I want the Truth
Rating: Some iffy language, violence
Book or TV verse: All TV verse
Disclaimer: Dresden Files belongs to Jim Butcher and Scifi Channel
Warnings: Some violence, hints of gore, Butters, Polka, and angst
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I should have known. Any case involving Harry involves strangeness, vague explanations, and lies. Worse, this case involved a serial killer. Teenaged females between the ages of 16 and 19 had been turning up dead for the past seven weeks, one or two a week.
Butters was stumped. He stood looking at the opened body of the body of the ninth victim, he looked at me, he looked at Harry. Or rather he tried to bore holes in Harry's face with eyes alone.
"It's just like the others" he said "stab wounds in the thorax, but not in the skin. She was stabbed ... without being stabbed"
My turn to stare at Harry. He knew something. He did. He looked at me, attempting his patented "I know nothing" look which always failed. Then he started to twitch.
"I'll tell you as soon as I have something, Murph" Dresden was edging toward the door. Not for the first time I wanted to handcuff him, haul him off to the interrogation room and keep him there until he finally gave me the damn truth.
I sighed and nodded. "We have to stop this guy, Dresden, do whatever you have to do. -- I never said that."
He grinned and left. Damn the man.
I turned at glared at Butters. He held his arms up. "I didn't hear anything over my music" he said as he turned his cd player on and polka blared into the room. I escaped before my ears started to bleed.
That was over a week ago. Dresden hadn't been seen or heard from since.
Oh Gd. Where are you, Harry?
I decided to break into his apartment/office to look for any clues to what happened to him. I may not be able to do Dresden's 'tricks' but I can conjure up some burglar's tools when I need them.
I let myself into his office storefront, closing the door behind me and lowering the blinds. No flaming words in the air. Damn. I made a tour of his apartment looking for any signs of a struggle, or murder, blood, or a body. I found nothing.
Going back into the storefront I did see words in the air; and a man writing them with his finger. What the hell? I pulled my weapon and pointed it at the man.
"Freeze"
He did.
"Turn around slowly, hands on your head"
He complied
He was nattily dressed, if perhaps a bit out of style. His white hair was somewhat disheveled. His light green eyes stared into mine. His face was lined with worry and fear.
"Lieutenant Murphy." he said.
"Who the hell are you, what are you doing in Harry's apartment, where is he – what have you done with him?"
He smiled weakly. "I am .. Harry's mentor. His friend. I was trying to leave you a message. He's been missing too long.. I'm worried he might have gotten in over his head this time"
I lowered my weapon but kept it in my hand. He put his arms down.
"You, you left the words in the air before, didn't you? How do you do that? The truth. Don't tell me it's a trick"
The man just stood there. He seemed to be mulling over a decision. Finally he said something that made no sense at all.
"Do you see that skull on the desk, Lieutenant Murphy? If you would please, pick it up and hold it."
Uh… what? I blinked at him.
"Please, Lieutenant, we both want to find Harry."
I blinked again. Pick up the skull. Ooohkay. I picked up the skull. It was heavily decorated with strange markings. A piece was missing from the back. It felt real.
The strange man's voice sounded low, seductive now. "Claim it as your own, aloud."
Again. What?
"What?"
He looked heavenward for help.
"Please, Milady, just say 'I claim this skull.' "
I looked at the crazy man and repeated his words. Keep the crazy man calm, humor him. I told myself.
A shudder ran through him, he looked like a puppet who's strings have been cut. He fell to one knee, looking somehow exhausted. Then he laughed.
"It worked! I wasn't sure it would with a non-wizard" He stood up again and approached me.
"Uh huh" Maybe I should call a hospital. They could get this man into a psych ward.
"Who are you, really" I asked. He grinned, and bowed slightly.
"Hrothbert of Bainbridge, at your service, Milady. Forgive me, but Dresden forbid me to show myself to you or tell you anything about … things. You can override his orders. I serve you now."
I stared.
He approached me and – put his hands through the skull I was holding. Then he put his hand THROUGH mine, the one holding my sidearm. It felt chilling. I gaped at him.
His turning to smoke and flickering points of flame and disappearing into his skull was the final straw. I jumped and dropped the skull. It fell to the floor and rolled a ways before the smoke and light show started and the crazy man was standing there again.
"Please try not to drop me, milady. You must retain possession of my skull if we are to find Harry."
He looked at my face and sighed. He rolled his eyes.
"I am Hrothbert of Bainbridge, condemned to spend eternity in my skull, serving its owner, forbidden to move on" he said in a bored monotone that indicated he had said it a thousand times before.
"Usually it's not this hard" he muttered.
"I know you don't believe Dresden when he does tell you the truth about magic, Lieutenant, but he might be in danger now, we don't have time. Can we please get on with finding him?"
Yes. Finding Harry. That was why I came here. "Tell me what you know."
Relief flooded his face, his whole body.
"Your servant, Milady. Harry came home a week ago from your morgue. The stab wounds your pathologist has found, the ones that haven't pierced the skin, are an indication that the killer is using thaumaturgy. " He looked at me "Voodoo dolls. Harry had some hair from the last victim. We cast a spell that showed deeply black magic was used. There is no doubt the killer is a sorcerer – a wizard gone bad. He is using black magic to kill."
I hate this.
"But that case may have nothing to do with Dresden disappearing. A woman came to the office the next morning. She gave only the name 'Raquel' I doubt it was her real name. She was desperate, and wanted Dresden to find her son. It sounded like an easy case, and rent is due. He left to search for the boy and hasn't returned since. I believe she called this morning – there is a message on this machine. I cannot access it."
He put his hand through the answering machine and the table.
I really hate this.
I punched the 'play' button on the answering machine. A woman's voice started pleading.
"It's him, please help me, he knows. He knows. Oh Gd , he knows. I saw the book he has. Its real, Jesus help me, it's real. Please, Mr. Dresden, meet me at 8 tonight, behind Broadway Methodist."
"That was Raquel." said the crazy man. Ghost. I was getting a headache.
"What should I call you? I asked him "Hrothert of Bainbridge is just too much."
A rueful smile.
"You may call me anything you want, I would prefer it if you called me 'Bob', Milady, if you wish."
"Bob? So you're the mysterious Bob!"
"Your servant." he said, bowing slightly again, an easy grin on his face.
"While were at it. Drop the 'Milady' I'm Connie, if we're going to be informal with names."
"Yes m—am, uh, Lieutenant. I mean … Connie. May I point out that it is after 7 pm? Raquel is going to try to meet Dresden in just under forty minutes."
Somewhere to start, finally.
"Lets go." I said, heading toward the door.
Bob cleared his throat loudly. Ghosts have throats? "I cannot leave unless you take me with you Mi-Connie" he pointed to the skull.
"You have got to be kidding me"
Green eyes, a small smile.
"Sadly, no."
I heaved a sigh and picked up the skull. Bob did the smoke thing again and disappeared into an eye socket.
That's me. Lieutenant Murphy of the Chicago Police Department – and my pet skull.
I shoved the skull under my coat and left Harry's office, locking the door behind me. I got in my car, put the skull down as far under the dashboard of the passenger side as I could get it. I set out for Broadway.