finds georgia

I frowned. “Faeries. You sure?”
“One hundred percent, boss. They tried to cover their tracks, but the threshold must have taken the zing out of their illusion.” I nodded and exhaled.
“Dammit.” Then I strode into the bathroom and hunkered down, pawing through the rubble.
“What are you doing?” Murphy asked.
“Looking for Georgia,” I said. I found a plastic brush full of long strands the color of Georgia’s hair and took several of them in hand.
I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of my tracking spell, refining it over the years. I stepped out into the hall and drew a circle on the floor around me with a piece of chalk. Then I took Georgia’s hairs and pressed them against my forehead, summoning up my focus and will. I shaped the magic I wanted to create, focused on the hairs, and released my will as I murmured, “Interessari, interressarium.”
Magic surged out of me, into the hairs and back. I broke the circle with my foot, and the spell flowed into action, creating a faint sense of pressure against the back of my head. I turned, and the sensation flowed over my skull in response, over my ear, then over my cheekbone, and finally came to rest directly between my eyes.
 “She’s this way,” I said. “Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh?”
“I’m facing south,” I said.
“Which is a problem?”
“Billy says she’s at the wedding. Twenty miles north of here.”
Murphy’s eyes widened in comprehension. “A faerie has taken her place.”
“Yeah.”
“Why? Are they trying to place a spy?”

Side Jobs, Something Borrowed, 40-41


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 well-known fact that there is no such thing as magic. Of those who know better, most of them think 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 beat-up 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 was 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 z-axis 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 buildings—three 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 damn 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 outsides 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 her—or else saw an illusion of what she wanted them to see.”
“Can’t you look for residual whatsit 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 a pain in the ass.” Someone in a passing car flicked a still-smoldering cigarette butt onto the concrete near me. I kicked it through a sewer grate in disgust.
“She covered her tracks again?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
I shrugged. “Lot of ways. Scatter little glamours around to misdirect us. Only used her magic very lightly, to keep from leaving a big footprint. If she did her thing in a crowded area, enough people’s life force passing by would cover it. Or she could have used running water to—”
I stopped talking, and my gaze snapped back to the sewer grate.
I could hear water running through it in a low, steady stream.
“Down there,” I said. “She’s taken Georgia to Undertown.”

Side Jobs, Something Borrowed, Page 42-44