Death Masks

"They wouldn’t," I said. "They wouldn’t use magic like that. Even if technically it was the diseases that killed the guy, it’s too damn close to breaking the First Law."

"Who else would have that kind of power?" Bob asked me.

I turned to a fresh page and sketched out a rough version of the tattoo on the corpse. I held it up to show it to Bob. "Someone who didn’t like this, maybe."

"Eye of Thoth," Bob supplied. "That the tattoo on the corpse?"

"Yeah. Was this guy in someone’s secret club?"

"Maybe. The eye is a pretty popular occult symbol though, so you can’t rule out the possibility that he was an independent."

"Okay," I said. "So who uses it?"

"Plenty of groups. Brotherhoods connected to the White Council, historic societies, a couple of fringe groups of occult scholars, personality cults, television psychics, comic book heroes-"

"I get the point," I said. I turned to a fresh page and from razor-sharp memory sketched out the symbol I’d seen on the demon Ursiel’s forehead. "Do you recognize this?"

Bob’s eyelights widened. "Are you insane? Harry, tear that paper up. Burn it."

I frowned. "Bob, wait a minute-"

"Do it now!"

The skull’s voice was frightened, and I get nervous when Bob gets frightened. Not much can scare Bob out of his usual wiseass-commentator state of mind. I tore up the paper. "I guess you recognize it."

"Yeah. And I’m not having anything to do with that bunch."

"I didn’t hear that, Bob. I need information on them. They’re in town, they’ve taken a shot at me, and I’m betting they’re after the Shroud."

"Let them have it," Bob said. "Seriously. You’ve got no idea the kind of power this group has."

"Fallen, I know," I said. "Order of the Blackened Denarius. But they have to play by the rules, right?"

"Harry, it isn’t just the Fallen. The people they’ve taken are nearly as bad. They’re assassins, poisoners, warriors, sorcerers-"

"Sorcerers?"

"The coins make them effectively immortal. Some of the Order have had a thousand years to practice, and maybe more. That much time, even modest talents can grow teeth. Never mind everything experience would have taught them, everything they could have found to make themselves stronger over the years. Even without infernal superpowers, they’d be badass."

I frowned, and tore the bits of paper into smaller bits. "Badass enough to manage that curse?"

"There’s no question that they’d have the skill. Maybe enough that they wouldn’t need as big a power source."

"Great," I said, and rubbed at my eyes. "All right, then. Big-leaguers all around. I want you to track down the Shroud."

"No can do," Bob said.

"Give me a break. How many pieces of two-thousand-year-old linen are in town?"

"That’s not the point, Harry. The Shroud is -" Bob seemed to struggle to find words. "It doesn’t exist on the same wavelength as me. It’s out of my jurisdiction."

"What are you talking about?"

"I’m a spirit of intellect, Harry. Of reason, logic. The Shroud isn’t about logic. It’s an artifact of faith."

"What?" I demanded. "That doesn’t make any sense."

"You don’t know everything, Harry," Bob said. "You don’t even know a lot. I can’t touch this. I can’t come anywhere near it. And if I even try, I’ll be crossing boundaries I shouldn’t. I’m not going up against angels, Dresden, Fallen, or otherwise."

I sighed, and lifted my hands. "Fine, fine. Is there someone I can talk to?"

Bob was quiet for a moment before he said, "Maybe. Ulsharavas."

"Ulsha- who?"

"Ulsharavas. She’s an ally of the loa, an oracle spirit. There’s details about halfway through your copy of Dumont’s Guide to Divinationators."

"How are her prices?"

"Reasonable," Bob said. "You’ve got everything you need for the calling. She isn’t usually malicious."

"Isn’t usually?"

"The loa are basically good guys, but they all have their darker aspects, too. Ulsharavas is a pretty gentle guide, but she’s been harsh before. Don’t let your guard down."

"I won’t," I said, and frowned. "One more thing. Swing by Marcone’s place and see if there’s anything interesting there. You don’t have to go all David Niven; just take a look around."

"You think Marcone’s involved in this one?"

"His thugs already took a poke at me. I might as well find out whatever I can. I give you permission to leave in pursuit of that information, Bob. Get back before dawn. Oh, do we still have that recipe for the antivenom to vampire spit?"

A cloud of orange lights flowed out of the skull, across the table, and then up the stairs. Bob’s voice, oddly modulated, floated back to me. "Red notebook. Don’t forget to light the wardflame while I’m gone."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. I gave Bob a minute to clear my wards, then got down a three-candle holder with green, yellow, and red candles on it. I lit the green one and set the candleholder aside. I got out Dumont’s Guide and read over the entry for Ulsharavas. It looked pretty simple, though you couldn’t be too careful whenever you called something in from the Nevernever.

I took a couple of minutes to gather what I’d need. The oracle spirit couldn’t put together a body for herself, not even a nebulous cloud of light, like Bob could. She required a homunculus to manifest in the mortal world. Dumont recommended a newly dead corpse, but as the only one I was likely to find was my own, I needed a substitute. I found it in another box and plopped it down in the center of my summoning circle,

I added a cup of whiskey and a freshly opened tin of Prince Albert’s chewing tobacco to the circle, the required down payment to convince Ulsharavas to show up. It was the last of my whiskey and the last of the tins of tobacco, so I added Get more scotch and Prince Albert in a can to my to-do list, and stuck it in my pocket.

I spent a couple of minutes sweeping the floor around the circle, so that I wouldn’t kick a stray hair or bit of paper across the circle and flub it up. After a brief deliberation I chalked down another circle outside the copper one. Then I took a moment to go over the guide a last time, and to clear my head of distractions.

I took a deep breath and gathered in my strength. Then I focused, reached down, and touched the copper circle, willing a tiny jolt of power into it. The summoning circle closed. I felt it as a tingling prickle on the back of my neck and a faint warmth on the skin of my face. I repeated the process with the chalk circle, adding a second layer, and then knelt down by the circle, lifting both hands palms-up.