Jim Butcher - Proven Guilty

The force of the impact took Glau’s balance completely, and sent the man into a vicious impact with the van’s dented front bumper. Glau hit hard , hard enough that I heard bones breaking from fifty feet away, and his head whiplashed down onto the hood and rebounded with neck-breaking force. Glau bounced off the van’s front bumper and hood, and landed in a limp, boneless pile on the ground.

Mouse landed, skidded on the gravel, and spun to face Glau. He watched the downed man for a few seconds, legs stiff. His back legs dug twice at the gravel, throwing up dust and rocks in challenge.

Glau never stirred.

Mouse sniffed and then let out a sneeze that might almost have been actual words: So there .

Then the dog turned and trotted right over to me, favoring one leg slightly, grinning a proud canine grin. He shoved his broad head under my hand in his customary demand for an ear scratching. I did it, while something released in my chest with a painful little snapping sensation. My dog was all right. Maybe my eyes misted up a little. I dropped to one knee and slid an arm around the mutt’s neck. “Good dog,” I told him.

Mouse’s tail wagged proudly at the praise, and he leaned against me.

I made sure my eyes were clear, then looked up to find Madrigal staring at the dog in shock and fear. “That isn’t a dog,” the vampire whispered.

“But he’ll do anything for a Scooby Snack,” I said. “Spill it, Madrigal. What are you doing in town? How are you involved with the attacks?”

He licked his lips and shook his head. “I don’t have to talk to you,” he said. “And you don’t have time to make me. The gunshots. Even in this neighborhood, the police will be here soon.”

“True,” I said. “So here’s how it’s going to work. Thomas, when you hear a siren, pull the trigger.”

Madrigal made a choking sound.

I smiled. “I want answers. That’s all. Give them to me, and we go away. Otherwise…” I shrugged, and made a vague gesture at Thomas.

Mouse stared at him and a steady growl bubbled from his throat.

Madrigal shot a look over at the fallen Glau, who, by God, was moving his arms and legs in an aimless, stunned fashion. Mouse’s growl grew louder, and Madrigal tried to squirm a little farther from my dog. “Even if I did talk, what’s to keep you from killing me once I’ve told you?”

“Madrigal,” Thomas said quietly. “You’re a vicious little bitch, but you’re still family. I’d rather not kill you. We left your jann alive. Play ball and both of you walk.”

“You would side with this mortal buck against your own kind, Thomas?”

“My own kind booted me out,” Thomas replied. “I take work where I can get it.”

“Pariah vampire and pariah wizard,” Madrigal murmured. “I suppose I can see the advantages, regardless of how the war turns out.” He watched Thomas steadily for a moment and then looked at me. “I want your oath on it.”

“You have it,” I said. “Answer me honestly and I let you leave Chicago unharmed.”

He swallowed, and his eyes flicked to the shotgun still pressed to his cheek. “My oath as well,” he said. “I’ll speak true.”

And that settled that. Pretty much everything on the supernatural side of the street abided by a rigid code of traditional conduct that respected things like one’s duties as a host, one’s responsibility as a guest, and the integrity of a sworn oath. I could trust Madrigal’s oath, once he’d openly made it.

Probably.

Thomas looked at me. I nodded. He eased his boot off of Madrigal’s neck and took a step back, holding the shotgun at his side, though his stance became no less wary.

Madrigal sat up, wincing at his legs. There was a low, crackling kind of noise coming from them. The bleeding had already stopped. I could see portions of his calf, where the pants had been ripped away. The skin there actually bubbled and moved, and as I watched a round lump the size of a pea formed in the skin and burst, expelling a round buckshot that fell to the parking lot.

“Let’s start simple,” I said. “Where’s the key to the manacles?”

“Van,” he replied, his tone calm.

“My stuff?”

“Van.”

“Keys.” I held out my hand.

Madrigal drew a rental-car key ring from his pocket and tossed it to me, underhand.

“Thomas,” I said, holding them up.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Mouse can watch him. I want this fucking thing off my arm.”

Thomas took the keys and paced over to the van. He paused to idly check his hair in the reflection in the windshield before opening the van. Vanity, thy name is vampire.

“Now for the real question,” I told Madrigal. “How are you involved with the attacks?”

“I’m not involved,” he said quietly. “Not in the planning and not in the execution. I’ve been scheduled here for more than a year.”

“Doesn’t scream alibi to me,” I said.

“I’m not ,” he insisted. “Of course, I thought them entertaining. And yes, the…” His eyelids half lowered and his voice went suddenly husky. “The… storm of it. The horror. Empty night, so sweet, all those souls in fear…”

“Get off the creepy psychic vampire train,” I said. “Answer the question.”

He gave me an ugly smile and gestured at his healing legs. “You see. I’ve fed, and fed well . Tonight, particularly. But you have my word, wizard, that whatever these creatures are, they are none of my doing. I was merely a spectator.”

“If that’s true,” I said, “then why the hell did you grab me and bring me here?”

“For gain,” he said. “And for enjoyment. I don’t let any buck talk to me as you did. Since I’d planned on replying to your arrogance anyway, I thought I might as well turn a profit on it at the same time.”

“God bless America,” I said. Thomas returned with my magical gear- staff, backpack, a paper sack with my various foci in it, and an old-fashioned key with big teeth. I popped it in the slot on the manacles, fumbling with the stiff, uncooperative fingers of my left hand, and got the thing off my arm. My skin tingled for a moment, and I reached experimentally for my magic. No whiteout of pain. I was a wizard again.

I put on my amulet, bracelet, and ring. I felt the backpack to make sure Bob’s skull was still in there. It was, and I breathed a mental sigh of relief. Bob’s arcane knowledge was exceeded only by his inability to distinguish between moral right and wrong. His knowledge, in the wrong hands, could be dangerous as hell.

“No,” I said quietly. “It isn’t a coincidence that you’re there, Madrigal.”

“I just told you-”

“I believe you,” I said. “But I don’t think it was a coincidence, either. I think you were there for a reason. Maybe one you didn’t know.”

Madrigal frowned at that, and looked, for a moment, a little bit worried.

I pursed my lips and thought aloud. “You’re high-profile. You’re known to feed on fear. You’re at war with the White Council.” Two and two make four. Four and four make eight. I glanced up at Thomas and said, “Whoever it is behind the phage attacks, they wanted me to think that Darby, here, was it.”

Thomas’s eyebrows went up in sudden understanding. “Madrigal’s supposed to take the fall.”

Madrigal’s face turned even whiter. “What do you-”

He didn’t get to finish the question.

Glau screamed. He screamed in pure, shrieking terror, his voice pitched as high as a woman’s.

Everyone turned in surprise, and we were in time to see something haul the wounded Glau out of sight on the other side of the van. Red sprayed into the air. A piece of him, probably an arm or a leg, flew out from behind the van and tumbled for several paces before falling heavily to earth. Glau’s voice abruptly went silent.