Read Online My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding by Charlaine Harris, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Jim Butcher, P. N. Elrod, Rachel Caine, Esther M. Friesner, Susan Krinard, Lori Handeland, L. A. Banks - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Charlaine Harris, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Jim Butcher, P. N. Elrod, Rachel Caine, Esther M. Friesner, Susan Krinard, Lori Handeland, L. A. Banks
Tags: Anthology
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nodded. "Yeah. But I know you want the little pink sprinkles."
"That isn't the point," she said loftily, and we got into her car.
We buckled in, and I said, more quietly, "You don't have to come with me, Karrin."
"Yes," she said. "I do."
I nodded and focused on the tracking spell, turning my head south. "Thataway."
The worst thing about being a wizard is all the presumption, people's expectations.
Pretty much everyone expects me to be some kind of con artist, since it is a wellknown fact that there is no such thing as magic. Of those who know better, most of them think that I can just snap my fingers, poof, and have whatever I want.
Dirty dishes? Snap my fingers and they wash themselves, like in The Sorcerer's Apprentice. Need to talk to a friend? Poof, teleport them in from wherever they are, because the magic knows where to find them, all by itself.
Magic ain't like that. Or I sure as hell wouldn't drive a beatup old Volkswagen.
It's powerful, true, and useful, and enormously advantageous, but ultimately it is an art, a science, a craft, a tool. It doesn't go out and do things by itself It doesn't create something From nothing. Using it takes talent and discipline and practice and a lot of work, and none of it comes Free.
Which is why my spell led us to downtown Chicago and suddenly became less useful.
"We've circled this block three times," Murphy told me. "Can't you get a more precise fix on it ?"
"Do I look like one of those GPS thingies?" I sighed.
"Define 'thingie,' " Murphy said.
"It's my spell," I said. "It's oriented to the points of the compass. I didn't really have the zaxis in mind when I designed it and it only works for that when I'm right on top of the target. I keep meaning to go back and fix that, but there's never time."
"I had a marriage like that," Murphy said. She stopped at a light and stared up.
The block held six buildingsthree apartments, two office buildings, and an old church. "In there. Somewhere. It could take a lot of time to search that."
"So call in all the king's horses and all the king's men," I said.
She shook her head. "I might be able to get a couple, but since Rudolph moved to Internal Affairs, I've been flagged. If I start calling in people left and right without a damned good logical, rational, wholly normal reason . . ."
I grunted. "I get it. We need to get closer. The closer I get to Georgia, the more precise the tracking spell will be."
Murphy nodded once and pulled over in front of a fire hydrant, parking the car.
"Let's be smart about this. Six buildings. Where would a faerie take her?"
"Not the church. Holy ground is uncomfortable for them." I shook my head.
"Not the apartments. Too many people there. Too easy for someone to hear or see something."
"Office buildings on a weekend," Murphy said. "Empty as you can find in Chicago. Which one?"
"Let's take a look. Maybe the spell can give me an idea."
It took ten minutes to walk around the outside of both buildings. The spell remained wonderfully nonspecific, though I knew Georgia was within a hundred yards or so. I sat down at the curb in disgust. "Dammit," I said, pushing at my hair.
"There has to be something."
"Would a faerie be able to magick herself in and out of there?"
"Yes and no," I said. "She couldn't just wander in through the wall, or poof herself inside. But she could walk in under a veil, so that no one saw heror else saw an illusion of what she wanted them to see."
"Can't you look for residual whatsis again?"
It was a good idea. I got Bob and tried it, while Murphy found a phone and tried to reach Billy or anyone who could reach Billy. After an hour's effort, we had accomplished enormous amounts of nothing.
"In case I haven't mentioned it before," I said, "dealing with Faeries is an enormous pain in the ass." Someone in a passing car flicked a stillsmoldering cigarette butt onto the concrete near me. I kicked it through a sewer grate in disgust.
"She covered her tracks again?"
"Yeah."
"That isn't the point," she said loftily, and we got into her car.
We buckled in, and I said, more quietly, "You don't have to come with me, Karrin."
"Yes," she said. "I do."
I nodded and focused on the tracking spell, turning my head south. "Thataway."
The worst thing about being a wizard is all the presumption, people's expectations.
Pretty much everyone expects me to be some kind of con artist, since it is a wellknown fact that there is no such thing as magic. Of those who know better, most of them think that I can just snap my fingers, poof, and have whatever I want.
Dirty dishes? Snap my fingers and they wash themselves, like in The Sorcerer's Apprentice. Need to talk to a friend? Poof, teleport them in from wherever they are, because the magic knows where to find them, all by itself.
Magic ain't like that. Or I sure as hell wouldn't drive a beatup old Volkswagen.
It's powerful, true, and useful, and enormously advantageous, but ultimately it is an art, a science, a craft, a tool. It doesn't go out and do things by itself It doesn't create something From nothing. Using it takes talent and discipline and practice and a lot of work, and none of it comes Free.
Which is why my spell led us to downtown Chicago and suddenly became less useful.
"We've circled this block three times," Murphy told me. "Can't you get a more precise fix on it ?"
"Do I look like one of those GPS thingies?" I sighed.
"Define 'thingie,' " Murphy said.
"It's my spell," I said. "It's oriented to the points of the compass. I didn't really have the zaxis in mind when I designed it and it only works for that when I'm right on top of the target. I keep meaning to go back and fix that, but there's never time."
"I had a marriage like that," Murphy said. She stopped at a light and stared up.
The block held six buildingsthree apartments, two office buildings, and an old church. "In there. Somewhere. It could take a lot of time to search that."
"So call in all the king's horses and all the king's men," I said.
She shook her head. "I might be able to get a couple, but since Rudolph moved to Internal Affairs, I've been flagged. If I start calling in people left and right without a damned good logical, rational, wholly normal reason . . ."
I grunted. "I get it. We need to get closer. The closer I get to Georgia, the more precise the tracking spell will be."
Murphy nodded once and pulled over in front of a fire hydrant, parking the car.
"Let's be smart about this. Six buildings. Where would a faerie take her?"
"Not the church. Holy ground is uncomfortable for them." I shook my head.
"Not the apartments. Too many people there. Too easy for someone to hear or see something."
"Office buildings on a weekend," Murphy said. "Empty as you can find in Chicago. Which one?"
"Let's take a look. Maybe the spell can give me an idea."
It took ten minutes to walk around the outside of both buildings. The spell remained wonderfully nonspecific, though I knew Georgia was within a hundred yards or so. I sat down at the curb in disgust. "Dammit," I said, pushing at my hair.
"There has to be something."
"Would a faerie be able to magick herself in and out of there?"
"Yes and no," I said. "She couldn't just wander in through the wall, or poof herself inside. But she could walk in under a veil, so that no one saw heror else saw an illusion of what she wanted them to see."
"Can't you look for residual whatsis again?"
It was a good idea. I got Bob and tried it, while Murphy found a phone and tried to reach Billy or anyone who could reach Billy. After an hour's effort, we had accomplished enormous amounts of nothing.
"In case I haven't mentioned it before," I said, "dealing with Faeries is an enormous pain in the ass." Someone in a passing car flicked a stillsmoldering cigarette butt onto the concrete near me. I kicked it through a sewer grate in disgust.
"She covered her tracks again?"
"Yeah."
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