"Wow," Bob said from behind me, somehow inserting a leer into the word. "I didn't realize you liked them quite that... fresh, Harry."
I glared at him. "What?"
"Did you see the body on her? Magnificent rack! Blond Nordic babe-age, but all pierced and dressed in black, which means she's probably into at least one kind of kink. And all tender and emotional and vulnerable to boot. Taking her clothes off right here in your room."
"Kink? You don't-look, there's no way to..." I sputtered. "No, Bob. Just no. For crying out loud. She's seventeen."
"Better move quick, then," Bob said. "Before anything starts to droop. Taste of perfection while you can, that's what I always say."
"Bob!"
"What?" he said.
"That isn't how things are."
"Not now,'" Bob said. "But you go get in that shower with her and you've got your own personal cable TV erotic movie come true."
I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. "Hell's bells. The whole idea is wrong, Bob. Just... wrong."
"Harry, even a nerd should know that it's no coincidence when a girl shows up at a man's hotel room. You know all she really wants is to-"
"Bob," I snapped, cutting him off. "Even if she wanted to, which she doesn't, nothing is happening with the girl. I'm trying to work, here. You aren't helping."
"I'd hate to disrupt your most recent attempt to court death and agony," he said brightly. "You should stick me somewhere else, where I won't distract you. On the counter in the bathroom, for example."
I slapped open one of the empty dresser drawers and tossed the skull in there, instead. Bob sputtered a few muffled curses in ancient Greek, something about sheep and a skin rash.
I looked up from the drawer into the room's mirror, and found myself facing not my reflection, but Lasciel's image instead, angelic and lovely and poised. "The perverted little creep has a point, my host," she said.
I jabbed a finger at the mirror and said, "Bob is my little creep, and the only one who gets to call him names is me. Now go away."
"Ah," Lasciel said, and the image faded to translucence, my own reflection appearing to replace it. "Fascinating, though," she added, just before vanishing, "that boyfriend Nelson bears quite the striking physical resemblance to you."
Then she was gone. Dammit. Stupid demons. Always with the last word.
Worse, she had a point. I eyed the bathroom door and reviewed the past day or so, and my interactions with the girl before that. I had always been someone her father respected and her mother disapproved of. I showed up once in a blue moon in a big black coat, usually looking roughed-up and dangerous, and I'd been doing so since she was young enough to be very impressionable. Hell, when you got right down to it, Charity's disapproval alone might have been enough to make me seem interesting to a rebellious teenage girl.
I came to the reluctant conclusion that it was possible Molly might have certain ideas in her head. It might well explain the most recent awkward silences and halting pauses. She'd always liked me, and it wasn't outrageous to think that it might have developed into something more-and that I'd be a right bastard to do anything that might encourage those ideas, even inadvertently. Maybe Bob and Lasciel were wrong, and in fact nothing like that was going on, but the passions of youth, its attractions and desires, were a minefield one took lightly at one's own peril.
Magnificent rack notwithstanding, Molly was still, in every important way, a child-my friend's child, to boot. She was hurting. It bothered me, and I wanted to help her, but I had to be aware of the fact that my sympathy could be misinterpreted. The kid had issues and she needed someone to help her work things out. She didn't need someone who would only make her more confused.
Steam curled out from under the bathroom door. An actual hot shower. Not merely the illusion of one.
I shook my head and got back to the detection web.
As spells went, this one was pretty big, but it wasn't complicated. I'd created a long-term version of the same basic working in the neighborhood around my apartment, in order to detect approaching mystical entities. The one I wanted for the hotel was the same thing, but I didn't have to bother with setting it up as a long-term construct. A sunrise, or two at most, would erode the spell, but with any luck I wouldn't need it for any longer.
I took the Play-Doh in hand, grabbed three candles in their own wooden holders, poured the sand in a circle around me, and began gathering in my power, painstakingly creating mental images of the web of energy I needed to weave between the points of the hotel I'd marked out with Play-Doh. It didn't take me a terribly long time to set it up. Anyone with some basic skills and desire enough could have done something like this- or at least, they could have done it on a smaller scale. Weaving a web throughout the whole building took a lot of heavy lifting, magically speaking, but it wasn't complicated, and fifteen minutes later I solidified the image of the energy patterns in my mind, and whispered, "Magius, orbius, spiritus oculus."
I poured my will and my magic out with the words as I spoke them, and my body briefly lit up with a flood of tingling energy that raced along all of my limbs, down into the lump of Play-Doh, and swirled in tight spirals around the three candles that would serve as my ward-flames. The spell's energy flashed, appearing as a tiny stream of faint flickers, like bursts of static electricity, and the candles each flickered to life, steady little flames born of the spell. I broke the circle of sand as I spoke, and the power blossomed out through the hotel, into the shape I'd imagined, invisible strands flickering into instant shape, like ice crystals forming in the space of a heartbeat, spreading unseen strands throughout the hotel.
My balance wobbled a bit as I finished the spell and the energy left me, submerging me in a temporary flood of fatigue. I sat there with my head down, breathing hard for a minute.
"Wow," Murphy said, her tone less than impressed. I looked up to see her shutting the room's door behind her. "What did you do?"
I waved around to indicate the hotel and panted, "If bad mojo shows up in the hotel, the spell will sense it." I gestured at the three candles. "Take one with you. If you see it flare up, it means we've got incoming."
Murphy frowned but nodded. "How much warning will they give us?"
"Not much," I said. "A couple minutes, maybe less. Maybe a lot less."
"Three candles," she said. "One for you, one for me, and..."
"I thought we'd see if Rawlins wanted one."