And then a disturbing thought occurred to me: Why in hell was the war captain of the White Council answering the freaking phones? Why wasn't a junior member of the Wardens doing the receptionist work?
I could think of only a couple or three reasons.
None of them were pleasant.
My brief flash of relief and confidence melted away. Good thing it did, too. I'm sure the world would come to an end if I were allowed to feel a sense of relief and well-being for any length of time.
I shoved my worry out of my head. It wasn't going to help anything. The only one I could count on to ride to my rescue was me. If the Wardens managed to do it anyway, it would be a nice surprise, but I had to get myself moving before the problem started looking too big. It was the same principle as cleaning a really messy room. You don't think about everything you have to do. You focus on one thing and get it done, then move on to the next.
I needed the summons that was hidden in die Erlking. To get that, I had to talk to Shiela. Right, Harry. Get a move on. I tried the phone once more, but I guess I'd already won the functional tech lottery: All circuits were busy.
I hadn't been sitting down very long, but it was long enough for my leg to make it clear to the rest of my body that it didn't want to be walked on any more today.
"Get with the program," I told my leg severely. "You don't have to be happy about it, but I need you functional."
My leg sat there in sullen silence and throbbed, which I took as assent. I reached for my keys, and then heard a soft sound at my office door.
I whirled my staff into my hand, calling up my will, and the runes were already smoldering with sullen orange light when the door opened.
Billy stood in the doorway, his expression frozen in surprise, his mouth open. He was wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and an old leather jacket. He hadn't worn his glasses much over the past several years, but he had them on today. His hair had been mussed by the wind, which sighed against my office windows. I heard a few drops of rain begin to fall, striking with dull taps on the glass.
"Um," he said after a minute. "Hi, Harry."
I scowled at him and lowered the staff, letting the power ease out of it. The warmed wood felt good under my hand, and the faint scent of wood smoke lay on the air. "Bad time to be appearing suddenly in my office door," I said.
"Next time I'll whistle or something," Billy replied.
"How'd you find me?"
"It's your office." He looked around the place. "You talking to someone?"
"Not really," I said. "What do you need?"
He opened his coat. The handle of a gun protruded from his belt- my revolver. "Artemis Bock came by my place. He said there was some trouble at his store."
"Yeah," I said. "Bad guys were trying to rough him up. I argued with them about it."
Billy nodded. "That's what he said. He found this in the alley outside. He said there was blood."
"One of them clipped my leg," I said. "I got it taken care of." Billy nodded, worried. "Um. He was worried about you."
"I'm fine." I stood up, careful about my leg. "Bock okay?"
"Um," Billy said. He looked at me, his expression clearly concerned. "Yeah. Not hurt, I mean. Some damage to the store, which he said he didn't mind. He wanted me to thank you for him." He pulled the gun out of his belt and said, "And I thought you might need this."
"Shouldn't carry it in your pants like that," I said. "Good way to sing soprano."
"It's empty," he said, and offered me the handle of the gun.
I took it, flipped the cylinder open, and checked it. The gun wasn't loaded. I slid it into the pocket of my duster, then opened the drawer of my desk and took a small box of ammunition I kept there. I put it in the pocket along with the gun. "Thanks for bringing that by," I said. "Why'd you come looking here?"
"You didn't answer the phone at your place. I went by there. It looked like someone tried to tear the door off."
"Someone did," I said.
"But you're all right?" There was a little more weight on the question than I would have expected.
"I'm fine," I said, getting impatient. "Hell's bells, Billy. If you've got something to say, go ahead and say it."
He inhaled deeply. "Um. Well. I'm sort of afraid to."
I arched a brow at him, and scowled again.
"Look. You... aren't acting right, Harry."
"Meaning?" I asked.
"Meaning not like yourself," Billy said. "People have been noticing."
"People?" I asked. My leg pounded. I had no time for this kind of psychological patty-cake. "What people?"
"People who respect you," he said carefully. "Maybe who are even a little bit afraid of you."
I just stared at him.
"I don't know if you know this, Harry. But you can be a really scary guy. I mean, I've seen what you can do. And even the people who haven't seen themselves have heard stories. Believe me, we're all glad you're one of the good guys, but if you weren't..."
"What?" I said, suddenly feeling more tired. "If I wasn't, then what?"
"You'd be scary. Really scary."
"Get to your damned point," I said quietly.
He nodded. "You've been talking to things."
"Excuse me?"
He lifted his hands. "Talking to things. I mean, you were talking to things when I was outside your door."
"That was nothing," I said.
"Okay," Billy said, though his tone suggested that he was placating me rather than agreeing.
"What is this talking-to-things crap? Did Bock say I was doing that?"
"Harry- " Billy said.
"Because I wasn't," I said. "Good God, I do some crazy crap, but it's usually the 'this is never going to work but I have to try it' variety of crazy. I'm not insane."
Billy folded his arms, his eyes searching my face. "See, that's the thing. If you were truly insane, would you be able to realize it?"
I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. "So let me get this straight. Because Bock said something about me, and because you heard me talking to myself, suddenly I'm ready for the room with rubber walls."
"No," he said. "Sort of. Harry, look, it isn't like I'm trying to accuse-"
"That's funny, because it sounds like an accusation from this end," I said.
"I only- "
I slammed my staff down on the floor, and Billy flinched.