some sort of nutcase. Even Carmichael, my own partner, thinks I've gone over the edge in all of this."
401 
402"The rest of the station think so too?" I asked her.
403 
404"Most of them just scowl and spin their index fingers around their temples when they think I'm not looking, and file my reports without ever reading them. The rest are the ones who have run into something spooky out there, and they're scared shitless. They don't want to believe in anything they didn't see on Mister Science when they were kids."
405 
406"How about you?"
407 
408"Me?" Murphy smiled, a curving of her lips that was a vibrantly feminine expression, making her look entirely too pretty to be such a hardass. "The world's falling apart at the seams, Harry. I guess I just think people are pretty arrogant to believe we've learned everything there is to know in the past century or so. What the hell. I can buy that we're just now starting to see the things around us in the dark again. It appeals to the cynic in me."
409 
410"I wish everyone thought like you do," I said. "It would cut down on my crank calls."
411 
412She continued to smile at me, impish. "But could you imagine a world where all the radio stations played ABBA?"
413 
414We shared a laugh. God, that room needed a laugh.
415 
416"Hey, Harry," Murphy said, grinning. I could see the wheels spinning in her head.
417 
418"Yeah?"
419 
420"What you said about being able to figure out how the killer did this. About how you're not sure you can do it."
421 
422"Yeah?"
423 
424"I know it's bullshit. Why did you lie to me about it?"
425 
426I stiffened. Christ, she was good. Or maybe I'm just not much of a liar. "Look, Murph," I said. "There's some things you just don't do."
427 
428"Sometimes I don't want to get into the head of the slime I go after, either. But you do what needs to be done to finish the job. I know what you mean, Harry."
429 
430"No," I said, shortly. "You don't know." And she didn't. She didn't know about my past, or the White Council, or the Doom of Damocles hanging over my head. Most days, I could pretend I didn't know about it, either.
431 
432All the Council needed now was an excuse, just an excuse, to find me guilty of violating one of the Seven Laws of Magic, and the Doom would drop. If I started putting together a recipe for a murder spell, and they found out about it, that might be all the excuse they needed.
433 
434"Murph," I told her. "I can't try figuring this spell out. I can't go putting together the things I'd need to do it. You just don't understand."
435 
436She glared at me, without looking at my eyes. I hadn't ever met anyone else who could pull that one off. "Oh, I understand. I understand that I've got a killer loose that I can't catch in the act. I understand that you know something that can help, or you can at least find out something. And I understand that if you dry up on me now, I'm tearing your card out of the department Rolodex and tossing it in the trash."
437 
438Son of a bitch. My consulting for the department paid a lot of my bills. Okay, most of my bills. I could sympathize with her, I supposed. If I was operating in the dark like she was, I'd be nervous as hell, too. Murphy didn't know anything about spells or rituals or talismans, but she knew human hatred and violence all too well.
439 
440It wasn't as though I was actually going to be doing any black magic, I told myself. I was just going to be figuring out how it was done. There was a difference. I was helping the police in an investigation, nothing more. Maybe the White Council would understand that.
441 
442Yeah, right. And maybe one of these days I'd go to an art museum and become well rounded.
443 
444Murphy set the hook a second later. She looked up at my eyes for a daring second before she turned away, her face tired and honest and proud. "I need to know everything you can tell me, Harry. Please."
445 
446Classic lady in distress. For one of those liberated, professional women, she knew exactly how to jerk my old-fashioned chains around.
447 
448I gritted my teeth. "Fine," I said. "Fine. I'll start on it tonight." Hoo boy. The White Council was going to love this one. I'd just have to make sure they didn't find out about it.
449 
450Murphy nodded and let out a breath without looking at me. Then she said, "Let's get out of here," and walked toward the door. I didn't try to beat her to it.
451 
452When we walked out, the uniform cops were still lazing around in the hall outside. Carmichael was nowhere to be seen. The guys from forensics were there, standing around impatiently, waiting for us to come out. Then they gathered up their plastic bags and tweezers and lights and things and filed past us into the room.
453 
454Murphy was brushing at her windblown hair with her hand while we waited for the ancient elevator to take its sweet time getting up to the seventh floor. She was wearing a gold watch, which reminded me. "Oh, hey," I asked her. "What time is it?"
455 
456She checked. "Two twenty-five. Why?"
457 
458I breathed out a curse, and turned for the stairs. "I'm late for my appointment."
459 
460I fairly flew down the stairs. I've had a lot of practice at them, after all, and I hit the lobby at a jog. I managed to dodge a porter coming through the front doors with an armload of luggage, and swung out onto the sidewalk at a lope. I have long legs that eat a lot of ground. I was running into the wind, my black duster billowing out behind me.
461 
462It was several blocks to my building, and after covering half of them I slowed to a walk. I didn't want to arrive at my appointment with Monica Missing-Man puffing like a bellows, with my hair windblown and my face streaming with sweat.
463 
464Blame it on being out of shape from an inactive winter season, but I was breathing hard. It occupied enough of my attention that I didn't see the dark blue Cadillac until it had pulled up beside me, and a rather large man had stepped out of it onto the sidewalk in front of me. He had bright red hair and a thick neck. His face looked like someone had smashed it flat with a board, repeatedly, when he was a baby - except for his jutting eyebrows. He had narrow little blue eyes that got narrower as I sized him up.
465 
466I stopped, and backed away, then turned around. Two more men, both of them as tall as me and a good deal heavier, were slowing down from their own jog. They had apparently been following me, and they looked annoyed. One was limping slightly, and the other wore a buzz cut that had been spiked up straight with some kind of styling gel. I felt like I was in high school again, surrounded by bullying members of the football team.
467 
468"Can I help you gentlemen?" I asked. I looked around for a cop, but they were all over at the Madison, I supposed. Everyone likes to gawk.
469 
470"Get in the car," the one in front of me said. One of the others opened the rear door.
471 
472"I like to walk. It's good for my heart."
473 
474"You don't get in the car, it isn't going to be good for your legs," the man growled.
475 
476A voice came from inside the car. "Mister Hendricks, please. Be more polite. Mister Dresden, would you join me for a moment? I'd hoped to give you a lift back to your office, but your abrupt exit made it somewhat problematic. Perhaps you will allow me to convey you the rest of the way."
477 
478I leaned down to look into the backseat. A man of handsome and unassuming features, dressed in a casual sports jacket and Levi's, regarded me with a smile. "And you would be?" I asked him.
479 
480His smile widened, and I swear it made his eyes twinkle.
481 
482"My name is John Marcone. I would like to discuss business with you."
483 
484I stared at him for a moment. And then my eyes slid aside to the very large and very over-developed Mister Hendricks. The man growled under his breath, and it sounded like Cujo just before he jumped at the woman in the car. I didn't feel like duking it out with Cujo and his two buddies.
485 
486So I got into the back of the Caddy with Gentleman Johnny Marcone.
487 
488It was turning out to be a very busy day. And I was still late for my appointment.
489 
490----------
491 
492Gentleman Johnny Marcone didn't look like the sort of man who would have my legs broken or my jaw wired shut. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, and there were lines from sun and smiling etched into the corners of his eyes. His eyes were the green of well-worn dollar bills. He seemed more like a college football coach: good-looking, tanned, athletic, and enthusiastic. The impression was reinforced by the men he kept with him. Cujo Hendricks hulked like an all-pro player who had been ousted for extreme unnecessary roughness.
493 
494Cujo got in the car again, glowered at me in the rearview mirror, then pulled out into the street, driving slowly toward my office. The steering wheel looked tiny and delicate in his huge hands. I made a mental note: Do not let Cujo put his hands around your throat. Or hand. It looked almost like one of them could manage it.
495 
496The radio was playing, but as I got in the car it fouled up, squealing feedback out over the speakers. Hendricks scowled and thought about it for a second. Maybe he had to relay the message through his second brain or something. Then he reached out and fiddled with the knobs before finally turning the radio off. At this rate I hoped the car would make it all the way to my office.
497 
498"Mister Dresden," Marcone said, smiling, "I understand that you work for the police department, from time to time."
499 
500"They throw the occasional tidbit my way," I agreed. "Hey, Hendricks. You should really wear your seat belt. Statistics say you're fifty or sixty percent safer."
501 
502Cujo growled at me in the rearview mirror again, and I beamed at him. Smiling always seems to annoy people more than actually insulting them. Or maybe I just have an annoying smile.
503 
504Marcone seemed somewhat put off by my attitude. Maybe I was supposed to be holding my hat in my hand, but I had never really liked Francis Ford Coppola, and I didn't have a Godfather. (I do have a Godmother, and she is, inevitably perhaps, a faery. But that's another story.) "Mister Dresden," he said. "How much would it cost to retain your services?"
505 
506That made me wary. What would someone like Marcone want me for? "My standard fee is fifty dollars an hour plus travel expenses," I told him. "But it can vary, depending on what you need done."
507 
508Marcone nodded along with my sentences, as if encouraging me to speak. He wrinkled up his face as if carefully considering what he would say, and taking my well-being into account with grandfatherly concern. "How much would it set me back to have you not investigate something?"
509 
510"You want to pay me to not do something?"
511 
512"Let's say I pay you your standard fee. That comes out to fourteen hundred a day, right?"
513 
514"Twelve hundred, actually," I corrected him.
515 
516He beamed at me. "An honest man is a rare treasure. Twelve hundred a day. Let's say I pay you for two weeks worth of work, Mister Dresden, and you take some time off. Go catch a few movies, get some extra sleep, that sort of thing."
517 
518I eyed him. "And for more than a thousand dollars a day, you want me to ...?"
519 
520"Do nothing, Mister Dresden," Marcone smiled. "Nothing at all. Just relax, and put your feet up. And stay out of Detective Murphy's way."
521 
522Ah-hah. Marcone didn't want me looking into Tommy Tomm's murder. Interesting. I looked out the window and squinted my eyes, as though thinking about it.
523 
524"I've got the money with me," Marcone said. "Cash on the spot. I'll trust you to fulfill your end of the deal, Mister Dresden. You come highly recommended for your honesty."
525 
526"Mmmm. I don't know, John. I'm kind of busy to be accepting any more accounts right now." The car was almost to my office building. The car door was still unlocked. I hadn't worn my seat belt, either - just in case I needed to throw the door open and jump out. See how I think ahead? It's that wizardly intellect - and paranoia.
527 
528Marcone's smile faltered. His expression became earnest. "Mister Dresden, I am quite eager to establish a positive working relationship, here. If it's the money, I can offer you more. Let's say double your usual fee." He steepled his hands in front of him as he talked, half-turning toward me. My God, I kept expecting him to tell me to go out there and win one for the Gipper. He smiled. "How does that sound?"
529 
530"It isn't the money, John," I told him. I lazily locked my eyes onto his. "I just don't think it's going to work out."
531 
532To my surprise, he didn't look away.
533 
534Those who deal in magic learn to see the world in a slightly different light than everyone else. You gain a perspective you had never considered before, a way of thinking that would just never have occurred to you without exposure to the things a wizard sees and hears.
535 
536When you look into someone's eyes, you see them in that other light. And, for just a second, they see you in the same way. Marcone and I looked at one another.
537 
538He was a soldier, a warrior, behind that relaxed smile and fatherly manner. He was going to get what he wanted and he was going to get it in the most efficient way possible. He was a dedicated man - dedicated to his goals, dedicated to his people. He never let fear affect him. He made a living on human misery and suffering, peddling in drugs and flesh and stolen goods, but he took steps to minimize that suffering because it was simply the most efficient means of running his business. He was furious over Tommy Tomm's death - a cold and practical kind of fury that his rightful dominion had been invaded and challenged. He intended to find those responsible and deal with them in his own way - and he didn't want the police interfering. He had killed before, and would again, and it would all mean nothing more to him than a business transaction, than paying for groceries in the checkout line. It was a dry and cool place, inside Gentleman Johnny Marcone. Except for one dim corner. There, hidden away from his everyday thoughts, there lurked a secret shame. I couldn't quite see what it was. But I knew that, somewhere in the past there was something that he would give anything to undo, would spill blood to erase. It was from that dark place that he drew his resolve, his strength.
539 
540That was the way I saw him when I looked inside, past all his pretenses and defenses. And I was, on some instinctual level, certain that he had been aware of what I would see if I looked - that he had deliberately met my gaze, knowing what he would give away. That was his purpose in getting me alone. He wanted to take a peek at my soul. He wanted to see what sort of man I was.
541 
542When I look into someone's eyes, into their soul, their innermost being, they can see mine in return - the things I had done, the things I was willing to do, the things I was capable of doing. Most people who did that got really pale, at least. One woman had passed out entirely. I didn't know what they saw when they looked in there - it wasn't a place I poked around much, myself.
543 
544John Marcone wasn't like the other people who had seen my soul. He didn't even blink an eye. He just looked and assessed, and after the moment had passed, he nodded at me as though he understood something. I got the uncomfortable impression that he had duped me. That he had found out more about me than I had about him. The first thing I felt was anger, anger at being manipulated, anger that he should presume to soulgaze upon me.
545 
546Just a second later, I felt scared to death of this man. I had looked on his soul and it had been as solid and barren as a stainless-steel refrigerator. It was more than unsettling. He was strong, inside, savage and merciless without being cruel. He had a tiger's soul.
547 
548"All right, then," he said, smoothly, and as though nothing had happened. "I won't try to force my offer on you, Mister Dresden." The car was slowing down as it approached my building, and Hendricks pulled over in front of it. "But let me offer you some advice?" He had dropped the father-talking-to-son act, and spoke in a calm and patient voice.
549 
550"If you don't charge for it." Thank God for wisecracks. I was too rattled to have said anything intelligent.
551 
552Marcone almost smiled. "I think you'll be happier if you come down with the flu for a few days. This business that Detective Murphy has asked you to look into doesn't need to be dragged out into the light. You won't like what you see. It's on my side of the fence. Just let me deal with it, and it won't ever trouble you."
553 
554"Are you threatening me?" I asked him. I didn't think he was, but I didn't want him to know that. It would have helped if my voice hadn't been shaking.
555 
556"No," he said, frankly. "I have too much respect for you to resort to something like that. They say that you're the real thing, Mister Dresden. A real magus."
557 
558"They also say I'm nutty as a fruitcake."
559 
560"I choose which 'they' I listen to very carefully," Marcone said. "Think about what I've said, Mister Dresden? I do not think our respective lines of work need overlap often. I would as soon not make an enemy of you over this matter."
561 
562I clenched my jaw over my fear, and spat words out at him quick and hard. "You don't want to make an enemy of me, Marcone. That wouldn't be smart. That wouldn't be smart at all."
563 
564He narrowed his eyes at me, lazy and relaxed. He could meet my eyes by then without fear. We had taken a measure of one another. It would not happen in such a way again. "You really should try to be more polite, Mister Dresden," he said. "It's good for business."
565 
566I didn't give him an answer to that: I didn't have one that wouldn't sound frightened or stupidly macho. Instead, I told him, "If you ever lose your car keys, give me a call. Don't try offering me money or threats again. Thanks for the ride."
567 
568He watched me, his expression never changing, as I got out of the car and shut the door. Hendricks pulled out and drove away, after giving me one last dirty look. I had soulgazed on several people before. It wasn't the sort of thing you forgot. I had never run into someone like that, someone so cool and controlled - even the other practitioners I had met gazes with had not been that way. None of them had simply assessed me like a column of numbers and filed it away for reference in future equations.
569 
570I stuck my hands in the pockets of my duster, and shivered as the wind hit me. I was a wizard, throwing around real magic, I reminded myself. I was not afraid of big men in big cars. I do not get rattled by corpses blasted from life by magic more intense than anything I could manage. Really. Honest.
571 
572But those dollar-bill-colored eyes, backed by that cool and nearly passionless soul, had me shaking as I took the stairs back up to my office. I had been stupid. He had surprised me, and the sudden intimacy of the soulgaze had startled and frightened me. All added together, it had caused me to fall apart, throwing threats at him like a frightened schoolkid. Marcone was a predator. He practically smelled my fear. If he got to thinking I was weak, I had a feeling that polite smile and fatherly facade would vanish as thoroughly and as quickly as it had appeared.
573 
574What a rotten first impression.
575 
576Oh, well. At least I was going to be on time for my appointment.
577 
578---------
579 
580Monica No-Last-Name was standing outside of my office when I got there, writing on the back of the note I had left taped to my office door.
581 
582I walked toward her, and she was too intent upon her writing to look up. She was a good-looking woman, in her mid-thirty-somethings. Ash blond hair that I thought must be natural, after a morbid and involuntary memory of the dead woman's dye job. Her makeup was tasteful and well applied, and her face was fair, friendly, with enough roundness of cheek to look fresh-faced and young, enough fullness of mouth to look very feminine. She was wearing a long, full skirt of palest yellow with brown riding boots, a crisp white blouse, and an expensive-looking green cardigan over it, to ward off the chill of early spring. She had to be in good shape to pull off a color combination like that, and she did it. Overall, it was a naggingly familiar look, something like Annette Funicello or Barbara Billingsley, maybe - wholesome and all-American.
583 
584"Monica?" I asked. I put on my most innocent and friendly smile.
585 
586She blinked at me as I approached. "Oh. Are you, um, Harry ..."
587 
588I smiled and offered her my hand. "Harry Dresden, ma'am. That's me."
589 
590She took my hand after a tiny pause and kept her eyes firmly focused on my chest. At this point, I was just as glad to be dealing with someone who was too nervous to risk looking at my eyes. I gave her a firm, but gentle handshake, and let go of her, brushing past her to unlock the office door and open it up. "I apologize for being late, I got a call from the police that I had to look in on."
591 
592"You did?" she asked. "You mean, the police, um ..." She waved her fingers instead of finishing the sentence and entered when I held the door open for her.
593 
594"Sometimes," I nodded. "They run into something and want my take on it."
595 
596"What sorts of things?"
597 
598I shrugged and swallowed. I thought of the corpses at the Madison, and felt green. When I looked up at Monica, she was studying my face, chewing on her lip nervously. She hurriedly averted her gaze.
599 
600"Can I get you some coffee?" I asked her. I shut the door behind us, flicked on the lights.
601 
602"Oh. No, thank you. I'm fine." She stood there, looking at my box of discarded paperbacks and holding her purse over her tummy with both hands. I thought she might scream if I said boo so I made sure to move carefully and slowly, making myself a cup of instant coffee. I breathed in and out, going through the familiar motions, until I had calmed down from my encounter with Marcone. By the time I was done, so was my coffee. I went to my desk, and invited her to have a seat in one of the two chairs across from me.
603 
604"Okay, Monica," I said. "What can I do for you today?"
605 
606"Well, um. I told you that my husband was ... was ..." She nodded at me, gesturing.
607 
608"Missing?" I supplied.
609 
610"Yes," she said with an exhalation of almost relief. "But he's not mysteriously missing or anything. Just gone." She flushed and stammered. "Like he just packed up a few things and left. But he didn't say anything to anyone. And he hasn't showed up again. I'm concerned about him."
611 
612"Uh-huh," I said. "How long has he been gone?"
613 
614"This is the third day," she said.
615 
616I nodded. "There must be some reason why you're coming to me, rather than a private investigator or the police."
617 
618She blushed again. She had a good face for blushing, fair skin that colored girlishly. It was quite fetching, really. "Yes, um. He had been interested in ... in ..."
619 
620"Magic?"
621 
622"Yes. He had been buying books on it in the religion section at the bookstore. Not like those Dungeons and Dragons games. The real thing. He bought some of those tarot cards." She pronounced it like carrot. Amateurs.
623 
624"And you think his disappearance might have had something to do with this interest?"
625 
626"I'm not sure," she confessed. "But maybe. He was very upset. He had just lost his job and was under a lot of pressure. I'm worried about him. I thought whoever found him might need to be able to talk to him about all of this stuff." She took a deep breath, as if the effort of completing so many sentences without a single um had tired her.
627 
628"I'm still not clear on this. Why me? Why not the police?"
629 
630Her knuckles whitened on her purse. "He packed a bag, Mr. Dresden. I think the police will just assume he left his wife and his children. They won't really look. But he didn't. He's not like that. He only wants to make a good life for us, really, that's all he wants."
631 
632I frowned at her. Nervous that maybe hubby has run out on you after all, dear? "Even so," I said, "why come to me? Why not a private investigator? I know a reliable man if you need one."
633 
634"Because you know about ..." She gestured, fitfully.
635 
636"About magic," I said.
637 
638Monica nodded. "I think it might be important. I mean, I don't know. But I think it might."
639 
640"Where did he work?" I asked her. While I spoke, I got a pad of paper out of my pocket and jotted down a few notes.
641 
642"SilverCo," she told me. "They're a trading company. They locate good markets for products and then advise companies where they can best spend their money."
643 
644"Uh-huh," I said. "What is his name, Monica?"
645 
646She swallowed, and I saw her twitching, trying to think of something to tell me other than his real name. "George," she supplied at last.
647 
648I looked up at her. She was staring furiously down at her hands.
649 
650"Monica," I said. "I know this must be really hard for you. Believe me, ma'am, there are plenty of people who are nervous when they come into my office. But please, hear me out. I am not out to hurt you or anyone else. What I do, I do to help people. It's true that someone with the right skills could use your names against you, but I'm not like that." I borrowed a line from Johnny Marcone. "It isn't good business."
651 
652She gave a nervous little laugh. "I feel so silly," she confessed. "But there's so many things that I've heard about ..."
653 
654"Wizards. I see." I put my pencil down and steepled my fingers in wizardly fashion. The woman was nervous and had certain expectations. I might ease her fears a little if I fulfilled some of them. I tried not to look over her shoulder at the calendar I had hanging on the wall, and the red circle around the fifteenth of last month. Late rent. Need money. Even with the fee from today and what I would make in the future, it would take the city forever to pay up.
655 
656Besides. I could never resist going to the aid of a lady in distress. Even if she wasn't completely, one hundred percent sure that she wanted to be rescued by me.
657 
658"Monica," I told her. "There are powers in the universe that most people don't even know about. Powers that we still don't fully understand. The men and women who work with these powers see things in a different light than regular people. They come to understand things in a slightly different way. This sets them apart. Sometimes it breeds unwarranted suspicion and fear. I know you've read books and seen movies about how horrible people like me are, and that whole 'suffer not a witch to live' part of the Old Testament hasn't made things all roses. But we really aren't any different from anyone else." I gave her my best smile. "I want to help you. But if I'm going to do that, you're going to have to give me a little trust. I promise. I give you my word that I won't disappoint you."
659 
660I saw her take this in and chew on it for a while, while staring down at her hands,
661 
662"Victor," she said at last. "Victor Sells."
663 
664"All right," I said, picking up my pencil and duly noting it. "Is there anyplace he might have gone that you can think of, offhand?"
665 
666She nodded. "The lake house. We have a house down by ..." She waved her hand.
667 
668"The lake?"
669 
670She beamed at me, and I reminded myself to be patient. "In Lake Providence, over the state line, around Lake Michigan. It's beautiful up there in the autumn."
671 
672"Okay, then. Are you aware of any friends he might have run off to see, family he might have visited, anything like that?"
673 
674"Oh, Victor wasn't on speaking terms with his family. I never knew why. He didn't talk about them, really. We've been married for ten years, and he never once spoke to them."
675 
676"Okay," I said, noting that down, too. "Friends, then?"
677 
678She fretted her lip, a gesture that seemed familiar to her. "Not really. He was friends with his boss, and some people at work, but after he was fired ..."
679 
680"Uh-huh," I said. "I understand." I continued writing things down, drawing bold lines between thoughts to separate them. I spilled over onto the next page before I was finished writing down the facts and my observations about Monica. I like to be thorough about this kind of thing.
681 
682"Well, Mr. Dresden?" she asked. "Can you help me?"
683 
684I looked over the page and nodded. "I think so, Monica. If possible, I'd like to see these things your husband collected. Which books and so on. It would help if I had a picture of him, too. I might like to take a look around your house at Lake Providence. Would that be all right?"
685 
686"Of course," she said. She seemed relieved, but at the same time even more nervous than before. I noted down the address of the lake house and brief directions.
687 
688"You're aware of my fees?" I asked her. "I'm not cheap. It might be less costly for you to hire someone else."
689 
690"We've got quite a bit of savings, Mr. Dresden," she told me. "I'm not worried about the money." That seemed an odd statement from her, at the time - out of tune with her generally nervous manner.
691 
692"Well, then," I told her. "I charge fifty dollars an hour, plus expenses. I'll send you an itemized list of what I do, so you'll have a good idea what I'm working on. A retainer is customary. I'm not going to guarantee that I work exclusively on your case. I try to handle each of my customers with respect and courtesy, so I can't put any one of them before another."
693 
694She nodded to me, emphatically, and reached into her purse. She drew out a white envelope and passed it over to me. "There's five hundred inside," she told me. "Is that enough for now?"
695 
696Cha-ching. Five hundred dollars would take care of last month's rent and a good bit of this month's, too. I could get into this bit with nervous clients wanting to preserve the anonymity of their checking accounts from my supposed sorcerous might. Cash always spends.
697 
698"That will be fine, yes," I told her. I tried not to fondle the envelope. At least I wasn't crass enough to dump the money on my desk and count it out.
699 
700She drew out another envelope. "He took most of his things with him," she said. "At least, I couldn't find them where he usually keeps them. But I did find this." There was something in the envelope, making it bulge, an amulet, ring, or charm of some kind, I was betting. A third envelope came out of her purse - the woman must be compulsively well organized. "There's a picture of him in here, and my phone number inside. Thank you, Mr. Dresden. When will you call?"
701 
702"As soon as I know something," I told her. "Probably by tomorrow afternoon or Saturday morning. Sound good?"
703 
704She almost looked at my eyes, caught herself, and smiled directly at my nose instead. "Yes. Yes, thank you so much for your help." She glanced up at the wall. "Oh, look at the time. I need to go. School's almost out." She closed her teeth over her words and flushed again, as though embarrassed that she had let such an important fact about her slip out.
705 
706"I'll do whatever I can, ma'am," I assured her, rising, and walking her to the door. "Thank you for your business. I'll be in touch soon."
707 
708She said her good-byes, never looking me in the face, and fled out the door. I shut it behind her and went back to the envelopes.
709 
710First, the money. It was all in fifties, which always look new even when they're years old because they get so little circulation. There were ten of them. I put them in my wallet, and trashed the envelope.
711 
712The envelope with the photo in it was next. I took it out and regarded a picture of Monica and a man of lean and handsome features, with a wide forehead and shaggy eyebrows that skewed his handsomeness off onto a rather eccentric angle. His smile was whiter-than-white, and his skin had the smooth, dark tan of someone who spends a lot of time in the sun, boating maybe. It was a sharp contrast against Monica's paleness. Victor Sells, I presume.
713 
714The phone number was written on a plain white index card that had been neatly trimmed down to fit inside the envelope. There was no name or area code, just a seven-digit number. I got out my cross-listing directory and looked it up.
715 
716I noted that down as well. I wondered what the woman had expected to accomplish by only giving out first names, when she had been going to hand me a dozen other ways of finding out in any case. It only goes to show that people are funny when they're nervous about something. They say screwy things, make odd choices which, in retrospect, they feel amazingly foolish for making. I would have to be careful not to say anything to rub that in when I spoke to her again.
717 
718I trashed the second envelope and opened the last one, turning it upside down over my desk.
719 
720The brown husk of a dead, dried scorpion, glistening with some sort of preservative glaze, clicked down onto my desk. A supple, braided leather cord led off from a ring set through the base of its tail, so that if it was worn, it would hang head down, tail up and curled over the dried body to point at the ground.
721 
722I shuddered. Scorpions were symbolically powerful in certain circles of belief. They weren't usually symbols of anything good or wholesome, either. A lot of petty, mean spells could be focused around a little talisman like that. If you wore it next to your skin, as such things are supposed to be worn, the prickly legs of the thing would be a constant poking and agitation at your chest, a continual reminder that it was there. The dried stinger at the tail's tip might actually pierce the skin of anyone who tried to give the wearer a hug. Its crablike pincers would catch in a man's chest hair, or scratch at the curves of a woman's breasts. Nasty, unpleasant thing. Not evil, as such - but you sure as hell weren't likely to do happy shiny things with magic with such an item around your neck.
723 
724Maybe Victor Sells had gotten involved in something real, something that had absorbed his attention. The Art could do that to a person - particularly the darker aspects of it. If he had turned to it in despair after losing his job, maybe that would explain his sudden absence from his home. A lot of sorcerers or wanna-be sorcerers secluded themselves in the belief that isolation would increase their ability to focus on their magic. It didn't - but it did make it easier for a weak or untrained mind to avoid distractions.
725 
726Or maybe it wasn't even a true talisman. Maybe it was just a curiosity, or a souvenir from some visit to the Southwest. There wasn't any way for me to tell if it was indeed a device used to improve the focus and direction of magical energies, short of actually using it to attempt a spell - and I really didn't want to be using such a dubious article, for a variety of good reasons.
727 
728I would have to keep this little un-beauty in mind as I tried to run this man down. It might well mean nothing. On the other hand, it might not. I looked up at the clock. A quarter after three. There was time to check with the local morgues to see if they had turned up any likely John Does - who knew, my search might be over before the day's end - and then to get to the bank to deposit my money and fire off a check to my landlord.
