"I found this there when I got burned," I said. "It's an ancient script. It's the symbol for the name of Lasciel."
Georgia drew in a slow breath and said, "Oh."
Billy looked back and forth between us. "Oh? What, oh?"
Georgia gave me a be-patient look and turned to Billy. "It's a demon mark. Like a brand, yes?" She looked at me for confirmation.
I nodded.
"He's worried that this demon, Lasciel, might be exerting some kind of control on him in ways that he cannot detect."
"Right," I said. "Everything I know tells me that I should be cut off from Lasciel. That I should be safe. But the power is still there somehow. And if the demon is influencing my thoughts, pulling my strings, I might not even be able to feel it happening."
Georgia frowned. "Do you believe that to be a probability?"
"It's too dangerous to assume anything else," I said. I held up a hand. "That's not hubris. It's just a fact. I have power. If I use it unwisely or recklessly, people could get hurt. They could die. And if Lasciel is somehow influencing me..."
"Who knows what could happen," Billy finished, his tone sober.
"Yeah."
"Damn," Billy said.
We all took a sip of beer.
"I'm worried," I said. "I haven't been able to find any answers. I've gone through spell after spell. Rites, ceremonies, I've tried everything. It won't go away."
"Jesus," Billy breathed.
"An influence like this is detectable, and against the Laws of Magic. If the Wardens found out and pushed a trial on me, it might be enough to get me executed. And if I get near the Knight of the Cross I told you about, he'll be able to feel it on me. I don't know how he'd react. What he would think."
I swallowed.
"I'm scared."
Georgia touched my arm briefly, then said, "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Harry. I know you well enough to know that you would never want that kind of power, much less abuse it."
"If some part of me didn't want it," I asked, "why didn't I pick up the kid instead of Lasciel's coin?"
A heavy silence settled over the kitchen.
"You've been friends to me. Stuck it out by me when times were rough," I said a moment later. "You've made me welcome in your home. In your life. You're good people. I'm sorry I haven't been more open with you."
"Is that what tonight was about?" Billy asked. "The demon?"
"No," I said. "Tonight was different. And I can't tell you about it."
"If you're trying to protect us..." Billy began.
"I'm not protecting you," I said. "I'm protecting someone else. If I'm seen with you, it could get them badly hurt. Maybe even killed."
"I don't understand. I want to help..." Billy said.
Georgia put her hand over Billy's. He glanced at her, flushed, and then closed his mouth.
I nodded and finished the beer. "I need you to trust me for a little while. I'm sorry. But the faster I'm out of here, the better."
"How can we help?" Georgia asked.
"Just knowing that you want to is a help," I told her. "But that's almost the only thing you can do. For now, at least."
"Almost the only thing?"
I nodded. "If I could get something to eat, and maybe a ride back to my car, I'd be obliged."
"We can do that," Billy said.
"Thank you,"I said.
Chapter Ten
I raided the refrigerator and divested it of a small plate of cold cuts while Billy made a call to his apartment. Moments later one of the other Alphas called back, confirming that the furor around Bock Ordered Books had begun to die down.
"Only one patrol car still there," Billy reported. "Plus the guys with the wrecker."
"We shouldn't wait any longer," I said. "With cops around, any neighborhood monsters will lie low for a while to be careful. I want to be back there and gone before they get moving again."
"Eat in the car," Georgia suggested, and we all piled back into her SUV.
Georgia parked on the curb behind the Beetle and let me out. I had my keys in my hand, ready to get in and get gone. But when I saw the car, I stopped.
Someone had smashed out the remaining windows in the car. Glass littered the street and the car's interior. Parts of the windshield were missing, and the rest clung together in a mass of fracture lines that made the whole mess opaque. The back window had already been broken when I used my force ring on that zombie earlier in the evening. The doors and the hood were dented in dozens of places, and the door handles had been entirely smashed off. The tires sagged limply, and I could see long, neat slashes in them without difficulty.
I approached the car slowly.
The wooden handle of a Louisville Slugger baseball bat protruded from the gaping driver's-side window, the cardboard tag from the store still dangling from its string.
Billy leaned out the SUV window and let out a low whistle. "Wow."
"But on the upside," I said, "now all the windows match."
"What a mess," Georgia said.
I went around to the front of the car and opened the trunk. It hadn't been tampered with. My sawed-off shotgun was still in the backseat. Billy and Georgia got out and walked over to me.
"Gang?" Georgia asked.
"Gang wouldn't have left the gun," I said.
"The guys in the hoods?" Billy guessed.
"Didn't strike me as the baseball-bat type." I reached in and picked up the bat with just my forefinger and thumb, near the middle, where it wouldn't mar any fingerprints left on it. I showed it to them. "Cowl would have used his magic to smash the car up, not a club." I walked around to the back of the car and frowned down at the engine. It looked intact. I leaned in the window and tried my key. The engine turned over without any trouble.
"Huh," Billy said. "Who completely ruins a car but doesn't touch the engine?"
"Someone sending me a message," I said.
Billy pursed his lips. "What does it say?"
"That I need to rent a car, apparently," I said. I shook my head. "I don't have time for this."
Billy and Georgia traded a look, and Georgia nodded. She came over to me, took my car keys where I held them in my cupped left hand, and replaced them with her own.
"Oh, hell, no," I said. "Don't do that."
"It's not a big deal," she told me. "Look, you still take your car to Mike's Garage, right?"