Blood Rites by Jim Butcher

Author:Jim Butcher
Format: mobi, epub, azw3, pdf
Published: 2010-01-29T04:46:50+00:00

I expected Genosa to look awful the next morning, but evidently I had a temporary monopoly on rough nights in Chicago. He was waiting for me at the door when I got to the studio, dressed in slacks and a tennis shirt, perfectly coiffed and genial. I got another European-type hug before I'd gotten all the way out of the Beetle.

"The malocchio, it happened again," he said. "Didn't it. Last night when you ran out."

"Yeah," I said.

He licked his lips. "Who?"

"Inari. She's all right."

Arturo blinked several times. "Inari? That's insane. What possible threat could she be to anyone?"

Incipient succubus. No threat at all there. "There's got to be some reason she was targeted. We just don't know what it is yet."

"She's only a child," Genosa said, and for the first time I heard something like real anger in his voice. That was something to be noted. When kind men grow angry, things are about to change. "Have you any idea who is behind it?"

"Not yet," I said, and opened the storage compartment under the Beetle's hood. "But this is definitely more than business for somebody. For them it's personal. I think they're going to take another swing this morning, and I'm going to have a surprise for them when they do."

"How may I help?"

"Get the set moving like everything's normal. I need to get a spell of my own ready."

Arturo frowned at that, and it crinkled all the creases at the corners of his face into unfamiliar lines. "And that is all I can do?"

"For now."

He sighed. "All right. May fortune smile on your efforts, Mister Dresden."

"Don't know why she'd start now," I said, but gave him a quick smile by way of encouragement.

Genosa returned the smile and went back into the building. I followed him a couple of minutes later with my pack loaded with a fifty-foot retractable chalk line, a mirror, a box of tinfoil, and half a dozen candles. I hurried inside, and checked the greenroom and the dressing room before I found Jake Guffie loitering around the shooting studio in dark grey boxers and a loose silk robe. He had a paperback and a bottle of Gatorade, and was draped over his chair in a pose meant to convey calm and confidence. I'm not sure what made me think he was faking, but I knew it even before I spoke to him.

"Jake," I said. "Just the guy I need to see."

He jumped like a nervous cat and gave me a reproachful glance. "Oh. Good morning, Harry. What can I do for you?"

"I need your help with something for about ten minutes."

He tilted his head at me. "Yeah? What?"

I hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. "I'm setting up a spell to protect everyone from evil magic."

"Uh," Jake said, narrowing his eyes. "I don't want to disrespect your religion, man. But did someone spike your breakfast cereal with LSD or something?"

"What can I say, Jake. I'm insane but harmless. Come with me and help me draw some lines on the floor with chalk, and after that I'll leave you alone.

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