729 
730I got out my phone book and started calling up hospitals - not really my routine line of work, but not difficult, either, except for the standard problems I had using the telephone: static, line noise, other people's conversations being louder than mine. If something can go wrong, it will.
731 
732Once I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye, a twitch of motion from the dried scorpion that sat on my desk. I blinked and stared at it. It didn't move. Cautiously, I extended my senses toward it like an invisible hand, feeling about for any traces of enchantment or magical energy.
733 
734Nothing. It was as dry of enchantment as it was of life.
735 
736Never let it be said that Harry Dresden is afraid of a dried, dead bug. Creepy or not, I wasn't going to let it ruin my concentration.
737 
738So I scooped it up with the corner of the phone book and popped it into the middle drawer of my desk. Out of sight, out of mind.
739 
740So I have a problem with creepy, dead, poisonous things. So sue me.
741 
742----------
743 
744McAnally's is a pub a few blocks from my office. I go there when I'm feeling stressed, or when I have a few extra bucks to spend on a nice dinner. A lot of us fringe types do. Mac, the pub's owner, is used to wizards and all the problems that come along with us. There aren't any video games at McAnally's. There are no televisions or expensive computer trivia games. There isn't even a jukebox. Mac keeps a player piano instead. It's less likely to go haywire around us.
745 
746I say pub in all the best senses of the word. When you walk in, you take several steps down into a room with a deadly combination of a low clearance and ceiling fans. If you're tall, like me, you walk carefully in McAnally's. There are thirteen stools at the bar and thirteen tables in the room. Thirteen windows, set up high in the wall in order to be above ground level, let some light from the street into the place. Thirteen mirrors on the walls cast back reflections of the patrons in dim detail, and give the illusion of more space. Thirteen wooden columns, carved with likenesses from folktales and legends of the Old World, make it difficult to walk around the place without weaving a circuitous route - they also quite intentionally break up the flow of random energies, dispelling to one degree or another the auras that gather around broody, grumpy wizards and keeping them from manifesting in unintentional and colorful ways. The colors are all muted, earth browns and sea greens. The first time I entered McAnally's, I felt like a wolf returning to an old, favorite den. Mac makes his own beer, ale really, and it's the best stuff in the city. His food is cooked on a wood-burning stove. And you can damn well walk your own self over to the bar to pick up your order when it's ready, according to Mac. It's my sort of place.
747 
748Since the calls to the morgues had turned up nothing, I kept a few bills out of Monica Sells's retainer and took myself to McAnally's. After the kind of day I'd had, I deserved some of Mac's ale and someone else's cooking. It was going to be a long night, too, once I went home and started trying to figure out how whoever it was had pulled off the death spell used on Johnny Marcone's hatchet man, Tommy Tomm, and his girlfriend, Jennifer Stanton.
749 
750"Dresden," Mac greeted me, when I sat down at the bar. The dim, comfortable room was empty, but for a pair of men I recognized by sight at a back table, playing chess. Mac is a tall, almost gangly man of indeterminate age, though there's a sense to him that speaks of enough wisdom and strength that I wouldn't venture that he was less than fifty. He has squinty eyes and a smile that is rare and mischievous when it manifests. Mac never says much, but when he does it's almost always worth listening to.
751 
752"Hey there, Mac," I hailed him. "Been one hell of a day. Give me a steak sandwich, fries, ale."
753 
754"Ungh," Mac said. He opened a bottle of his ale and began to pour it warm, staring past me, into the middle distance. He does that with everyone. Considering his clientele, I don't blame him. I wouldn't chance looking them in the face, either.
755 
756"You hear about what happened at the Madison?"
757 
758"Ungh," he confirmed.
759 
760"Nasty business."
761 
762Such an inane comment apparently didn't merit even a grunted reply. Mac set my drink out and turned to the stove behind the bar, checking the wood and raking it back and forth to provide even heating for it.
763 
764I picked up a prethumbed newspaper nearby and scanned the headlines. "Hey, look at this. Another ThreeEye rampage. Jesus, this stuff is worse than crack." The article detailed the virtual demolition of a neighborhood grocery store by a pair of ThreeEye junkies who were convinced that the place was destined to explode and wanted to beat destiny to the punch.
765 
766"Ungh."
767 
768"You ever seen anything like this?"
769 
770Mac shook his head.
771 
772"They say the stuff gives you the third sight," I said, reading the article. Both junkies had been admitted to the hospital and were in critical condition, after collapsing at the scene. "But you know what?"
773 
774Mac looked back at me from the stove, while he cooked.
775 
776"I don't think that's possible. What a bunch of crap. Trying to sell these poor kids on the idea that they can do magic."
777 
778Mac nodded at me.
779 
780"If it was serious stuff, the department would have already called me by now."
781 
782Mac shrugged, turning back to the stove. Then he squinted up and peered into the dim reflection of the mirror behind the bar.
783 
784"Harry," he said, "you were followed."
785 
786I had been too tense for too much of the day to avoid feeling my shoulders constrict in a sudden twinge. I put both hands around my mug and brought a few phrases of quasi-Latin to mind. It never hurt to be ready to defend myself, in case someone was intending to hurt me. I watched someone approach, a dim shape in the reflection cast by the ancient, worn mirror. Mac went on with cooking, unperturbed. Nothing much perturbed Mac.
787 
788I smelled her perfume before I turned around. "Why, Miss Rodriguez," I said. "It's always pleasant to see you."
789 
790She came to an abrupt stop a couple of paces from me, apparently disconcerted. One of the advantages of being a wizard is that people always attribute anything you do to magic, if no other immediate explanation leaps to mind. She probably wouldn't think about her perfume giving her identity away when she could assign my mysterious, blind identification of her to my mystical powers.
791 
792"Come on," I told her. "Sit down. I'll get you a drink while I refuse to tell you anything."
793 
794"Harry," she admonished me, "you don't know I'm here on business." She sat down on the barstool next to me. She was a woman of average height and striking, dark beauty, wearing a crisp business jacket and skirt, hose, pumps. Her dark, straight hair was trimmed in a neat cut that ended at the nape of her neck and was parted off of the dark skin of her forehead, emphasizing the lazy appeal of her dark eyes.
795 
796"Susan," I chided her, "you wouldn't be in this place if you weren't. Did you have a good time in Branson?"
797 
798Susan Rodriguez was a reporter for the Chicago Arcane, a yellow magazine that covered all sorts of supernatural and paranormal events throughout the Midwest. Usually, the events they covered weren't much better than: "Monkey Man Seen With Elvis's Love Child," or "JFK's Mutant Ghost Abducts Shapeshifting Girl Scout." But once in a great, great while, the Arcane covered something that was real. Like the Unseelie Incursion of 1994, when the entire city of Milwaukee had simply vanished for two hours. Gone. Government satellite photos showed the river valley covered with trees and empty of life or human habitation. All communications ceased. Then, a few hours later, there it was, back again, and no one in the city itself the wiser.
799 
800She had also been hanging around my investigation in Branson the previous week. She had been tracking me ever since interviewing me for a feature story, right after I'd opened up my business. I had to hand it to her - she had instincts. And enough curiosity to get her into ten kinds of trouble. She had tricked me into meeting her eyes at the conclusion of our first interview, an eager young reporter investigating an angle on her interviewee. She was the one who had fainted after we'd soulgazed.
801 
802She smirked at me. I liked her smirk. It did interesting things to her lips, and hers were already attractive. "You should have stayed around for the show," she said. "It was pretty impressive." She put her purse on the bar and slid up onto the stool beside me.
803 
804"No thanks," I told her. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't for me."
805 
806"My editor loved the coverage. She's convinced it's going to win an award of some kind."
807 
808"I can see it now," I told her. " 'Mysterious Visions Haunt Drug-Using Country Star. Real hard-hitting paranormal journalism, that." I glanced at her, and she met my eyes without fear. She didn't let me see if my jibe had ruffled her.
809 
810"I heard you got called in by the S.I. director today," she told me. She leaned toward me, enough that a glance down would have afforded an interesting angle to the V of her white shirt. "I'd love to hear you tell me about this one, Harry." She quirked a smile at me that promised things.
811 
812I almost smiled back at her. "Sorry," I told her. "I have a standard nondisclosure agreement with the city."
813 
814"Something off the record, then?" she asked. "Rumor has it that these killings were pretty sensational."
815 
816"Can't help you, Susan," I told her. "Wild horses couldn't drag it out of me, et cetera."
817 
818"Just a hint," she pressed. "A word of comment. Something shared between two people who are very attracted to one another."
819 
820"Which two people would that be?"
821 
822She put an elbow on the counter and propped her chin in her hand, studying me through narrowed eyes and thick, long lashes. One of the things that appealed to me about her was that even though she used her charm and femininity relentlessly in pursuit of her stories, she had no concept of just how attractive she really was - I had seen that when I looked within her last year. "Harry Dresden," she said, "you are a thoroughly maddening man." Her eyes narrowed a bit further. "You didn't look down my blouse even once, did you," she accused.
823 
824I took a sip of my ale and beckoned Mac to pour her one as well. He did. "Guilty."
825 
826"Most men are off-balance by now," she complained. "What does it take with you, anyway, Dresden?"
827 
828"I am pure of heart and mind," I told her. "I cannot be corrupted."
829 
830She stared at me in frustration for a moment. Then she tilted back her head to laugh. She had a good laugh, too, throaty and rich. I did look down at her chest when she did that, just for a second. A pure heart and mind only takes you so far - sooner or later the hormones have their say, too. I mean, I'm not a teenager or anything, anymore, but I'm not exactly an expert in things like this, either. Call it an overwhelming interest in my professional career, but I've never had much time for dating or the fair sex in general. And when I have, it hasn't turned out too well.
831 
832Susan was a known quantity - she was attractive, bright, appealing, her motivations were clear and simple, and she was honest in pursuing them. She flirted with me because she wanted information as much as because she thought I was attractive. Sometimes she got it. Sometimes she didn't. This one was way too hot for Susan or the Arcane to touch, and if Murphy heard I'd tipped someone off about what had happened, she'd have my heart between two pieces of bread for lunch.
833 
834"I'll tell you what, Harry," she said. "How about if I ask some questions, and you just answer them with a yes or a no?"
835 
836"No," I said promptly. Dammit. I am a poor liar, and it didn't take a reporter with Susan's brains to tell it.
837 
838Her eyes glittered with cheerfully malicious ambition. "Was Tommy Tomm murdered by a paranormal being or means?"
839 
840"No," I said again, stubbornly.
841 
842"No he wasn't?" Susan asked, "Or no it wasn't a paranormal being."
843 
844I glanced at Mac as though to appeal for help. Mac ignored me. Mac doesn't take sides. Mac is wise.
845 
846"No, I'm not going to answer questions," I said.
847 
848"Do the police have any leads? Any suspects?"
849 
850"No."
851 
852"Are you a suspect yourself, Harry?"
853 
854Disturbing thought. "No," I said, exasperated. "Susan - "
855 
856"Would you mind having dinner with me Saturday night?"
857 
858"No! I - " I blinked at her. "What?"
859 
860She smiled at me, leaned over, and kissed me on the cheek. Her lips, that I'd admired so much, felt very, very nice. "Super," she said. "I'll pick you up at your place. Say around nine?"
861 
862"Did I just miss something?" I asked her.
863 
864She nodded, dark eyes sparkling with humor. "I'm going to take you to a fantastic dinner. Have you ever eaten at the Pump Room? At the Ambassador East?"
865 
866I shook my head.
867 
868"Steaks you wouldn't believe," she assured me. "And the most romantic atmosphere. Jackets and ties required. Can you manage?"
869 
870"Um. Yes?" I said, carefully. "This is the answer to the question of whether or not I'll go out with you, right?"
871 
872"No," Susan said, with a smile. "That was the answer I tricked out of you, so you're stuck, there. I just want to make sure you own something besides jeans and button-down Western shirts."
873 
874"Oh. Yes," I said.
875 
876"Super," she repeated, and kissed me on the cheek once more as she stood up and gathered her purse. "Saturday, then." She drew back and quirked her smirky little smile at me. It was a killer look, sultry and appealing. "I'll be there. With bells on."
877 
878She turned and walked out. I sort of turned to stare after her. My jaw slid off the bar as I did and landed on the floor.
879 
880Had I just agreed to a date? Or an interrogation session?
881 
882"Probably both," I muttered.
883 
884Mac slapped my steak sandwich and fries down in front of me. I put down some money, morosely, and he made change.
885 
886"She's going to do nothing but try to trick information out of me that I shouldn't be giving her, Mac," I said.
887 
888"Ungh," Mac agreed.
889 
890"Why did I say yes?"
891 
892Mac shrugged.
893 
894"She's pretty," I said. "Smart. Sexy."
895 
896"Ungh."
897 
898"Any red-blooded man would have done the same thing."
899 
900"Hngh," Mac snorted.
901 
902"Well. Maybe not you."
903 
904Mac smiled a bit, mollified.
905 
906"Still. It's going to make trouble for me. I must be crazy to go for someone like that." I picked up my sandwich, and sighed.
907 
908"Dumb," Mac said.
909 
910"I just said she was smart, Mac."
911 
912Mac's face flickered into that smile, and it made him look years younger, almost boyish. "Not her," he said. "You."
913 
914I ate my dinner. And had to admit that he was right.
915 
916This threw a wrench into my plans. My best idea for poking around the Sells lake house and getting information had to be carried out at night. And I already had tomorrow night slated for a talk with Bianca, since I had a feeling Murphy and Carmichael would fail to turn up any cooperation from the vampiress. That meant I would have to drive out to Lake Providence tonight, since Saturday night was now occupied by the date with Susan - or at least the pre-midnight portion was.
917 
918My mouth went dry when I considered that maybe the rest of the night might be occupied, too. One never knew. She had dizzied me and made me look like an idiot, and she was probably going to try every trick she knew to drag more information out of me for the Monday morning release of the Arcane. On the other hand, she was sexy, intelligent, and at least a little attracted to me. That indicated that more might happen than just talk and dinner. Didn't it?
919 
920The question was, did I really want that to happen?
921 
922I had been a miserable failure in relationships, ever since my first love went sour. I mean, a lot of teenage guys fail in their first relationships.
923 
924Not many of them murder the girl involved.
925 
926I shied away from that line of thought, lest it bring up too many old memories.
927 
928I left McAnally's, after Mac had handed me a doggy bag with a grunt of "Mister," by way of explanation. The chess game in the corner was still in progress, both players puffing up a sweet-smelling smog cloud from their pipes. I tried to figure out how to deal with Susan, while I walked out to my car. Did I need to clean up my apartment? Did I have all the ingredients for the spell I would cast at the lake house later tonight? Would Murphy go through the roof when I talked to Bianca?
929 
930I could still feel Susan's kiss lingering on my cheek as I got in the car.
931 
932I shook my head, bewildered. They say we wizards are subtle. But believe you me, we've got nothing, nothing at all, on women.
933 
934---------
935 
936Mister was nowhere to be seen when I got home, but I left the food in his dish anyway. He would eventually forgive me for getting home late. I collected the things I would need from my kitchen - fresh-baked bread with no preservatives, honey, milk, a fresh apple, a sharp silver penknife, and a tiny dinner set of a plate, bowl, and cup that I had carved myself from a block of teakwood.
937 
938I went back out to my car. The Beetle isn't really blue anymore, since both doors have been replaced, one with a green clone, one with a white one, and the hood of the storage trunk in front had to be replaced with a red duplicate, but the name stuck anyway. Mike is a super mechanic. He never asked questions about the burns that slagged a hole in the front hatch or the claw marks that ruined both the doors. You can't pay for service like that.
939 
940I revved up the Beetle and drove down I-94, around the shore of Lake Michigan, crossing through Indiana, briefly, and then crossing over the state line into Michigan itself. Lake Providence is an expensive, high-class community with big houses and sprawling estates. It isn't cheap to own land there. Victor Sells must have been doing well in his former position at SilverCo to afford a place out that way.
941 
942The lakeshore drive wound in and out among thick, tall trees and rolling hills down to the shore. The properties were well spread out, several hundred yards between them. Most of them were fenced in and had gates on the right side of the road, away from the lake as I drove north. The Sells house was the only one I saw on the lake side of the drive.
943 
944A smooth gravel lane, lined by trees, led back from the lakeshore drive to the Sells house. A peninsula jutted out into the lake, leaving enough room for the house and a small dock, at which no boats were moored. The house was not a large one, by the standards of the rest of the Lake Providence community. Built on two levels, it was a very modern dwelling - a lot of glass and wood that was made to look like something more synthetic than wood by the way it had been smoothed and cut and polished. The drive curved around to the back of the house, where a driveway big enough to host a five-on-five game of basketball around a backboard erected to one side was overlooked by a wooden deck leading off the second level of the house.
945 
946I drove the Blue Beetle around to the back of the house and parked there. My ingredients were in a black-nylon backpack, and I picked that up and brought it with me as I got out of the car and stretched my legs. The breeze coming up from the lake was cool enough to make me shiver a little, and I drew my mantled duster closed across my belly.
947 
948First impressions are important, and I wanted to listen to what my instincts said about the house. I stopped for a long moment and just stared up at it.
949 
950My instincts must have been holding out for another bottle of Mac's ale. They had little to say, other than that the place looked like a pricey little dwelling that had hosted a family through many a vacation weekend. Well, where instinct fails, intellect must venture. Almost everything was fairly new. The grass around the house had not grown long enough, this winter, to require a cutting. The basketball net was stretched out and loose enough to show that it had been used fairly often. The curtains were all drawn.
951 
952On the grass beneath the deck something red gleamed, and I went beneath the deck to retrieve it. It was a plastic film canister, red with a grey cap, the kind you keep a roll of film in when you send it in to the processors. Film canisters were good for holding various ingredients I used, sometimes. I tucked it in my duster's pocket and continued my inspection.
953 
954The place didn't look much like a family dwelling, really. It looked like a rich man's love nest, a secluded little getaway nestled back in the trees of the peninsula and safe from spying eyes. Or an ideal location for a novice sorcerer to come to try out his fledgling abilities, safe from interruptions. A good place for Victor Sells to set up shop and practice.
955 
956I made a quick circuit of the house, tried the front and rear doors, and even the door up on the deck that led, presumably, to a kitchen. All were locked. Locks really weren't an obstacle, but Monica Sells hadn't invited me actually to take a look inside the house, just around it. It's bad juju to go tromping into people's houses uninvited. One of the reasons vampires, as a rule, don't do it - they have enough trouble just holding themselves together, outside of the Nevernever. It isn't harmful to a human wizard, like me, but it can really impair anything you try to do with magic. Also, it just isn't polite. Like I said, I'm an old-fashioned sort of guy.
957 
958Of course, the TekTronic Securities control panel that I could see through the front window had some say in my decision - not that I couldn't hex it down to a useless bundle of plastic and wires, but a lot of security systems will cause an alarm with their contact company if they abruptly stop working without notice. It would be a useless exercise, in any case - the real information was to be had elsewhere.
959 
960Still, something nagged at me, a sense of not-quite-emptiness to the house. On a hunch, I knocked on the front door, several times. I even rang the bell. No one came to answer the door, and no lights were on, inside. I shrugged and walked back to the rear of the house, passing a number of empty trash cans as I did.
961 
962Now that was a bit odd. I mean, I would expect a little something in the trash, even if someone hadn't been there in a while. Did the garbage truck come all the way down the drive to pick up the trash cans? That didn't seem likely. If the Sellses came out to the house for the weekend and wanted the trash emptied, it would stand to reason that they'd have to leave it out by the drive near the road as they left. Which would seem to imply that the garbage men would leave the empty trash cans out by the road. Someone must have brought them back to the house.
963 
964Of course, it needn't have been Victor Sells. It could have been a neighbor, or something. Or maybe he tipped the garbagemen to carry the cans back away from the road. But it was something to go on, a little hint that maybe the house hadn't been empty all week.
965 
966I left the house behind me and walked out toward the lake. The night was breezy but clear, and a bit cool. The tall old trees creaked and groaned beneath the wind. It was still early for the mosquitoes to be too bad. The moon was waxing toward full overhead, with the occasional cloud slipping past her like a gauzy veil.
967 
968It was a perfect night for catching faeries.
969 
970I swept an area of dirt not far from the lakeshore clear of leaves and sticks, and took the silver knife from the backpack. Using the handle, I drew a circle in the earth, then covered it up with leaves and sticks again, marking the location of the circle's perimeter in my head. I was careful to focus in concentration on the circle, without actually letting any power slip into it and spoil the trap. Then, working carefully, I prepared the bait by setting out the little cup and bowl. I poured a thimbleful of milk into the cup and daubed the bowl full of honey from the little plastic bear in my backpack.
971 
972Then I tore a piece of bread from the loaf I had brought with me and pricked my thumb with the knife. In the silver light of the moon, a bit of dark blood welled up against the skin, and I touched it daintily to the underside of the coarse bread, letting it absorb the blood. Then I set the bread, bloody side down, on the tiny plate.
973 
974My trap was set. I gathered up my equipment and retreated to the cover of the trees.
975 
976There are two parts of magic you have to understand to catch a faery. One of them is the concept of true names. Everything in the whole world has its own name. Names are unique sounds and cadences of words that are attached to one specific individual - sort of like a kind of theme music. If you know something's name, you can associate yourself with it in a magical sense, almost in the same way a wizard can reach out and touch someone if he possesses a lock of their hair, or fingernail clippings, or blood. If you know something's name, you can create a magical link to it, just as you can call someone up and talk to them if you know their phone number. Just knowing the name isn't good enough, though: You have to know exactly how to say it. Ask two John Franklin Smiths to say their names for you, and you'll get subtle differences in tone and pronunciation, each one unique to its owner. Wizards tend to collect names of creatures, spirits, and people like some kind of huge Rolodex. You never know when it will come in handy.
977 
978The other part of magic you need to know is magic-circle theory. Most magic involves a circle of one kind or another. Drawing a circle sets a local limit on what a wizard is trying to do. It helps him refine his magic, focus and direct it more clearly. It does this by creating a sort of screen, defined by the perimeter of the circle, that keeps random magical energy from going past it, containing it within the circle so that it can be used. To make a circle, you draw it out on the ground, or close hands with a bunch of people, or walk about spreading incense, or any of a number of other methods, while focusing on your purpose in drawing it. Then, you invest it with a little spark of energy to close the circuit, and it's ready.
979 
980One other thing such a circle does: It keeps magical creatures, like faeries, or even demons, from getting past it. Neat, huh? Usually, this is used to keep them out. It's a bit trickier to set up a circle to keep them in. That's where the blood comes into play. With blood comes power. If you take in some of someone else's blood, there is a metaphysical significance to it, a sort of energy. It's minuscule if you aren't really trying to get energy that way (the way vampires do), but it's enough to close a circle.
981 
982Now you know how it's done. But I don't recommend that you try it at home. You don't know what to do when something goes wrong.
983 
984I retreated to the trees and called the name of the particular faery I wanted. It was a rolling series of syllables, quite beautiful, really - especially since the faery went by the name of Toot-toot every time I'd encountered him before. I pushed my will out along with the name, just made it a call, something that would be subtle enough to make him wander this way of his own accord. Or at least, that was the theory.
985 
986What was his name? Please, do you think wizards just give information like that away? You don't know what I went through to get it.
987 
988About ten minutes later, Toot came flickering in over the water of Lake Michigan. At first I mistook him for a reflection of the moon on the side of the softly rolling waves of the lake. Toot was maybe six inches tall. He had silver dragonfly's wings sprouting from his back and the pale, beautiful, tiny humanoid form that echoed the splendor of the fae lords. A silver nimbus of ambient light surrounded him. His hair was a shaggy, silken little mane, like a bird of paradise's plumes, and was a pale magenta.
989 
990Toot loved bread and milk and honey - a common vice of the lesser fae. They aren't usually willing to take on a nest of bees to get to the honey, and there's been a real dearth of milk in the Nevernever since hi-tech dairy farms took over most of the industry. Needless to say, they don't grow their own wheat, harvest it, thresh it, and then mill it into flour to make bread, either.
991 
992Toot alighted on the ground with caution, scanning around the trees. He didn't see me. I saw him wipe at his mouth and walk in a slow circle around the miniature dining set, one hand rubbing greedily at his stomach. Once he took the bread and closed the circle, I'd be able to bargain information for his release. Toot was a lesser spirit in the area, sort of a dockworker of the Nevernever. If anyone had seen anything of Victor Sells, Toot would have, or would know someone who had.
993 
994Toot dithered for a while, fluttering back and forth around the meal, but slowly getting closer. Faeries and honey. Moths and flame. Toot had fallen for this several times before, and it wasn't in the nature of the fae to keep memories for very long, or to change their essential natures. All the same, I held my breath.
995 
996The faery finally hunkered down, picked up the bread, dipped it in the honey, then greedily gobbled it down. The circle closed with a little snap that occurred just at the edge of my hearing.
997 
998Its effect on Toot was immediate. He screamed a shrill little scream, like a trapped rabbit, and took off toward the lake in a buzzing flurry of wings. At the perimeter of the circle, he smacked into something as solid as a brick wall, and a little puff of silver motes exploded out from him in a cloud. Toot grunted and fell onto his little faery ass on the earth.
999 
1000"I should have known!" he exclaimed, as I approached from the trees. His voice was high-pitched, but more like a little kid's than the exaggerated kind of faery voices I'd heard in cartoons. "Now I remember where I've seen those plates before! You ugly, sneaky, hamhanded, big-nosed, flat-footed mortal worm!"
1001 
1002"Hiya, Toot," I told him. "Do you remember our deal from last time, or do we need to go over it again?"
1003 
1004Toot glared defiantly up at me and stomped his foot on the ground. More silver faery dust puffed out from the impact. "Release me!" he demanded. "Or I will tell the Queen!"
1005 
1006"If I don't release you," I pointed out, "you can't tell the Queen. And you know just as well as I do what she would say about any dewdrop faery who was silly enough to get himself caught with a lure of bread and milk and honey."
1007 
1008Toot crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. "I warn you, mortal. Release me now, or you will feel the awful, terrible, irresistible might of the faery magic! I will rot your teeth from your head! Take your eyes from their sockets! Fill your mouth with dung and your ears with worms!"
1009 
1010"Hit me with your best shot," I told him. "After that, we can talk about what you need to do to get out of the circle."
1011 
1012I had called his bluff. I always did, but he probably wouldn't remember the details very well. If you live a few hundred years, you tend to forget the little things. Toot sulked and kicked up a little spray of dirt with one tiny foot. "You could at least pretend to be afraid, Harry."
1013 
1014"Sorry, Toot. I don't have the time."
1015 
1016"Time, time," Toot complained. "Is that all you mortals can ever think about? Everyone's complaining about time! The whole city rushes left and right screaming about being late and honking horns! You people used to have it right, you know."
1017 
1018I bore the lecture with good nature. Toot could never keep his mind on the same subject long enough to be really trying, in any case.
1019 
1020"Why, I remember the folk who lived here before you pale, wheezy guys came in. And they never complained about ulcers or - " Toot's eyes wandered to the bread and milk and honey again, and glinted. He sauntered that way, then snatched the remaining bread, sopping up all the honey with it and eating it with greedy, birdlike motions.
1021 
1022"This is good stuff, Harry. None of that funny stuff in it that we get sometimes."
1023 
1024"Preservatives," I said.
1025 
1026"Whatever." Toot drank down the milk, too, in a long pull, then promptly fell down on his back, patting at his rounded tummy. "All right," he said. "Now, let me out."
1027 
1028"Not yet, Toot. I need something first."
1029 
1030Toot scowled up at me. "You wizards. Always needing something. I really could do the thing with the dung, you know." He stood up and folded his arms haughtily over his chest, looking up at me as though I weren't a dozen times taller than he. "Very well," he said, his tone lofty. "I have deigned to grant you a single request of some small nature, for the generous gift of your cuisine."
1031 
1032I worked to keep a straight face. "That's very kind of you."
1033 
1034Toot sniffed and somehow managed to look down his little pug nose at me. "It is my nature to be both benevolent and wise."
1035 
1036I nodded, as though this were a very great wisdom. "Uh-huh. Look, Toot. I need to know if you were around this place for the past few nights, or know someone who was. I'm looking for someone, and maybe he came here."
1037 
1038"And if I tell you," Toot said, "I take it you will disassemble this circle which has, by some odd coincidence no doubt, made its way around me?"
1039 
1040"It would be only reasonable," I said, all seriousness.
1041 
1042Toot seemed to consider it, as though he might be inclined not to cooperate, then nodded. "Very well. You will have the information you wish. Release me."
1043 
1044I narrowed my eyes. "Are you sure? Do you promise?"
1045 
1046Toot stamped his foot again, scattering more silver dust motes. "Harry! You're ruining the drama!"
1047 
1048I folded my arms. "I want to hear you promise."
1049 
1050Toot threw up his hands. "Fine, fine, fine! I promise, I promise, I promise! I'll dig up what you want to know!" He started to buzz about the circle in great agitation, wings lifting him easily into the air. "Let me out! Let me out!"
1051 
1052A promise thrice made is as close to absolute truth as you can get from a faery. I went quickly to the circle and scuffed over the line drawn in the dirt with my foot, willing the circle to part. It did, with a little hiss of released energy.
