Blood Rites (The Dresden Files, #6)

by Jim Butcher

“I need a favor.” I snorted. “What favor? You do remember that technically we’re at war, right? Wizards versus vampires? Ring any bells?” “If you like, you can pretend that I’m employing subversive tactics as part of a fiendishly elaborate ruse meant to manipulate you,” Thomas said. “Good,” I said. “ ’Cause if I went to all the trouble of starting a war and you didn’t want to participate it would hurt my feelings.”

“What can I say? I put the ‘ick’ in ‘magic.” ’

“You always a wiseass?” “No. Sometimes I’m asleep.”

“Oh, what would you like on your vegetarian pizza?” “Dead pigs and cows,” I said. She glanced up at me and wrinkled her nose. “They’re vegetarians,” I said defensively.

“But what do you want on yours? I mean, I’m supposed to make everyone happy here.” “Kill me some animals, then,” I said. “It’s a protein thing.” “Oh, you should have said,” Inari replied, smiling at me. We stopped in front of a door and she scribbled on her clipboard. “Some extra cheese, maybe some beans and corn. Or wait. Tofu. Protein. I’ll fix you up.” Bean-curd pizza, good grief. I should raise my rates.

Which made it a complete surprise when something slammed into the vampire from directly overhead, too quickly to be seen. There was a sound of impact, a raspy, dry scream, and the vampire went down hard. It lay on the ground like a butterfly pinned to a card, arms and legs thrashing uselessly. Its chest and collarbone had been crushed. By an entire frozen turkey. A twenty-pounder.

The deaths and near-deaths from the malocchio had given new depths to the term freak accident. Swarms of bees, bridge-jumping cars, and electrocution in a puddle of one’s own blood were some pretty ridiculous ways to kill someone. And that frozen turkey thing had come straight out of a cartoon. They would have been funny if it hadn’t been for the deaths.

Under the circumstances, they had only one logical target for the next iteration of the spell, twelve hours from now. Me. That was assuming, of course, that Mavra and the vampire scourge—or possibly the man I’d hired to help me kill them—didn’t take me out first. Maybe they wouldn’t get their chance. See? That’s the power of positive thinking.