Fool Moon

"And then you laid low for a month."

Harris swallowed and nodded. "Denton took the belts. He hid them from us. He’d held out better than anyone. And my God, poor Benn was so far gone, it was like she wasn’t even human anymore. Wilson wasn’t much better. But we lasted out the month."

"And then you killed Marcone’s bodyguard at the Varsity."

Harris’s eyes flared. "Yes. You should see his record. The things we know he did, but that we can’t get through a court. My God, Dresden, he had it coming."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Who are we to judge?"

"Who are we not to?" Harris demanded. "The power was in our hands. We had a responsibility to use it for the good. To do our jobs. Hell, Dresden. If you’re such a do-gooder, you should be helping us, not getting in the way. These men are untouchable and you know it."

I shifted my weight uncomfortably. "I don’t agree with your methods. With setting people up to take the blame for your killings."

Harris sneered. "Like MacFinn has never killed anyone. Hell, he’s a murderer now, isn’t he? After that scene at the police station, anyone would be convinced he was a killer."

"Except me," I said. "MacFinn would never have been there if you hadn’t messed up the circle that held him."

"Yeah," Harris said, a spiteful, frustrated edge to his tone. "Except you. You got to poking around in our business. Christ, that crazy report to Murphy even talked about the belts. That was when Denton started taking you seriously. If you had any brains at all, you’d pull that trigger and get the hell out now, before Denton and the others come out of the haze and come after you. Because you know way too much."

"Why the Streetwolves?" I said, instead of shooting him. "Why send me off to check them out?"

"Denton figured they’d kill you," Harris spat. "And get you out of our hair."

I nodded. It figured, that someone else had been trying to kill me the whole while, and I hadn’t really noticed. "And he knew that they were after me, after I got away from them the first time."

"Yeah. And had me tailing them, so we could find you and make sure you were dead. When I saw you in the back of that car, I figured you were. So we planned the hit on the Streetwolves to go down tonight, before MacFinn went after Marcone."

"How’d you know about that?" I asked.

Harris snorted. "Marcone told us. The snake called asking for police protection."

I almost smiled. "Did he get it?"

"Hell, no," Harris answered me. He lifted his chin, and balled his hands into fists, and I felt him tighten up beneath me. "I’m done talking," he said. "If you aren’t going to sign on with us, then get the hell out of here. Or pull the trigger. But quit wasting my time."

"I’m not done talking," I said, and I jammed the gun crosswise over the kid’s throat, strangling him. "You’re going to give Denton a message for me. I’m sick of dancing around. Tell him that he’ll get his shot at me at moonrise, at Marcone’s place."

Harris squirmed beneath me, making rasping, gagging sounds. His eyes widened at my words. "It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’ll try to be there when MacFinn shows up," I said. "That he’ll want to make sure everyone there is dead so that he’s the only one who can report what happened. You tell him that I’ll be there. And tell him that he’s not going to get away with it. Do you understand me, kid?"

I let up on the pressure, and Harris croaked out a vague affirmative. I rose away from him, keeping the gun in one hand and the belt in the other. I saw his eyes flicker to the belt, tracking its movement with a tense, strained sort of hunger.

"Why tell me?" the kid asked. "Why warn us?"

I stared down at him for long seconds before I answered him in a quiet voice. "Because I don’t like what you’re doing. What you are. You aren’t using the power you’ve been given. It’s using you. You’re turning into animals. You’re using savagery and fear to try to uphold the peace. Now it’s your turn to see what it’s like to be afraid."

Harris rose to his feet, his red hair askew, blood drying on his mouth, and backed several paces from me, his eyes darting around. "My belt," he said. "I want my belt."

"Forget it, kid," I told him. "The smartest thing you can do is go lock yourself in your room, and stay there until all of this is over. Because one way or another, you aren’t using this belt again."

His face whitened, and he took a step toward me. I pointed the gun at him, and he froze, his hands balling into fists. "You won’t get away with this," he said, his voice thick with tension.

"Moonrise," I told him, then turned on my heel and walked quickly from the alley, although my sock feet on the gravel, combined with my limp, probably spoiled the badass image.

Thirty feet down the alley, Tera appeared from the shadows and fell into step beside me, close enough to support me if I should fall. "You were wrong, wizard," she said.

I looked down at her, and she met my gaze with her soulless amber eyes. "How so?"

"They have not become animals." She looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. "Animals do not do what they have done. Animals kill to eat, to defend themselves or their own, and to protect their territory. Not for the joy of it. Not for the lust of it." She looked back up at me. "Only humans do that, wizard."

I grimaced, but couldn’t really refute her. "I guess you’re right."

"Of course," Tera said. We walked in silence for a moment. "You will try to help my fiancé?"

"I’ll try," I said. "But I can’t let his curse claim any more lives."

She nodded, her eyes dark. "He would want it that way. He thinks of others before himself."

"He sounds like a good man."

She shrugged, but there was a sudden, worried weight in her shoulders. "And these others. The FBI. They will try to stop you."

"Yes."

"And when they do?"

"I can’t let them go on like they have. They’re out of control. I don’t think they can stop themselves from killing, now." I didn’t look down at Tera, just focused on taking steps, one at a time. "When they do …" I said. "When they do … I guess I’m going to need to get very human."

Chapter 26

Tera and I walked toward the shores of Lake Michigan. There, along Forty-ninth Street, idled a big old van, its engine rattling. Its headlights came on as we approached, and the driver got out to roll open the side door for us.