1053 
1054Toot streaked out over Lake Michigan's waters again, a miniature silver comet, and vanished in a twinkling, just like Santa Claus. Though I should say that Santa is a much bigger and more powerful faery than Toot, and I don't know his true name anyway. You'd never see me trying to nab Saint Nick in a magic circle, even if I did. I don't think anyone has stones that big.
1055 
1056I waited around, walking about to keep from falling asleep. If I did that, Toot would be perfectly within his rights as a faery to fulfill his promise by telling me the information while I was sleeping. And, given that I had just now captured and humiliated him, he'd probably do something to even the scales - two weeks from now he wouldn't even remember it, but if I let him have a free shot at me tonight, I might wake up with an ass's head, and I didn't think that would be good for business.
1057 
1058So I paced, and I waited. Toot usually took about half an hour to round up whatever it was I wanted to know.
1059 
1060Sure enough, half an hour later he came sparkling back in and buzzed around my head, drizzling faery dust from his blurring wings at my eyes. "Hah, Harry!" he said. "I did it!"
1061 
1062"What did you find out, Toot?"
1063 
1064"Guess!"
1065 
1066I snorted. "No."
1067 
1068"Aw, come on. Just a little guess?"
1069 
1070I scowled, tired and irritated, but tried not to let it show. Toot couldn't help being what he was. "Toot, it's late. You promised to tell me."
1071 
1072"No fun at all," he complained. "No wonder you can't get a date unless someone wants to know something from you."
1073 
1074I blinked at him, and he chortled in glee. "Hah! I love it! We're watching you, Harry Dresden!"
1075 
1076Now that was disconcerting. I had a sudden image of a dozen faery voyeurs lingering around my apartment's windows and peering inside. I'd have to take precautions to make sure they couldn't do that. Not that I was afraid of them, or anything. Just in case.
1077 
1078"Just tell me, Toot," I sighed.
1079 
1080"Incoming!" he shrilled, and I held out my hand, fingers flat and palm up. He alighted in the center of my palm. I could barely feel his weight, but the sense, the aura of him ran through my skin like a tiny electric current. He stared fearlessly at my eyes - the fae have no souls to gaze upon, and they could not fathom a mortal's soul, even if they could see it.
1081 
1082"Okay!" Toot said. "I talked to Blueblossom, who talked to Rednose, who talked to Meg O' Aspens, who said that Goldeneyes said that he was riding the pizza car when it came here last night!" Toot thrust out his chest proudly.
1083 
1084"Pizza car?" I asked, bewildered.
1085 
1086"Pizza!" Toot cried, jubilant. "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!" His wings fluttered again, and I tried to blink the damned faery dust out of my eyes before I started sneezing.
1087 
1088"Faeries like pizza?" I asked.
1089 
1090"Oh, Harry," Toot said breathlessly. "Haven't you ever had pizza before?"
1091 
1092"Of course I have," I said.
1093 
1094Toot looked wounded. "And you didn't share?"
1095 
1096I sighed. "Look. Maybe I can bring you guys some pizza sometime soon, to thank you for your help."
1097 
1098Toot leapt about in glee, hopping from one fingertip to the other. "Yes! Yes! Wait until I tell them! We'll see who laughs at Toot-toot next time!"
1099 
1100"Toot," I said, trying to calm him, "did he see anything else?"
1101 
1102Toot tittered, his expression sly and suggestive. "He said that there were mortals sporting and that they needed pizza to regain their strength!"
1103 
1104"Which delivery place, Toot?"
1105 
1106The faery blinked and stared at me as though I were hopelessly stupid. "Harry. The pizza truck." And then he darted off skyward, vanishing into the trees above.
1107 
1108I sighed and nodded. Toot wouldn't know the difference between Domino's and Pizza Hut. He had no frame of reference, and couldn't read - most faeries were studiously averse to print.
1109 
1110So, I had two pieces of information. One, someone had ordered a pizza to be delivered here. That meant two things. First, that someone was here last night. Second, that someone had seen them and talked to them. Maybe I could track down the pizza driver, and ask if he had seen Victor Sells.
1111 
1112The second piece of information had been Toot's reference to sporting. Faeries didn't think too much of mortals' idea of «sporting» unless there was a lot of nudity and lust involved. They had a penchant for shadowing necking teenagers and playing tricks on them. So Victor had been here with a lover of some kind, for there to be any «sport» going on.
1113 
1114I was beginning to think that Monica Sells was in denial. Her husband wasn't wandering around learning to be a sorcerer, spooky scorpion talismans notwithstanding. He was lurking about his love nest with a girlfriend, like any other husband bored with a timid and domestic wife might do under pressure. It wasn't admirable, but I guess I could understand the motivations that could cause it.
1115 
1116The only problem was going to be telling Monica. I had a feeling that she wasn't going to want to listen to what I had found out.
1117 
1118I picked up the little plate and bowl and cup and put them back into my black-nylon backpack, along with the silver knife. My legs ached from too much walking and standing about. I was looking forward to getting home and getting some sleep.
1119 
1120The man with the naked sword in his hands appeared out of the darkness without a warning rustle of sound or whiff of magic to announce his presence. He was tall, like me, but broad and heavy-chested, and he carried his weight with a ponderous sort of dignity. Perhaps fifty years old, his listless brown hair going grey in uneven patches, he wore a long, black coat, a lot like mine but without the mantle, and his jacket and pants, too, were done in dark colors - charcoal and a deep blue. His shirt was crisp, pure white, the color that you usually only see with tuxedos. His eyes were grey, touched with crow's-feet at the corners, and dangerous. Moonlight glinted off those eyes in the same shade it did from the brighter silver of the sword's blade. He began to walk deliberately toward me, speaking in a quiet voice as he did.
1121 
1122"Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Irresponsible use of true names for summoning and binding others to your will violates the Fourth Law of Magic," the man intoned. "I remind you that you are under the Doom of Damocles. No further violations of the Laws will be tolerated. The sentence for further violation is death, by the sword, to be carried out at once."
1123 
1124---------
1125 
1126Have you ever been approached by a grim-looking man, carrying a naked sword with a blade about ten miles long in his hand, in the middle of the night, beneath the stars on the shores of Lake Michigan? If you have, seek professional help. If you have not, then believe you me, it can scare the bejeezus out of you.
1127 
1128I took in a quick breath, and had to work not to put it into a quasi-Latin phrase on the exhale, one that would set the man's body on fire and reduce him to a mound of ashes. I react badly to fear. I don't usually have the good sense to run, or hide - I just try to smash whatever it is that is making me afraid. It's a primitive sort of thing, and one I don't question too much.
1129 
1130But reflex-based murder seemed a tad extreme, so rather than setting him on fire, I nodded instead. "Evening, Morgan. You know as well as I do that those laws apply to mortals. Not faeries. Especially for something as trivial as I just did. And I didn't break the Fourth Law. He had the choice whether to take my deal or not."
1131 
1132Morgan's sour, leathery face turned a bit more sour, the lines at the corners of his mouth stretching and becoming deeper. "That's a technicality, Dresden. A pair of them." His hands, broad and strong, resettled their grip upon the sword he held. His unevenly greying hair was tied into a ponytail in the back, like Sean Connery's in some of his movies, except that Morgan's face was too pinched and thin to pull off the look.
1133 
1134"Your point being?" I did my best to keep from looking nervous or impressed. Truth be told, I was both. Morgan was my Warden, assigned to me by the White Council to make sure I didn't bend or break any of the Laws of Magic. He hung about and spied on me, mostly, and usually came sniffing around after I'd cast a spell of some kind. I would be damned if I was going to let the White Council's guard dog see any fear out of me. Besides, he would take it as a sign of guilt, in the true spirit of paranoid fanatics everywhere. So, all I had to do was keep a straight face and get out before my weariness made me slip up and do or say something he could use against me.
1135 
1136Morgan was one of the deadliest evocators in the world. He wasn't bright enough to question his loyalties to the Council, and he could do quick-and-dirty magic like few others could.
1137 
1138Quick and dirty enough to rip the hearts out of Tommy Tomm and Jennifer Stanton's chests, in fact, if he wanted to.
1139 
1140"My point," he said, scowling, "is that it is my assigned duty to monitor your use of your power, and to see to it that you do not abuse it."
1141 
1142"I'm on a missing-persons case," I said. "All I did was call up a dewdrop faery to get some information. Come on, Morgan. Everybody calls up faeries now and then. There's no harm in it. It's not as though I'm mind-controlling the things. Just leaning on them a little."
1143 
1144"Technicality," Morgan growled.
1145 
1146I stuck out my chin at him belligerently. We were of a height, though he outweighed me by about a hundred pounds. I could pick better people to antagonize, but he'd really gotten under my skin. "A technicality I'm prepared to hide wildly behind. So, unless you want to convene a meeting of the Council to call me on it, we can just drop the discussion right here. I'm pretty sure it will only take them about two days to cancel all their plans, make travel arrangements, and then get here. I can put you up until then. I mean, you'd be dragging a bunch of really crotchety old men away from their experiments and things for nothing, but if you really think it's necessary ..."
1147 
1148Morgan scowled at me. "No. It isn't worth it." He opened his dark trench coat and slid the sword away into its scabbard. I relaxed a little. The sword wasn't the most dangerous thing about him, not by a long shot, but it was his symbol of the authority given to him by the White Council, and if rumors were true, it was enchanted to cut through the magical spells of anyone resisting him. I didn't want things ever to go far enough for me to find out if the rumors were true.
1149 
1150"I'm glad we agree about something," I said. "Nice seeing you again." I started to walk past him.
1151 
1152Morgan put one of those big hands on my arm as I went by, and his fingers closed around it. "I'm not finished with you, Dresden."
1153 
1154I didn't dare mess around with Morgan when he was acting in his role as a Warden of the White Council. But he wasn't wearing that hat, now. Once he'd put the sword away, he was acting on his own, without any more official authority than any other man - or at least, that was the technical truth. Morgan was big on technicalities. He had scared the heck out of me and annoyed the heck out of me, in rapid succession. Now he was trying to bully me. I hate bullies.
1155 
1156So I took a calculated risk, used my free hand, and hit him as hard as I could in the mouth.
1157 
1158I think the blow startled him more than anything. He took a step back, letting go of my arm in surprise, and just blinked at me. He put one hand to his mouth, and when he drew his fingers away, there was blood on them.
1159 
1160I planted my feet and faced him, without meeting his eyes. "Don't touch me."
1161 
1162Morgan continued to stare at me. And then I saw anger creep over his face, set his jaw, make the veins at his temple stand out.
1163 
1164"How dare you," he said. "How dare you strike me."
1165 
1166"It wasn't so hard," I said. "If you've got Council business with me, I'm willing to give you whatever respect is your due. When you come on strong to me on personal business, I don't have to put up with it."
1167 
1168I saw the steam coming out of his ears as he mulled it over. He looked for a reason to come after me, and realized that he didn't have one, according to the Laws. He wasn't too bright - did I mention that already?  -  and he was a big one for following the Laws. "You're a fool, Dresden," he sputtered finally. "An arrogant little fool."
1169 
1170"Probably," I told him. I tensed myself to move quickly if necessary. I may not like to run away from what scares me, but I try not to fight hopeless battles, either, and Morgan had me by years of experience and a hundred pounds, at least. There was no Law of Magic that protected me from him and his fists, either, and if that occurred to him, he might decide to do something about it. That punch I'd landed had been lucky, coming out of the blue. I wouldn't get away with it again.
1171 
1172"Someone killed two people with sorcery last night, Dresden. I think it was you. And when I find how you did it and can trace it back to you, don't think you're going to live long enough to cast the same spell at me." Morgan swiped at the blood with one big fist.
1173 
1174It was my turn to blink. I tried to shift mental gears, to keep up with the change in subject. Morgan thought I was the killer. And since Morgan didn't do too much of his own thinking, that meant that the White Council thought I was the killer. Holy shit.
1175 
1176Of course, it made sense, from Morgan's narrow and single-minded point of view. A wizard had killed someone. I was a wizard who had already been convicted of killing another with magic, even if the self-defense clause had kept me from being executed. Cops looked for people who had already committed crimes before they started looking for other culprits. Morgan was just another kind of cop, as far as I was concerned.
1177 
1178And, as far as he was concerned, I was just one more dangerous con.
1179 
1180"You're not serious," I told him. "You think I did it?"
1181 
1182He sneered at me. His voice was contemptuous, confident, and seethed with absolute conviction. "Don't try to hide it, Dresden. I'm sure you think you're clever enough to come up with something innovative that we hidebound old men won't be able to trace. But you're wrong. We'll determine how you did it, and we'll follow it back to you. And when we do, I'll be there to make sure you never hurt anyone again."
1183 
1184"Knock yourself out," I told him. It was hard, really hard, to keep my voice as blithe as I wanted it to sound. "I didn't do it. But I'm helping the police find the man who did."
1185 
1186"The police?" Morgan asked. He narrowed his eyes, as though gauging my expression. "As if they could have any authority on this matter. They won't do you any good. Even if you do set someone up to take the fall for you under mortal law, the White Council will still see that justice is done." His eyes glittered, fanatic-bright underneath the stars.
1187 
1188"Whatever. Look, if you find something out about the killer, anything that could help the cops out, would you give me a call?"
1189 
1190Morgan looked at me with profound distaste. "You ask me to warn you when we are closing in on you, Dresden? You are young, but I never thought you stupid."
1191 
1192I bit back the obvious comment that leapt to mind. Morgan was on the edge of outrage already. If I'd realized how rabid he was to catch me slipping, I wouldn't have added more fuel to his fire by hitting him in the mouth.
1193 
1194Okay. I probably still would have hit him in the mouth. But I wouldn't have done it quite so hard.
1195 
1196"Good night, Morgan," I told him. I started to walk away again, before I could let my mouth get me into more trouble.
1197 
1198He moved faster than I would have given a man his age credit for. His fist went across my jaw at approximately a million miles an hour, and I spun down to the dirt like a string-cut puppet. For several long moments, I was unable to do anything at all, even breathe. Morgan loomed over me.
1199 
1200"We'll be watching you, Dresden." He turned and started walking away, the shadows of the evening quickly swallowing up his black coat. His voice drifted back to me. "We'll find out what really happened."
1201 
1202I didn't dare spout out a snappy comeback. I felt my jaw with my fingers, and made sure it wasn't broken, before I stood up and walked back to the Beetle, my legs feeling loose and watery. I fervently hoped that Morgan would find out what had really happened. It would keep the White Council from executing me for breaking the First Law, for one thing.
1203 
1204I could feel his eyes on my back, all the way to the Beetle. Damn that Morgan. He didn't have to take quite so much pleasure in being assigned to spy on me. I had a sinking feeling that anywhere I went over the next few days, he would be likely to turn up, watching. He was like this big, cartoon tomcat waiting outside the mousehole for the little mouse to stick its nose out so he could smash it flat with one big paw. I was feeling a lot like that little mouse.
1205 
1206I let that analogy cheer me up a bit. The cartoon cats always seemed to get the short end of the stick, in the final analysis. Maybe Morgan would, too.
1207 
1208Part of the problem was that seeing Morgan always brought up too many memories of my angsty teenage days. That was when I'd started to learn magic, when my mentor had tried to seduce me into Black wizardry, and when he had attempted to kill me when he failed. I killed him instead, mostly by luck - but he was just as dead, and I'd done it with sorcery. I broke the First Law of Magic: Thou Shalt Not Kill. There is only one sentence, if someone is found guilty, and one sword that they use to carry it out.
1209 
1210The White Council commuted the death sentence, because tradition demands that a wizard can resort to the use of deadly force if he is defending his own life, or the lives of the defenseless, and my claim that I had been attacked first could not be contested by my master's corpse. So instead, they'd stuck me on a kind of accelerated probation: One strike and I was out. There were some wizards who thought that the judgment against me was a ludicrous injustice (I happened to be one of them, but my vote didn't really count), and others who thought that I should have been executed regardless of extenuating circumstances. Morgan belonged to that latter group. Just my luck.
1211 
1212I was feeling more than a bit surly at the entire White Council, benevolent intentions aside. I guess it only made sense that they'd suspect me, and God knows I'd been a thorn in their side, flying in the face of tradition by practicing my art openly. There were plenty of people on the Council who might well want me dead. I would have to start being more careful.
1213 
1214I rolled down the Beetle's windows on the way back to Chicago to help me stay awake. I was exhausted, but my mind was racing around like a hamster on an exercise wheel, working furiously, getting nowhere.
1215 
1216The irony was thick enough to make my tongue curl. The White Council suspected me of the killings, and if no other suspect came forward, I was going to take the rap. Murphy's investigation had just become very, very important to me. But to pursue the investigation, I would have to try to figure out how the killer had pulled off that spell, and to do that, I would have to indulge in highly questionable research that would probably be enough to get me a death sentence all by itself. Catch twenty-two. If I had any respect at all for Morgan's intelligence, I would have suspected him of pulling off the killings himself and setting me up to take the blame.
1217 
1218But that just didn't track. Morgan might twist and bend the rules, to get what he saw as justice, but he'd never blatantly violate them. But if not Morgan, then who could have done it? There just weren't all that many people who could get enough power into that kind of spell to make it work - unless there was some flaw in the quasiphysics that governed magic that let hearts explode more easily than other things; and I wouldn't know that until I had pursued the forbidden research.
1219 
1220Bianca would have more information on who might have done it - she had to. I had already planned on talking to the vampiress, but Morgan's visit had made it a necessity, rather than merely a priority. Murphy was not going to be thrilled that I was thrusting myself into her side of this investigation. And, better and better, because White Council business was all hush-hush to nonwizards, I wouldn't be able to explain to her why I was doing it. Further joy.
1221 
1222You know, sometimes I think Someone up there really hates me.
1223 
1224---------
1225 
1226By the time I got home, it was after two o'clock in the morning. The clock in the Beetle didn't work (of course), but I made a pretty good guess from the position of the stars and the moon. I was strung out, weary, and my nerves were stretched as tight as guitar strings.
1227 
1228I didn't think sleep was likely, so I decided to do a little alchemy to help me unwind.
1229 
1230I've often wished that I had some suave and socially acceptable hobby that I could fall back on in times like this. You know, play the violin (or was it the viola?) like Sherlock Holmes, or maybe twiddle away on the pipe organ like the Disney version of Captain Nemo. But I don't. I'm sort of the arcane equivalent of a classic computer geek. I do magic, in one form or another, and that's pretty much it. I really need to get a life, one of these days.
1231 
1232I live in a basement apartment beneath a big, roomy old house that has been divided up into lots of different apartments. The basement and the subbasement below it are both mine, which is sort of neat. I'm the only tenant living on two floors, and my rent is cheaper than all the people who have whole windows.
1233 
1234The house is full of creaks and sighs and settling boards, and time and lives have worn their impressions into the wood and the brick. I can hear all the sounds, all the character of the place, above and around me all through the night. It's an old place, but it sings in the darkness and is, in its own quirky little way, alive. It's home.
1235 
1236Mister was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs that led down to the apartment's front door. Mister is an enormous grey cat. I mean, enormous. There are dogs smaller than Mister. He weighs in at just over thirty pounds, and there isn't an undue amount of fat on his frame. I think maybe his father was a wildcat or a lynx or something. I had found Mister in a garbage can about three years before, a mewling kitten, with his tail torn off by a dog or a car - I was never sure which, but Mister hated both, and would either attack or flee from them on sight.
1237 
1238Mister had recovered his dignity over the next few months, and shortly came to believe that he was the apartment's tenant, and I was someone he barely tolerated to share the space with him. Right now he looked up and mrowed at me in an annoyed tone.
1239 
1240"I thought you had a hot date," I told him.
1241 
1242He sauntered over to me and rammed one shoulder playfully against my knee. I wavered, recovered my balance, and unlocked the door. Mister, as was his just due, entered before I did.
1243 
1244My apartment is a studio, one not-too-large room with a kitchenette in the corner and a fireplace to one side. There's a door that leads to the other room, my bedroom and bathroom, and then there's the hinged door in the floor that goes down to the subbasement, where I keep my lab. I've got things pretty heavily textured - there are multiple carpets on the floor, tapestries on the walls, a collection of knickknacks and oddities on every available surface, my staff and my sword cane in the corner, and several bulging bookshelves which I really will organize one day.
1245 
1246Mister went to his spot before the fireplace and demanded that it be made warm. I obliged him with a fire and lit a lamp as well. Oh, I have lights and so on, but they foul up so often it almost isn't worth turning them on. And I'm not even about to take chances with the gas heater. I stick with the simple things, the fireplace and my candles and lamps. I have a special charcoal stove and a vent to take most of the smoke out, though the whole place smells a little of woodsmoke and charcoal, no matter what I do.
1247 
1248I took off my duster and got out my heavy flannel robe before I went down into the lab. That's why wizards wear robes, I swear to you. It's just too damned cold in the lab to go without one. I clambered down the ladder to the lab, carrying my candle with me, and lit a few lamps, a pair of burners, and a kerosene heater in the corner.
1249 
1250The lights came up and revealed a long table in the center of the room, other tables against three of the walls around it, and a clear space at one end of the room where a brass circle had been laid out on the floor and fastened into the cement with U-shaped bolts. Shelves over the tables were crowded with empty cages, boxes, Tupperware, jars, cans, containers of all descriptions, a pair of unusual antlers, a couple of fur pelts, several musty old books, a long row of notebooks filled with my own cramped writing, and a bleached white human skull.
1251 
1252"Bob," I said. I started clearing space off of the center table, dumping boxes and grocery sacks and plastic tubs over the brass circle on the floor. I needed room to work. "Bob, wake up."
1253 
1254There was a moment of silence, while I started getting some things down from the shelves. "Bob!" I said, louder. "Come on, lazybones."
1255 
1256A pair of lights came up in the empty sockets of the skull, orangish, flickering like candle flames. "It isn't enough," the skull said, "that I have to wake up. I have to wake up to bad puns. What is it about you that you have to make the bad puns?"
1257 
1258"Quit whining," I told him, cheerfully. "We've got work to do."
1259 
1260Bob the Skull grumbled something in Old French, I think, though I got lost when he got to the anatomical improbabilities of bullfrogs. He yawned, and his bony teeth rattled when his mouth clicked closed again. Bob wasn't really a human skull. He was a spirit of air - sort of like a faery, but different. He made his residence inside the skull that had been prepared for him several hundred years ago, and it was his job to remember things. For obvious reasons, I can't use a computer to store information and keep track of the slowly changing laws of quasiphysics. That's why I had Bob. He had worked with dozens of wizards over the years, and it had given him a vast repertoire of knowledge - that, and a really cocky attitude. "Blasted wizards," he mumbled.
1261 
1262"I can't sleep, so we're going to make a couple of potions. Sound good?"
1263 
1264"Like I have a choice," Bob said. "What's the occasion?"
1265 
1266I brought Bob up to speed on what had happened that day. He whistled (no easy trick without lips), and said, "Sounds sticky."
1267 
1268"Pretty sticky," I agreed.
1269 
1270"Tell you what," he said. "Let me out for a ride, and I'll tell you how to get out of it."
1271 
1272That made me wary. "Bob, I let you out once. Remember?"
1273 
1274He nodded dreamily, scraping bone on wood. "The sorority house. I remember."
1275 
1276I snorted, and started some water to boiling over one of the burners. "You're supposed to be a spirit of intellect. I don't understand why you're obsessed with sex."
1277 
1278Bob's voice got defensive. "It's an academic interest, Harry."
1279 
1280"Oh yeah? Well maybe I don't think it's fair to let your academia go peeping in other people's houses."
1281 
1282"Wait a minute. My academia doesn't just peep - "
1283 
1284I held up a hand. "Save it. I don't want to hear it."
1285 
1286He grunted. "You're trivializing what getting out for a bit means to me, Harry. You're insulting my masculinity."
1287 
1288"Bob," I said, "you're a skull. You don't have any masculinity to insult."
1289 
1290"Oh yeah?" Bob challenged me. "Pot kettle black, Harry! Have you gotten a date yet? Huh? Most men have something better to do in the middle of the night than play with their chemistry sets."
1291 
1292"As a matter of fact," I told him, "I'm set up for Saturday night."
1293 
1294Bob's eyes fluttered from orange to red. "Oooooo," he leered. "Is she pretty?"
1295 
1296"Dark skin," I said. "Dark hair, dark eyes. Legs to die for. Smart, sexy as hell."
1297 
1298Bob chortled. "Think she'd like to see the lab?"
1299 
1300"Get your mind out of the gutter."
1301 
1302"No, seriously," Bob said. "If she's so great, what's she doing with you? You aren't exactly Sir Gawain, you know."
1303 
1304It was my turn to get defensive. "She likes me," I said. "Is that such a shock?"
1305 
1306"Harry," Bob drawled, his eye lights flickering smugly, "what you know about women, I could juggle."
1307 
1308I stared at Bob for a moment, and realized with a somewhat sinking feeling that the skull was probably right. Not that I would admit that to him, not in a million years, but he was.
1309 
1310"We're going to make an escape potion," I told him. "I don't want to be all night, so can we get to work? Huh? I can only remember about half the recipe."
1311 
1312"There's always room to make two if you're making one, Harry. You know that."
1313 
1314That much was true. The process of mixing up an alchemical potion is largely stirring, simmering, and waiting. You can always get another one going and alternate between them. Sometimes you can even do three, though that's pushing it. "Okay, so, we'll make a copy."
1315 
1316"Oh, come on," Bob chided me. "That's dull. You should stretch yourself. Try something new."
1317 
1318"Like what?"
1319 
1320Bob's eye sockets twinkled cheerfully. "A love potion, Harry! If you won't let me out, at least let me do that! Spirits know you could use it, and - "
1321 
1322"No," I said, firmly. "No way. No love potion."
1323 
1324"Fine," he said. "No love potion, no escape potion either."
1325 
1326"Bob," I said, warningly.
1327 
1328Bob's eye lights winked out.
1329 
1330I growled. I was tired and cranky, and under the best of circumstances I am not exactly a type A personality. I stalked over, picked up Bob by the jaws and shook him. "Hey!" I shouted. "Bob! You come out of there! Or I'm going to take this skull and throw it down the deepest well I can find! I swear to you, I'll put you somewhere where no one can ever let you out ever again!"
1331 
1332Bob's eyes winked on for a moment. "No you won't. I'm far too valuable." Then they winked out again.
1333 
1334I gritted my teeth and tried not to smash the skull to little pieces on the floor. I took deep breaths, summoning years of wizardly training and control to not throw a tantrum and break the nice spirit to little pieces. Instead, I put the skull back on the shelf and counted slowly to thirty.
1335 
1336Could I make the potion by myself? I probably could. But I had the sinking feeling that it might not have precisely the effect I wanted. Potions were a tricky business, and a lot more relied upon precise details than upon intent, like in spells. And just because I made a love potion didn't mean I had to use it. Right? It would only be good for a couple of days, in any case - surely not through the weekend. How much trouble could it cause?
1337 
1338I struggled to rationalize the action. It would appease Bob, and give him some kind of vicarious thrill. Love potions were about the cheapest things in the world to make, so it wouldn't cost me too much. And, I thought, if Susan should ask me for some kind of demonstration of magic (as she always did), I could always -
1339 
1340No. That would be too much. That would be like admitting I couldn't get a woman to like me on my own, and it would be unfair, taking advantage of the woman. What I wanted was the escape potion. I might need it at Bianca's place, and I could always use it, if worse came to worst, to make a getaway from Morgan and the White Council. I would feel a lot better if I had the escape potion.
1341 
1342"Okay, Bob. Fine. You win. We'll do them both. All right?"
1343 
1344Bob's eye lights came up warily. "You're sure? You'll do the love potion, just like I say?"
1345 
1346"Don't I always make the potions like you say, Bob?"
1347 
1348"What about that diet potion you tried?"
1349 
1350"Okay. That one was a mistake."
1351 
1352"And the antigravity potion, remember that?"
1353 
1354"We fixed the floor! It was no big deal!"
1355 
1356"And the - "
1357 
1358"Fine, fine," I growled. "You don't have to rub it in. Now cough up the recipes."
1359 
1360Bob did so, in fine humor, and for the next two hours we made potions. Potions are all made pretty much the same way. First you need a base to form the essential liquid content; then something to engage each of the senses, and then something for the mind and something else for the spirit. Eight ingredients, all in all, and they're different for each and every potion, and for each person who makes them. Bob had centuries of experience, and he could extrapolate the most successful components for a given person to make into a potion. He was right about being an invaluable resource - I had never even heard of a spirit with Bob's experience, and I was lucky to have him.
1361 
1362That didn't mean I didn't want to crack that skull of his from time to time, though.
1363 
1364The escape potion was made in a base of eight ounces of Jolt cola. We added a drop of motor oil, for the smell of it, and cut a bird's feather into tiny shavings for the tactile value. Three ounces of chocolate-covered espresso beans, ground into powder, went in next. Then a shredded bus ticket I'd never used, for the mind, and a small chain which I broke and then dropped in, for the heart. I unfolded a clean white cloth where I'd had a flickering shadow stored for just such an occasion, and tossed it into the brew, then opened up a glass jar where I kept my mouse scampers and tapped the sound out into the beaker where the potion was brewing ...
1365 
1366"You're sure this is going to work, Bob?" I said.
1367 
1368"Always. That's a super recipe, there."
