Death Masks (The Dresden Files 5)

"Magic germs?" Butters asked. "Are you telling me I've got magic germs?"

"Magic germs," I confirmed. "Someone called them up with magic."

"Like an actual magic spell?"

"Usually you call nasty hurtful spells a curse. But by tomorrow or the next day, those other samples will probably have zeroed out too."

"Are they still infectious?"

"Assume they are. They're good as real until the energy that holds them together falls apart."

"Christ. You're serious. It's for real."

"Well, yeah."

"Is there a book or a Cliff's Notes or something on this stuff?"

I actually smiled that time. "Just me. Anything else?"

"Not much. I swept the body for genetic remains but got nothing. The cuts on the corpse were made with either a surgical scalpel or some other kind of small, fine blade. Maybe a utility knife."

"I've seen cuts like that before, yeah."

"Here's the best part. The same blade evidently took off the hands and head. The cuts are cleaner than a surgeon could manage on an operating table. Three single cuts. The heat from it half cauterized parts of the wounds. So what kind of tool can cut fine, precise lines and cleave through bones too?"

"Sword?"

"Have to be one hell of a sharp sword."

"There's a few around like that. Any luck identifying the victim?"

"None. Sorry."

"'S okay."

"You want to know if anything changes?"

"Yeah. Or if you see anyone else come in like that guy."

"God forbid, will do. You find anything on that tattoo?"

"Called the Eye of Thoth," I said. "Trying to narrow down exactly who uses it around here. Oh, give Murphy a call. Let her know about those samples."

"Already did. She's the one who told me to keep you in the loop. I think she was heading toward sleep too. Would she want me to wake her up to talk to you?"

I talked through a yawn. "Nah, it can wait. Thanks for the call, Butters."

"No trouble," he said. "Sleep is god. Go worship."

I grunted, hung up the phone, and didn't get to take the second step toward my bed when someone knocked at the door.

"I need one of those trapdoors," I muttered to Mister. "I could push a button and people would fall screaming down a wacky slide thing and land in mud somewhere."

Mister was far too mature to dignify that with a response, so I kept a hand near my gift rack as I opened the door a crack and peeked out.

Susan tilted her head sideways and gave me a small smile. She was wearing jeans, an old tee, a heavy grey fleece jacket, and sunglasses. "Hi," she said.

"Hi."

"You know, it's hard to tell through the door, but your eyes look sunken and bloodshot. Did you sleep last night?"

"What is this thing you speak of, 'sleep'?"

Susan sighed and shook her head. "Mind if I come in?"

I stepped back and opened the door wider. "No scolding."

Susan came in and folded her arms. "Always so cold in here in the winter."

I had a couple suggestions on how to warm up, but I didn't say them out loud. Maybe I didn't want to see her response to them. I thought about what Murphy had said about setting up a talk. I got some more wood and stirred up the fireplace. "Want me to make some tea or something?"

She shook her head. "No."

Susan never turned down a cup of hot tea. I tried, but I couldn't keep a hard edge out of my voice. "Just going to dump me and run, then. Drive-by dumping."

"Harry, that isn't fair," Susan said. I could hear the hurt in her voice, but only barely. I raked harder at the fire, making sparks fly up, though flames were already licking the new wood. "This isn't easy for anyone."

My mouth kept running without checking in with my brain. My heart maybe, but not my brain. I shot her a look over my shoulder and said, "Except for Captain Mediocrity, I guess."

She raised both eyebrows. "Do you mean Martin?"

"Isn't that what this is about?" A spark flipped out of the fire and landed on my hand, stinging. I yelped and pulled my hand away. I closed the heavy mesh curtain over the fire and put the poker away. "And before you say anything, I know damn well I'm being insane. And possessive. I know that we were quits before you left town. It's been more than a year, and it's been hard on you. It's only natural for you to find someone. It's irrational and childish for me to be upset, and I don't care."

"Harry- " she began.

"And it's not as if you haven't been thinking about it," I continued. Somewhere I knew that I'd start choking on my foot if I kept shoving it in my mouth. "You kissed me. You kissed me, Susan. I know you. You meant it."

"This isn't-"

"I'll bet you don't kiss Snoozy Martin like that."

Susan rolled her eyes and walked to me. She sat down on the lintel of my little fireplace while I knelt before it. She cupped my cheek in one hand. She was warm. It felt good. I was too tired to control my reaction to the simple, gentle touch, and I looked back at the fire.

"Harry," she said. "You're right. I don't kiss Martin like that."

I pulled my cheek away, but she put her fingers on my chin and tugged my face back toward her. "I don't kiss him at all. I'm not involved with Martin."

I blinked. "You're not?"

She drew an invisible X over her heart with her index finger.

"Oh," I said. I felt my shoulders ease up a little.

Susan laughed. "Was that really worrying you, Harry? That I was leaving you for another man?"

"I don't know. I guess."

"God, you are a dolt sometimes." She smiled at me, but I could see the sadness in it. "It always shocked me how you could understand so many things and be such a complete idiot about so many others."

"Practice," I said. She looked down at me for a while, with that same sad smile, and I understood. "It doesn't change anything, does it?"

"Martin?"

"Yeah."

She nodded. "It doesn't change anything."

I swallowed a sudden frog in my throat. "You want it to be over."

"I don't want it," she said quickly. "But I think it's necessary. For both of us."

"You came back here to tell me that?"

Susan shook her head. "I don't have my mind set. I think it wouldn't be fair to do that without talking to you about it. We both have to make this decision."