feels malacchio

Christ, I'm a terrible liar. I tried to think of an answer that didn't begin with, "Um."
But I was interrupted.
A surge of silent, invisible energy swept through the room, cold and foul. My stomach twisted with abrupt nausea, and my skin erupted in gooseflesh. Dark, dangerous magic swirled by, drawing my attention to the studio's exit. It was the kind of magic that destroys, warps, rots, and corrupts.
The kind of magic you'd need to feed a deadly entropy curse.
"What's wrong?" Joan shook me with one hand. "Harry? You're shaking. Are you all right?"
I managed to choke out, "Who else is in the building?"
"Jake, Bobby, Emma, and Giselle. No one else."
I stumbled to my pack and picked it up. If Joan hadn't helped me balance, I might have fallen down. "Show me where."
Joan blinked in confusion. "What?"
I shoved the sensation of the dark magic away as best I could and snarled, "They're in danger. Show me where! Now!"
My tone might have alarmed her, but her expression became more worried than frightened. Joan nodded and half ran out of the studio, leading me out a side door, up a flight of metal spiral stairs, and into another hallway. We sprinted down it to a room with a sign on it that said, DRESSING ROOM.
"Get back," I said, and stepped in front of her.
I hadn't yet touched the doorknob when a woman began to scream.

Blood Rites Chapter 7, Page 60


Inari got up and started to run off, leaving Thomas and me alone with the woman who had already half killed him. I tried to get up, but it was difficult. Everything kept spinning around.
I managed to get to one knee just as a cold, slithery feeling washed down my spine.
The three vampires of the Black Court did not announce their presence. They simply appeared as though formed from the shadows.
One of them was the one-eared vamp I had smacked with the holy-water balloon. On either side of him stood two more Black Court vamps, both male, both dressed in funeral finery, and both of teenage proportions. They hadn't been living corpses for very long-there were lividity marks on the arms and fingers of the first, and their faces hardly looked skeletal at all. Like the maimed vampire, they had long, dirty fingernails. Dried blood stained their faces and throats. And their eyes were filmy, stagnant pools.
Inari screamed a horror-movie scream and stumbled back to Lara. Lara sucked in a sharp breath, bringing the gun into point-down firing stance, spinning in a slow circle to watch each of the Black Court vamps in turn.
"Well, well," rasped the maimed vampire. "What luck. The wizard and three Whites to boot. This will be entertaining."
At which point I felt another, stronger slither of vile and deadly magical energy.
The malocchio. It was forming again, more powerfully than before-and I sensed that the deadly spell was already near and gathering more vicious power as it headed my way. Still dazed, I couldn't do a damned thing about it.
"Kill them," the Black Court vampire whispered. "Kill them all."
See what I mean? It's just like I said.
Things can always get worse.

Blood Rites Chapter 16, Page 122-123