1369 
1370"Smells terrible."
1371 
1372Bob's lights twinkled. "They usually do."
1373 
1374"What's it doing? Is this the superspeed one, or the teleportation version?"
1375 
1376Bob coughed. "A little of both, actually. Drink it, and you'll be the wind for a few minutes."
1377 
1378"The wind?" I eyed him. "I haven't heard of that one before, Bob."
1379 
1380"I am an air spirit, after all," Bob told me. "This'll work fine. Trust me."
1381 
1382I grumbled, and set the first potion to simmering, then started on the next one. I hesitated, after Bob told me the first ingredient.
1383 
1384"Tequila?" I asked him, skeptically. "Are you sure on that one? I thought the base for a love potion was supposed to be champagne."
1385 
1386"Champagne, tequila, what's the difference, so long as it'll lower her inhibitions?" Bob said.
1387 
1388"Uh. I'm thinking it's going to get us a, um, sleazier result."
1389 
1390"Hey!" Bob protested, "Who's the memory spirit here! Me or you?"
1391 
1392"Well - "
1393 
1394"Who's got all the experience with women here? Me or you?"
1395 
1396"Bob - "
1397 
1398"Harry," Bob lectured me, "I was seducing shepherdesses when you weren't a twinkle in your great-grandcestor's eyes. I think I know what I'm doing."
1399 
1400I sighed, too tired to argue with him. "Okay, okay. Sheesh. Tequila." I got down the bottle, measured eight ounces into the beaker, and glanced up at the skull.
1401 
1402"Right. Now, three ounces of dark chocolate."
1403 
1404"Chocolate?" I demanded.
1405 
1406"Chicks are into chocolate, Harry."
1407 
1408I muttered, more interested in finishing than anything else, and measured out the ingredients. I did the same with a drop of perfume (some name-brand imitation that I liked), an ounce of shredded lace, and the last sigh at the bottom of the glass jar. I added some candlelight to the mix, and it took on a rosy golden glow.
1409 
1410"Great," Bob said. "That's just right. Okay, now we add the ashes of a passionate love letter."
1411 
1412I blinked at the skull. "Uh, Bob. I'm fresh out of those."
1413 
1414Bob snorted. "How did I guess. Look on the shelf behind me."
1415 
1416I did, and found a pair of romance novels, their covers filled with impossibly delightful flesh. "Hey! Where did you get these?"
1417 
1418"My last trip out," Bob answered blithely. "Page one seventy-four, the paragraph that starts with, 'Her milky-white breasts. Tear that page out and burn it and add those ashes in."
1419 
1420I choked. "That will work?"
1421 
1422"Hey, women eat these things up. Trust me."
1423 
1424"Fine," I sighed. "This is the spirit ingredient?"
1425 
1426"Uh-huh," Bob said. He was rocking back and forth on his jawbones in excitement. "Now, just a teaspoon of powdered diamond, and we're done."
1427 
1428I rubbed at my eyes. "Diamond. I don't have any diamonds, Bob."
1429 
1430"I figured. You're cheap, that's why women don't like you. Look, just tear up a fifty into real little pieces and put that in there."
1431 
1432"A fifty-dollar bill?" I demanded.
1433 
1434"Money," Bob opined, "Very sexy."
1435 
1436I muttered and got the remaining fifty out of my pocket, shredding it and tossing it in to complete the potion.
1437 
1438The next step was where the effort came in. Once all the ingredients are mixed together, you have to force enough energy through them to activate them. It isn't the actual physical ingredients that are important - it's the meaning that they carry, too, the significance that they have for the person making the potion, and for those who will be using it.
1439 
1440The energy from magic comes from a lot of places. It can come from a special place (usually some spectacular natural site, like Mount St. Helens, or Old Faithful), from a focus of some kind (like Stonehenge is, on a large scale), or from inside of people. The best magic comes from the inside. Sometimes it's just pure mental effort, raw willpower. Sometimes it's emotions and feelings. All of them are viable tinder to be used for the proverbial fire.
1441 
1442I had a lot of worry to use to fuel the magic, and a lot of annoyance and one hell of a lot of stubbornness. I murmured the requisite quasi-Latin litany over the potions, over and over, feeling a kind of resistance building, just out of the range of the physical senses, but there, nonetheless. I gathered up all my worry and anger and stubbornness and threw them all at the resistance in one big ball, shaping them with the strength and tone of my words. The magic left me in a sudden wave, like a pitcher abruptly emptied out.
1443 
1444"I love this part," Bob said, just as both potions exploded into puffs of greenish smoke and began to froth up over the lips of the beakers.
1445 
1446I sagged onto a stool, and waited for the potions to fizz down, all the strength gone out of me, the weariness building up like a load of bricks on my shoulders. Once the frothing had settled, I leaned over and poured each potion into its own individual sports bottle with a squeeze-top, then labeled the containers with a permanent Magic Marker - very clearly. I don't take chances in getting potions mixed up anymore, ever since the invisibility/hair tonic incident, from when I was trying to grow out a decent beard.
1447 
1448"You won't regret this, Harry," Bob assured me. "That's the best potion I've ever made."
1449 
1450"I made it, not you," I growled. I really was exhausted, now - way too tired to let petty concerns like possible execution keep me from bed.
1451 
1452"Sure, sure," Bob agreed. "Whatever, Harry."
1453 
1454I went around the room putting out all the fires and the kerosene heater, then climbed the ladder back to the basement without saying good night. Bob was chortling happily to himself as I did.
1455 
1456I stumbled to my bed and fell into it. Mister always climbs in and goes to sleep draped over my legs. I waited for him, and a few seconds later he showed up, settling down and purring like a miniature outboard motor.
1457 
1458I struggled to put together an itinerary for the next couple of days through the haze of exhaustion. Talk to the vampire. Locate missing husband. Avoid the wrath of the White Council. Find the killer.
1459 
1460Before he found me.
1461 
1462An unpleasant thought - but I decided that I wasn't going to let that bother me, either, and curled up to go to sleep.
1463 
1464---------
1465 
1466Friday night, I went to see Bianca, the vampiress.
1467 
1468I didn't just leap out of bed and go see her, of course. You don't go walking into the proverbial lion's den lightly. You start with a good breakfast.
1469 
1470My breakfast took place around three in the afternoon, when I woke up to hear my phone ringing. I had to get out of bed and pad into the main room to answer it.
1471 
1472"Mmmrrmmph," I grumbled.
1473 
1474"Dresden," Murphy said, "what can you tell me?"
1475 
1476Murphy sounded stressed. Her voice had that distinct edge that she got whenever she was nervous, and it rankled me, like fingernails scraping on bones. The investigation into Tommy Tomm's murder must not be going well. "Nothing yet," I said. Then I lied to her, a little. "I was up most of the night working, but nothing to show yet."
1477 
1478She answered me with a swear word. "That's not good enough, Harry. I need answers, and I need them yesterday."
1479 
1480"I'll get to it as quick as I can."
1481 
1482"Get to it faster," she snarled. She was angry. Not that this was unusual for Murphy, but it told me that something else was going on. Some people panic when things get rough, harried. Some people fall apart. Murphy got pissed.
1483 
1484"Commissioner riding your back again?" City Police Commissioner Howard Fairweather used Murphy and her team as scapegoats for all sorts of unsolvable crimes that he had dumped in her lap. Fairweather was always lurking around, trying for an opportunity to make Murphy look bad, as though by doing so he could avoid being crucified himself.
1485 
1486"Like a winged monkey from The Wizard of Oz. Kind of makes you wonder who's leaning on him to get things done." Her voice was sour as ripe lemons. I heard her drop an Alka-Seltzer into a glass of liquid. "I'm serious, Harry. You get me those answers I need, and you get them to me fast. I need to know if this was sorcery, and, if so, how it was done and who could have done it. Names, places - I need to know everything."
1487 
1488"It isn't that simple, Mur - "
1489 
1490"Then make it simple. How long before you can tell me? I need an estimate for the Commissioner's investigative committee in fifteen minutes or I might as well turn in my badge today."
1491 
1492I grimaced. If I was able to get something out of Bianca, I might be able to help Murph on the investigation - but if it proved fruitless, I was going to have spent the entire evening doing nothing productive, and Murphy needed her answers now. Maybe I should have made a stay-awake potion. "Does the committee work weekends?"
1493 
1494Murphy snorted. "Are you kidding?"
1495 
1496"We'll have something by Monday, then."
1497 
1498"You can have it figured out by then?" she asked.
1499 
1500"I don't know how much good it will do you, even if I can puzzle it out. I hope you've got more to go on than this."
1501 
1502I heard her sigh into the phone and drink the fizzy drink. "Don't let me down, Harry."
1503 
1504Time to change the subject, before she pinned me down and smelled me lying. I had no intention of doing the forbidden research if I could find a way out of doing it. "No luck with Bianca?"
1505 
1506Another swear word. "That bitch won't talk to us. Just smiles and nods and blows smoke, makes small talk, and crosses her legs. You should have seen Carmichael drooling."
1507 
1508"Well. Tough to blame him, maybe. I hear she's cute. Listen, Murph. What if I just - "
1509 
1510"No, Harry. Absolutely not. You will not go over to the Velvet Room, you will not talk to that woman, and you will not get involved in this."
1511 
1512"Lieutenant Murphy," I drawled. "A little jealous, are we?"
1513 
1514"Don't flatter yourself. You're a civilian, Dresden, even if you do have your investigator's license. If you get your ass laid out in the hospital or the morgue, it'll be me that suffers for it."
1515 
1516"Murph, I'm touched."
1517 
1518"I'll touch your head to a brick wall a few times if you cross me on this, Harry." Her voice was sharp, vehement.
1519 
1520"Hey, wind down, Murph. If you don't want me to go, no problem." Whups. A lie. She'd be all over that like a troll on a billy goat.
1521 
1522"You're a lousy liar, Harry. Godammit, I ought to take you down to lockup just to keep you from - "
1523 
1524"What?" I said, loudly, into the receiver. "Murph, you're breaking up. I can't hear you. Damn phone again. Call me back." Then I hung up on her.
1525 
1526Mister padded over to me and batted at my leg. He watched me with serious green eyes as I leaned down and unplugged the phone as it started to ring again.
1527 
1528"Okay, Mister. You hungry?"
1529 
1530I got us breakfast. Leftover steak sandwich for him, SpaghettiOs heated up on the wood stove for me. I rationed out my last can of Coke, which Mister craves at least as badly as I do, and by the time I was done eating and drinking and petting, I was awake and thinking again - and getting ready for sundown.
1531 
1532Daylight savings time hadn't cut in yet, and dark would fall around six. I had about two hours to get set to go.
1533 
1534You might think you know a thing or two about vampires. Maybe some of the stuff you've heard is accurate. Likely, it's not. Either way, I wasn't looking forward to the prospect of going into Bianca's lair to demand information from her. I was going to assume that things were going to get ugly before all was said and done, just to make sure I didn't get caught with my staff down.
1535 
1536Wizardry is all about thinking ahead, about being prepared. Wizards aren't really superhuman. We just have a leg up on seeing things more clearly than other people, and being able to use the extra information we have for our benefit. Hell, the word wizard comes from the same root as wise. We know things. We aren't any stronger or faster than anyone else. We don't even have all that much more going in the mental department. But we're god-awful sneaky, and if we get the chance to get set for something, we can do some impressive things.
1537 
1538As a wizard, if you're ready to address a problem, then it's likely that you'll be able to come up with something that will let you deal with it. So, I got together all the things I thought I might need: I made sure my cane was polished and ready. I put my silver knife in a sheath that hung just under my left arm. I put the escape potion in its plastic squeeze-bottle into my duster's pocket. I put on my favorite talisman, a silver pentacle on a silver chain - it had been my mother's. My father had passed it down to me. And I put a small, folded piece of white cloth into my pocket.
1539 
1540I had several enchanted items around - or half-enchanted items, anyway. Carrying out a full enchantment is expensive and time-consuming, and I just couldn't afford to do it very much. We blue-collar wizards just have to sling a few spells out where we can and hope they don't go stale at the wrong time. I would have been a lot more comfortable if I had been carrying my blasting rod or my staff, but that would be like showing up at Bianca's door in a tank, walking in carrying a machine gun and a flamethrower, while announcing my intention to fight.
1541 
1542I had to maintain a fine balance between going in ready for trouble and going in asking for trouble.
1543 
1544Not that I was afraid, mind you. I didn't think Bianca would be willing to cause problems for a mortal wizard. Bianca wouldn't want to piss off the White Council by messing with me.
1545 
1546On the other hand, I wasn't exactly the White Council's favorite guy. They might even look the other way if Bianca decided to take me quietly out of the picture.
1547 
1548Careful, Harry, I warned myself. Don't get entirely paranoid. If you get like that, you'll be building your little apartment into a Basement of Solitude.
1549 
1550"What do you think?" I asked Mister, once I was decked out in what paraphernalia I was willing to carry.
1551 
1552Mister went to the door and batted at it insistently.
1553 
1554"Everyone's a critic. Fine, fine." I sighed. I let him out, then I went out, got into my car and drove down to the Velvet Room in its expensive lakeside location.
1555 
1556Bianca runs her business out of a huge old mansion from the early days of the Roaring Twenties. Rumor has it that the infamous Al Capone had it built for one of his mistresses.
1557 
1558There was a gate with an iron fence and a security guard. I pulled the Beetle up into the little swath of driveway that began at the street and ended at the fence. There was a hiccoughing rattle from back in the engine as I brought the machine to a halt. I rolled down the window and stuck my head out, peering back. Something went whoomph, and then black smoke poured out from the bottom of the car and scuttled down the slope of the drive and into the street.
1559 
1560I winced. The engine gave an almost apologetic rattle and shuddered to its death. Great. Now I had no ride home. I got out of the Beetle, and stood mourning it for a moment.
1561 
1562The security guard on the other side of the gate was a blocky man, not overly tall but overly muscled and hiding it under an expensive suit. He studied me with attack-dog eyes, and then said, through the gate, "Do you have an appointment?"
1563 
1564"No," I told him. "But I think Bianca will want to see me."
1565 
1566He looked unimpressed. "I'm sorry," he said. "Bianca is out for the evening."
1567 
1568Things are never simple anymore. I shrugged at him, folded my arms, and leaned on the hood of the Beetle. "Suit yourself. I'll just stay until a tow truck comes by, then, until I can get this thing out of the drive for you."
1569 
1570He stared at me, his eyes narrowed down to tiny slits with the effort of thinking. Eventually, the thoughts got to his brain, got processed, and sent back out with a message to "pass the buck."
1571 
1572"I'll call your name in," he said.
1573 
1574"Good man," I approved. "You won't be sorry."
1575 
1576"Name," he growled.
1577 
1578"Harry Dresden."
1579 
1580If he recognized my name, it didn't show on his face. He glared at me and the Beetle then walked a few paces off, lifting a cellular phone from his pocket and to his ear.
1581 
1582I listened. Listening isn't hard to do. No one has practice at it, nowadays, but you can train yourself to pay attention to your senses if you work at it long enough.
1583 
1584"I've got a guy down here says that Bianca will want to talk to him," the guard said. "Says his name is Harry Dresden." He was silent for a moment. I couldn't quite make out the buzz of the other voice, other than that it was female. "Uh-huh," he said. He glanced back at me. "Uh-huh," he said again. "Sure. Sure, I will. Of course, ma'am."
1585 
1586I reached in through the window of the Beetle and got out my cane. I rested it on the concrete beside my boots and tapped it a few times, as though impatient.
1587 
1588The guard turned back to me, leaned over to one side, and pushed a button somewhere. The gate buzzed and clicked open.
1589 
1590"Come on in, Mr. Dresden," he said. "I can have someone come tow your car, if you like."
1591 
1592"Super," I told him. I gave him the name of the wrecker Mike has a deal with and told him to tell the guy that it was Harry's car again. Fido the Guard dutifully noted this down, writing on a small notebook he drew from a pocket. While he did, I walked past him toward the house, clicking my cane on the concrete with every pace.
1593 
1594"Stop," he told me, his voice calm and confident. People don't speak with that kind of absolute authority unless they have a gun in their hands. I stopped.
1595 
1596"Put the cane down," he told me, "And put your arms up. You are to be searched before you are allowed inside."
1597 
1598I sighed, did what he said, and let him pat me down. I didn't turn around to face him, but I could smell the metal of his gun. He found the knife and took it. His fingers brushed the nape of my neck, felt the chain there.
1599 
1600"What's this?" he said.
1601 
1602"Pentacle," I told him.
1603 
1604"Let me see it. Use one hand."
1605 
1606I used my left to draw it out of my shirt and show it to him, a silver five-pointed star within a circle, all smooth geometry. He grunted, and said, "Fine." The search went on, and he found the plastic squeeze-bottle. He took it out of my pocket, opened it, and sniffed at it.
1607 
1608"What's this?"
1609 
1610"A health cola," I told him.
1611 
1612"Smells like shit," he said, capped it, and put it back in my pocket.
1613 
1614"What about my cane?"
1615 
1616"Returned when you leave," he said.
1617 
1618Damn. My knife and my cane had been my only physical lines of defense. Anything else I did would have to rely wholly upon magic and that could be dicey on the best of days. It was enough to rattle me.
1619 
1620Of course, Fido the Guard had missed a couple of things. First, he'd overlooked the clean white handkerchief in my pocket. Second, he'd passed me on with my pentacle still upon my neck. He probably figured that since it wasn't a crucifix or a cross, that I couldn't use it to keep Bianca away from me.
1621 
1622Which wasn't true. Vampires (and other such creatures) don't respond to symbols as such. They respond to the power that accompanies an act of faith. I couldn't ward off a vampire mosquito with my faith in the Almighty - He and I have just never seemed to connect. But the pentacle was a symbol of magic itself, and I had plenty of faith in that.
1623 
1624And, of course, Fido had overlooked my getaway potion. Bianca really ought to trust her guards with more awareness of the supernatural and what sort of things to look for.
1625 
1626The house itself was elegant, very roomy, with the high ceilings and the broad floors that they just don't make anymore. A well-groomed young woman with a short, straight haircut greeted me in the enormous entry hall. I was passing polite to her, and she showed me to a library, its walls lined with old books in leather bindings, similar to the leather-cushioned chairs around the enormous old dogfoot table in the room's center.
1627 
1628I took a seat and waited. And waited. And waited. More than half an hour went by before Bianca finally arrived.
1629 
1630She came into the room like a candle burning with a cold, clear flame. Her hair was a burnished shade of auburn that was too dark to cast back any ruddy highlights, but did anyway. Her eyes were dark, clear, her complexion flawlessly smooth and elegantly graced with cosmetics. She was not a tall woman, but shapely, wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline and a slash in one side that showed off a generous portion of pale thigh. Black gloves covered her hands to above the elbows, and her three-hundred-dollar shoes were a study in high-heeled torture devices. She looked too good to be true.
1631 
1632"Mister Dresden," she greeted me. "This is an unexpected pleasure."
1633 
1634I rose when she entered the room. "Madame Bianca," I replied, nodding to her. "We meet at last. Hearsay neglected to mention how lovely you are."
1635 
1636She laughed, lips shaping the sounds, head falling back just enough to show a flash of pale throat. "A gentleman, they said. I see that they were correct. It is a charmingly passe thing to be a gentleman in this country."
1637 
1638"You and I are of another world," I said.
1639 
1640She approached me and extended her hand, a motion oozing feminine grace. I bowed over her hand briefly, taking it and brushing my lips against the back of her glove. "Do you really think I'm beautiful, Mister Dresden?" she asked me.
1641 
1642"As lovely as a star, Madame."
1643 
1644"Polite and a pretty one, too," she murmured. Her eyes flickered over me, from head to toe, but even she avoided meeting gazes with me, whether from a desire to avoid inadvertently directing her power at me, or being on the receiving end of mine, I couldn't tell. She continued into the room, and stopped beside one of the comfortable chairs. As a matter of course, I stepped around the table, and drew out the chair for her, seating her. She crossed her legs, in that dress, in those shoes, and made it look good. I blinked for just a moment, then returned to my own seat.
1645 
1646"So, Mister Dresden. What brings you to my humble house? Care for an evening of entertainment? I quite assure you that you will never have another experience like it." She placed her hands in her lap, smiling at me.
1647 
1648I smiled at her, and put one hand into my pocket, onto the white handkerchief. "No, thank you. I came to talk."
1649 
1650Her lips parted in a silent, ah. "I see. About what, if I might ask?"
1651 
1652"About Jennifer Stanton. And her murder."
1653 
1654I had all of a second's warning. Bianca's eyes narrowed, then widened, like those of a cat about to spring. Then she was coming at me over the table, faster than a breath, her arms extended toward my throat.
1655 
1656I toppled over backward in my chair. Even though I'd started to move first, it almost wasn't enough to get away from her reaching nails in time. One grazed my throat with a hot sensation of pain, and she kept coming, following me down to the floor, those rich lips drawn back from sharp fangs.
1657 
1658I jerked my hand out of my pocket, and flapped open my white hanky at her, releasing the image of sunlight I'd been storing for use in potions. It lit up the room for a moment, brilliant.
1659 
1660The light smashed into Bianca, hurled her back across the old table into one of the shelves, and tore pieces of flesh away from her like bits of rotten meat being peeled off a carcass by a sandblaster. She screamed, and the flesh around her mouth sloughed and peeled away like a snake's scales.
1661 
1662I had never seen a real vampire before. I would have time to be terrified later. I took in the details as I tugged my talisman off over my neck. It had a batlike face, horrid and ugly, the head too big for its body. Gaping, hungry jaws. Its shoulders were hunched and powerful. Membranous wings stretched between the joints of its almost skeletal arms. Flabby black breasts hung before it, spilling out of the black dress that no longer looked feminine. Its eyes were wide, black, and staring, and a kind of leathery, slimy hide covered its flesh, like an inner tube lathered with Vaseline, though there were tiny holes corroded in it by the sunlight I had brought with me.
1663 
1664It recovered quickly, crouching and spreading long arms that ended in claw-tipped fingers to either side with a hiss of rage.
1665 
1666I drew my pentacle into my fist, raised it like every vampire slayer you ever saw does it, and said, "Jesus Christ, lady. I just came here to talk."
1667 
1668The vampire hissed and started toward me with a gangling, weirdly graceful step. Its clawed feet were still wearing the three-hundred-dollar black pumps.
1669 
1670"Back," I said, taking a step towards it, myself. The pentacle began to burn with the cold, clear light of applied will and belief - my faith, if you will, that it could turn such a monster aside.
1671 
1672It hissed, and turned its face aside, lifting its membranous arms to shield its eyes from the light. It took one step back, and then another, until its hunched back was pressed against a wall of books.
1673 
1674Now what did I do? I wasn't going to go try to put a stake through her heart. But if I lowered my will, she might come at me again - and I didn't think I had anything, even the quickest evocations, that I could get out of my mouth before she tore it off of my head. And even if I got past her, she probably had mortal lackies, like the security guard at the gate, who would be happy to kill me if they saw me trashing their mistress.
1675 
1676"You killed her," the vampire snarled, and its voice was exactly the same, sultry and feminine, even though twisted by rage and coming from that horrid mouth. It was unsettling. "You killed Jennifer. She was mine, mageling."
1677 
1678"Look," I told her. "I didn't come here for any of this. And the police know I'm here. Save yourself a lot of trouble. Sit down, talk with me, and then we'll both go away happy. Christ, Bianca, do you think that if I'd killed Jennifer and Tommy Tomm that I'd just be waltzing in here like this?"
1679 
1680"You expect me to believe that you didn't? You will never leave this house alive."
1681 
1682I was feeling angry myself, and frightened. Christ, even the vampire thought I was the bad guy. "What'll it take to convince you that I didn't do it?"
1683 
1684Black, bottomless eyes stared at me through the burning fire of my faith. I could feel some sort of power there, trying to get at me, and held off by the force of my will, just as the creature itself was. The vampire snarled, "Lower the amulet, wizard."
1685 
1686"If I do, are you going to come at my throat again?"
1687 
1688"If you do not, I most certainly will."
1689 
1690Shaky logic, that. I tried to work through the situation from her point of view. She had been scared when I showed up. She'd had me searched and divested of weapons as best she could. If she thought that I was Jennifer Stanton's murderer, would the mere mention of that name have brought that sudden violence out of her? I began to get that sinking feeling you get when you realize that not everything is as it appears.
1691 
1692"If I put this down," I told her, "I want your word that you'll sit down and talk to me. I swear to you, by fire and wind, that I had nothing to do with her death."
1693 
1694The vampire hissed at me, shielding its eyes from the light with one taloned hand. "Why should I believe you?"
1695 
1696"Why should I believe you!" I countered.
1697 
1698Yellowed fangs showed in its mouth. "If you do not trust my word, wizard, then how can I trust yours?"
1699 
1700"Then you give it?"
1701 
1702The vampire stiffened, and though its voice was still harsh with rage and pain, still sexy as a silk shirt without any buttons, I thought I heard the ring of truth in its words. "You have my promise. Lower your talisman, and we will talk."
1703 
1704Time for another calculated risk. I tossed the pentacle onto the table. The cold light drained away, leaving the room lit by mere electricity once more.
1705 
1706The vampire slowly lowered its arms, blinking its too-big eyes at me and then at the pentacle upon the table. A long, pink tongue flickered out nervously over its jaws and lower face, then slipped back into its mouth. It was surprised, I realized. Surprised that I had done it.
1707 
1708My heart was racing, but I forced my fear back down out of my forebrain and into the background. Vampires are like demons, like wolves, like sharks. You don't let them think that you are potential food and get their respect at the same time. The vampire's true appearance was grotesque - but it wasn't as bad as some of the things I had seen in my day. Some demons were a lot worse, and some of the Elder Things could rip your mind apart just by letting you look at them. I regarded the creature with a level gaze.
1709 
1710"How about it?" I said. "Let's talk. The longer we sit around staring at one another, the longer Jennifer's killer stays free."
1711 
1712The vampire stared at me for a moment more. Then it shuddered, drawing its wing membranes about itself. Black slime turned into patches of pale, perfect flesh that spread over the vampire's dark skin like a growth of fungus. The flabby black breasts swelled into softly rounded, rosy-tipped perfection once more.
1713 
1714Bianca stood before me a moment later, settling her dress back into modesty again, her arms crossed over her as though she was cold, her back stiff and her eyes angry. She was no less beautiful than she had been a few moments before, not a line or a curve any different. But for me, the glamour had been ruined. She still had the same eyes, dark and fathomless and alien. I would always remember what she truly looked like, beneath her flesh mask.
1715 
1716I stooped and picked up my chair, righting it. Then I went around the table, turned my back on her, and stood hers up as well. Then I held it out for her, just as I had when I had entered the room.
1717 
1718She stared at me for a long minute. Some expression flickered across her face. She was disconcerted by my apparent lack of concern about the way she looked, and it told. Then she lifted her chin, proud, and settled gracefully into the chair again, regal as any queen, every line stiff with anger. The Old World rules of courtesy and hospitality were holding - but for how long?
1719 
1720I returned to my seat and leaned over to pick up my white handkerchief, toying with it. Bianca's angry eyes flickered down to it, and once again she repeated the nervous gesture of licking her teeth and lips, though this time her tongue looked human.
1721 
1722"So. Tell me about Jennifer and Tommy Tomm," I said.
1723 
1724She shook her head, almost sneering. "I can tell you what I told the police. I don't know who could have killed them."
1725 
1726"Come on, Bianca. We don't have to hide things from one another. We're not a part of the mortal world."
1727 
1728Her eyebrows slanted down, revealing more anger. "No. You're the only one in the city with the kind of skill required to cast that sort of spell. If you didn't do it, I have no idea who else could have."
1729 
1730"You don't have any enemies? Anyone who might have been wanting to make an impression on you?"
1731 
1732A bitter little line appeared at the corner of her lips, something that was not quite a smile. "Of course. But none of them could have managed what happened to Tommy and Jenny." She drummed her fingernails over the tabletop, leaving little score marks in the wood. "I don't let any enemies that dangerous run around alive. At least, not for long."
1733 
1734I settled back in my chair, frowning, and did my damnedest not to let her see how scared I was. "How did you know Tommy Tomm?"
1735 
1736She shrugged, her shoulders gleaming like porcelain, and just as brittle. "You may have thought he was just a bruiser for Johnny Marcone, Mister Dresden. But Tommy was a very gentle and considerate man, underneath. He was always good to his women. He treated them like real people." Her gaze shifted from side to side, not lifting. "Like human beings. I wouldn't take on a client if I thought he wouldn't be a gentleman, but Tommy was better than most. I met him years ago, elsewhere. I always made sure he had someone to take care of him when he wanted an evening of company."
1737 
1738"You sent Jennifer out to him that night?"
1739 
1740She nodded, her expression bleak. Her nails drummed the tabletop again, gouging out more wood.
1741 
1742"Was there anyone else he saw on a regular basis? Maybe someone who would have talked to him, known what was going on in his life?"
1743 
1744Bianca shook her head. "No," she said. But then she frowned.
1745 
1746I just watched her, and absently tossed the handkerchief on the tabletop. Her eyes flicked to it, then up to mine.
