“The hell I don’t,” I said, very, very quietly. “If I wanted to, I could have annihilated all of you on the way in. If I wanted you shut down, I could do it in a hundred ways. And if I didn’t want to do all the work myself, I could drop a dime on you to the Wardens. You are the one who is in no position to make demands, Bock. That’s not saying anything about you or what you’re doing. God knows, you wouldn’t be the first abused person to react. But the reality is, you’re on the edge here, man. I’m trying to make a point. I’m trying to help you.”
April came up beside Bock and slipped beneath his arm. Some of the fury faded, and he traded an uncertain glance with her.
“This is already coming back on some of us,” she said quietly. “Headaches. Stomachaches. Rashes. The Rule of Three applies.”
Ah, ye olde Rule of Three. The belief that the way you use magic comes back to you threefold. Practitioners who blended magic and faith, like most of the Ordo, were big on that one. That wasn’t a sentiment I was in a particularly good place to agree with, but I could acknowledge in a general sense that what goes around does seem to come around, given enough time.
Bock frowned at her. Then at me.
“I’m tired of seeing kids get beaten and hurt,” he said quietly.
“By the Brotherhood of St. Brigid?” I asked.
He nodded. He described several men. They matched the descriptions of Carl and the guys who had followed him out of St. Mary’s chapel the night before. The real problem with any kind of militant order was there always seemed to be a few people in them who were militant first, orderly second.
Maybe they were people who were scared and angry. People who acted to try to assuage their fear. Only to create more things to be afraid of.
Or to be fair, maybe they were just assholes who had sensed an opportunity in extraordinary circumstances to exercise their darker desires and had done so. Knowing humans, likely a mix of both.
Bad times bring out bad things in some people. Sublime things in others.
I described Daniel Carpenter to him. “Any trouble with that guy?”
“No,” April said firmly. “He’s their leader, yes? When he’s there, nothing has gone wrong.”
“Well, you lot just about killed him last night,” I said quietly. “If I hadn’t been around, I’m not sure what would have happened.”
“What?” April said, genuinely shocked. She glanced at Bock.
Bock looked back toward where couch guy was groaning. He was sitting up, clutching the wrist that had held the revolver. The blast I’d thrown at him had torn it out of his hand, at the expense of his fingers and wrist. “I…was told it was the leader of the ruffians’ glove we used…” Bock said.
Which confirmed my theory on using personal possessions to link the ritual’s energy to the target. “You got it wrong,” I said. “And you hit the wrong guy. And if I hadn’t been around to put it right, I’m not sure what would have happened to him, or how they would have reacted.”
“But…” Bock said. He fidgeted with the book. “The journal said the curse only disables. Inconveniences.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe disables them to an inconvenient death, if they don’t get some kind of help,” I said. “Can strain their sanity, too. Throwing that much pain at someone.”
“My God,” Bock said quietly. He traded another look with April. “My God.”
“I told you,” she said gently. “We couldn’t know what would really happen.”
“Leonid Kravos was a certifiable psycho,” I said quietly. “Bock. Give me the book.”
Something hard and ugly flickered through Bock’s eyes. “Why?” he demanded. “You’re going to burn it, I suppose.”
“I’m going to shut it away where people who shouldn’t have access to it won’t misuse it,” I said gently. “You guys are going to turn your talents to cleansing the aura of this space. You need to clean up your mess before the Wardens find it, decide they don’t have time to split hairs, and track you all down and end you.”
He studied me sidelong, wary. “Why should we?”
“Because it’s how you all get away from this dark ritual stuff that is going to make you miserable and eventually kill you.”
“So we can be beaten and threatened?” Bock asked tiredly.
“So instead of me cleaning up after you, I can address your problem,” I said, and held out my hand.
He stared at my hand for a moment. Traded another look with April.
He passed over the book like he was giving up a winning lottery ticket.
