Dead Beat(31)

Shiela was a girl, and she was scared. Therefore, if I wanted to have any peace of mind, I was going to have to go talk to her.
I checked the clock. Eleven. She was still at the store.
I dialed one more number, and got an answering machine with no message, only a tone. "This is Dresden," I told the machine. "And we need to talk."
Butters and Billy reappeared. I hung up the phone and asked them, "Well?"
"Numbers," said Billy.
"More specific?" I asked.
Butters shook his head. "It's hard to be any more specific than that. There was only one file on the jump drive, and it was empty. The only information on it was the file name, and it was just a number." He offered me a piece of white paper with a string of numerals printed on it in his spidery scrawl. I counted. There were sixteen of them. "That's it."
I took the paper and frowned at the numbers. "That is spectacularly useless."
"Yeah," Butters said quietly.
I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. "Okay. Let me think." I tried to prioritize. Grevane was out there looking for Butters. Maybe Marcone was looking for him too. Maybe the dead professor's two assistants to boot. "Butters, we have to get you behind my wards again."
He blinked at me. "But why? I mean, they wanted me so that they could get to the information. I'm useless to them now."
"You and I know that. They don't."
"Oh."
"Billy," I said, "could you please take Butters over to my place?"
"No problem," he said. "What about you? Won't you need wheels?"
"The Beetle is ready. I'll take a cab."
"I can drop you off," Billy offered.
"No. It's the opposite way from my apartment, and Butters needs to get there yesterday. Go around the block once or twice before you pull in. Make sure no one is watching the door."
Billy smiled. "I know the drill."
"Don't try to open the door yourself, Butters. Knock and wait for Thomas to do it."
"Right." Butters fretted at his lip a little. "What are you going to be doing?"
"Detective stuff. I have places to go and people to see."
And with a little luck, none of them would kill me.

     
 

