Butters Circle

"Storm isn't helping," I said back. "There's magic at work too." I chewed on my lip for a second. "Turn it off."
Butters did and then nodded at me. I hurried over to him and said, "Now hold still." Then I drew a piece of chalk from my duster pocket and marked out a quick circle around him on the concrete.
Butters frowned down at the chalk and said, "Is this... some kind of mime training? Do you want me to press my fingers against an invisible wall?"
"No," I said. "You're going to throw up a circle around you-an outwardly directed barrier. It should put a screen between you and any outside magical influence."
"I am, huh?" he said. "How do I do that?"
I completed the circle, reached for my penknife, and passed it to him. "You need to put a drop of your blood on the circle, and picture a wall going up in your head."
"Harry. I don't know magic."
"Anyone can do this," I said. "Butters, there isn't any time. The circle should hold out Cowl's working and give you a chance to get a signal normally."
"An anti- Murphyonic field, huh?"
"You've watched too many Trek reruns, Butters. But basically, yeah."
He pressed his lips together and then nodded at me. I backed away to the Beetle again. Butters grimaced and then touched the penknife to the base of his left thumbnail, where the skin is thin and fragile. Then he leaned over self-consciously and squeezed his thumb until a drop of blood fell on the chalk circle.
The circle barrier snapped up immediately, invisibly. Butters looked around for a second and then said, "It didn't work."
"It worked," I told him. "It's there. I can feel it. Try again."
Butters nodded and went back to his gizmo. Five seconds later, his face brightened. "Hey, whaddya know. It worked. So this circle keeps out magic?"
"And only magic," I said. "Anything physical can cross it and disrupt the barrier. Handy for hedging out demons and such, though."
"I'll remember that," Butters said. He peered down at the gadget. "Harry!" he exclaimed. "You were right! The numbers match up to coordinates right here in Chicago."

Dead Beat Chapter 36, page 322-323


I blocked a second blow of the hatchet on my shield, looking wildly around for Butters. I spotted the little guy five yards away, on his hands and knees on the crosswalk, his legs still kicking wildly to keep the drum going. Three of the deadly specters were closing in on him with wails of madness and rage.
"Butters!" I shouted, and rose to go to him, but two more specters dove at me and forced me to crouch behind my shield. I could only watch what happened as the three undead swarmed Butters and attacked him.
Butters spun around wildly, his eyes down, evidently not even aware that they were coming. One of them swung a great two-handed club back, as Butters put one hand to his mouth and then slammed it back down on the ground again. The specter's weapon swept down with a clean and lethal grace, heading directly for the back of Butters's head.
And suddenly shattered against the curving curtain of an empowered circle.
Butters looked up at the specters as they flailed uselessly against the circle. He had the piece of chalk I'd given him in one hand, and he'd torn the little cut he'd used before open once more with his teeth. He stood up, the drum still thumping, and gave me a shaky thumbs-up.
"Good, Butters!" I shouted at him. "Stay in there!"
He nodded, his face pale, and marched in place to keep the drum going.


Dead Beat Chapter 39, Page 361