Ghost Story (The Dresden Files 13)

her periwinkle eyes on Murphy. “My, my, my.” She sipped at her tea and said, “Of course, you’ll have to kill me, dear. If you can.” The diminutive vampire looked casually at each person in the room. “I give you one chance in four.”

“I can’t let the White Court know about the Swords,” Murphy agreed. Her fingers hung near the handle of her gun.

Will watched with sleepy eyes. But sometime in the past few seconds he had managed to center his weight over his feet. Marci still crouched with her legs curled up to the rest of her, but they were under her dress now. Within a heartbeat, she could have it off and clear it from impeding her shapeshifting.

Felicia was in exactly the same posture as several minutes before. She looked entirely unconcerned with any possible danger. I made a mental note never to play poker with her. “Well, darling. If you intended to dance, there would already be music. So perhaps we should talk.” She smiled, and her eyes glittered, suddenly several shades lighter than before. “Just us girls. We can go for a walk.”

Murphy snorted. She drew her gun from her belt and set it on the armrest of her chair. She rested her hand over it, not quite touching the trigger. “I’m not an idiot, Felicia. You’ll stay right where you are. As will I. Everyone else, outside.”

Abby had risen before Murphy finished speaking, holding Toto carefully as she left.

Will frowned at Murphy. “You sure?”

Father Forthill rose, frowning, and said, “These old legs want to go for a little walk, in any case. Good evening, Ms. Murphy. William?”

Will literally growled, and it came out sounding like no noise a human being ought to be able to make. But then he nodded to Murphy and turned toward the door. Marci hurried to her feet and went after him. Forthill stumped off after them. I heard everyone leave the house by the back door, probably to gather on the stone-paved patio just outside.

“I like this,” Felicia said into the silence, smiling. “This charming little house feels so intimate. Don’t you think?” She tilted her head. “Are the Swords on the premises?”

“I think you should name your price,” Murphy responded.

Felicia arched an eyebrow, a sensual little smile bending one corner of her mouth into a smirk.

“F—” Murphy cleared her throat. “Forget that. It isn’t happening.”

The vampire turned her mouth down in a mocking little pout. “Such a Puritan work ethic. Business and pleasure can coexist, you know.”

“This isn’t business, Ms. Raith. It’s blackmail.”

“To-may-toe, to-mah-toe,” Felicia said with a shrug. “The point is, Karrin, that you can hardly afford to be squeamish.”

“No?”

“No. You’re intelligent, skilled, and strong-willed—quite formidable. . . .” She smiled. “For a mortal. But, in the end, you are a lone mortal. And you are no longer beneath the aegis of city law enforcement or resident members of the White Council.”

Murphy moved nothing but her lips. “Meaning?”

Felicia sighed and said in a practical, dispassionate tone, “The Swords are valuable. They could be traded for a great deal of influence. Should the White Court learn of this and decide to take the Swords, they will take you. They will ask you where they are. They will force you to surrender them.”

Murphy might have twitched one shoulder in a shrug. Then she got up and walked toward Felicia, gripping her gun loosely in hand. “And . . . what? If I give you what you want, you’ll stay quiet?”

Felicia nodded, her eyelids lowering as she watched Murphy approach. “For a few days, at any rate. By which time, you will have been able to take measures to prevent them from being taken.”

Murphy said, “You want to feed on me.”

Felicia ran a very pink tongue over her upper lip, her eyes growing paler. “I do. Very much.”

Murphy frowned and nodded.

Then she whipped the pistol in a bone-breaking stroke, smashing it into the vampire’s jaw.

“Yes!” I hissed, clenching my hands into fists.

The vampire let out a short, stunned gasping sound and rocked beneath the blow. She slid out of the chair to her knees, feebly trying to move away from Murphy.

Murph wasn’t having any of it. She grabbed Felicia by the hair, hauled her halfway to her feet, and then, with a furious shout and a contraction of her whole body, Murphy slammed the vampire’s face down onto the coffee table. Felicia’s head shattered the teapot and the platter beneath, and struck the oak table with such force that a crack