Death Masks (The Dresden Files 5)

"Sounds tired," I said. "I'm going to talk to him later, assuming we don't have something going on first."

"I worry for him," Forthill said. He held up the beam to the top of what would eventually be a window. "Here, hold this for me."

I did. Forthill started driving in a few nails, clenching several in his teeth. "And Miss Valmont?"

"Taking a shower. She's going to cooperate with us."

Forthill frowned, taking a nail from his lips. "I really wouldn't have expected that from her, from the sense I had of her."

"It's my charming personality," I said. "The ladies can't resist."

"Mmmm," Forthill said, around the nails.

"It's the only decent thing to do. And her back is against a wall, right?"

Forthill drove the nail in and frowned. He looked at me.

I looked back at him for a moment and then said, "I'll just go check on her."

I got about halfway across the living room before I heard a car door shut, immediately followed by a car engine. I ran to the front door and threw it open just in time to see the shattered rear window of the Blue Beetle zipping down the street and out of sight.

I fumbled at my pockets and groaned. My keys were missing. "Son of a bitch," I snarled. I punched the door frame in sheer frustration. I didn't punch it very hard. I was angry, not looking to break my own knuckles. "The old stumble and bump and I fell for it."

Susan stepped up beside me and sighed. "Harry, you idiot. You're a good man. But an idiot where women are concerned."

"First my coat and now my car. That's freaking gratitude for you."

Susan nodded. "No good deed goes unpunished."

I stared at her. "Are you laughing at me?"

She faced me from behind a perfectly straight face. But her voice sounded a little choked. "No."

"You are."

Her face turned pink and she shook her head.

"Laughing at my pain."

She turned and walked back to the living room and picked up her paper. She sat down and held it up so that I couldn't see her face. Choked sounds came out from behind the paper.

I stalked back out to the addition, growling. Forthill looked back at me, his eyebrows raised.

"Give me something to break. Or hit really hard," I told him.

His eyes sparkled. "You'll hurt yourself. Here, hold this for me."

I lifted another cut board into place, while Forthill reached up to hammer it in. As he did, the sleeve of his shirt tugged up, and showed me a pair of green lines.

"Wait," I said, and snapped my hand over to his arm. The board slipped out of my other hand and bonked me on the head on the way down. I scowled at it, wincing, but tugged the sleeve up.

Forthill had a tattoo on the inside of his right arm.

An Eye of Thoth.

"What is this?" I demanded.

Forthill looked around and tugged his sleeve back down. "A tattoo."

"Duh, a tattoo. I know that. What does it mean?"

"It's something I had done when I was younger," he answered. "An organization I belonged to."

I tried to calm down but my voice still sounded harsh. "What organization?"

Forthill blinked mildly at me. "I don't understand why you are so upset, Harry-"

"What organization?"

He continued to look confused. "Just several of us who took our orders together. We were barely more than boys, really. And we'd - well. We'd happened on to some of the stranger events of our day. And records of others. A vampire had killed two people in town, and we stopped it together. No one believed us, of course."

"Of course," I said. "What about the tattoo?"

Forthill pursed his lips, thoughtful. "I haven't thought about it in so long. Well, the next morning we went out and got the tattoos. We swore an oath to be always watchful against the forces of darkness, to help one another whenever we could."

"Then what?"

"After the hangovers faded, we went a very good distance out of our way to make sure none of the senior clergy saw them," Forthill responded, smiling faintly. "We were young."

"And then?"

"And then no other supernatural events presented themselves over the next few years and the five of us drifted apart. Until I heard from Vittorio-from Father Vincent last week, I hadn't spoken to any of them in years."

"Wait. Vincent has a tattoo like this?"

"I suppose he could have had it removed. He might be the sort to do that."

"What about the others in the group?"

"Passed away over the last several years," Forthill said. He stripped off one of the work gloves and regarded his weathered hand. "Back then, I don't think any of us thought we would ever live to be so old."

The wheels spun in my head, and I got it. I understood what was happening, and why. On pure intuition I stalked to the front of the house, gathering up my things on the way. Father Forthill followed me. "Harry?"

I walked past Susan, who set her paper aside and stood up to follow me. "Harry?"

I got to the front door and jerked it open.

The engine of Michael's white pickup rattled to a halt as I did, and he and Sanya got out of the truck. They looked a little rumpled and unshaven, but fine. Michael blinked at me and asked, "Harry? I think I just saw a woman driving your car toward the highway. What's going on?"

"Get anything you need for a fight," I said. "We're going."

Chapter Twenty-eight

When Father Vincent answered my knock, I kicked the door into his face as hard as I could. He fell back with a grunt of surprise. I came into the room with Father Forthill's Louisville Slugger in my hands, and jabbed the broad end of the bat into Vincent's throat.

The old priest made a sick croaking sound and clutched at his neck on the way to the floor.

I didn't let it stop there. I kicked him in the ribs twice, and when he rolled over, trying to get away from me, I stomped down on the back of his neck, drew my gun, and shoved it against his skull.

"Dio," Vincent whimpered, panting. "Dio, wait! Please, don't hurt me!"

"I don't have time to play pretend," I said. "Drop the act."

"Please, Mister Dresden, I don't know what you mean." He coughed, panting, and I saw droplets of scarlet dripping onto the carpet. I'd bloodied his nose, or maybe his lip. He turned his head a tiny bit, eyes wide with panic. "Please, don't do anything to me. I don't know what you want, but I'm sure that we can talk about it."