Jim Butcher - Side Jobs

“Uh-huh,” Thomas said quietly. He stared intently at the shuddering young woman, his eyes shifting colors slightly, from deep grey to something paler.

“Hey,” I said to him. “Focus.”

He gave his head a little shake, his eyes gradually darkening again. “Right. Come on. Let’s get her a chair and some coffee and stop standing around in front of big glass windows making targets of ourselves.”

We did, dragging her into the bistro and to the table nearest the door, where Thomas could stand watching the darkness while I grabbed the girl some coffee from a dispenser, holding my hand on top of my silly head the whole while.

Molly got her act together within a couple of minutes after I sat down. It surprised me: Despite my casual words to Thomas, I hadn’t seen her that badly shaken up before. She grabbed at the coffee, shaking, and slurped some.

“Okay, grasshopper,” I said. “What happened?”

“I was on the way in,” she replied, her voice distant and oddly flat. “The security man. S-something killed him.” A hint of something desperate crept into her voice. “I f-felt him die. It was horrible.”

“What?” I asked her. “Give me some details to work with.”

Molly shook her head rapidly. “D-didn’t see. It was too fast. I sensed something moving behind me—m-maybe a footstep. Then there was a quiet sound and h-he died . . . .” Her breaths started coming rapidly again.

“Easy,” I told her, keeping my voice in the steady cadence I’d used when teaching her how to maintain self-control under stress. “Breathe. Focus. Remember who you are.”

“Okay,” she said, several breaths later. “Okay.”

“This sound. What was it?”

She stared down at the steam coming up off her coffee. “I . . . A thump, maybe. Lighter.”

“A snap?” I asked.

She grimaced but nodded. “And I turned around, fast as I could. But he was gone. I didn’t see anything there, Harry.”

Thomas, ten feet away, could hear our quiet conversation as clearly as if he’d been sitting with us. “Something grabbed Raymond,” he said. “Something moving fast enough to cross her whole field of vision in a second or two. It didn’t stop moving when it took him. She probably heard his neck breaking from the whiplash.”

There wasn’t much to say to that. The whole concept was disturbing as hell.

Thomas glanced back at me and said, “It’s a great way to do a grab and snatch if you’re fast enough. My father showed me how it was done once.” His head whipped around toward the parking lot.

I felt myself tense. “What?”

“The streetlights just went out.”

I sat back in my chair, thinking furiously. “Only one reason to do that.”

“To blind us,” Thomas said. “Prevent anyone from reaching the vehicles.”

“Also keeps anyone outside from seeing what is happening here,” I said. “How are you guys using this place after hours?”

“Sarah’s uncle owns it,” Thomas said.

“Get her,” I said, rising to take up watching the door. “Hurry.”

Thomas brought her over to me a moment later. By the time he did, the larpers had become aware that something was wrong, and their awkwardly sinister role-playing dwindled into an uncertain silence as Sarah hurried over. Before, I had watched her and her scarlet bikini top in appraisal. Now I couldn’t help but think how slender and vulnerable it made her neck look.

“What is it?” Sarah asked me.

“Trouble,” I said. “We may be in danger, and I need you to answer a few questions for me, right now.”

She opened her mouth and started to ask me something.

“First,” I said, interrupting her, “do you know how many security men are present at night?”

She blinked at me for a second. Then she said, “Uh, four before closing, two after. But the two who leave are usually here until midnight, doing maintenance and some of the cleaning.”

“Where?”

She shook her head. “The security office, in administration.”

“Right,” I said. “This place have a phone?”

“Of course.”

“Take me to it.”

She did, back in the little place’s tiny kitchen. I picked it up, got a dial tone, and slammed Murphy’s phone number across the keypad. If the bad guys, whoever or whatever they were, were afraid of attracting attention from the outside world, I might be able to avoid the entire situation by calling in lots of police cars and flashy lights.

The phone rang once, twice.

And then it went dead, along with the lights, the music playing on the speakers, and the constant blowing sigh of the heating system.

Several short, breathy screams came from the front of the bistro, and I heard Thomas shout for silence and call, “Harry?”

“The security office,” I said to Sarah. “Where is it?”

“Um. It’s at the far end of the mall from here.”

“Easy to find?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You have to go through the administrative hall and—”

I shook my head. “You can show me. Come on.” I stalked out to the front room of the bistro. “Thomas? Anything?”

All the larpers had gathered in close, herd instinct kicking in under the tension. Thomas stepped closer to me so that he could answer me under his breath.

“Nothing yet,” Thomas said. “But I saw something moving out there.”

I grunted. “Here’s the plan. Molly, Sarah, and I are going to go down to the security office and try to reach someone.”

“Bad idea,” Thomas said. “We need to get out of here.”

“We’re too vulnerable. They’re between us and the cars,” I said. “Whatever they are. We’ll never make it out all the way across the parking lot without getting caught.”

“Fine,” he said. “You fort up here and I’ll go.”

“No. Once we’re gone, you’ll try to get through to the cops on a cell phone. There’s not a prayer of getting one to work if Molly and I are anywhere nearby—not with both of us this nervous.”

He didn’t like that answer, but he couldn’t refute it. “All right,” he said, grimacing. “Watch your back.”

I nodded to him and raised my voice. “All right, everyone. I’m not sure exactly what is going on here, but I’m going to go find security. I want everyone to stay here until I get back and we’re sure it’s safe.”

There was a round of halfhearted protests at that, but Thomas quelled them with a look. It wasn’t an angry or threatening look. It was simply a steady gaze.

Everyone shut up.

I headed out with Molly and Sarah in tow, and as we stepped out of the bistro, there was an enormous crashing sound, and a car came flying sideways through the glass wall of the entranceway about eight feet off the ground. It hit the ground, broken glass and steel foaming around it like crashing surf, bounced with a shockingly loud crunch, and tumbled ponderously toward us, heralded by a rush of freezing air.

Molly was already moving, but Sarah only stood there staring incredulously as the car came toward us. I grabbed her around the waist and all but hauled her off her feet, dragging her away. I ran straight away from the oncoming missile, which was not the smartest way to go—but since a little perfume kiosk was blocking my path, it was the only way.

I was fast, and we got a little bit lucky. I pulled Sarah past the kiosk just as the car hit it. The vehicle’s momentum was almost gone by the time it hit, and the car crashed to a halt, a small wave of safety glass washing past our shoes. Sarah wobbled and nearly fell. I caught her and kept going. She started to scream or shout or ask a question—but I clapped my hand over her mouth and hissed, “Quiet!”

I didn’t stop until we were around the corner and the crashing racket was coming to a halt. Then I stopped with my back against the wall and got Sarah’s attention.