1747 
1748I didn't flinch. I met her bottomless gaze and quirked my mouth up in a little smile, as though I had something more, and worse, to pull out of my hat if she wanted to come after me again. I saw her anger, her rage, and for just a moment I got a peek inside, saw the source of it. She was furious that I had seen her true form, horrified and embarrassed that I had stripped her disguise away and seen the creature beneath. And she was afraid that I could take away even her mask, forever, with my power.
1749 
1750More than anything else, Bianca wanted to be beautiful. And tonight, I had destroyed her illusion. I had rattled her gilded little world. She sure as hell wasn't going to let me forget that.
1751 
1752She shuddered and jerked her eyes away, furious and frightened at the same time, before I could see any deeper into her - or she into me. "If I had not given you my word, Dresden," she whispered, "I would kill you this instant."
1753 
1754"That would be unfortunate," I said. I kept my voice hard. "You should know the risks in a wizard's death curse. You've got something to lose, Bianca. And even if you could take me out, you can bet your pretty ass I'd be dragging you into hell with me."
1755 
1756She stiffened, then turned her head to one side, and let her fingers go limp. It was a silent, bitter surrender. She didn't move quickly enough for me to miss seeing a tear streak down one cheek.
1757 
1758I'd made the vampire cry. Great. I felt like a real superhero. Harry Dresden, breaker of monsters' hearts.
1759 
1760"There may be one person who might know something," she said, her lovely voice dull, flat, lifeless. "I had a woman who worked for me. Linda Randall. She and Jennifer went out on calls together, when customers wanted that sort of thing. They were close."
1761 
1762"Where is she now?" I asked.
1763 
1764"She's working as a driver for someone. Some rich couple who wanted a servant that would do more than windows. She wasn't the type I usually keep around in any case. I think Jennifer had her phone number. I can have someone fetch it for you, Mister Dresden." She said my name as though it were something bitter and poisonous that she wanted to spit out.
1765 
1766"Thank you. That would be very kind." I kept my tone carefully formal, neutral. Formality and a good bluff were all that was keeping her from my throat.
1767 
1768She remained quiet, controlling her evident emotions, before she started to look up again, at last. Her eyes froze, then widened when they came to my throat. Her expression went perfectly, inhumanly still.
1769 
1770I grew tense. Not just tense, but steel-tight, wire-bound, spring-coiled. I was out of tricks and weapons. If she came after me now, I wasn't going to get the chance to defend myself. There was no way I would be able to drink the potion before she tore me apart. I gripped the arms of my chair hard, to keep myself from bolting. Do not show fear. Do not run away. It would only make her chase me, snap her instincts into the reaction of pursuing the prey.
1771 
1772"You're bleeding, Mister Dresden," she whispered.
1773 
1774I lifted my hand, slowly, to my throat, where her nails had scored me, earlier. My fingertips came away slick with my own blood.
1775 
1776Bianca kept on staring. Her tongue flickered around her mouth again. "Cover it," she whispered. A strange, mewling sound came out of her mouth. "Cover it, Dresden."
1777 
1778I picked up my handkerchief, and pressed it over my throat. Bianca blinked her eyes closed, slowly, and then, turned away, half-hunched over her stomach. She didn't stand up.
1779 
1780"Go," she told me. "Go now. Paula's coming. I'll send her down to the gate with the phone number in a little while."
1781 
1782I walked toward the door, but then stopped, glancing back at her. There was a sort of horrid fascination to it, to knowing what was beneath the alluring exterior, the flesh mask, but seeing it twist and writhe with need.
1783 
1784"Go," Bianca whimpered. Fury, hunger, and some emotion I couldn't even begin to fathom made her voice stretched out, thinner. "Go. And do not think that I will not remember this night. Do not think that I will not make you regret it."
1785 
1786The door to the library opened, and the straight-haired young woman who had greeted me earlier entered the room. She gave me a passing glance, then walked past me, kneeling at Bianca's side. Paula, I presumed.
1787 
1788Paula murmured something too soft to hear, gently brushing Bianca's hair back from her face with one hand. Then she unbuttoned the sleeve of her blouse, rolled it up past her elbow, and pressed her wrist to Bianca's mouth.
1789 
1790I had a good view of what happened. Bianca's tongue flashed out, long and pink and sticky, smearing Paula's wrist with shining saliva. Paula shuddered at the touch, her breath coming quicker. Her nipples stiffened beneath the thin fabric of the blouse, and she let her head fall slowly backwards. Her eyes were glazed over with a narcotic languor, like a junkie who had just shot up.
1791 
1792Bianca's fangs extended and slashed open Paula's pale, pretty skin. Blood welled. Bianca's tongue began to flash in and out, faster than could really be seen, lapping the blood up as quickly as it appeared. Her dark eyes were narrowed, distant. Paula was gasping and moaning in pleasure, her entire body shivering.
1793 
1794I felt a little sick and withdrew step by step, not turning my back on the scene. Paula toppled slowly to the floor, writhing her way toward unconsciousness with an evident glee. Bianca followed her down, unladylike now, a creature of bestial hunger. She crouched over the supine woman, and in the hunch of her pale shoulders I could see the batlike thing beneath the flesh mask, lapping up Paula's blood.
1795 
1796I got out of there, fast, shutting the door behind me. My heart was hammering, too quickly. The scene with Paula might have aroused me, if I hadn't seen what was underneath Bianca's mask. Instead, it only made me sick to my stomach, afraid. The woman had given herself to that thing, as quickly and as willingly as any woman to her lover.
1797 
1798The saliva, some part of me rationalized, desperate to latch on to something cold and logical and detached. The saliva was probably narcotic, perhaps even addictive. It would explain Paula's behavior, the need to have more of her drug. But I wondered if Paula would have been so eager, had she known Bianca's true face.
1799 
1800Now I understood why the White Council was so hard-nosed with vampires. If they could get that kind of control over a mortal, what would happen if they could get their hooks into a wizard? If they could addict a wizard to them as thoroughly as Bianca had the girl I'd just seen? Surely, it wasn't possible.
1801 
1802But if it wasn't, why would the Council be so nervous about them?
1803 
1804Do not think I will not make you regret it, she had said.
1805 
1806I felt cold as I hurried down the dark driveway toward the gate.
1807 
1808Fido the security guard was waiting for me at the front gate, and passed back my knife and my cane without a word. A tow truck was out front, latching itself to the Beetle. I put one hand on the cold metal of the gate and kept the other, with its handkerchief, pressed to my throat, as I watched George the tow-truck guy work. He recognized me and waved, flashing a grin that showed the white teeth in his dark face. I nodded back. I wasn't up to answering the smile.
1809 
1810A few minutes later, the guard's cellular phone beeped at him. He withdrew several paces, repeated several affirmatives, then took a notebook from his pocket, writing something down. He put the phone away and walked back over to me, offering me the piece of paper.
1811 
1812"What's this?" I said.
1813 
1814"The phone number you were looking for. And a message."
1815 
1816I glanced at the paper, but avoided reading it just then. "I thought Bianca was going to send Paula down with it."
1817 
1818He didn't say anything. But his jaw tightened, and I saw his eyes flick toward the house, where his mistress was. He swallowed. Paula wasn't coming out of the house, and Fido was afraid.
1819 
1820I took the paper. I kept my hand from shaking as I looked at it.
1821 
1822On it was a phone number. And a single word: Regret.
1823 
1824I folded the piece of paper in half and put it away into the pocket of my duster. Another enemy. Super. At least with my hands in my pockets, Fido couldn't see them shaking. Maybe I should have listened to Murphy. Maybe I should have stayed home and played with some nice, safe, forbidden black magic instead.
1825 
1826---------
1827 
1828I departed Bianca's place in George's loaner, a wood-panel Studebaker that grumbled and growled and squealed everywhere it went. I stopped at a pay phone, a short distance from the house, and called Linda Randall's number.
1829 
1830The phone rang several times before a quiet, dusky contralto answered, "Beckitts', this is Linda."
1831 
1832"Linda Randall?" I asked.
1833 
1834"Mmmm," she answered. She had a furry, velvety voice, something tactile. "Who's this?"
1835 
1836"My name is Harry Dresden. I was wondering if I could talk to you."
1837 
1838"Harry who?" she asked.
1839 
1840"Dresden. I'm a private investigator."
1841 
1842She laughed, the sound rich enough to roll around naked in. "Investigating my privates, Mr. Dresden? I like you already."
1843 
1844I coughed. "Ah, yes. Ms. Randall - "
1845 
1846"Miss," she said, cutting in. "Miss Randall. I'm not occupied. At the moment."
1847 
1848"Miss Randall," I amended. "I'd like to ask you some questions about Jennifer Stanton, if I could."
1849 
1850Silence on the other end of the line. I could hear some sounds in the background, a radio playing, perhaps, and a recorded voice talking about white zones and red zones and loading and unloading of vehicles.
1851 
1852"Miss Randall?"
1853 
1854"No," she said.
1855 
1856"It won't take long. And I assure you that you aren't the subject of anything I'm doing. If you could just give me a few moments of your time."
1857 
1858"No," she told me. "I'm on duty, and will be the rest of the night. I don't have time for this."
1859 
1860"Jennifer Stanton was a friend of yours. She's been murdered. If there's anything you could tell me that might help - "
1861 
1862She cut me off again. "There isn't," she said. "Good-bye, Mr. Dresden."
1863 
1864The line went dead.
1865 
1866I scowled at the phone, frustrated. That was it, then. I had gone through all the preparation, the face-off with Bianca, and possible future trouble for nothing.
1867 
1868No way, I thought. No way in hell.
1869 
1870Bianca had said that Linda Randall was working as a driver for someone, the Beckitts, I presumed, whoever they were. I'd recognized the voice in the background as a recorded message that played outside the concourses at O'Hare airport. So she was in a car at the airport, maybe waiting to pick up the Beckitts, and definitely not there for long.
1871 
1872With no time to lose, I kicked the wheezing old Studebaker into gear and drove to O'Hare. It was far easier to blow off someone over the phone than it was to do it in person. There were several concourses, but I had to trust to luck - luck to guide me to the right one, and luck to get me there before Miss I-am-not-occupied Randall had the opportunity to pick up her employers and leave. And a little more luck to keep the Studebaker running all the way to O'Hare.
1873 
1874The Studebaker did make it all the way there, and on the second concourse I came across a silver baby limo, idling in a parking zone. The interior was darkened, so I couldn't see inside very well. It was a Friday evening, and the place was busy, business folk in their sober suits returning home from long trips about the country. Cars continually purred in and out of the semicircular drive. A uniformed cop was directing traffic, keeping people from doing brainless things like parking in the middle of one of the traffic lanes in order to load up the car.
1875 
1876I swerved the old Studebaker into a parking place, racing a Volvo for it and winning by dint of driving the older and heavier vehicle and having the more suicidal attitude. I kept an eye on the silver limo as I got out of the car and strode over to a bank of pay phones. I plopped my quarter in, and once more dialed the number provided by Bianca.
1877 
1878The phone rang. In the silver limo, someone stirred.
1879 
1880"Beckitts', this is Linda," she purred.
1881 
1882"Hello, Linda," I said. "This is Harry Dresden again."
1883 
1884I could almost hear her smirk. There was a flicker of light from inside the car, the silhouette of a woman's face, then the orange glow of a cigarette being lit. "I thought I told you I didn't want to talk to you, Mr. Dresden."
1885 
1886"I like women who play hard to get."
1887 
1888She laughed that delicious laugh. I could see her head move in the darkened car when she did. "I'm getting harder to get by the second. Good-bye again." She hung up on me.
1889 
1890I smiled, hung up the phone, walked over to the limo, and rapped on the window.
1891 
1892It buzzed down, and a woman in her mid-twenties arched an eyebrow at me. She had beautiful eyes the color of rain clouds, a little too much eye shadow, and brilliant scarlet lipstick on her cupid's-bow lips. Her hair was a medium brown, drawn back into a tight braid that made her cheeks look almost sharp, severe, except for her forelocks, which hung down close to her eyes in insolent disarray. She had a predatory look to her, harsh, sharp. She wore a crisp white shirt, grey slacks, and held a lit cigarette in one hand. The smoke curled up around my nose, and I exhaled, trying to push it away.
1893 
1894She looked me up and down, frankly assessing. "Don't tell me. Harry Dresden."
1895 
1896"I really need to talk to you, Miss Randall. It won't take long."
1897 
1898She glanced at her watch and then at the terminal doors. Then back up at me. "Well. You've got me cornered, don't you? I'm at your mercy." Her lips quirked. She took a drag of her cigarette. "And I like a man who just won't stop."
1899 
1900I cleared my throat again. The woman was attractive, but not unduly so. Yet there was something about her that revved my engines, something about the way she held her head or shaped her words that bypassed my brain and went straight to my hormones. Best to head directly to the point and minimize my chances of looking moronic. "How did you know Jennifer Stanton?"
1901 
1902She looked up at me through long lashes. "Intimately."
1903 
1904Ahem. "You, uh. Worked for Bianca with her."
1905 
1906Linda blew more smoke. "That prissy little bitch. Yes, I worked with Jen. We were even roommates for a while. Shared a bed." She wrapped her lips around the last word, drawing it out with a little tremor that dripped wicked, secret laughter.
1907 
1908"Did you know Tommy Tomm?" I asked.
1909 
1910"Oh, sure. Fantastic in bed." She lowered her eyes and shifted on the car's seat, lowering one of her hands out of sight, and making me wonder where it had gone. "He was a regular customer. Maybe twice a month Jen and I would go over to his place, have a little party." She leaned toward me. "He could do things to a woman that would turn her into a real animal, Harry Dresden. You know what I mean? Growling and snarling. In heat."
1911 
1912She was driving me crazy. That voice of hers inspired the kinds of dreams you wish you could remember more clearly in the morning. Her expression promised to show me things that you don't talk about with other people, if I would give her half a chance. Your job, Harry. Think about your job.
1913 
1914Some days I really hate my job.
1915 
1916"When was the last time you talked to her?"
1917 
1918She took another drag, and this time I saw a small shake to her fingers, one she quickly hid. Just not quickly enough. She was nervous. Nervous enough to be shaking, and now I could see what she was up to. She was wearing the alley-cat mask, appealing to my glands instead of my brain, and trying to distract me with it, trying to keep me from finding something out.
1919 
1920I'm not inhuman. I can be distracted by a pretty face, or body, like any other youngish man. Linda Randall was damned good at playing the part. But I do not like to be made the fool.
1921 
1922So, Miss Sex Goddess. What are you hiding?
1923 
1924I cleared my throat, and asked, mildly, "When was the last time you spoke to Jennifer Stanton, Miss Randall?"
1925 
1926She narrowed her eyes at me. She wasn't dumb, whatever else she was. She'd seen me reading her, seeing through her pretense. The flirting manner vanished. "Are you a cop?" she demanded.
1927 
1928I shook my head. "Scout's honor. I'm just trying to find out what happened to her."
1929 
1930"Dammit," she said, softly. She flicked the butt of the cigarette out onto the concrete and blew out a mouthful of smoke. "Look. I tell you anything and see a cop coming around, I never saw you before. Got it?"
1931 
1932I nodded.
1933 
1934"I talked to Jen on Wednesday evening. She called me. It was Tommy's birthday. She wanted to get together again." Her mouth twisted. "Sort of a reunion."
1935 
1936I glanced about and leaned down closer to her. "Did you?"
1937 
1938Her eyes were roving about now, nervous, like a cat who has found herself shut into a small room. "No," she said. "I had to work. I wanted to, but - "
1939 
1940"Did she say anything unusual? Anything that might have made you suspect she was in danger?"
1941 
1942She shook her head again. "No, nothing. We hadn't talked much for a while. I didn't see her as much after I split from the Velvet Room."
1943 
1944I frowned at her. "Do you know what else she was doing? Anything she might have been involved with that could have gotten her hurt?"
1945 
1946She shook her head. "No, no. Nothing like that. That wasn't her style. She was sweet. A lot of girls get like - They get pretty jaded, Mr. Dresden. But it never really touched her. She made people feel better about themselves somehow." She looked away. "I could never do that. All I did was get them off."
1947 
1948"There's nothing you can tell me? Nothing you can think of?"
1949 
1950She pressed her lips together and shook her head. She shook her head, and she lied to me as she did it. I was just sure of it. She was closing in, tightening up, and if there was nothing to tell me, she wouldn't be trying to hide it. She must know something - unless she was just shutting down because I'd stomped all over her feelings, as I had Bianca's. Either way, she wasn't telling me anything else.
1951 
1952I tightened my fist, frustrated. If Linda Randall had no information for me, I was at a dead end. And I'd romped all over another woman's feelings - two in one night. You are on a roll, Dresden. Even if one of them had been something not-human.
1953 
1954"Why," I asked her, the words slipping out before I thought about them. "Why the slut act?"
1955 
1956She looked up at me again, and smirked. I saw the subtle shifting in her, magnifying that sort of animal appeal she had, once more, as she had been doing when I first approached her - but it didn't hide the self-loathing in her eyes. I looked away, quickly, before I had to see any more of it. I got the feeling that I didn't want to see Linda Randall's soul. "Because it's what I do, Mr. Dresden. For some people it's drugs. Booze. For me, orgasms. Sex. Passion. Just another addict. City's full of them." She glanced aside. "Next best thing to love. And it keeps me in work. Excuse me."
1957 
1958She swung open the door. I took a quick step back and out of her way as she moved to the back of the limo, long legs taking long steps, and opened the trunk.
1959 
1960A tall couple, both wearing glasses and dressed in stylish grey business clothes emerged from the terminal and approached the limo. They had the look of lifestyle professionals, the kind that have a career and no kids, with enough money and time to spend on making themselves look good - a NordicTrack couple. He was carrying an overnight bag over his shoulder and a small suitcase in one hand, while she bore only a briefcase. They wore no jewelry, not even watches or wedding rings. Odd.
1961 
1962The man slung the luggage items into the limo's trunk and looked from Linda to me. Linda avoided his eyes. He tried to speak quietly enough not to be heard, but I have good ears.
1963 
1964"Who's this?" he asked. His voice had a strained note to it.
1965 
1966"Just a friend, Mr. Beckitt. A guy I used to see," she answered him.
1967 
1968More lies. More interesting.
1969 
1970I looked across the limo to the woman, presumably Mrs. Beckitt. She regarded me with a calm face, entirely void of emotion. It was a little spooky. She had the look I'd seen in films, on the faces of prisoners released from the German stalags at the end of World War II. Empty. Numb. Dead, and just didn't know it yet.
1971 
1972Linda opened the back door and let Mr. and Mrs. Beckitt into the car. Mrs. Beckitt briefly put a hand on Linda's waist in passing, a gesture that was too intimate and possessive for the hired help. I saw Linda shiver, then close the door. She walked back around the car to me.
1973 
1974"Get out of here," she said, quietly. "I don't want to get in any trouble with my boss."
1975 
1976I reached for her hand, grabbed it, and held it between both of mine, as an old lover might, I supposed. My business card was pressed between our palms. "My card. If you think of anything else, give me a call. Okay?"
1977 
1978She turned away from me without answering, but the card vanished into a pocket before she got back into the limo.
1979 
1980Mrs. Beckitt's dead eyes watched me through the side window as the limo went by me. It was my turn to shiver. Like I said, spooky.
1981 
1982I went on into the airport. The monitors displaying flight times flickered to fuzz when I walked by. I went to one of the cafes inside, sat down, and ordered myself a cup of coffee. I had to pay for it with change. Most of my money had gone into paying off last month's rent and into the love potion I'd let Bob talk me into making. Money. I needed to get to work on Monica Sells's case, finding her husband. I didn't want to get out of hot water with the White Council only to lose my office and apartment because I couldn't pay the bills.
1983 
1984I sipped coffee and tried to organize my thoughts. I had two areas of concern. The most important was finding who had killed Tommy Tomm and Jennifer Stanton. Not only to catch the killer before any more corpses turned up, but because if I didn't, the White Council would probably use the opportunity to have me put to death.
1985 
1986And, while tracking down killers and avoiding execution squads, I had to do some work for someone who would pay me. Tonight's excursion wasn't something I could charge Murphy for - she'd have my ass in a sling if she knew I was running around asking questions, poking my nose in where it shouldn't be. So, if I wanted money from Chicago P.D., I would have to spend time doing the research Murphy wanted - the black-magic research that could get me killed all by itself.
1987 
1988Or, I could work on Monica Sells's missing husband case. I thought I had that one pretty well pegged down, but it wouldn't hurt to get it fleshed out fully. I could spend time working on it, fill out the hours on the retainer, maybe even get a few more added on. That appealed to me a lot more than trying to work out some black magic.
1989 
1990So, I could follow up on the lead Toot-toot had given me. There'd been pizza delivered out to the Lake Providence home that night. Time to talk to the deliveryman, if possible.
1991 
1992I left the cafe, went out to the pay phones, and dialed directory assistance. There was only one place near the Lake Providence address that delivered pizza. I got the number and dialed through.
1993 
1994"Pizza 'Spress," someone with his mouth full said. "What'll it be tonight?"
1995 
1996"Hey there," I said. "I wonder if you can help me out. I'm looking for the driver who took an order out to an address on Wednesday night." I told him the address, and asked if I could speak to the driver.
1997 
1998"Another one," he snorted. "Sure, hang on. Jack just got in from a run." The voice on the other end of the line called out to someone, and a minute later the high baritone of a young man spoke tentatively into my ear.
1999 
2000"H-hello?"
2001 
2002"Hello," I answered. "Are you the driver who took pizza to - "
2003 
2004"Look," he said, his voice exasperated and nervous. "I said I was sorry already. It won't happen again."
2005 
2006I blinked for a minute, off balance. "Sorry for what?"
2007 
2008"Jeezus," he said. I heard him move across a room, with a lot of music and loud talk in the background, and then the background noise cut off, as though he had stepped into another room and shut the door behind him. "Look," he said in a half whine. "I told you I'm not gonna say anything to anyone. I was only looking. You can't blame me, right? No one answered the door, what was I supposed to do?" His voice cracked in the middle of his sentences. "Hell of a party, but hey. That's your business. Right?"
2009 
2010I struggled to keep up with the kid. "What, exactly, did you see, Jack?" I asked him.
2011 
2012"No one's face," he assured me, his voice growing more nervous. He gave a jittery little laugh and tried to joke. "Better things to look at than faces, right? I mean, I don't give a damn what you do in your own house. Or your friends, or whoever. Don't worry about me. Never going to say a thing. Next time I'll just leave the pizza and run a tab, right?"
2013 
2014Friends, plural. Interesting. The kid was awfully nervous. He must have gotten an eyeful. But I had a gut instinct that he was hiding something else, keeping it back.
2015 
2016"What else?" I asked him. I kept my voice calm and neutral. "You saw something else. What was it?"
2017 
2018"None of my business," he said, instantly. "None of my business. Look, I gotta get off this line. We have to keep it open for orders. It's Friday night, we're busy as hell."
2019 
2020"What," I said, separating my words, keeping them clipped, "else?"
2021 
2022"Oh, shit," he breathed, his voice shaking. "Look, I wasn't with that guy. Didn't know anything about him. I didn't tell him you were having an orgy out there. Honest. Jeezus, mister, I don't want any trouble."
2023 
2024Victor Sells seemed to have a real good idea of how to party - and of how to frighten teenagers. "One more question, and I'll let this go," I told him. "Who was it you saw? Tell me about him."
2025 
2026"I don't know. I don't know him, didn't recognize him. Some guy, with a camera, that's all. I went around the back of the house to try the back door, got up on your deck, and just saw inside. I didn't keep on looking. But he was up there, all in black, with this camera, taking pictures." He paused as someone pounded on the door he had closed earlier. "Oh, God, I have to go, mister. I don't know you. I don't know nothing." And then there was a scrambling of feet, and he hung up the phone.
2027 
2028I hung up the phone myself and ambled back to George's loaner. I worked out the details I had just learned on the way back to my apartment.
2029 
2030Someone else had called Pizza 'Spress, evidently just before I had. Someone else had gone asking after the pizza boy. Who?
2031 
2032Why, Victor Sells, of course. Tracing down people who might have information about him, his possible presence in the lake house. Victor Sells, who had been having some sort of get-together out there that night. Maybe he'd been drunk, or one of his guests had, and ordered the pizza - and now Victor was trying to cover his tracks.
2033 
2034Which implied that Victor knew someone was looking for him. Hell, as far as I knew, he'd been in the house when I'd gone out there last night. This made things a lot more interesting. A missing man who doesn't want to be found could get dangerous if someone came snooping after him.
2035 
2036And a photographer? Someone lurking around outside of windows and taking pictures? I rummaged in my duster pocket and felt the round plastic film canister. That explained where the canister had come from, at any rate. But why would someone be out there at the house, taking pictures of Victor and his friends? Maybe because Monica had hired someone else, a PI, without telling me. Maybe just a neighbor with the hots for taking dirty pictures. No way to tell, really. More mysteries.
2037 
2038I pulled the Studebaker into my drive and killed the engine. I tallied the score for the evening. Enigmas: lots. Harry: zero.
2039 
2040My investigation for Monica Sells had netted me one husband throwing wild parties in his beach house after losing his job, and working hard not to be found. Probably an advanced case of male menopause. Monica didn't seem to be the kind of woman who would take such a thing with good grace - more like the kind who would close her eyes and call me a liar if I told her the truth. But at least it merited a little more looking into - I could log a few more hours in on the case, maybe earn some more money out of it before I gave her the bill. But I still didn't really know anything.
2041 
2042The angle with Bianca had come to a dead end at Linda Randall. All I had were more questions for Miss Randall, and she was as closed as a bank on Sunday. I didn't have anything solid enough to hand to Murphy to let her pursue the matter. Dammit. I was going to have to do that research after all. Maybe it would turn up something helpful, some kind of clue to help lead me and the police to the murderer.
2043 
2044And maybe dragons would fly out my butt. But I had to try.
2045 
2046So I got out of the car to go inside and get to work.
2047 
2048He was waiting for me behind the trash cans that stood next to the stairs leading down to my front door. The baseball bat he swung at me took me behind the ear and pitched me to the bottom of the stairs in a near-senseless heap. I could hear his footsteps, but couldn't quite move, as he came down the stairs toward me.
2049 
2050It figured. It was just the kind of day I was having.
2051 
2052I felt his foot on the back of my neck. Felt him lift the baseball bat. And then it came whistling down toward my skull with a mighty crack of impact.
2053 
2054Except that it missed my motionless head, and whacked into the concrete next to my face, right by my eyes, instead.
2055 
2056"Listen up, Dresden," my attacker said. His voice was rough, low, purposefully hoarse. "You got a big nose. Stop sticking it where it doesn't belong. You got a big mouth. Stop talking to people you don't need to talk to. Or we're going to shut that mouth of yours." He waited a melodramatically appropriate moment, and then added, "Permanently."
2057 
2058His footsteps retreated up the stairs and vanished.
2059 
2060I just lay there watching the stars in front of my eyes for a while. Mister appeared from somewhere, probably drawn by the groaning noises, and started licking at my nose.
2061 
2062I eventually regained my mobility and sat up. My head was spinning, and I felt sick to my stomach. Mister rubbed up against me, as though he sensed something was wrong, purring in a low rumble. I managed to stand up long enough to unlock my apartment door, let Mister and myself in, and lock it behind me. I staggered over to my easy chair in the darkness and sat down with a whuff of expelled breath.
2063 
2064I sat motionless until the spinning slowed down enough to allow me to open my eyes again, and until the pounding of my head calmed down. Pounding head. Someone could have been pounding on my head with a baseball bat just then, pounding my head into new and interesting shapes that were inconducive to carrying on businesslike pursuits. Someone could have been pounding Harry Dresden right into the hereafter.
2065 
2066I cut off that line of thought. "You are not some poor rabbit, Dresden!" I reminded myself, sternly. "You are a wizard of the old school, a spellslinger of the highest caliber. You're not going to roll over for some schmuck with a baseball bat because he tells you to!"
2067 
2068Galvanized by the sound of my own voice, or maybe only by the somewhat unsettling realization that I had begun talking to myself, I stood up and built up the fire in the fireplace, then walked unsteadily back and forth in front of it, trying to think, to work out the details.
2069 
2070Had this evening's visits triggered the warning? Who had reason to threaten me? What were they trying to keep me from finding? And, most importantly, what was I going to do about it?
2071 
2072Someone had seen me talking to Linda Randall, maybe. Or, more likely, someone had seen me showing up at Bianca's place, asking questions. The Blue Beetle may not be glitzy, but it is sort of difficult to mistake for anyone else's car. Who would have reason to have me watched?
2073 
2074Why, hadn't Gentleman Johnny Marcone followed me so that he could have a word with me? So he could ask me to keep out of this business with Tommy Tomm's murder? Yes he had. Maybe this had been another reminder from the mob boss. It had that kind of mafioso feel to it.
2075 
2076I staggered to my kitchenette and fixed myself a tisane tea for the headache, then added in some aspirin. Herbal remedies are well and good, but I don't like to take chances.
2077 
2078Working on that same principle, I got my Smith & Wesson.38 Chief's Special out of its drawer, took the cloth covering off of it, and made sure it was loaded. Then I stuck the revolver in my jacket pocket.
2079 
2080Wizardry aside, it's tough to beat a gun for discouraging men with baseball bats. And I sure as hell wasn't going to roll over for the tiger-souled Johnny Marcone, let him push me around, let him know that it was all right to walk all over me whenever he felt like it. No way in hell or on earth, either.