      Chapter Sixteen
Billy's apartment was only a couple of blocks from Bock Ordered Books, and while I could have taken a couple of alleys to make the trip even shorter, I kept on the open streets, where there were plenty of people. I didn't see anyone following me, but if there was a good enough team on me-or if they were using veils to hide their presence, of course-I might miss them. I kept my staff in my right hand and made sure my shield bracelet was ready, in case anyone tried some kind of variant on the old drive-up assassination. I'd survived them before, but the classics never go out of style.
I got to Bock's in one piece, and no one so much as glared at me. I felt sort of rejected, but comforted myself with the knowledge that there were at least half a dozen people in town who were sure to keep making my life dangerous. More if you counted Mavra, who technically wasn't a person.
Bock didn't open the doors of his store until eleven, so when I went in I was probably the first one to show up for the day. I paused outside the door. Two of the store windows and the glass panel of the door were all gone, replaced by rough sheets of plywood. Bock had gotten off better than the boutique next door-all the glass was gone, doubtless shattered by one kind of flying debris or another during my conversation with Cowl and his sidekick. I went inside.
Bock was at his place behind the counter, and looked tired. He glanced up at the sound of his door chimes. His expression became something closed and cautious when he saw me.
"Bock," I said. "You here all night?"
"End- of-the-month inventory," he said, his voice careful and quiet. "And repairing the windows. What do you need?"
I looked around the inside of the store. Shiela appeared from behind one of the shelves at the back of the store, looking anxious. She saw me and exhaled a little, then gave me a quiet smile.
"Just here to talk," I told Bock, nodding toward Shiela.
He glanced at her, then back at me, frowning. " Dresden. There's something I need to say to you."
I arched an eyebrow at him. "What's wrong?"
"Look. I don't want to make you upset."
I leaned on my staff. "Bock, come on. You've known me ever since I came to town. If something's wrong, you aren't going to upset me by telling me about it."
He folded his thick forearms over his paunch and said, "I don't want you coming into my store anymore."
I leaned on my staff a little more. "Oh."
"You're a decent enough man. You've never jumped down my throat like the other folks from the Council. You've helped people around here." He took a deep breath and made a vague gesture toward the plywood patches on his shop. "But you're trouble. It follows you around."
Which was true enough. I didn't say anything.
"Not everyone can drop a car on someone who attacks them," Bock went on. "I've got a family. My oldest is in college. I can't afford to have the place wrecked."
I nodded. I could understand Bock's position. It's terrifying to feel helpless in the face of a greater power-more so than it is painful to be told you aren't wanted somewhere.
"Look. If you need anything, give me a call. I'll order it or pull it off the shelves for you. Will or Georgia can come pick it up. But … "
"Okay," I said. My throat felt a little tight.
Bock's face got red. He looked away from me, at the ruined door. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," I said. "I understand. I'm sorry about your shop."
He nodded.
"I'm just here for a minute. After that I'll go."
"Right," he said.
I walked down the aisles back to Shiela, and nodded to her. "I got your message."
Shiela was wearing the same clothes as the night before, only more rumpled. She'd pulled her hair back and held it in place with a pair of ballpoint pens thrust through a knot at right angles. With her hair like that, it showed the pale, clean lines of her jaw and throat, and I was again struck by the impulse to run my fingers over her skin and see if it was as soft as it looked.
She glanced at Bock, then smiled up at me and touched my arm with her hand. "I'm sorry he did that. It isn't fair of him."
"No. It's fair enough. He has the right to protect himself and his business," I said. "I don't blame him."
She tilted her head to one side, studying my face. "But it hurts anyway?"
I shrugged. "Some. I'll survive." The chimes rung at the front of the store as another customer came in. I glanced back at Bock, and sighed. "Look, I don't want to be here very long. What did you need?"
She brushed back a few strands of hair that had escaped the knot. "I …  well, I had a strange experience last night."
I lifted my eyebrows. "Go on."
She picked up a small stack of books and started shelving them as she spoke. "After all the excitement, I went back to the inventory in the back room, and Mr. Bock had gone to get the plywood for the windows. I thought I heard the chimes ring, but when I looked no one was there."
"Uh- huh," I said.
"But … " She frowned. "You know how when you go into an empty house, you know it's empty? How it just feels empty?"
"Sure," I said. I watched her stretch up onto the tips of her toes to put a book away on the top shelf. It drew her sweater up a little, and I could see muscles move under a swath of the pale skin of her lower back.
"The store didn't feel empty," she said, and I saw her shiver. "I never saw anyone, never heard anyone. But I was sure someone was here." She glanced back at me and flushed. "I was so nervous I could hardly think straight until the sun came up."
"Then what?" I asked.
"It went away. I felt a little silly. Like I was a scared little kid. Or one of those dogs that's staring at something growling when nothing is there."
I shook my head. "Dogs don't just stare and growl for no reason. Sometimes they can perceive things people can't."
She frowned. "Do you think something was here?"
I didn't want to tell her that I thought a Black Court vampire had been lurking unseen in the shop. Hell, for that matter I didn't particularly want to think about it. If Mavra had been here, there wouldn't have been anything Shiela or Bock could do to defend themselves against her.
"I think you wouldn't be foolish to trust your instincts," I said. "You've got a little talent. It's possible you were sensing something too vague for you to understand in any other way."
She put the last book away and turned to face me. She looked tired. Fear made her expression one of sickness, an ugly contortion. "Something was here," she whispered.
"Maybe," I said, nodding.
"Oh, God." She tightened her arms across her stomach. "I …  I might be sick."
I leaned my staff against the shelf and put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. "Shiela. Take a few deep breaths. It's not here now."
She looked up at me, her expression miserable, her eyes wet and shining. "I'm sorry. I mean, you don't need this." She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and more tears fell. "I'm sorry."
Oh, hell. Tears. Way to go, Dresden -terrify the local maiden you showed up to comfort. I drew Shiela a little toward me, and she leaned against me gratefully. I put my arm around her shoulders and let her lean against me for a minute. She shivered with silent tears for a little bit and then pulled herself together.