Turn Coat (Page 38)

As it sprang to life at my apprentice’s will, Molly’s circle did the same thing as mine-only this time the grey suits were inside it. As the energy field rose up, it cut off the grey suits from the flow of energy they needed to maintain their solid forms.

And suddenly the next best thing to forty demonic thugs collapsed into splatters of transparent gook.

Binder let out a cry as it happened, spinning around desperately, mumbling some kind of incantation under his breath-but he should have saved himself the effort. If he wanted them back, he would have to get out of the isolating field of the enormous circle first, and then he would have to start from scratch.

"Ow, Binder," I said in patently false empathy. "Didn’t see that one coming, did ya?"

"Ernest Armand Tinwhistle," Morgan thundered in a tone of absolute authority, raising the shotgun to his shoulder. "Surrender yourself or face destruction, you worthless little weasel."

Binder’s intense grey-green eyes went from Morgan to the two of us. Then he seemed to reach some kind of conclusion and charged us like a bull, his head down, his arms pumping.

Murphy’s gun tracked to him, but with a curse she jerked the barrel up and away from Binder. He slammed a shoulder into her chest, knocking her down, even as I received a stiff arm in the belly.

I threw a leg at his as he went by, but I was off balance from the shove, and although I wound up on my ass, I forced him to stumble for a step or three. Murphy took the impact with fluid grace, tumbled onto her back, rolled smoothly over one shoulder, and came back up on her feet.

"Get them out of here," she snarled as she spun and took off at a sprint after Binder.

Mouse came pounding up to my side, staring after Murphy with worried doggy eyes, then glancing at me.

"No," I told him. "Watch this."

Binder was running as hard as he could, but I doubted he had been all that light on his feet when he was young, much less twenty years and forty pounds later. Murphy worked out practically every day.

She caught him about ten feet before the end of the row, timed her steps for a second, and then sharply kicked his rearmost leg just as he lifted it to take his next step. His foot got caught on the back of his own calf as a result, and he went down in a sprawl.

Binder came to his feet with an explosive snarl of rage and whirled on Murphy. He flung a handful of gravel at her face, and then waded in with heavy, looping punches.

Murph ducked her head down and kept the gravel out of her eyes, slipped aside from one punch, and then seized his wrist on the second. The two of them whirled in a brief half circle, Binder let out a yelp, and then his bald head slammed into the steel door of a storage unit. I had to give the guy credit for physical toughness. He rebounded from the door a little woozily, but drove an elbow back at Murphy’s head.

Murphy caught that arm and continued the motion, using her own body as a fulcrum in a classic hip throw-except that Binder was facing in the opposite direction than usual for that technique.

You could hear his arm come out of its socket fifty feet away.

And then he hit the gravel face-first.

Binder got extra points for brains in my book, after that: he lay still and didn’t put up a struggle as Murphy dragged his wrists behind his back and cuffed him.

I traded a glance with Mouse and said, wisely, "Hard-core."

The police sirens were getting louder. Murphy looked up at them, and then down the row at me. She made an exasperated shooing motion.

"Come on," I said to Mouse. The two of us hurried down the row to Morgan’s chair.

"I couldn’t shoot him with this scatter pipe with the two of you standing there," Morgan complained as I approached. "Why didn’t you do it?"

"That’s why," I said, nodding to the park entrance, where a patrol car was screeching to a halt, its blue bubbles flashing. "They get all funny about corpses with gunshot wounds in them." I turned to scowl at Molly. "I told you to bug out at the first sign of danger."

She took the handles of Morgan’s wheelchair and we all started back toward the storage unit and its portal. "We didn’t know what was going on until we heard them all start shrieking," she protested. "And then Mouse went nuts, and started trying to dig his way through a metal door. I thought you might be in trouble. And you were."

"That isn’t the point," I said. I glanced at the circle drawn in the gravel as we crossed it, breaking it and releasing its power. "Whose idea was the circle?"

"Mine," Morgan said calmly. "Circle traps are a standard tactic for dealing with rogue summoners."

"I’m sorry it took so long to draw," Molly said. "But I had to make it big enough to get them all."

"Not a problem. He was happy to kill time running his mouth." We all entered the storage bay, and I rolled the door closed behind us. "You did good, grasshopper."

Molly beamed.

I looked around us and said, "Hey. Where’s Thomas?"

"The vampire?" Morgan asked.

"I had him watching the outside of the park, just in case," I said.

Morgan gave me a disgusted look and rolled himself forward toward the prepared portal into the Nevernever. "The vampire goes missing just before a bounty hunter who couldn’t possibly know my location turns up. And you’re actually surprised, Dresden?"

"Thomas called me and told me there was trouble," I said, my voice tight. "If he hadn’t, you’d have been drowning in grey suits by now."

Molly chewed her lip worriedly and shook her head. "Harry… I haven’t seen him since he dropped us off."

I glanced back toward the entrance of the park, clenching my teeth.

Where was he?

If he’d been able to do otherwise, Thomas would never have let Murphy and me fight alone against Binder’s minions. He would have been right in there beside us. Except he hadn’t been.

Why not? Had circumstances forced him to leave before I arrived? Or worse, had someone else involved in the current crisis decided to take measures against him? Psycho bitch Madeline came uncomfortably to mind. And the skinwalker had already demonstrated that it was happy to murder my allies instead of striking directly at me.

Or maybe he’d simply been overwhelmed by a crowd of grey-suited demons. Maybe his body was already cooling in some nook or cranny of the storage park. My mouth went dry at the thought.

Hell’s bells.

What had happened to my brother?

Morgan spoke a quiet word and opened a shimmering rectangular portal in the floor. Molly walked over to it and stared down, impressed.

"Dresden," Morgan said. "We can’t afford to become entangled with the local authorities."