2081 
2082My head was throbbing, and my hands were shaking, but I went down the ladder to my workroom - and started figuring out how to rip someone's heart out of his chest from fifty miles away.
2083 
2084Who says I never do anything fun on a Friday night?
2085 
2086---------
2087 
2088       
2089It took me the rest of the night and part of the morning, but I worked out how I could murder someone in the same manner that Tommy Tomm and Jennifer Stanton had been killed. After the fifth or sixth time I'd checked the figures, I stared at my calculations.
2090 
2091It didn't make any sense. It was impossible.
2092 
2093Or maybe we were all underestimating just how dangerous this killer was.
2094 
2095I grabbed my duster, and headed out without bothering to check my looks. I don't keep any mirrors in my home. Too many things can use mirrors as windows - or doors - but I was pretty sure I looked like a wreck. The Studebaker's rearview mirror confirmed this. My face was haggard, with a shadow of a beard, deep circles under bloodshot eyes, and hair that looked as though it had been riding a speeding motorcycle through a cloud of greasy smoke. Smoothing your hair back with sweaty palms as a study habit will do that to you. Especially if you do it for twelve or fourteen hours straight.
2096 
2097It didn't matter. Murphy wanted this information, and she needed to have it. Things were bad. They were very, very bad!
2098 
2099I made quick time down to the station, knowing Murphy would want to hear this from me face-to-face. The police station Murphy worked in was one in an aged complex of buildings that housed the metro police department. It was run-down, sagging in places like an old soldier who nonetheless stood at attention and struggled to hold in his gut. There was graffiti along one wall that the janitor wouldn't come to scrub off until Monday morning.
2100 
2101I parked in the visitors' parking - easy to do on a Saturday morning - and headed up the steps and into the building. The desk sergeant wasn't the usual mustached old warhorse who I had run into before, but a greying matron with steely eyes who disapproved of me and my lifestyle in a single glance, then made me wait while she called up Murphy.
2102 
2103While I waited, a pair of officers came in, dragging a handcuffed man between them. He wasn't resisting them - just the opposite, in fact. His head was down, and he was moaning in an almost musical way. He was on the thin side, and I got the impression that he was young. His denim jeans and jacket were battered, unkempt, as was his hair. The officers dragged him past the desk, and one of them said, "That DUI we called in. We're going to take him up to holding until he can see straight."
2104 
2105The desk sergeant passed a clipboard over, and one of the officers took it under his arm, before the two of them dragged the young man up the stairs. I waited, rubbing at my tired eyes, until the sergeant managed to get through to someone upstairs. She gave a rather surprised "Hmph," and then said, "All right, Lieutenant. I'll send him on up." She waved a hand at me to go on past. I could feel her eyes on me as I went by, and I smoothed my palm self-consciously over my head and jaw.
2106 
2107Special Investigations kept a little waiting area just within the door at the top of the staircase. It consisted of four wooden chairs and a sagging old couch that would probably kill your back if you tried to sleep on it. Murphy's office was at the end of a double row of cubicles.
2108 
2109Murphy stood just inside her office with a phone pressed to her ear, wearing a martyred expression. She looked like a teenager having a fight with an out-of-town boyfriend, though she'd tear my head off if she heard me saying any such thing. I waved my hand, and she nodded back at me. She pointed at the waiting area, then shut her office door.
2110 
2111I took a seat in one of the chairs and leaned my head back against a wall. I had just closed my eyes when I heard a scream from behind me in the hallway. There was a struggling sound, and a few startled exclamations, before the scream repeated itself, closer this time.
2112 
2113I acted without thinking - I was too tired to think. I rose and went into the hall, towards the source of the sound. To my left was the staircase, and to my right the hallway stretched ahead of me.
2114 
2115A figure appeared, the silhouette of a running man, moving toward me with long strides. It was the man who had hung so limply between the two officers, humming, a few minutes before. He was the one screaming. I heard a scrabbling sound, and then the pair of officers I had seen downstairs a few moments before came around the corner. Neither of them was a young man anymore, and they both ran with their bellies out, puffing for breath, holding their gun belts against their hips with one hand.
2116 
2117"Stop!" one of the officers shouted, panting. "Stop that man!"
2118 
2119The hair on the back of my neck prickled. The man running toward me kept on screaming, high and terrified, his voice a long and uninterrupted peal of ... something. Terror, panic, lust, rage, all rolled up into a ball and sent spewing out into the air through his vocal cords.
2120 
2121I had a quick impression of wide, staring eyes, a dirty face, a denim jacket, and old jeans as he came down the shadowy hallway. His hands were behind his back, presumably held there by cuffs. He wasn't seeing the hall he was running through. I don't know what he was looking at, but I got the impression that I didn't want to know. He came hurtling toward me and the stairs, blind and dangerous to himself.
2122 
2123It wasn't any of my business, but I couldn't let him break himself apart in a tumble down the stairs. I threw myself toward him as hard as I could, attempting to put my shoulder into his stomach and drive him backward in a football-style tackle.
2124 
2125There is a reason I got cut every year during high school. I rammed into him, but he just whuffed out a breath and spun to one side, into a wall. It was as though he hadn't seen me coming and had no realization that I was there. He just kept staring blindly and screaming, careening off the wall and continuing on his way, toward the stairs. I went down to the floor, my head abruptly throbbing again where the unknown tough had rapped me with a baseball bat last night.
2126 
2127One good thing about being as tall as I am - I have long arms. I rolled back toward him and lashed out with one hand, fingers clutching. I caught his jeans at the cuff and gave his leg a solid sideways tug.
2128 
2129That did it. He spun, off-balance, and went down to the tile floor. The scream stopped as the fall took the wind from him. He slid to the top of the stairs and stopped, feebly struggling. The officers pounded past me toward him, one going to either side.
2130 
2131And then something strange happened.
2132 
2133The young man looked up at me, and his eyes rounded and dilated, until I thought they had turned into huge black coins dotted onto his bloodshot eyeballs. His eyes rolled back into his head until he could hardly have been able to see, and he started to shout in a clarion voice.
2134 
2135"Wizard!" he trumpeted. "Wizard! I see you! I see you, wizard! I see the things that follow, those who walk before and He Who Walks Behind! They come, they come for you!"
2136 
2137"Jesus Christ on a crutch," the shorter, rounder officer said, as they took the man by his arms and started dragging him back down the hall. "Junkies. Thanks for the assist, buddy."
2138 
2139I stared at the man, stunned. I caught the sleeve of the taller officer. "What's going on, sir?" I asked him.
2140 
2141He stopped, letting the prisoner hang between him and his partner. The prisoner's head was bowed forward, and his eyes were still rolled back, but he had his head turned toward me and was grinning a horrible, toothy grin. His forehead was wrinkled oddly, almost as though he were somehow focusing on me through the bones of his browridges and the frontal lobes of his brain.
2142 
2143"Junkie," the taller officer said. "One of those new ThreeEye punks. Caught him down by the lake in his car with nearly four grams of the stuff. Probably more in him." He shook his head. "You okay?"
2144 
2145"Fine, fine," I assured him. "ThreeEye? That new drug?"
2146 
2147The shorter officer snorted. "One that's supposed to make them see the spirit world, that kind of crap."
2148 
2149The taller one nodded. "Stuff hooks harder than crack. Thanks for the help. Didn't know you were a civilian, though. Didn't expect anyone but police down here this time of day."
2150 
2151"No problem," I assured him. "I'm fine."
2152 
2153"Hey," the stouter one said. He squinted at me and shook his finger. "Aren't you the guy? That psychic consultant Carmichael told me about?"
2154 
2155"I'll take the fifth," I said to him with a grin that I didn't feel. The two officers chuckled and turned back to their business, quickly shouldering me aside as they dragged their prisoner away.
2156 
2157He whispered in a mad little voice, all the way down the hall. "See you, see you, wizard. See He Who Walks Behind."
2158 
2159I returned to my chair in the waiting area at the end of the row of cubicles and sat down, my head throbbing, my stomach rolling uncomfortably. He Who Walks Behind. I had never seen the junkie before. Never been close to him. I hadn't sensed the subtle tension of power in the air around him that signified the presence of a magical practitioner.
2160 
2161So how the hell had he seen the shadow of He Who Walks Behind flowing in my wake?
2162 
2163For reasons I don't have time to go into now, I am marked, indelibly, with the remnants of the presence of a hunter-spirit, a sort of spectral hit man known as He Who Walks Behind. I had beaten long odds in surviving the enemy of mine who had called up He Who Walks Behind and sent him after me - but even though the hunter-spirit had never gotten to me, the mark could still be seen upon me by those who knew how, by using the Third Sight, stretching out behind me like a long and horribly shaped shadow. Sort of a spiritual scar to remind me of the encounter.
2164 
2165But only a wizard had that kind of vision, the ability to sense the auras and manifestations of magical phenomena. And that junkie had been no wizard.
2166 
2167Was it possible that I had been wrong in my initial assessment of ThreeEye? Could the drug genuinely grant to its users the visions of the Third Sight?
2168 
2169I shuddered at the thought. The kind of things you see when you learn how to open your Third Eye could be blindingly beautiful, bring tears to your eyes - or they could be horrible, things that made your worst nightmares seem ordinary and comforting. Visions of the past, the future, of the true natures of things. Psychic stains, troubled shades, spirit-folk of all description, the shivering power of the Nevernever in all its brilliant and subtle hues - and all going straight into your brain: unforgettable, permanent. Wizards quickly learn how to control the Third Eye, to keep it closed except in times of great need, or else they go mad within a few weeks.
2170 
2171I shivered. If the drug was real, if it really did open the Third Eye in mortals instead of just inflicting ordinary hallucinations upon its users, then it was far more dangerous than it seemed, even with the deleterious effects demonstrated by the junkie I had tackled. Even if a user didn't go mad from seeing too many horrible or otherworldly things, he might see through the illusions and disguises of any of a number of beings that passed among mankind regularly, unseen - which could compel such creatures to act in defense, for fear of being revealed. Double jeopardy.
2172 
2173"Dresden," Murphy snapped, "wake up."
2174 
2175I blinked. "Not asleep," I slurred. "Just resting my eyes."
2176 
2177She snorted. "Save it, Harry," and pushed a Styrofoam cup into my hands. She'd made me coffee with a ton of sugar in it, just the way I like, and even though it was a little stale, it smelled like heaven.
2178 
2179"You're an angel," I muttered. I took a sip, then nodded down the row of cubicles. "You want to hear this one in your office."
2180 
2181I could feel her eyes on me as I drank. "All right," she said. "Let's go. And the coffee's fifty cents, Harry."
2182 
2183I followed her to her office, a hastily assembled thing with cheap plywood walls and a door that wasn't hung quite straight. The door had a paper sign taped to it, neatly lettered in black Magic Marker with LT. KARRIN MURPHY. There was a rectangle of lighter wood where a plaque had once held some other hapless policeman's name. That the office never bothered to put up a fresh plaque was a not-so-subtle reminder of the precarious position of the Special Investigations director.
2184 
2185Her office furniture, the entire interior of the office, in fact, was a contrast with the outside. Her desk and chair were sleek, dark, and new. Her PC was always on and running on its own desk set immediately to her left. A bulletin board covered most of one little wall, and current cases were neatly organized on it. Her college diploma, the aikido trophies, and her marksman's awards were on the wall to one's immediate right as you entered the office, and sitting there right next to your face if you were standing before her desk or sitting in the chair in front of it. That was Murphy - organized, direct, determined, and just a little bit belligerent.
2186 
2187"Hold it," Murphy told me. I stopped outside of her office, as I always did, while she went inside and turned off, then unplugged her computer and the small radio on her desk. Murphy is used to the kind of mayhem that happens whenever I get around machinery. After she was done, I went on in.
2188 
2189I sat down and slurped more coffee. She slid up onto the edge of her desk, looking down at me, her blue eyes narrowed. She was dressed no less casually on a Saturday than she was on a workday - dark slacks, a dark blouse, set off by her golden hair, and bright silver necklace and earrings. Very stylish. I, in my rumpled sweats and T-shirt, black duster, and mussed hair, felt very slouchy.
2190 
2191"All right, Harry," she said. "What have you got for me."
2192 
2193I took one last drink of coffee, stifled a yawn, and put the cup down on her desk. She slipped a coaster under it as I started speaking. "I was up all night working on it," I said, keeping my voice soft. "I had a hell of a time figuring out the spell. And as near as I can figure it, it's almost impossible to do it to one person, let alone two at once."
2194 
2195She glared at me. "Don't tell me almost impossible. I've got two corpses that say otherwise."
2196 
2197"Keep your shirt on," I growled at her. "I'm just getting started. You've got to understand the whole thing if you're going to understand any of it."
2198 
2199Her glare intensified. She put her hands on the edge of her desk, and said in a deadly, reasonable tone, "All right. Why don't you explain it to me."
2200 
2201I rubbed at my eyes again. "Look. Whoever did this did it with a thaumaturgic spell. That much I'm sure of. He or she used some of Tommy Tomm and Jennifer Stanton's hair or fingernails or something to create a link to them. Then they ripped out a symbolic heart from some kind of ritual doll or sacrificial animal and used a whale of an amount of energy to make the same thing happen to the victims."
2202 
2203"This doesn't tell me anything new, Harry."
2204 
2205"I'm getting there, I'm getting there," I said. "The amount of energy you need to do this is staggering. It would be a lot easier to manage a small earthquake than to affect a living being like that. Best-case scenario, I might be able to do it without killing myself. To one person who had really, really pissed me off."
2206 
2207"You're naming yourself as a suspect?" Murphy's mouth quirked at the corner.
2208 
2209I snorted. "I said I was strong enough to do it to one person. I think it would kill me to try two."
2210 
2211"You're saying that some sort of wizard version of Arnold Schwarzenegger pulled this off?"
2212 
2213I shrugged. "It's possible, I suppose. More likely, someone who's just really good pulled it off. Raw power doesn't determine all that you can do with magic. Focus matters, too. The better your focus is, the better you are at putting your power in one place at the same time, the more you can get done. Sort of like when you see some ancient little Chinese martial-arts master shatter a tree trunk with his hands. He couldn't lift a puppy over his head, but he can focus what power he does have with incredible effect."
2214 
2215Murphy glanced at her aikido trophies and nodded. "Okay," she said, "I can understand that, I think. So we're looking for the wizard version of Mister Miyagi."
2216 
2217"Or," I said, lifting a finger, "more than one wizard worked on this at the same time. Pooled their power together and used it all at once." My pounding head, combined with the queasy stomach and the caffeine, was making me a little woozy. "Teamwork, teamwork, that's what counts."
2218 
2219"Multiple killers," Murphy drawled. "I don't have one, and you're telling me there might be fifty."
2220 
2221"Thirteen," I corrected her. "You can never use more than thirteen. But I don't think that's very likely. It's a bitch to do. Everyone in the circle has to be committed to the spell, have no doubts, no reservations. And they have to trust one another implicitly. You don't see that kind of thing from your average gang of killers. It just isn't something that's going to happen, outside of some kind of fanaticism. A cult or political organization."
2222 
2223"A cult," Murphy said. She rubbed at her eyes. "The Arcane is going to have a field day with this one, if it gets out. So Bianca is involved in this, after all. Surely she's got enough enemies out there who could do this. She could inspire that kind of effort to get rid of her."
2224 
2225I shook my head. The pain was getting worse, heavier, but pieces were falling into place. "No. You're thinking the wrong angle here. The killer wasn't taking out the hooker and Tommy Tomm to get at Bianca."
2226 
2227"How do you know?"
2228 
2229"I went to see her," I responded.
2230 
2231"Dammit, Harry!"
2232 
2233I didn't react to her anger. "You know she wasn't going to talk to you, Murph. She's an old-fashioned monster girl. No cooperation with the authorities."
2234 
2235"But she did talk to you?" Murphy demanded.
2236 
2237"I said pretty please."
2238 
2239"I would beat you to crap if you didn't already look like it," Murphy said. "What did you find out?"
2240 
2241"Bianca wasn't in on it. She didn't have a clue who it could have been. She was nervous, scared." I didn't mention that she'd been scared enough to try to take me to pieces.
2242 
2243"So someone was sending a message - but not to Bianca?"
2244 
2245"To Johnny Marcone," I confirmed.
2246 
2247"Gang war in the streets," Murphy said. "And now the outfit is bringing sorcery into it as well. Mafioso magic spells. Jesus Christ." She drummed her heels on the edge of the desk.
2248 
2249"Gang war. ThreeEye suppliers versus conventional narcotics. Right?"
2250 
2251She stared at me for a minute. "Yeah," Murphy said. "Yeah, it is. How did you know? We've been holding out details from the papers."
2252 
2253"I just ran into this guy who was stoned out of his mind on ThreeEye. Something he said makes me think that stuff isn't a bunch of crap. It's for real. And you would have to be one very, very badass wizard to manufacture a large quantity of this kind of drug."
2254 
2255Murphy's blue eyes glittered. "So, whoever is the one supplying the streets with ThreeEye - "
2256 
2257" -  is the one who murdered Jennifer Stanton and Tommy Tomm. I'm pretty sure of it. It feels right."
2258 
2259"I'd tend to agree," Murphy said, nodding. "All right, then. How many people do you know of who could manage the killing spell?"
2260 
2261"Christ, Murphy," I said, "you can't ask me to just hand you a list of names of people to drag downtown for questioning."
2262 
2263She leaned down closer to me, blue eyes fierce. "Wrong, Harry. I can ask you. I can tell you to give them to me. And if you don't, I can haul you in for obstruction and complicity so quick it will make your head spin."
2264 
2265"My head's already spinning," I told her. A little giggle slipped out. Throbbing head, pound, pound, pound. "You wouldn't do that, Murph. I know you. You know damned well that if I had anything you could use, I would give it to you. If you'd just let me in on the investigation, give me the chance to - "
2266 
2267"No, Harry," she said, her voice flat. "Not a chance. I am ass deep in alligators already without you getting difficult on me. You're already hurt, and don't ask me to buy some line about falling down the stairs. I don't want to have to scrape you off the concrete. Whoever did Tommy Tomm is going to get nasty when someone comes poking around, and it isn't your job to do it. It's mine."
2268 
2269"Suit yourself," I told her. "You're the one with the deadline."
2270 
2271Her face went pale, and her eyes blazed. "You're such an incredible shit, Harry."
2272 
2273I started to answer her, I really did - but my skull got loose and shaky on my neck, and things spun around, and my chair sort of wobbled up onto its back legs and whirled about precariously. I thought it was probably safest to slide my way along to the floor, rubbery as a snake. The tiles were nice and cool underneath my cheek and felt sort of comforting. My head went boom, boom, boom, the whole time I was down there, spoiling what would have otherwise been a pleasant little nap.
2274 
2275----------
2276 
2277I woke up on the floor of Murphy's office. The clock on the wall said that it was about twenty minutes later. Something soft was underneath my head, and my feet were propped up with several phone books. Murphy was pressing a cool cloth against my forehead and throat.
2278 
2279I felt terrible. Exhausted, achy, nauseous, my head throbbing. I wanted to do nothing so much as curl up and whimper myself to sleep. Given that I would never live that down, I made a wisecrack instead. "Do you have a little white dress? I've had this deep-seated nurse fantasy about you, Murphy."
2280 
2281"A pervert like you would. Who hit your head?" she demanded.
2282 
2283"No one," I mumbled. "Fell down the stairs to my apartment."
2284 
2285"Bullshit, Harry," she said, her voice hard. Her hands were no less gentle with the cool cloth, though. "You've been running around on this case. That's where you got the bump on the head. Isn't it?"
2286 
2287I started to protest.
2288 
2289"Oh, save it," she said, letting out a breath. "If you didn't already have a concussion, I'd tie your heels to my car and drive through traffic." She held up two fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
2290 
2291"Fifty," I said, and held up two of my own. "It's not a concussion. Just a little bump on the head. I'll be fine." I started to sit up. I needed to get home, get some sleep.
2292 
2293Murphy put her hand on my neck and pressed me back down on the pillow beneath my head, which was, apparently, her jacket, because she wasn't wearing it. "Stay down," she growled. "How did you get here? Not in that heap of a car, I hope."
2294 
2295"The Beetle is doing its phoenix impression," I told her. "I've got a loaner. Look, I'll be fine. Just let me out of here, and I'll go home and get some sleep."
2296 
2297"You aren't in any shape to drive," Murphy said. "You're a menace. I'd have to arrest myself if I let you behind a wheel in your condition."
2298 
2299"Murph," I said, annoyed, "unless you can pay up what you owe me already, right now, I can't exactly afford a cab."
2300 
2301"Dream on, Harry," Murphy said. "And save your breath. I'll give you a ride home."
2302 
2303"I don't need a - " I began, but she got up from her knees and stalked out of her office.
2304 
2305Foolishness, I thought. Stupidity. I was perfectly capable of moving myself around. So I sat up and heaved myself to my feet.
2306 
2307Or tried to. I actually managed to half sit up. And then I just heaved.
2308 
2309Murphy came back in to find me curled on my side, her office stinking from where I'd thrown up. She didn't, for a change, say anything. She just knelt by me again, cleaned off my mouth, and put another cool cloth over the back of my neck.
2310 
2311I remember her helping me out to her car. I remember little pieces of the drive back to my apartment. I remember giving her the keys to the loaner, and mumbling something about Mike and the tow-truck driver.
2312 
2313But mostly I remember the way her hand felt on mine - cold with a little bit of nervousness to the soft fingers, small beneath my great gawking digits, and strong. She scolded and threatened me the entire way back to the apartment, I think. But I remember the way she made sure she held my hand, as though to assure herself that I was still there. Or to assure me that she was, that she wasn't going anywhere.
2314 
2315There's a reason I'll go out on a limb to help Murphy. She's good people. One of the best.
2316 
2317We got back to my apartment sometime before noon. Murphy helped me down the stairs and unlocked the door for me. Mister came running up and hurled himself against her legs in greeting. Maybe being short gives her better leverage or something, since she didn't really wobble when Mister rammed her, like I do. Or maybe it's the aikido.
2318 
2319"Christ, Harry," she muttered. "This place is dark." She tried the light switch, but the bulbs had burnt out last week, and I hadn't had the cash to replace them. So she sat me down on the couch and lit some candles off of the glowing coals in the fireplace. "All right," she said. "I'm putting you in bed."
2320 
2321"Well. If you insist."
2322 
2323The phone rang. It was in arm's reach so I picked it up. "Dresden," I mumbled.
2324 
2325"Mister Dresden, this is Linda. Linda Randall. Do you remember me?"
2326 
2327Heh. Do men remember the scene in the movie with Marilyn standing over the subway grating? I found myself remembering Linda Randall's eyes and wondering things a gentleman shouldn't.
2328 
2329"Are you naked?" I said. It took me a minute to register what I'd said. Whoops.
2330 
2331Murphy gave me an arch look. She stood up and walked into my bedroom, and busied herself straightening the covers and giving me a modicum of privacy. I felt cheered. My slip had thrown Murphy off better than any lie I could have managed. Maybe a woozy Harry was not necessarily a bad Harry.
2332 
2333Linda purred laughter into the phone. "I'm in the car right now, honey. Maybe later. Look, I've come up with a few things that might help you. Can you meet me tonight?"
2334 
2335I rubbed at my eyes. It was Saturday. Tonight was Saturday night. Wasn't there something I was supposed to do tonight?
2336 
2337To hell with it, I thought. It couldn't have been all that important if I couldn't even remember it. "Sure," I told her. "Fine."
2338 
2339She mmmmed into the phone. "You're such a gentleman. I like that, once in a while. I get off at seven. All right? Do you want to meet me? Say at eight?"
2340 
2341"My car exploded," I said. My tongue felt fuzzy. "I can meet you at the 7-Eleven down the street from my apartment."
2342 
2343She poured that rich, creamy laughter into my ear again. "Tell you what. Give me an extra hour or so to go home, get a nice hot bath, make myself all pretty, and then I'll be there in your arms. Sound good to you?"
2344 
2345"Well. Okay."
2346 
2347She laughed again, and didn't say good-bye before disconnecting.
2348 
2349Murphy appeared again as soon as I hung up the phone. "Tell me you didn't just make a date, Dresden."
2350 
2351"You're just jealous."
2352 
2353Murphy snorted. "Please. I need more of a man than you to keep me happy." She started to get an arm beneath me to help me up. "You'd break like a dry stick, Dresden. You'd better get to bed before you get any more delusions."
2354 
2355I put a hand against her shoulder to push her back. I didn't have that kind of strength, but she backed off, frowning. "What?"
2356 
2357"Something," I said. I rubbed at my eyes. Something was bothering me. I was forgetting something, I was sure of it. Something I said I would do on Saturday. I struggled to push thoughts of drug wars and people driven mad by the Third Sight visions given them by the ThreeEye drug, and tried to concentrate.
2358 
2359It didn't take long to click. Monica. I had told her I would get in contact with her. I patted at my duster pockets until I found my notepad, and took it out. Fumbled it open, and waved at Murphy.
2360 
2361"Candle. Need to read something."
2362 
2363"Christ, Dresden. I swear you're at least as bad as my first husband. He was stubborn enough to kill himself, too." She sighed, and brought a candle over. The light hurt my eyes for a moment. I made out Monica's number and I dialed her up.
2364 
2365"Hello?" a male child's voice asked.
2366 
2367"Hi," I said. "I need to speak to Monica, please."
2368 
2369"Who's this?"
2370 
2371I remembered I was working for her on the sly and answered, "Her fourth cousin, Harry, from Vermont."
2372 
2373" 'Kay," the kid said. "Hold on." Then he screamed, without lowering the mouthpiece of the phone from his lips, "MOM! YOUR COUSIN HARRY FROM VERMONT IS ON THE PHONE LONG-DISTANCE!"
2374 
2375Kids. You gotta love them. I adore children. A little salt, a squeeze of lemon - perfect.
2376 
2377I waited for the pounding in my head to resolve into mere agony as the kid dropped the phone and ran off, feet thumping on a hardwood floor.
2378 
2379A moment later, there was the rattle of the phone being picked up, and Monica's quiet, somewhat nervous voice said, "Um. Hello?"
2380 
2381"It's Harry Dresden," I told her. "I just wanted to call to let you know what I'd been able to find out for y - "
2382 
2383"I'm sorry," she interrupted me. "I don't, um ... need any of those."
2384 
2385I blinked. "Uh, Monica Sells?" I read her the phone number.
2386 
2387"Yes, yes," she said, her voice hurried, impatient. "We don't need any help, thank you."
2388 
2389"Is this a bad time?"
2390 
2391"No. No, it's not that. I just wanted to cancel my order. Discontinue the service. Don't worry about me." There was an odd quality to her voice, as though she were forcing a housewife's good cheer into it.
2392 
2393"Cancel? You don't want me looking for your husband anymore? But ma'am, the money - " The phone began to buzz and static made the line fuzzy. I thought I heard a voice in the background, somewhere, and then the sound went dead except for the static. For a moment, I thought I'd lost the connection entirely. Blasted unreliable phones. Usually, they messed up on my end, not on the receiving end. You can't even trust them to foul up dependably.
2394 
2395"Hello? Hello?" I said, cross and grumpy.
2396 
2397Monica's voice returned. "Don't worry about that. Thank you so much for all of your help. Good day, bye-bye, thank you." Then she hung up on me.
2398 
2399I took the phone away from my ear and stared at it. "Bizarre," I said.
2400 
2401"Come on, Harry," Murphy said. She took the phone from my hand and planted it firmly in its cradle.
2402 
2403"Aww, mom. It's not even dark yet." I made the lame joke to try to think about something besides how terribly my head was going to hurt when Murphy helped me up. She did. It did. We hobbled into the bedroom and when I stretched out on the cool sheets I was reasonably certain I was going to set down roots.
2404 
2405Murphy took my temperature and felt my scalp with her fingers, careful around the goose egg on the back of my skull. She shined a penlight into my eyes, which I did not like. She also got me a drink of water, which I did like, and had me swallow a couple of aspirin or Tylenol or something.
2406 
2407I only remember two more things about that morning. One was Murphy stripping me out of my shirt, boots, and socks, and leaning down to kiss my forehead and ruffle my hair. Then she covered me up with blankets and put out the lights. Mister crawled up and lay down across my legs, purring like a small diesel engine, comforting.
2408 
2409The second thing I remember was the phone ringing again. Murphy was just about to leave, her car keys rattling in her hand. I heard her turn back to pick up the phone, and say, "Harry Dresden's residence."
2410 
2411There was a silence.
2412 
2413"Hello?" Murphy said.
2414 
2415After another pause Murphy appeared in the doorway, a small shadow, looking down at me. "Wrong number. Get some rest, Harry."
2416 
2417"Thanks, Karrin." I smiled at her, or tried to. It must have looked ghastly. She smiled back, and I'm sure hers was nicer than mine.
2418 
2419She left then. The apartment got dark and quiet. Mister continued to rumble soothingly in the dark.
2420 
2421It kept nagging at me, even as I fell asleep. What had I forgotten? And another, less sensible question - who had been on the line who hadn't wanted to speak to Murphy? Had Monica Sells tried to call me back? Why would she call me off the case and tell me to keep the money?
