Chapter Thirty-Two #2
“This is a private g-gathering,” Bock began. His mouth worked for a second; he took a breath, seemed to find his footing, and said, “Get out of my store. Before I call the police.”
I fixed Bock with a quiet stare.
He flinched.
“You’re lucky,” I said quietly. I lowered my staff until one end rested on the floor.
“You’re all extremely lucky that I’m not the Wardens.
If they showed up here, they’d have beheaded half of you already.
The others would be being bound up for a fair trial that would find you guilty of the practice of black magic, after which you would be deemed warlocks and also beheaded. ”
One of the women from the Ordo, I think her name was April, pushed herself slowly to her feet. She had roan-colored hair and long-fingered hands. “What…what are you going to do to us?”
“Warn you,” I said. “What you’re doing isn’t acceptable. Quit it.”
“Or what?” Bock asked.
“See above, regarding Wardens and decapitation,” I said.
“You don’t understand,” April said. “Some of those men, what they’re doing to us—”
“April,” I replied in a voice I had to work to make calm. “There are only two paths here. Stop it. Or die. You’re already stinking up the whole neighborhood with black magic. It’s only a matter of time until it gets the attention of the Wardens and they send a team here to deal with it.”
“But they have—”
I slammed the end of my staff on the floor, triggering the release of more force. It let out a rumbling crackling and snapping like thunder and sent splits out through the floorboards of the old building.
Everyone but Bock flinched.
He drew in a breath. He closed the book. Then he straightened his vest and his glasses and walked over to stand in front of me.
“We have a right to defend ourselves,” he said quietly.
“By throwing torture spells on people?” I replied. “By practicing outright black magic? There’s a difference between taking action to change a situation and indiscriminate violence.”
“We have limited options,” he snapped. “We don’t live in a castle with armed guards. We aren’t among the high and mighty. We have to make do with what is at hand.” He took a step forward, his expression both pleading and furious. “We came to you. We asked for your help. You did nothing.”
I clenched my jaw and fought down a surge of anger.
Because, well. That was partly true.
I’d been flailing a lot. Barely functioning a lot. Wasn’t focused. I’d sent over a few of the Knights of the Bean, part-time. Clearly, they could only deter things when they were there. Otherwise, for me, it had slipped through the cracks.
I rippled my fingers on the quarterstaff, settling my grip.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “I’m on it. But this”—I gestured at the room with my staff—“doesn’t happen again.”
“You don’t get to tell us what to do,” Bock snapped.
I eyed him.
He was seething. More than he should have been.
Working with black magic does that to you.
Enhances insecurities. Deepens anxieties.
More fear means more anger—fear and anger do bad, bad things to people, even without the magical effects that make you need to exercise power over and over, desperately trying to assuage the ever-growing fear with (admittedly ill-advised) action.
I wasn’t going to be able to reason him down.
“The hell I don’t,” I said, very, very quietly.
“If I wanted to, I could have annihilated all of you on the way in. If I wanted you shut down, I could do it in a hundred ways. And if I didn’t want to do all the work myself, I could drop a dime on you to the Wardens.
You are the one who is in no position to make demands, Bock.
That’s not saying anything about you or what you’re doing.
God knows, you wouldn’t be the first abused person to react.
But the reality is, you’re on the edge here, man.
I’m trying to make a point. I’m trying to help you. ”
April came up beside Bock and slipped beneath his arm. Some of the fury faded, and he traded an uncertain glance with her.
“This is already coming back on some of us,” she said quietly. “Headaches. Stomachaches. Rashes. The Rule of Three applies.”
Ah, ye olde Rule of Three. The belief that the way you use magic comes back to you threefold.
Practitioners who blended magic and faith, like most of the Ordo, were big on that one.
That wasn’t a sentiment I was in a particularly good place to agree with, but I could acknowledge in a general sense that what goes around does seem to come around, given enough time.
Bock frowned at her. Then at me.
“I’m tired of seeing kids get beaten and hurt,” he said quietly.
“By the Brotherhood of St. Brigid?” I asked.
