killing thaumaturgy

The thug had a little blood coming from the corner of his mouth. He must have bitten his tongue when Murphy hit him.
I pulled a white handkerchief out of my pocket and, in a single swooping motion, stooped down and smeared some blood from Caine’s mouth onto it.
“What the hell?” he said, or something close to it. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry about it, Caine,” I told him. “It isn’t going to be a long-term problem for you.”
I took the cloth and walked a few feet away. Then I hunkered down and used a piece of chalk from another pocket to draw a circle around me on the floor.
Caine struggled feebly against Murphy, but she put him down again. “Sit still,” she snapped. “I’ll pull your shoulder right out of its socket.”
“Feel free,” I told Murphy. “He isn’t going to be around long enough to worry about it.” I squinted up at Caine and said, “Beefy, little bit of a gut. Bet you eat a lot of greasy food, huh, Caine?”
“Wh-what?” he said. “What are you doing?”
“Heart attack should look pretty natural,” I said. “Murph, get ready to back off once he starts thrashing.” I closed the circle and let it sparkle a little as I did. It was a waste of energy—special effects like that almost always are—but it made an impression on Caine.
“Jesus Christ!” Caine said. “Wait!”
“Can’t wait,” I told him. “Gotta make this go before the blood dries out. Quit being such a baby, Caine. She gave you a chance.” I raised my hand over the fresh blood on the cloth. “Let’s see now—”
“I can’t talk!” Caine yelped. “If I talk, she’ll know!”
Murphy gave his arm a little twist. “Who?” she demanded.
“I can’t! Jesus, I swear! Dresden, don’t—it isn’t my fault. They needed bloodstone, and I had the only stuff in town that was pure enough! I just wanted to wipe that smile off that bastard’s face!”
I looked up at Caine with a gimlet eye, my teeth bared. “You ain’t saying anything that makes me want you to keep on breathing.”
“I can’t,” Caine wailed. “She’ll know!”
I fixed my stare on Caine and raised my hand in a slow, heavily overdramatized gesture. “Intimidatus dorkus maximus!” I intoned, making my voice intentionally hollow and harsh, and stressing the long vowels.
“Decker!” Caine screamed. “Decker, he set up the deal!”
I lowered my hand and let my head rock back. “Decker,” I said. “That twit.” Murphy watched me and didn’t let go of Caine, though I could tell she didn’t want to keep holding him.
I shook my head at Murphy and said, “Let him scamper, Murph.”
She let him go, and Caine fled for the stairs on his hands and knees, sobbing. He staggered out, falling down the first flight, from the sound of it.
I wrinkled up my nose as the smell of urine hit me. “Ah. The aroma of truth.”
Murphy rubbed her hands on her jeans as if trying to wipe off something greasy. “Jesus, Harry.”
“What?” I said. “You didn’t want to break into his place.”
“I didn’t want you to put a gun to his head, either.” She shook her head. “You couldn’t really have . . .”
“Killed him?” I asked. I broke the circle and rose. “Yeah. With him right here in sight, yeah. I probably could have.”
She shivered. “Jesus Christ.”
“I wouldn’t,” I said. I went to her and put a hand on her arm. “I wouldn’t, Karrin. You know that.”
She looked up at me, her expression impossible to read. “You put on a really good act, Harry. It would have fooled a lot of people. It looked . . .”
“Natural on me,” I said. “Yeah.”


Side Jobs, Last Call, Page 281-283