2422 
2423I pondered that, and baseball bats and other matters until Mister's purring put me to sleep.
2424 
2425---------
2426 
2427       
2428I woke up when thunder rattled the old house above me.
2429 
2430True dark had fallen. I had no idea of what time it was. I lay in bed for a moment, confused and a little dizzy. There was a warm spot on my legs, where Mister must have been until a few moments before, but the big grey cat was nowhere to be seen. He was a chicken about thunderstorms.
2431 
2432Rain was coming down in sheets. I could hear it, on the concrete outside and on the old building above me. It creaked and swayed in the spring thunderstorm and the wind, timbers gently flexing, wise enough with age to give a little, rather than put up stubborn resistance until they broke. I could probably stand to learn something from that.
2433 
2434My stomach was growling. I got out of bed, wobbled a little, and rooted about for my robe. I couldn't find it in the dark, but came across my duster where Murphy had left it on a chair, neatly folded. Laying on top of it was a scattering of cash, along with a napkin bearing the words "You will pay me back.  -  Murphy." I scowled at the money and tried to ignore the flash of gratitude I felt. I picked up my duster and tugged it on over my bare chest. Then I padded on naked feet out into the living room.
2435 
2436Thunder rumbled again, growling outside. I could feel the storm, in a way that a lot of people can't, and that most of those who can put down to nerves. It was raw energy up there, naked and pulsing through the clouds. I could feel the water in the rain and clouds, the moving air blowing the droplets in gusts against the walls of the house above. I could sense, waiting, the fire of the deadly lightning, leaping from cloud to cloud above and seeking a path of least resistance to the patient, timeless earth that bore the brunt of the storm's attack. All four elements, interacting, moving, energy flashing from place to place in each of its forms. There was a lot of potential in storms, that a sorcerer could tap into if he was desperate or stupid enough. A lot of energy to be used, up there, where the forces of ancient nature brawled and tumbled.
2437 
2438I frowned, thinking about that. It hadn't occurred to me before. Had there been a storm on Wednesday night? Yes, there had. I remember thunder waking me for a few moments in the hours before dawn. Could our killer have tapped into it to fuel his spells? Possibly. It bore looking into. Such tapped magic was often too unstable or volatile to use in such a carefully directed fashion.
2439 
2440Lightning flashed again, and I counted three or four seconds before the rumble reached me. If the killer was using the storms, it would make sense that if he or she were to strike again, it would happen tonight. I shivered.
2441 
2442My stomach growled, and more mundane matters took my attention. My head was feeling somewhat better. I wasn't dizzy anymore. My stomach was furious with me - like a lot of tall, skinny men, I eat endlessly, but it never stays on. I have no idea why. I shambled into the kitchen and started building up the grill.
2443 
2444"Mister?" I called. "You hungry, bud? I'm gonna fry up some burgers, mmm, mmm, mmm."
2445 
2446Lightning flashed again, closer this time, the thunder following right on its heels. The flash was bright enough to sear through my half-sunken windows and make me wince against it. But, in the flash of light, I caught sight of Mister.
2447 
2448The cat was up on the top of my bookshelf, in the far corner of the apartment - as far as it was possible to get away from my front door. He was watching it, his eyes luminous in the half dark, and though he had the cat-lazy look of any lounging feline, his ears were tilted forward, and his gaze focused unwaveringly upon the door. If he'd had a tail, it would have been twitching.
2449 
2450There came a knocking, a rapping, at my chamber door.
2451 
2452Maybe it was the storm making me nervous, but I quested out with my senses, feeling for any threat that might have been there. The storm made a mess of things, and all of that noise, both physical and spiritual, kept me from being able to tell anything more than that there was someone outside my door.
2453 
2454I felt in the pocket of my duster for the gun - but I remembered that I had set it aside in the lab last night and not taken it with me down to the police station. Police don't take kindly to anyone but police toting firearms inside the station, don't ask me why. In any case, it was out of easy reach now.
2455 
2456And then I remembered that Linda Randall was supposed to be showing up. I berated myself for getting spooked so easily, and then again for sleeping so long, and then again for looking and smelling like I hadn't showered in a couple of days or combed my hair or shaved or anything else that might have made me marginally less unappealing. Ah, well. I got the impression that with Linda, that sort of thing didn't seem to matter too much. Maybe she was into eau des hommes.
2457 
2458I walked over to the door and opened it, smoothing back my hair with one hand and trying to keep a sheepish grin off of my face.
2459 
2460Susan Rodriguez waited outside in the rain, her black umbrella held above her. She wore a khaki trench coat and an expensive black dress beneath it, with heels. Pearls shone at her throat and ears. She blinked at me when I appeared in the door. "Harry?" I stared at her. Oh my gosh. I had forgotten my date with Susan. How in the world could I have forgotten that? I mean, the White Council, the police, vampires, concussions, junkies, mob bosses, and baseball-bat-swinging thugs notwithstanding -
2461 
2462Well, no. There probably weren't any women incredible enough to make me keep my mind on them through all of that. But all the same, it seemed a little rude of me.
2463 
2464"Hi, Susan," I said, lamely. I peered past her. When had Susan said she was going to show up? Nine? And when had Linda said? Eight - no, wait. She'd said eight o'clock at first, and then said she'd be by in another hour after that. At nine. Hooboy. This was not going to be pretty.
2465 
2466Susan read me like a book and glanced back behind her in the rain, before looking back up at me. "Expecting someone, Harry?"
2467 
2468"Not exactly," I told her. "Uh, well. Maybe. Look, come on in. You're getting drenched." Which wasn't exactly true. I was getting drenched, my bare feet soaked, standing there in the open door, the wind blowing rain down the stairway at me.
2469 
2470Susan's mouth quirked in a malicious, predatory little smile, and she came in, folding down her umbrella and brushing past me. "This is your apartment?"
2471 
2472"Nah," I told her. "This is my summer home in Zurich." She eyed me as I closed the door, took her coat, and hung it up on a tall old wooden hat stand near the doorway.
2473 
2474Susan turned away from me as I hung up her coat. Her dress showed her back, the long curve of her spine, all the way down to her waist. It had a fairly tame hemline, and long, tight sleeves. I liked it. A lot. She let me see her back for a while as she walked away from me, toward the fireplace, then slowly turned to face me, smirking, leaning one smooth hip on the couch. Her midnight hair was bound up on top of her head, displaying a long and slender neck, her skin an advertisement for something smooth and wonderful. Her lips quirked up at the corners, and she narrowed her dark, flashing eyes at me. "The police having you put in overtime, Harry?" she drawled. "The killings must be sensational. Major crime figure, murdered with magic. Care to make a statement?"
2475 
2476I winced. She was still hunting for an angle for the Arcane. "Sure," I told her. Her eyes widened in surprise. "I need a shower," I said. "I'll be right back. Mister, keep an eye on the lady, eh?"
2477 
2478Susan gave me a little roll of her eyes, then glanced up and studied Mister on his perch on the bookcase. Mister, for his part, flicked an ear and continued staring at the door.
2479 
2480More thunder rumbled overhead.
2481 
2482I lit a few candles for her, then took one with me into the bathroom. Think, Harry. Get awake, and get your head clear. What to do?
2483 
2484Get clean, I told myself. You smell like a horse. Get some cool water over your head and work this out. Linda Randall is going to be here in a minute, and you need to figure out how to keep Susan from prying her nose into the murders.
2485 
2486So advised, I agreed with myself and hurriedly got undressed and into the shower. I don't use a water heater, and consequently I am more than used to cold showers. Actually, given how often I, and wizards in general, get to date actual real women, maybe that's just as well.
2487 
2488I was just lathering up with shampoo when the lightning got a lot worse, the thunder a lot louder, the rain a lot harder. The height of the storm had hit the old house and hit it hard. It was almost possible to see clearly in the violent electrical discharge. Almost impossible to hear over the thunder. But I caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of my eye, a shadow that moved across the sunken window (covered by modest curtains) in the bathroom. Someone was moving toward the stairs down to my apartment.
2489 
2490Did I mention how I haven't had a ton of success with women? Nights like this are one reason why. I panicked, hard. I leapt out of the shower, my head all a-sudsy, wrapped a towel around my waist, and headed out into the front room.
2491 
2492I couldn't let Linda just come to the door and have Susan answer it. That would be the cattiest thing you've ever seen, and I would be the one to get all the scratches and bites, too.
2493 
2494I rounded the corner from my bedroom into the main room and saw Susan reaching for the doorknob. Lightning flashed again, and thunder kept me from hearing the knob's click-clack. I heard something else, though, a snarling, spitting sound, and saw Mister, on his feet now, his back arched up and all his fur fluffed out, teeth bared, his no-longer-sleepy eyes fastened on the door.
2495 
2496The thunder passed as Susan swung the door open. I could see her face in profile. One hand was on her hip, and there was an amused, dangerous little smile on her pretty mouth.
2497 
2498As the door opened, I felt it, the cloud of energies that accompanies a spirit-being when it comes into the mortal world, disguised until now by the background clutter of the storm. A figure stood in the doorway, rather squat, less than five feet tall, dressed in a plain brown trench coat, illuminated by blue lightning overhead. There was something wrong to the shape, something that just wasn't a part of good old Mother Earth. It's «head» turned to look at me, and sudden twin points of fire, as blue as the lightning dancing above, flared up, illuminating the leathery, inhuman curves of a face that most closely resembled that of a large and warty toad.
2499 
2500Susan got a good look at the demon's eyes and face from two feet away and screamed.
2501 
2502"Susan!" I shouted, already moving toward the couch. "Get out of the way!" I threw myself to the floor behind the couch, landed with a whumph of hard floor hitting my ribs.
2503 
2504The demon's jaws parted in a silent hiss, and its throat constricted weirdly as I vanished behind the couch. There was a hissing sound, and a heart-sized section of the couch just dissolved in a cloud of mist and foul stench. Droplets of liquid spattered through, onto the floor near me, and where they touched little holes corroded outward in the space of two seconds. I rolled away from the couch and the demon's acid.
2505 
2506"Susan!" I shouted. "Get back toward the kitchen! Don't get between it and me!"
2507 
2508"What is it?" she screamed back at me.
2509 
2510"A bad guy." I poked my head up and peered through the smoking hole in the couch, ready to duck back down at a moment's notice. The demon, squat and bulkier than a human, was standing in the doorway, both long-fingered, pad-tipped hands leaning forward toward the inside of the house. It paused as though resting against a light screen.
2511 
2512"Why isn't it coming in?" Susan asked from the far corner, near the door. Her back was pressed to the wall, and her eyes were wide and terrified. My God, I thought, just don't pass out on me, Susan.
2513 
2514"Homestead laws," I said. "It isn't a mortal creature. It has to gather its energy to push through the barrier around a home."
2515 
2516"Can it get in?" she said. Her voice was thin, reedy. She was asking questions, gathering information, data, falling back on her ingrained career instincts - because, I suspected, her rational brain had short-circuited. That happens to people who get a good hard look at a demon for the first time.
2517 
2518I hurried over to her and grabbed her arm, dragging her back toward the door leading down to my lab. "Get down there," I shouted, jerking the door up and revealing the folding ladder-staircase.
2519 
2520"It's dark!" Susan protested. "Oh, God." She blinked down at my waist. "Harry? Why are you naked?"
2521 
2522I looked down. And blushed. The towel must have fallen off while I was dancing around. Looking down made the shampoo suds still in my hair runnel down into my eyes, making them sting and burn. Could this evening get any worse?
2523 
2524There was a tearing sound from the doorway, and the toad-demon sort of surged forward a stumbling step. It was now in my house. Lightning still danced in the sky behind it, and I could only see it in ugly, hunchbacked outline, except for the electric light of its wide, round, googly eyes as it came toward me. Its throat was working in little, undulating motions.
2525 
2526"Crap," I said. I'm quite eloquent in times of crisis. I shoved Susan toward the stairs, and turned toward the demon, tips of my thumbs touching, fingers spread, palms out toward it.
2527 
2528The demon's mouth opened again, and it made a slick, spittooning sound.
2529 
2530"Vento Riflittum," I shouted, willing my fear and anxiety into a tangible shape, throwing it down from my pounding heart through my shoulders and arms, directed at the foe. The globule of demonacid sped toward my face.
2531 
2532My terror and adrenaline roared out of my fingertips in the form of wind, gathering up speed enough to tear the hair from a man's head. It caught the blob of acid and flung it back at the demon in a fine spray, stopped the thing dead in its tracks, and even drove it back several feet, its claw-tipped feet sliding on my smooth floor, catching on the rugs.
2533 
2534The acid sizzled and spat little electric blue sparks on its skin, but it didn't seem to harm the demon. It did, however, dissolve the trench coat to shreds in less time than it takes to draw a breath and wreaked havoc on my rugs and furniture.
2535 
2536The demon shook its head, gathering its wits. I turned to the far corner, near the door, and extended my hand, trumpeting, "Vento servitas!" The pale, smooth wood of my wizard's staff all but glowed in the darkness as it flew toward me, driven by a gentler, finer blast of the same wind. I caught it in my hand and spun it toward the demon, calling on the lines of power and force deep within the long, unbroken grains of wood in the staff. I extended the staff toward it, horizontally like a bar, and shouted, "Out! Out! Out! You are not welcome here!" A touch dramatic in any other circumstance, maybe - but when you've got a demon in your living room, nothing seems too extreme.
2537 
2538The toad-demon hunched its shoulders, planted its broad feet, and grunted as a wave of unseen force swept out from my staff like a broom whisking along the floor. I could feel the demon resist me, pressing against the strength of the staff, as though I were leaning the wood against a vertical steel bar and attempting to snap it across that length.
2539 
2540We strained silently for several seconds until I realized that this thing was just too strong for me. I wasn't going to be able to brush it off like a minor imp or a niggling poltergeist. It wouldn't take me long to exhaust myself, and once the demon could move again it was either going to dissolve me with its acid or else just waddle up to me and rip me into pieces. It would be stronger than a mortal, a hell of a lot faster, and it was not going to stop until I was dead or the sun had come up or one of any of a number of other unlikely conditions were met.
2541 
2542"Susan!" I shouted, my chest heaving. "Are you down there?"
2543 
2544"Yes," she said. "Is it gone?"
2545 
2546"Not exactly, no." I felt my palms get sweaty, the smooth wood of the staff begin to slip. The burning of the soap suds in my eyes increased, and the lights of the demon's eyes brightened.
2547 
2548"Why don't you set it on fire? Shoot it! Blow it up!" Her voice had a searching quality to it, as though she were looking around, down there in the lab.
2549 
2550"I can't," I said to her. "I can't pump enough juice into it to hurt the thing without blowing us up along with it. You've got to get out of there." My mind was racing along, calculating possibilities, numbers, my reserves of energy, cold and rational. The thing was here for me. If I drew it off to one side, into my bedroom and bathroom, Susan might be able to escape. On the other hand, it might be under orders to kill me and any witnesses, in which case after it had finished me it would simply go after her as well. There had to be another way to get her out of here. And then I remembered it.
2551 
2552"Susan!" I shouted. "There's a sports bottle on my table down there. Drink what's in it, and think about being away from here. Okay? Think about being far away."
2553 
2554"I found it," she called up a second later. "It smells bad."
2555 
2556"Dammit, it's a potion. It'll get you out of here. Drink it!"
2557 
2558There was a gagging noise, and then a moment later she said, "Now what?"
2559 
2560I blinked and looked at the stairs going down. "It should have work - " I broke off as the toad thing leaned forward, reached out a clawed foot, and in that stride gained three feet of ground toward me. I was able to stop it again, barely, but I knew that it was going to be coming for my throat in a few more seconds.
2561 
2562"Nothing happened," she said. "Dammit, Harry, we have to do something." And then she came pounding up the ladder, dark eyes flashing, my.38 revolver in her hand.
2563 
2564"No!" I told her. "Don't!" I felt the staff slip more. The demon was getting ready to come through all my defenses.
2565 
2566Susan raised the gun, face pale, her hands shaking, and started shooting. A.38 Chief's Special carries six rounds, and I use a medium-speed load, rather than armor-piercing or explosive bullets or anything fancy like that. Fewer chances that something will go wrong in the presence of a lot of magic.
2567 
2568A gun is a pretty simple machine. A revolver approaches very simple. Wheels, gears, and a simple lever impact to ignite the powder. It's tough for magic to argue with physics, most of the time.
2569 
2570The revolver roared six times.
2571 
2572The first two shots must have gone wide and hit somewhere else. The next two struck the demon's hide and made deep dents in it before springing off and rebounding wildly around the room, as I had feared they would, more of a threat to us than to it. Fortunately, neither of us was injured or killed by the ricochets. The fifth shot went between its long, oddly shaped legs and past it.
2573 
2574The sixth hit the thing square between its lightning-lantern eyes, knocked it off-balance, and sent it tumbling over with a toady hiss of frustration.
2575 
2576I gasped and grabbed at Susan's wrist. "Basement," I wheezed, as she dropped the gun. We both scrambled down the ladder. I didn't bother to shut it behind me. The thing could just tear its way through the floor, if it needed to. This way, I would at least know where it would come down, rather than have it tunnel through the floor and come out on top of my head.
2577 
2578At my will, the tip of the staff I still held burst into light, illuminating the room.
2579 
2580"Harry?" Bob's voice came from the shelf. The skull's eyelights came on, and he swiveled around to face me. "What the hell is going on? Woo woo, who is the babe?"
2581 
2582Susan jumped. "What is that?"
2583 
2584"Ignore him," I said, and followed my own advice. I went to the far end of my lab table and started kicking boxes, bags, notebooks, and old paperbacks off the floor. "Help me clear this floor space. Hurry!"
2585 
2586She did, and I cursed the lack of cleaning skills that had left this end of the lab such a mess. I was struggling to get to the circle I had laid in the floor, a perfect ring of copper, an unbroken loop in the concrete that could be empowered to hold a demon in - or out.
2587 
2588"Harry!" Bob gulped as we worked. "There's, a, um. A seriously badass toad-demon coming down the ladder."
2589 
2590"I know that, Bob." I heaved a bunch of empty cardboard boxes aside as Susan frantically tossed some papers away, exposing the entirety of the copper ring, about three feet across. I took her hand and stepped into the circle, drawing her close to me.
2591 
2592"What's happening?" Susan asked, her expression bewildered and terrified.
2593 
2594"Just stay close," I told her. She clung tightly to me.
2595 
2596"It sees you, Harry," Bob reported. "It's going to spit something at you, I think."
2597 
2598I didn't have time to see if Bob was right. I leaned down, touched the circle with the tip of my staff, and willed power into it, to shut the creature out. The circle sprang up around us, a silent and invisible tension in the air.
2599 
2600Something splattered and hissed against the air a few inches from my face. I looked up to see dark, sputtering acid slithering off the invisible shield the circle's power provided us. Half a second earlier and it would have eaten my face off. Cheery thought.
2601 
2602I tried to catch my breath, stand straight, and not let any part of me extend outside the circle, which would break its circuit and negate its power. My arms were shaking and my legs felt weak. Susan, too, was visibly trembling.
2603 
2604The demon stalked over to us. I could see it clearly in the light of my staff, and I wished that I couldn't. It was horribly ugly, misshapen, foul, heavily muscled, and I compared it to a toad only because I knew of nothing else that even remotely approached a description of it. It glared at us and drove a fist at the circle's shield. It rebounded in a shower of blue sparks, and the thing hissed, a horrible and windy sound.
2605 
2606Outside, the storm continued to rumble and growl, muffled by the thick walls of the subbasement.
2607 
2608Susan was holding close to me, and almost crying. "Why isn't it killing us? Why isn't it getting us?"
2609 
2610"It can't," I said, gently. "It can't get through, and it can't do anything to break the circle. So long as neither of us crosses that line, we'll be safe."
2611 
2612"Oh, God," Susan said. "How long do we have to stand here?"
2613 
2614"Dawn," I said. "Until dawn. When the sun rises, it has to go."
2615 
2616"There's no sun down here," she said.
2617 
2618"Doesn't work that way. It's got a sort of power cord stretching back to whoever summoned it. A fuel line. As soon as the sun comes up, that line gets cut, and he goes away, like a balloon with no air."
2619 
2620"When does the sun come up?" she asked.
2621 
2622"Oh, well. About ten more hours."
2623 
2624"Oh," she said. She laid her head against my bare chest and closed her eyes.
2625 
2626The toad-demon paced in a slow circuit around the circle, searching for a weakness in the shield. It would find none. I closed my eyes and tried to think.
2627 
2628"Uh, Harry," Bob began.
2629 
2630"Not now, Bob."
2631 
2632"But Harry - " Bob tried again.
2633 
2634"Dammit, Bob. I'm trying to think. If you want to be really useful, you could try to figure out why that escape potion you were so confident of didn't work for Susan."
2635 
2636"Harry," Bob protested, "that's what I'm trying to tell you."
2637 
2638Susan murmured, against my chest, "Is it getting warm in here? Or is it just me?"
2639 
2640A terrible suspicion struck me. I looked down at Susan and got a sinking feeling. Surely not. No. It couldn't be.
2641 
2642She looked up at me, her dark eyes smoky. "We're going to die, aren't we Harry? Have you ever thought you'd want to die making love?"
2643 
2644She kissed my chest, almost absently.
2645 
2646It felt nice. Really, really nice. I tried not to notice all the bare, lovely back that was naked underneath my hand.
2647 
2648"I've thought that, many times," she said, against my skin.
2649 
2650"Bob," I began, my voice getting furious.
2651 
2652"I tried to tell you," Bob wailed. "I did! She grabbed the wrong potion and just chugged it down." Bob's skull turned toward me a bit, and the lights brightened. "You've got to admit, though. The love potion works great."
2653 
2654Susan was kissing my chest and rubbing her body up against me in a fashion that was unladylike and extremely pleasant and distracting. "Bob, I swear, I am going to lock you in a wall safe for the next two hundred years."
2655 
2656"It's not my fault!" Bob protested.
2657 
2658The demon watched what was happening in the circle with froggy eyes and kicked a section of floor clear enough of debris for it to squat down on its haunches and stare, restless and ready as a cat waiting for a mouse to stick its head out of its hole. Susan stared up at me with sultry eyes and tried to wrench me to the floor, and consequently out of the circle's protective power. Bob continued to wail his innocence.
2659 
2660Who says I don't know how to show a lady a good time?
2661 
2662---------
2663 
2664Susan tugged at my neck and jerked my head down to hers for a kiss. As kisses went, well. It was, um, extremely interesting. Perfectly passionate, abandoned, not a trace of self-consciousness or hesitation to it. Or at any rate not from her. I came up for air a minute later, my lips itching with the intensity of it, and she stared up at me with burning eyes. "Take me, Harry. I need you."
2665 
2666"Uh, Susan. That's not really a good idea right now," I said. The potion had taken hold of her hard. No wonder she had recovered from her terror enough to come back up the stairs and fire my gun at the demon. It had lowered her inhibitions to a sufficient degree that it must also have dulled her fears.
2667 
2668Susan's fingers wandered, and her eyes sparkled. "Your mouth says no," she purred, "but this says yes."
2669 
2670I went up on my toes, and swallowed, trying to keep my balance and get her hand off me at the same time. "That thing is always saying something stupid," I told her. She was beyond reason. The potion had kicked her libido into suicidal overdrive. "Bob, help me out here!"
2671 
2672"I'm stuck in the skull," Bob said. "If you don't let me out, I can't do much of anything, Harry."
2673 
2674Susan stood up on tiptoe to gnaw at my ear, wrapped her shapely thigh around one of mine, and started whimpering and pulling me toward the floor. My balance wavered. A three-foot circle was not enough to perform wrestling or gymnastics or ... anything else in, without leaving something sticking out for the waiting demon to chew on.
2675 
2676"Is the other potion still there?" I asked.
2677 
2678"Sure," Bob said. "I can see it where it fell on the floor. Could throw it to you, too."
2679 
2680"Okay," I said, growing excited - well. More excited. I might yet get out of this basement alive. "I'm going to let you out for five minutes. I want you to help me by throwing me the potion."
2681 
2682"No, boss," Bob said, his voice maddeningly cheerful.
2683 
2684"No? No?!"
2685 
2686"I get a twenty-four-hour leave, or nothing."
2687 
2688"Dammit, Bob! I'm responsible for what you do if I let you out! You know that!"
2689 
2690Susan whispered, into my ear, "I'm not wearing any underwear," and tried something approximating a pro-wrestling takedown to drop me to the floor. I wavered in balance and barely managed to stave her off. The demon's frog-eyes narrowed, and it came to its feet, ready to leap on us.
2691 
2692"Bob!" I yelled. "You slimy jerk!"
2693 
2694"You try living in a bony old skull for a few hundred years, Harry! You'd want to get a night off once in a while, too!"
2695 
2696"Fine!" I shouted, my heart leaping into my throat as my balance wavered again. "Fine! Just make sure you get me the potion! You have twenty-four hours."
2697 
2698"Just make sure you catch it," Bob replied. And then a flood of orangish light flowed out of both of the skull's eye sockets and into the room. The lights swooped down in an elongated cloud over the potion bottle that lay on the floor at the far side of the lab, gathered it up, and hurled it through the air toward me. I reached up with my spare hand and caught it, bobbled it for a minute, and then secured it again.
2699 
2700The orange lights that were Bob's spirit-form danced a little jig, then whizzed up the ladder and out of the lab, vanishing.
2701 
2702"What's that?" Susan murmured, eyes dazed.
2703 
2704"Another drink," I said. "Drink this with me. I think I can cover us both in the focus department, get us out of here."
2705 
2706"Harry," she said. "I'm not thirsty." Her eyes smoldered. "I'm hungry."
2707 
2708I hit upon an idea. "Once we drink this, I'll be ready, and we can go to bed."
2709 
2710She looked up at me hazily and smiled, wicked and delighted. "Oh, Harry. Bottoms up." Her hands made a sort of silent commentary on her words, and I jumped, almost dropping the bottle. More shampoo from my hair trailed down my already burning eyes, and I squeezed them closed.
2711 
2712I slugged away about half the potion, trying to ignore the flat-cola taste, and quickly passed the rest to Susan. She smiled lazily and drank it down, licking her lips.
2713 
2714It started in my guts - a sort of fluttery, wobbly feeling that moved out, up through my lungs and out along my shoulders, down my arms. It also went down, over my hips and into my legs. I began to shake and quiver uncontrollably.
2715 
2716And then I just flew apart into a cloud of a million billion tiny pieces of Harry, each one with its own perspective and view. The room wasn't just a square, cluttered basement to me, but a pattern of energies, grouped into specific shapes and uses. Even the demon was only a cloud of particles, slow and dense. I flowed around that cloud, up through the opening in the ceiling pattern, and outside of the apartment and into the raging nonpattern of the storm.
2717 
2718It took maybe five seconds, and then the power of the potion faded. I felt all the little pieces of me abruptly rush back together and slam into one another at unthinkable speed. It hurt, and made me nauseous, a sort of heavy-duty thump of impact that didn't come from any one direction, but from every direction at once. I staggered, planted my staff on the ground, and felt the rain wash down over me.
2719 
2720Susan appeared next to me a heartbeat later, and promptly sat down on her butt on the ground, in the rain. "Oh, God. I feel terrible."
2721 
2722Inside the apartment, the demon screamed, a raging, voiceless hiss. I could hear it madly rampaging around inside. "Come on," I told her. "We've got to get out of here before it gets smart and starts looking outside for us."
2723 
2724"I'm sick," she said. "I'm not sure I can walk."
2725 
2726"The mixed potions," I said. "They can do that to you. But we have to go now. Come on, Susan. Up and at 'em." I bent down and got her up on her feet and moving away from my apartment.
2727 
2728"Where are we going?" she asked.
2729 
2730"Do you have your car keys?"
2731 
2732She patted the dress, as if looking for pockets, and then shook her head dazedly. "They were in my coat pocket."
2733 
2734"We walk, then."
2735 
2736"Walk where?"
2737 
2738"Over to Reading Road. It always floods when there's this much rain. It'll be enough water to ground that thing if it tries to follow us." It was only a couple of blocks away. The cold rain came down in buckets. I was shaking, shivering, and naked, and more soap was getting into my eyes. But hey. At least I was clean.
2739 
2740"Wha?" she mumbled. "What will the rain do to it?"
2741 
2742"Not rain. Running water. It kills him if he tries to go over it after us," I explained to her, patiently. I hoped the potions mixing together in her stomach hadn't done anything irreversible. There had been accidents before. We were moving at good speed, all things considered, and had covered maybe forty yards in the pouring rain. Not much farther to go.
2743 
2744"Oh. Oh, that's good," she said. And then she convulsed and pitched to the ground. I tried to hold her, but I was just too tired, my arms too weak. I nearly went down with her. She rolled to her side and lay that way, retching horribly, vomiting herself empty.
2745 
2746Thunder and lightning raged around us again, and I heard the sharp crack of the storm's power touching a tree nearby. I saw a bright flash of contact and then the subdued glow of burning branches. I looked in the direction we had been heading. The flooding Reading Road, safety from the demon, was still thirty yards away.
2747 
2748"I didn't think you'd last this long," someone said.
2749 
2750I almost jumped out of my skin. I picked my staff up in both hands and turned in a slow circle, searching for the source of the voice. "Who's there?" There, to one side, a spot of cold - not physical cold, but something deeper and darker that my other senses detected. A pooling of shadows, an illusion in the darkness between lights, gone when lightning flashed and back again when it had passed.
