"Do you have a guilty conscience?" she asked.
"Maybe," I said.
She looked at me. Her pupils had resurfaced, and she looked almost normal. Almost. "How can I trust you?"
"You probably can't. But I do want to help Magnus. Please talk to me, Ms. Bouvier."
"I have to have your word that you won't tell the police. I am serious, Ms. Blake. If the police interfere, they could loose the thing and people would die."
I debated but couldn't see any reason the police would need to know. "Okay, I give you my word."
"I may not have Magnus's way with glamor, but an oath to one of the fey is a serious matter, Ms. Blake. Lying to us tends to go badly."
"Is that a threat?"
"Think of it as a warning." The air moved between us like heat rising off a road. Her eyes swirled like miniature whirlpools.
Maybe I should have shown her my gun. "Don't threaten me, Dorcas. I'm not in the mood."
The magic seemed to seep away like water running into a crack in the rocks. You knew it was still there, below the surface. But for someone who had been threatened by werewolves and vampires, she paled in comparison. Magnus seemed to have most of the talent in the family. On the scale of scariness, Magnus was up there.
"Just so we understand each other, Ms. Blake. If you tell the police and they let loose the creature, the deaths will be on your head."
"Alright, I'm impressed; now tell me about it."
"Did Magnus tell you about our ancestor, Llyn Bouvier?"
"Yeah, he was the first European in this area. He married into the local tribe. Converted them to Christianity. He was also fey."
She nodded. "He brought another fey with him."
"A wife?" I asked.
"No, he had captured one of the less intelligent fairies. He imprisoned it in a magically constructed box. It escaped and slaughtered nearly the entire tribe we're descended from. He finally managed to contain it with the help of an Indian shaman, or priest, but he never regained control over it. The best he could do was to imprison it."
"What kind of fairie did he bring over?"
"Bloody Bones isn't just the name of our bar," she said. "It's short for Rawhead and Bloody Bones."
My eyes widened. "But that's a nursery boggle; why would your ancestor want to capture one? They don't have any treasure, or wishes, to give out. Or am I wrong on that?"
"No, you're quite correct. Bloody Bones has no riches or gentle magic to grant wishes."
"Then why capture it?"
"Most children born of human and fairie blood don't have a lot of magic."
"That's what the legends say," I said, "but Magnus proves that wrong."
"Llyn Bouvier made a sort of pact for himself and his descendants. We would all have fey power, at a price."
She was dragging this out, and I was tired. "Just tell me, Ms. Bouvier. The suspense is getting irritating."
"Has it ever occurred to you that this might be embarrassing for me to admit?" she asked.
"No; if that's the case, I apologize."
"My ancestor imprisoned Bloody Bones so he could make a potion of its blood. But the potion had to be remade periodically, retaken, or his magic deserted him."
I stared at her. "How did the other fey take this little idea?"
"He was forced to flee Europe, or they would have killed him. It is forbidden among us to use each other like that."
"I can see why."
"His barbaric act gave us glamor. Power. But it was still purchased by blood, Ms. Blake. After Rawhead and Bloody Bones was imprisoned, my ancestor gave up his potion. He finally saw it as evil. Though his power faded, his children had the power of fairie in their blood. So here we are," she said.
"So you've got Rawhead and Bloody Bones hidden in some magic box somewhere?" I asked.
She smiled, and it made her face seem suddenly young and lovely. I had no way of judging her age. I couldn't see a line on her face. "When the magic failed the first time, Rawhead and Bloody Bones grew to its full size. It is bigger than a person, almost as big as a giant. It is imprisoned in a mound of earth and magic."
"You say it nearly wiped out an entire tribe way back when?"
She nodded.
I sighed. "I have to see where it's imprisoned."
"You promised..."
"I promised not to tell the police, but you've just told me there's a giant-sized creature capable of mass destruction imprisoned near here. I have to see that it's secure, that it's not going to break out and start slaughtering people."
"I assure you, Ms. Blake, our family has managed for centuries. We know what we're doing."
"If I can't tell the cops, I have to see for myself."
She stood up, trying to use her height to intimidate me. She wasn't even close. "And you'll bring the police, right? Do you think I'm that stupid?"
"I won't bring the cops, Ms. Bouvier, but I have to see it. If it does break out and I didn't warn the cops, then it would be my fault that no one was prepared."
"You can't prepare for Bloody Bones," she said. "It is immortal, Ms. Blake, truly immortal. It cannot die. You could cut off its head and it would not die. The police can do nothing but make things worse."
She had a point. "I still need to see for myself."
"You are a stubborn woman."
"Yeah, I can be a real pain in the ass, Ms. Bouvier. Let's not dance, just take me to see the prison, and if it's secure I'll leave you to it."
"If it's not secure enough for you?" she asked.
"We contact a witch and see what she recommends."
She frowned. "You wouldn't just go to the police?"
"If my home was robbed, I'd call the cops. If I need help with magic, I call somebody who can do magic."
"You are a strange woman, Ms. Blake. I don't understand you."
"There's a lot of that going around," I said. "Do I get to see where Rawhead and Bloody Bones is buried, or not?"
"Alright, I'll show you."
"When?"
"Without Magnus we're shorthanded at the bar, so not today. Come to the bar around three tomorrow. I'll take you from there."
"I have a coworker that I'd like to bring along," I said.
"One of those in the bedroom?"
"No."
"Why do you want to bring him?"
"Because I'm training him, and when will he ever get to see fey magic again?" She seemed to think about it for a minute, then nodded. "Alright, you may bring one other person with you, but no more."
"Trust me, Ms. Bouvier, one is plenty."
"My friends call me Dorrie," she said. She held out her hand.
"I'm Anita." I shook her hand. She had a nice, firm grip for a woman. Sexist but true. Most women don't seem to know how to give a good handshake.
She held my hand longer than she had to. When she took her hand back, I remembered Magnus's clairvoyance. Dorrie turned those wide, eerie eyes to me. She held her hand to her chest like it hurt. "I see blood, and pain, and death. It follows you like a cloud, Anita Blake."
I watched horror seep into her eyes. Horror at the brief glimpse she'd had of me, my life, my past. I didn't look away. If you're not ashamed, you don't need to look away. Sometimes I would prefer a different line of work, but it's what I do, who I am.
The look faded from her eyes, and she blinked. "I won't underestimate you, Anita."
Dorrie looked normal again, or as normal as she had when she first came in, which wasn't very. Now for the first time I looked at her and wondered if I was seeing what was really there. Was she using glamor on me now, to appear normal? To appear less powerful than she was?
"I'll return the favor, Dorrie."
She flashed me that lovely smile again that made her seem young and vulnerable. Illusion, maybe? "Until tomorrow, then."
"Until tomorrow," I said.
She left, and I locked the door behind her. So Magnus's family were the guardians of a monster. Had that had something to do with why he ran? Dorrie didn't think it was a reason. She should know. But there was a feeling in the room of power gently moving on the air currents. A faint whiff of magic traced the air like perfume, and I hadn't known it until just before she left. Maybe Dorrie was just as good with glamor as Magnus, just more subtle. Could I really trust Dorrie Bouvier? Hmmm.