He nodded. He described several men. They matched the descriptions of Carl and the guys who had followed him out of St. Mary’s chapel the night before. The real problem with any kind of militant order was there always seemed to be a few people in them who were militant first, orderly second.
Maybe they were people who were scared and angry. People who acted to try to assuage their fear. Only to create more things to be afraid of.
Or to be fair, maybe they were just assholes who had sensed an opportunity in extraordinary circumstances to exercise their darker desires and had done so. Knowing humans, likely a mix of both.
Bad times bring out bad things in some people. Sublime things in others.
I described Daniel Carpenter to him. “Any trouble with that guy?”
“No,” April said firmly. “He’s their leader, yes? When he’s there, nothing has gone wrong.”
“Well, you lot just about killed him last night,” I said quietly. “If I hadn’t been around, I’m not sure what would have happened.”
“What?” April said, genuinely shocked. She glanced at Bock.
Bock looked back toward where couch guy was groaning. He was sitting up, clutching the wrist that had held the revolver. The blast I’d thrown at him had torn it out of his hand, at the expense of his fingers and wrist. “I…was told it was the leader of the ruffians’ glove we used…” Bock said.
Which confirmed my theory on using personal possessions to link the ritual’s energy to the target. “You got it wrong,” I said. “And you hit the wrong guy. And if I hadn’t been around to put it right, I’m not sure what would have happened to him, or how they would have reacted.”
“But…” Bock said. He fidgeted with the book. “The journal said the curse only disables. Inconveniences.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe disables them to an inconvenient death, if they don’t get some kind of help,” I said. “Can strain their sanity, too. Throwing that much pain at someone.”
“My God,” Bock said quietly. He traded another look with April. “My God.”
“I told you,” she said gently. “We couldn’t know what would really happen.”
“Leonid Kravos was a certifiable psycho,” I said quietly. “Bock. Give me the book.”
Something hard and ugly flickered through Bock’s eyes. “Why?” he demanded. “You’re going to burn it, I suppose.”
“I’m going to shut it away where people who shouldn’t have access to it won’t misuse it,” I said gently.
“You guys are going to turn your talents to cleansing the aura of this space. You need to clean up your mess before the Wardens find it, decide they don’t have time to split hairs, and track you all down and end you. ”
He studied me sidelong, wary. “Why should we?”
“Because it’s how you all get away from this dark ritual stuff that is going to make you miserable and eventually kill you.”
“So we can be beaten and threatened?” Bock asked tiredly.
“So instead of me cleaning up after you, I can address your problem,” I said, and held out my hand.
He stared at my hand for a moment. Traded another look with April.
He passed over the book like he was giving up a winning lottery ticket.
I felt the residue of dark magic all over the damned thing. I didn’t know what kind of leather it was bound with, but it wasn’t from a cow. I slipped it into my duster’s pocket.
“We’re putting a lot of trust in you, Dresden,” Bock said. He didn’t meet my eyes while he did. He just looked tired.
“I know,” I said gently. “Your shooter there is going to need medical attention. You don’t want to go to a hospital, bring him round the castle in the morning.
Doc will be visiting. Won’t be any charge.
” I swept my gaze around the room. No one wanted to meet my eyes except April, who gave me the not-quite-eye-contact gaze of a magical practitioner.
I nodded at her. “You know basic cleansing rituals?”
“Of course,” she said. She looked around at the half-wrecked store. “Might take some time.”
“Yeah,” I said. I nodded to Bock and looked regretfully around the store. The chicken, saved from sacrifice, came walking out of the havoc, made a couple of quiet sounds, and scratched at a fallen book before defecating on it. “Um. Sorry about the mess.”
“Just go,” Bock said.
I left.
I didn’t exactly feel good about it. I’d leaned on them pretty hard.
I mean, for their own good, yeah. I’d been playing pillow fight compared to what the Wardens would have done to them. And it had required leverage and power to get them to even consider changing course.
But I still felt like a bully.
Speaking of which, I would have to have a word with Daniel.
And Carl.