2751 
2752"Do you expect me to give you my name?" the shadows scorned. "Suffice to say that I am the one who has killed you."
2753 
2754"You're an underachiever," I shot back, still turning, eyes searching. "The job's not done."
2755 
2756In the darkness underneath a broken streetlight, then, maybe twenty feet away, I could make out the shape of a person. Man or woman, I couldn't tell, nor could I distinguish from the voice. "Soon," the shape said. "You can't last much longer. My demon will finish you before another ten minutes have passed." The voice was supremely confident.
2757 
2758"You called that demon here?"
2759 
2760"Indeed," the shadowy shape confirmed.
2761 
2762"Are you crazy?" I demanded, stunned. "Don't you know what could happen to you if that thing gets loose?"
2763 
2764"It won't," the shape assured me. "It is mine to control."
2765 
2766I extended my senses toward the shape, and found that what I had suspected was true. It wasn't a real person, or an illusion masking a real person. It was only the seeming of one, a phantasm of shape and sound, a hologram that could see and hear and speak for its creator, wherever he or she was.
2767 
2768"What are you doing?" it demanded. It must have sensed me feeling it out.
2769 
2770"Checking your credentials," I said, and sent some of my remaining will toward it, the sorcerous equivalent of a slap in the face.
2771 
2772The image cried out in surprise and reeled back. "How did you do that?" it snarled.
2773 
2774"I went to school."
2775 
2776The hologram growled, then raised up its voice, calling out in rolling syllables. I tried to hear what had been said, but another peal of thunder blocked out the middle half of what was undoubtedly the demon's name.
2777 
2778From within my apartment, the distant, faint sound of the demon's smashing ruckus came to an abrupt halt.
2779 
2780"Now," the image said, a sneer to its voice. "Now you will pay."
2781 
2782"Why are you doing this?" I demanded.
2783 
2784"You're in my way."
2785 
2786"Let the woman go."
2787 
2788"Sorry," the image said. "She's seen too much. She's in the way, too, now. My demon will kill you both."
2789 
2790"You bastard," I snarled.
2791 
2792It laughed at me.
2793 
2794I looked over my shoulder, back toward the apartment. Through the rain I heard a dry and raspy hiss, underlaid with a sort of clicking growl. Blue frog-eyes, reflecting the storm's lightning, came up the stairs from my basement apartment. It focused on me immediately and started forward. The back fender of Susan's car, which she had parked outside my apartment, got in its way, and with the pad-tipped fingers of one skinny, soft-looking hand, it picked up the back end of the car and tossed it to one side, where it landed with a heavy crunch.
2795 
2796I tried not to think about those fingers around my throat.
2797 
2798"You see?" the image said. "Mine to call. Time for you to die, Mr. Dresden."
2799 
2800Another flash of lightning showed the demon falling to all fours and scrambling toward me like an overweight lizard scuttling across hot sand to shade, in an exaggerated wagging motion that looked ridiculous but brought it closer and closer at deceptive speed.
2801 
2802"Deposit another quarter to continue your call, asshole," I said. I thrust my staff toward the shadowy image, this time, focusing my will into a full-fledged attack. "Stregallum finitas."
2803 
2804Scarlet light abruptly flooded over it, devouring its edges and moving inward.
2805 
2806The image snarled, then gasped in pain. "Dresden! My demon will roll in your bones!" And then it broke off into a scream of anguish as my counterspell began to tear the image-sending apart. I was better than whoever had made the image, and they couldn't hold the spell in the face of my counter. The image and the scream alike faded slowly into the distance until both were gone. I allowed myself the smallest touch of satisfaction, and then turned to the woman on the ground.
2807 
2808"Susan," I said, crouching by her, keeping my eyes on the onrushing demon. "Susan, get up. We have to go."
2809 
2810"I can't," she sobbed. "Oh, God," and she threw up some more. She tried to rise but collapsed back to the ground, moaning piteously.
2811 
2812I looked back at the water, gauging the thing's speed. It was coming, fast, but not quite as fast as a man could run. I could still escape it, if I ran, full out. I could get across the water. I could be safe.
2813 
2814But I couldn't carry Susan there. I'd never make it, with her slowing me down. But if I didn't go, both of us would die. Wouldn't it be better for one of us, at least, to live?
2815 
2816I looked back at the demon. I was exhausted, and it had caught me unprepared. The heavy rain would keep fire, man's ancient weapon against the darkness and the things it hid, from being effective in holding it back. And I didn't have enough left in me to do anything else. It would be as good as suicide to stand against it.
2817 
2818Susan sobbed on the ground, helpless in the rain, sick from my potions, unable to rise.
2819 
2820I leaned my head back and let the rain wash the last traces of shampoo from my eyes, my hair. Then I turned, took a step toward the oncoming demon. I couldn't leave Susan to that thing. Not even if it meant dying. I'd never be able to live with myself afterward.
2821 
2822The demon squalled something at me in its hissing, toady voice, and raised both its hands toward me, coming up onto its hind legs. Lightning flashed overhead, blinding bright. Thunder came hard on its heels, deep enough to shake the street beneath my bare feet.
2823 
2824Thunder.
2825 
2826Lightning.
2827 
2828The storm.
2829 
2830I looked up at the boiling clouds overhead, lit by the dancing lightning moving among them, deadly beautiful and luminous. Power seethed and danced in the storm, mystic energies as old as time, enough power to shatter stones, superheat air, boil water to steam, burn anything it touched to ashes.
2831 
2832At this point, I think it is safe to say, I was desperate enough to try anything.
2833 
2834The demon howled and waddled forward, clumsy and quick. I raised my staff to the sky with one hand, and with the other pointed a finger at the demon. This was dangerous work, tapping the storm. There was no ritual to give it shape, no circle to protect me, not even words to shield my mind from the way the energies of magic would course through it, I sent my senses coursing upward, toward the storm, taking hold of the formless powers and drawing them into patterns of raw energy that began to surge toward me, toward the tip of my staff.
2835 
2836"Harry?" Susan said. "What are you doing?" She huddled on the ground in her evening dress, shuddering. Her voice was weak, thready.
2837 
2838"You ever form a line of people holding hands when you were a kid, and scuff your feet across the carpeting together, and then have the last person in the line touch someone on the ear to zap them?"
2839 
2840"Yeah," she said, confused.
2841 
2842"I'm doing that. Only bigger."
2843 
2844The demon squalled again and drove itself into the air with its powerful toad-legs, hurtling toward me, sailing through the air with a frightening and unnatural grace.
2845 
2846I focused what little I had left of my will on the staff, and the clouds and raging power above. "Ventas!" I shouted, "Ventas fulmino!"
2847 
2848At my will, a spark leapt up from the tip of my staff toward the clouds above. It touched the rolling, restless belly of the storm.
2849 
2850Hell roared down in response.
2851 
2852Lightning, white-hot fury, with a torrent of wind and rain, all fell upon me, centered around the staff. I felt the power hit the end of the soaking wet wood with a jolt like a sledgehammer. It coursed down the staff and into my hand, making my muscles convulse, bowing my naked body with the strain. It took everything I had to hold the image of what I wanted in my mind, to keep my hand pointed at the demon as it came for me, to keep the energy surging through me to wreak its havoc on flesh less tender than mine.
2853 
2854The demon was maybe six inches away when the storm's fury boiled down my body and out through my arm, out of my pointing finger, and took it in the heart. The force of it threw the thing back, back and up, into the air, and held it there, wreathed in a corona of blinding energy.
2855 
2856The demon struggled, screamed, toad-hands flailing, toad-legs kicking.
2857 
2858And then it exploded in a wash of blue flame. The night was lit once more, bright as day. I had to shield my eyes against it. Susan cried out in fear, and I think I must have been screaming along with her.
2859 
2860Then the night grew quiet again. Flaming bits of something that I didn't want to think about were raining down around us, landing with little, wet, plopping sounds upon the road, the sidewalk, the yards of the houses around me, burning quickly to little briquettes of charcoal and then hissing into sputtering coolness. The wind abruptly died down. The rain slowed to a gentle patter, the storm's fury spent.
2861 
2862My legs gave out, and I sat down shakily on the street, stunned. My hair was dry, and standing on end. There was smoke curling up from the blackened ends of my toenails. I just sat there, happy to be alive, to be breathing in and out again. I felt like I could crawl back in bed and go to sleep for a few days, even though I'd gotten up not half an hour ago.
2863 
2864Susan sat up, blinking, her face blank. She stared at me.
2865 
2866"What are you doing next Saturday?" I asked her.
2867 
2868She just kept on staring for a minute. And then quietly lay down again on her side.
2869 
2870I heard the footsteps approach from the darkness off to one side. "Summoning demons," the sour voice said, disgusted. "In addition to the atrocities you have already committed. I knew I smelled black magic on the winds tonight. You are a blight, Dresden."
2871 
2872I sort of rolled my head over to one side to regard Morgan, my warden, tall and massive in his black trench coat. The rain had plastered his greying hair down to his head, and coursed down the lines of his face like channels in a slab of stone.
2873 
2874"I didn't call that thing," I said. My voice was slurred with fatigue. "But I damn well sent it back to where it belongs. Didn't you see?"
2875 
2876"I saw you defend yourself against it," Morgan said. "But I didn't see anyone else summon it. You probably called it up yourself and lost control of it. It couldn't have taken me anyway, Dresden. It wouldn't have done you any good."
2877 
2878I laughed, weakly. "You're flattering yourself," I said. "I sure as hell wouldn't risk calling up a demon just to get to you, Morgan."
2879 
2880He narrowed his already-narrow eyes. "I have convened the Council," he said. "They will be here two dawns hence. They will hear my testimony, Dresden, and the evidence I have to present to them against you." There was another, more subdued flash of lightning, and it gave his eyes a wild, madman's gleam. "And then they will order you put to death."
2881 
2882I just stared at him for a moment, dully. "The Council," I said. "They're coming here. To Chicago."
2883 
2884Morgan smiled at me, the kind of smile sharks reserve for baby seals. "Dawn, on Monday, you will be brought before them. I don't usually enjoy my position as executioner, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. But in your case, I am proud to fulfill that role."
2885 
2886I shuddered when he pronounced my full name. He did it almost exactly right - maybe by accident, and maybe not, too. There were those on the White Council who knew my name, knew how to say it. To run from the Council convened, to avoid them, would be to admit guilt and invite disaster. And because they knew my name, they could find me. They could get to me. Anywhere.
2887 
2888Susan moaned and stirred. "H-H-Harry?" she mumbled. "What happened?"
2889 
2890I turned to her, to make sure she was all right. When I glanced back over my shoulder, Morgan was gone. Susan sneezed and huddled against me. I put an arm around her, to share what little warmth I had.
2891 
2892Monday morning.
2893 
2894Monday morning, Morgan would bring his suspicions and level his accusations, and it would likely be enough to get me voted dead. Whoever Mister or Miss Shadows was, I had to find him, her, it, or them before Monday morning, or I was as good as dead.
2895 
2896I was reflecting on what a miserable date I was, when the squad car pulled up, turned its spotlights on us, and the officer said, over the loudspeaker, "Set the stick down and put your hands up. Don't make any sudden moves."
2897 
2898Perfectly natural, I thought, embracing a sort of exhausted stoicism, for the officer to arrest a naked man and a woman dressed in an evening gown, sitting on a sidewalk in the pouring rain like a couple of drunks fresh off a bender.
2899 
2900Susan shielded her eyes and then looked at the spotlight. All the throwing up she'd done must have gotten rid of the potion in her, ended its amorous effects. "This," she said, in a calm and dispassionate voice, "is the worst night of my life." The officers got out of the car and started toward us.
2901 
2902I grunted. "That's what you get for trying to go out with a wizard."
2903 
2904She glanced aside at me, and her eyes glittered darkly for a moment. She almost smiled, and there was a sort of vindictive satisfaction to her tone when she spoke.
2905 
2906"But it's going to make a fantastic story."
2907 
2908---------
2909 
2910As it turned out, Linda Randall had a darn good reason for skipping out on our appointment Saturday night.
2911 
2912Linda Randall was dead.
2913 
2914I sneezed as I ducked under the yellow police tape in the sweatpants and T-shirt I had been allowed to pluck from the mess of my place before the police car had brought me across town to Linda Randall's apartment. And cowboy boots. Mister had dragged one of my sneakers off, and I hadn't had time to find it, so I wore what I had. Freaking cat.
2915 
2916Linda had died a bit earlier that evening. After getting to the scene, Murphy had tried to phone me, failed to get through, and then sent a squad car down to pick me up and bring me in to do my consultant bit. The dutiful patrolmen sent to collect me had stopped to check out the crazy naked guy a block away from my apartment, and had been surprised and more than a little suspicious when I turned out to be the very same man they were supposed to pick up and bring to the crime scene.
2917 
2918Dear Susan had come to my rescue, explaining away what had happened as "Just one of those things, tee-hee," and assuring the officers that she was all right and would be fine to drive home. She got a little pale around the edges when she saw once more the ruins of my apartment and the enormous dent the demon had put in the side of her car, but she made a bold face of it and eventually left the scene with that "I have a story to write" gleam in her eye. She stopped and gave me a kiss on the cheek on her way out, and whispered, "Not bad, Harry," in my ear. Then she patted my bare ass and got in her car.
2919 
2920I blushed. I don't think the cops noticed it, in the rain and the dark. The patrolmen had looked at me askance, but were more than happy to let me go put on some fresh clothes. The only things I had clean were more sweats and another T-shirt, this one proclaiming in bold letters over a little cartoon graveyard, "EASTER HAS BEEN CANCELED - THEY FOUND THE BODY."
2921 
2922I put those on, and my duster, which had somehow survived the demon attack, and my utterly inappropriate cowboy boots, and then I had gotten in the patrol car and been driven across town. I clipped my little ID card to my coat's lapel and followed the uniforms in. One of them led me to Murphy.
2923 
2924On the way, I took in little details. There were a lot of people standing around gawking. It was still fairly early, after all. The rain came down in a fine mist and softened the contours of the scene. There were several police cars parked in the apartment building's parking lots, and one on the lawn by the door leading out to the little concrete patio from the apartment in question. Someone had left his bulbs on, and blue lights flashed over the scene in alternating swaths of shadow and cold light. There was a lot of yellow police tape around.
2925 
2926And right in the middle of it all was Murphy.
2927 
2928She looked terrible, like she hadn't eaten anything that didn't come out of a vending machine or drunk anything but stale coffee since I had seen her last. Her blue eyes were tired, and bloodshot, but still sharp. "Dresden," she said. She peered up at me. "You planning on having King Kong climb your hair?"
2929 
2930I tried to smile at her. "We still need to cast our screaming damsel. Interested?"
2931 
2932Murphy snorted. She snorts really well for someone with such a cute nose. "Come on." She spun on one heel and walked up to the apartment, as though she wasn't exhausted and at the end of her rope.
2933 
2934The forensics team was already there, so we got some nifty plastic booties to put over our shoes and loose plastic gloves for our hands from an officer standing beside the door. "I tried to call earlier," Murphy said, "but your phone was out of service. Again, Harry."
2935 
2936"Bad night for it," I responded, wobbling as I slipped the booties on. "What's the story?"
2937 
2938"Another victim," she said. "Same M.O. as Tommy Tomm and the Stanton woman."
2939 
2940"Jesus," I said. "They're using the storms."
2941 
2942"What?" Murphy turned and fixed her eyes on me.
2943 
2944"The storm," I repeated. "You can tap storms and other natural phenomena to get things done. All natural fuel for the mojo."
2945 
2946"You didn't say anything about that before," Murphy accused.
2947 
2948"I hadn't thought of it until tonight." I rubbed at my face. It made sense. Hell's bells, that was how the Shadowman had been able to do all of that in one night. He'd called the demon and been able to send it after me, as well as appearing in the shadow he'd projected. And he'd been able to kill again.
2949 
2950"Have you got an ID on the victim?" I asked.
2951 
2952Murphy turned to go inside as she answered. "Linda Randall. Chauffeur. Age twenty-nine."
2953 
2954It was a good thing Murphy had turned away, or the way my jaw dropped would have told her that I knew the deceased, and she would have had all sorts of uncomfortable questions. I stared after Murphy for a second, then hurriedly veiled my expression and followed her inside the apartment.
2955 
2956Linda Randall's one-room apartment looked like the trailer of a rock band that did little besides play concerts, host parties, and fall into a stupor afterward. Dirty clothes were strewn on one side of a king-size bed. There was a disproportionate amount of clothing that looked as though it had been purchased from a Frederick's of Hollywood catalog - lacy and silky and satiny colors, all bright, designed to attract the eye. There were many candles around the bed, on shelves and dressers and a night table, most burned halfway down. The drawer of the night table was partly open, revealing a number of personal amusements - Linda Randall had, apparently, liked her toys.
2957 
2958The kitchenette, off to one side, looked largely unused, except for the coffeepot, the microwave, and the trash can, in which several pizza boxes were crammed. Maybe it was the pizza boxes that did it, that gave me a sudden pang of understanding and empathy for Linda. My own kitchen looked the same, a lot of the time, minus the microwave. Here had lived someone else who knew that the only thing waiting at home was a sense of loneliness. Sometimes it is comforting. Most often, it isn't. I'll bet Linda would have understood that.
2959 
2960But I'd never have the chance to know. The forensics team was gathered around the bed, concealing whatever was there, like a cluster of buzzards around the exposed head of the outlaws they used to bury up to their necks in the Old West. They spoke among themselves in low, calm voices, dispassionate as skilled dinner chatter, calling little details to the attention of their companions, complimenting one another on their observations.
2961 
2962"Harry?" Murphy said, quietly. Her tone of voice suggested that it wasn't the first time she'd said it. "Are you sure you're all right for this?"
2963 
2964My mouth twitched. Of course I wasn't all right for this. No one should ever be all right for this sort of thing. But instead of saying that, I told her, "My head's just aching. Sorry. Let's just get it over with."
2965 
2966She nodded and led me over toward the bed. Murphy was a lot shorter than most of the men and women working around the bed, but I had almost a head of height on all of them. So I didn't have to ask anyone to move, just stepped up close to the bed and looked.
2967 
2968Linda had been on the phone when she died. She was naked. Even this early in the year, she had tan lines around her hips. She must have gone to a tanning booth during the winter. Her hair was still damp. She lay on her back, her eyes half-closed, her expression tranquil as it hadn't been any time I'd seen her.
2969 
2970Her heart had been torn out. It was lying on the king-size bed about a foot and a half from her, pulped and squashed and slippery, sort of a scarlet and grey color. There was a hole in her chest, too, showing where bone had been splintered outward by the force that had removed her heart.
2971 
2972I just stared for a few moments, noting details in a sort of detached way. Again. Again someone had used magic to end a life.
2973 
2974I had to think of her as she sounded on the phone. Joking, a quick wit. A sort of sly sensuality, in the way she said her words and phrased her sentences. A little hint of insecurity around the edges, vulnerability that magnified the other parts of her personality. Her hair was damp because she'd been taking a bath before she came to see me. Whatever anyone said of her, she had been passionately, vitally alive. Had been.
2975 
2976Eventually, I realized how quiet the room was.
2977 
2978The men and women of the forensics team, all five of them, were looking up at me. Waiting. As I looked around, they all averted their gazes, but you didn't have to be a wizard to see what was in their faces. Fear, pure and simple. They had been faced with something that science couldn't explain. It rattled them, shook them to their cores, this sudden, violent, and bloody evidence that three hundred years of science and research was no match for the things that were still, even after all this time, lurking in the dark.
2979 
2980And I was the one who was supposed to have the answers.
2981 
2982I didn't have any for them, and I felt like shit for remaining silent as I stepped back and turned away from Linda's body, then walked across the room to the small bathroom. The tub was still full of water. A bracelet and earrings were laid out on the counter in front of a mirror, plus a little makeup, a bottle of perfume.
2983 
2984Murphy appeared beside me and stood with me, looking at the bathroom. She seemed a lot smaller than she usually does.
2985 
2986"She called us," Murphy said. "Nine one one has the call recorded. That's how we knew to come out here. She called and said that she knew who had killed Jennifer Stanton and Tommy Tomm and that now they were coming for her. Then she started screaming."
2987 
2988"That's when the spell hit her. The phone probably went out right after."
2989 
2990Murphy frowned up at me and nodded. "Yeah. It did. But it was working fine when we got here."
2991 
2992"Magic disrupts technology sometimes. You know that." I rubbed at one eye. "Have you talked to any relatives, anything like that?"
2993 
2994Murphy shook her head. "There aren't any relatives in town. We're looking, now, but it might take some time. We tried to reach her boss, but he wasn't available. A Mr. Beckitt?" She studied my face, waiting for me to say something. "You ever heard of him?" she asked, after a moment.
2995 
2996I didn't look back at Murphy. I shrugged.
2997 
2998Murphy's jaw tensed, little motions at the corners of her face. Then she said, "Greg and Helen Beckitt. Three years ago, their daughter, Amanda, was killed in a cross fire. Johnny Marcone's thugs were shooting it out with some of the Jamaican gang that was trying to muscle in on the territory back then. One of them shot the little girl. She lived for three weeks in intensive care and died when they took her off life support."
2999 
3000I didn't say anything. But I thought of Mrs. Beckitt's numb face and dead eyes.
3001 
3002"The Beckitts attempted to lodge a wrongful death suit against Johnny Marcone, but Marcone's lawyers were too good. They got it thrown out before it even went to court. And they never found the man who shot the little girl. Word has it that Marcone offered to pay them blood money. Make reparation. But they turned him down."
3003 
3004I didn't say anything. Behind us, they were putting Linda in a body bag, sealing her in. I heard men count to three and lift her, put her onto a gurney of some kind, and wheel her out. One of the forensics guys told Murphy they were going to take a break and would be back in ten minutes. She nodded and sent them out. The room got even more quiet.
3005 
3006"Well, Harry," she said. Her voice was hushed, like she didn't want to disturb the apartment's new stillness. "What can you tell me?" There was a subtle weight to the question. She might as well have asked me what I wasn't telling her. That's what she meant. She took her hand out of her jacket pocket and handed me a plastic bag.
3007 
3008I took it. Inside was my business card, the one I'd given to Linda. It was still curled a little, where I'd had to palm it. It was also speckled with what I presumed was Linda's blood. I looked at the part of the bag where you write the case number and the identification of the piece of evidence. It was blank. It wasn't on the records. It wasn't official. Yet.
3009 
3010Murphy was waiting for my answer. She wanted me to tell her something. I just wasn't sure if she was waiting for me to tell her that a lot of people have my card, and that I didn't know how it had gotten here, or if she wanted me to say how I had known the victim, how I had been involved with her. Then she would have to ask me questions. The kinds of questions you ask suspects.
3011 
3012"If I tell you," I said, "that I was having a psychic premonition, would you take me seriously?"
3013 
3014"What kind of premonition?" she said. She didn't look up at me.
3015 
3016"I sense ..." I paused, thinking of my words. I wanted them to be very clear. "I sense that this woman will have a police record, probably for possession of narcotics and solicitation. I sense that she used to work at the Velvet Room for Madame Bianca. I sense that she used to be close friends and lovers with Jennifer Stanton. I sense that if she had been approached, yesterday, and asked about those deaths, that she would have claimed to know nothing."
3017 
3018Murphy mulled over my words for a moment. "You know, Dresden," she said, and her voice was tight, cool, furious, "if you'd sensed these things yesterday, or maybe even this morning, it's possible that we could have talked to her. It's possible that we could have found out something from her. It's even possible"  -  and she turned to me and slammed me against the doorway with one forearm and the weight of her body, suddenly and shockingly hard - "it's even possible," she snarled, "that she'd still be alive." She stared up at my face, and she didn't look at all like a cutesy cheerleader, now. She looked like a mother wolf standing over the body of one of her cubs and getting ready to make someone pay for it.
3019 
3020This time I was the one to look away. "A lot of people have my card," I said. "I put them up all over the place. I don't know how she got it."
3021 
3022"Godammit, Dresden," she said. She stepped back from me and walked away, toward the bloodstained sheets. "You're holding out on me. I know you are. I can get a warrant for your arrest. I can have you brought in for questioning." She turned back to me. "Someone's killed three people already. It's my job to stop them. It's what I do."
3023 
3024I didn't say anything. I could smell the soap and shampoo from Linda Randall's bath.
3025 
3026"Don't make me choose, Harry." Her voice softened, if not her eyes or her face. "Please."
3027 
3028I thought about it. I could bring everything to her. That's what she was asking - not half the story, not part of the information. She wanted it all. She wanted all the pieces in front of her so she could puzzle them together and bring the bad guys in. She didn't want to work the puzzle knowing that I was keeping some of the pieces in my pocket.
3029 
3030What could it hurt? Linda Randall had called me earlier that evening. She had planned on coming to me, to talk to me. She was going to give me some information and someone had shut her up before she could.
3031 
3032I saw two problems with telling Murphy that. One, she would start thinking like a cop. It would not be hard to find out that Linda wasn't exactly a high-fidelity piece of equipment. That she had numerous lovers on both sides of the fence. What if she and I were closer than I was admitting? What if I'd used magic to kill her lovers in a fit of jealous rage and then waited for another storm to kill her, too? It sounded plausible, workable, a crime of passion - Murphy had to know that the DA would have a hell of a time proving magic as a murder weapon, but if it had been a gun instead, it would have flown.
3033 
3034The second problem, and the one that worried me a lot more, was that there were already three people dead. And if I hadn't gotten lucky and creative, there would have been two more dead people, back at my apartment. I still didn't know who the bad guy was. Telling Murphy what little more I knew wouldn't give her any helpful information. It would only make her ask more questions, and she wanted answers.
3035 
3036If the voice in the shadows knew that Murphy was heading the investigation to find him, and was on the right track, he would have no qualms about killing her, too. And there was nothing she could do to protect herself against it. She might have been formidable to your average criminal, but all the aikido in the world wouldn't do her any good against a demon.
3037 
3038Then, too, there was the White Council. Men like Morgan and his superiors, secure in their own power, arrogant and considering themselves above the authority of any laws but their own, wouldn't hesitate to remove one police lieutenant who had discovered the secret world of the White Council.
3039 
3040I looked at the bloodstained sheets and thought of Linda's corpse. I thought of Murphy's office, and what it would look like with her sprawled on the floor, her heart torn from her chest, or her throat torn out by some creeping thing from beyond.
3041 
3042"Sorry, Murph," I said. My voice came out in a rasping whisper. "I wish I could help you. I don't know anything useful." I didn't try to look up at her, and I didn't try to hide that I was lying.
3043 
3044I sensed, more than saw, the hardening around her eyes, the little lines of hurt and anger. I'm not sure if a tear fell, or if she really just raised a hand to brush back some of her hair. Then she turned to the front door, and shouted, "Carmichael! Get your ass in here!"
3045 
3046Carmichael looked equally as slobbish as he had a few days ago, as though the passage of time hadn't changed him - it certainly hadn't changed his jacket, only the food stains on his tie and the particular pattern of rumplement to his hair. There had to be something comforting, I reflected, in that kind of stability. No matter how bad things got, no matter how horrible or sickening the scene, you could count on Carmichael to look like the same quality of crap. He glared at me as he came in. "Yeah?"
3047 
3048She tossed the plastic bag to him, and he caught it. "Mark that and log it," she said. "Hang around for a minute. I want a witness."
3049 
3050Carmichael looked down at the bag and saw my card. His beady eyes widened. He looked back up at me, and I saw the shift in gears in his head, reclassifying me from annoying ally to suspect.
3051 
3052"Mr. Dresden," Murphy said. She kept her tone frosty, polite. "There are some questions we'd like to ask you. Do you think you could come down to the station and make a statement?"
3053 
3054Questions to be asked. The White Council would convene and execute me in a little more than thirty hours. I didn't have time for questions. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I've got to comb my hair tonight."
3055 
3056"Tomorrow morning, then," she said.
3057 
3058"We'll see," I said.
3059 
3060"If you aren't there in the morning," Murphy said, "I'm going to ask for a warrant. We'll come and find you and by God, Harry, I'll get some answers to this."
3061 
3062"Suit yourself," I told her, and I started for the door. Carmichael took a step forward and stood in my way. I stopped and looked at him, and he kept his eyes focused on the center of my chest. "If I'm not under arrest," I told her, "then I presume I'm free to go."
3063 
3064"Let him go, Ron," Murphy said. Her tone of voice was disgusted, but I could hear the hurt underneath it. "I'll talk to you again soon, Mr. Dresden." She stepped closer and said, in a perfectly even tone, "And if it turns out that you're the one behind all this, rest assured. Whatever you can do and whatever you can pull, I will find you and I will bring you down. Do you understand me?"
3065 
3066I did understand, really. I understood the pressure she was under, her frustration, her anger, and her determination to stop the killing from happening again. If I was some kind of hero from a romance novel, I'd have said something brief and eloquent and heartrending. But I'm just me, so I said, "I do understand, Karrin."
3067 
3068Carmichael stepped out of my way.
3069 
3070And I walked away from Murphy, who I couldn't talk to, and from Linda, who I couldn't protect, my head aching, weary to my bones, and feeling like a total piece of shit.