“Stars and stones,” Ramirez chuckled. “Don’t talk about breaking the Sixth Law right in front of a Warden, Dresden. Even I have limits.”
I gave him a bleak smile. “If I’d just disarmed that slimy little me-weasel Rudolph.” I sighed. “It wasn’t even on purpose. He was panicked. Had his finger on the trigger. His gun went off.”
Carlos winced. “I didn’t know the details.”
After a minute, I said, “I tried to kill him.”
“A cop?”
I nodded. “Sanya and Butters stopped me. I told him to get out of town.”
“Did he?”
“He probably ran for the border,” I said. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard about him. I haven’t gone looking.”
“Christ,” he said calmly. “No wonder you’ve got your mojo in a knot.”
I frowned at him.
“Drakul kills half of our squad from the war,” Ramirez said. “That guy kills Murphy. Your hometown is in shambles. And when you moved back into your old place, it’s not your place anymore. And you got this thing with Lady Raith going; that’s got to be fucking with you. Plus, Ilyana and everyone who is cheering her on ready to send the Blackstaff after you. You’re trying to take care of people whose homes were destroyed.” He shook his head. “Fighting ghouls and whatnot. Harry, you need to balance some scales. You need a damned vacation. A year at a monastery. Something.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Well. I’m not going to get it.”
He grunted. “You look like you’re in shape.”
“Only thing keeping me sane,” I said. “Assuming it is. I think it is.”
“Depends,” Ramirez drawled. “Did you threaten to defenestrate my partner just before I came up here?”
“No,” I said defensively. “There are no windows up here.”
He barked out a laugh.
“She touched me,” I said. “Looking for black magic.”
He sighed. “Well. That’s what Wardens do.”
“It’s not what guests do.”
“God, Dresden,” he said. “You don’t make things easier.”
“And here we’ve all had it so smooth and gentle lately.”
Ramirez sighed. “Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he said, “but you know we have spirits and other informants who alert us when black magic is used in most major cities.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Chicago’s been pinging the net,” he said. “That’s why Ilyana checked your aura.”
“Fuck,” I said quietly.
He tilted his head and eyed me.
I held up a hand to him. “How bad?”
“Not much,” he admitted. “If it had been you, enough for an excuse.”
“You sending a team?”
