We ran down the beach, past the beach house-a large structure built to resemble the top few decks of an old riverboat, giving the impression that the vessel had sunk into the sand of the beach. At the far end of the beach we would turn and come back. We went all the way down and back three times before I slowed the pace a little, and said, "So you wanna hear what's going on?"
"Yeah," he said.
"Okay." There was no one nearby, and by now the sun had risen enough to be peeking through the Chicago skyline. Mavra couldn't have been listening in herself, and it was unlikely any mortal accomplice could, either. It was as close to ideal privacy as I was likely to get. I started with the arrival of Mavra's package and told Thomas of the events of the entire evening.
"You know what we should do?" Thomas asked when I was finished. "We should kill Mavra. We could make it a family project."
"No," I said. "If we take her out, Murphy will be the one to suffer for it."
"Yeah, yeah," Thomas said. "I'm pretty sure I know what Murphy would have to say about that."
"I don't want it to come to that," I said. "Besides, whatever this Word of Kemmler is, there are some seriously nasty people after it. It's probably a good idea to make sure they don't get it."
"Right," Thomas said. "So you keep it away from the nasty people so you can give it to the nasty vampire."
"Not if I can help it," I said.
"So Murphy gets burned anyway?" he asked.
I narrowed my eyes. "Not if I can help it."
"How are you going to manage that?"
"I'm working on it," I said. "The first step is to find The Word of Kemmler, or the whole thing is a bust."
"How do you do that?"
"The map," I said. "I don't think these guys are running around working the major black magic for no reason. I need to check out where they've been and figure out what they were doing."
"What about Butters?" Thomas asked.
"For now we keep him behind my wards. I don't know why Grevane wanted him, and until I figure it out he's got to keep his head down."
"I doubt Grevane was looking for a polka afficionado," Thomas said.
"I know. It's got something to do with one of the bodies at the morgue."
"So why not go there?" Thomas asked.
"Because the guard was killed there. There's blood all over the place, maybe the guard's body, and God only knows what Grevane did to the place after we left. The cops will have it locked down hard by now, and they'll definitely want to have a nice long talk with anyone who might have been there. I can't afford to spin my wheels in an interrogation room right now. Neither can Butters."
"So ask Murphy to look around," Thomas said.
I ground my teeth together for a few steps. "I can't. Murphy's on vacation."
"Oh," he said.
"I'm watering her plants."
"Right."
"While she's in Hawaii."
"Uh- huh," he said.
"With Kincaid."
Thomas stopped running.
I didn't.
He caught up to me a hundred yards later. "Well, that's a bitch."
I grunted. "I think she wanted me to tell her not to go," I said. "I think that's why she came to see me."
"So why didn't you?" he asked.
"Didn't realize it until it was too late. Besides, she's not my girlfriend. Or anything. Not my place to tell her who she should see." I shook my head. "Besides… I mean, if it was going to be right with Murphy, it would have been right before now, right? If we got all involved and it didn't work out, it would really screw things up for me. I mean, most of my living comes from jobs for SI."
"That's real reasonable and mature, Harry," Thomas said.
"It's smarter not to try to complicate things."
Thomas frowned at me for a moment. Then he said, "You're serious, aren't you?"
I shrugged. "I guess so. Yeah."
"Little brother," he said, "I simply cannot get over how stupid you are at times."
"Stupid? You just told me it was reasonable."
"Your excuses are," Thomas said, "but love isn't."
"We're not in love!"
"Never gonna be," Thomas said, "if you keep being all logical about it."
"Like you're one to talk."
Thomas's shoes hit the trail a little more sharply. "I know what it's like to lose it. Don't be an idiot, Harry. Don't lose it like I did."
"I can't lose what I haven't ever had."
"You have a chance," he said, a snarl in his words, and I had the sudden sense that he had come precariously close to violent action. "And that's more than I've got."
I didn't push him. We got to the end of the trail and moved off it, slowing to walk down the beach, winding down. "Thomas," I said, "what's wrong with you today, man?"
"I'm hungry," he said, his voice a low growl.
"We can hit a McDonald's or something on the way home," I suggested.
He bared his teeth. "Not that kind of hunger."
"Oh." We walked awhile more, and I said, "But you fed just yesterday."
He laughed, a short and bitter sound. "Fed? No. That woman… that wasn't anything."
"She looked like she'd just run a marathon. You took from her."
"I took." He spat the words. "But there's no substance to it. I didn't take deeply from her. Not from anyone anymore. Not since Justine."
"But food is food, right?" I said.
"No," he said. "It isn't."
"Why?"
"It isn't like that."
"Then what is it like?"
"There's no point in telling you," he said.
"Why not?"
"You couldn't understand," he said.
"Not if you don't tell me, dolt," I said. "Thomas, I'm your brother. I want to understand you." I stopped and put my hand on his shoulder, shoving him just hard enough to make him turn to face me. "Look, I know it's not working out the way we hoped. But dammit, if you just go storming off every time you get upset about something, if you don't give me the chance to understand you, we're never going to get anywhere."
He closed his eyes, frustration evident on his face. He started walking down the beach, just at the edge of what passed for surf in Lake Michigan. I kept pace. He walked all the way down the beach, then stopped abruptly and said, "Race me back. Beat me there, and I'll tell you."
I blinked. "What kind of kindergarten crap is that?"
His grey eyes flashed with anger. "You want to know what it's like? Beat me down the beach."
"Of all the ridiculous, immature nonsense," I said. Then I hooked a foot behind Thomas's calf, shoved him down to the sand, and took off down the beach at a dead sprint.
There's an almost primal joy in the sheer motion and power of running a race. Children run everywhere for a reason-it's fun. Grown-ups can forget that sometimes. I stretched out my legs, still loose from the longer jog, and even though I was running across sand, the thrill of each stride filled my thoughts.
Behind me, Thomas spat out a curse and scrambled to his feet, setting out after me.
We ran through the grey light. The morning had dawned cold, and even at the lakeside the air was pretty dry. Thomas got ahead of me for a couple of steps, looked back, and kicked his heel, flinging sand into my face and eyes. I inhaled some of it, started gasping and choking, but managed to hook my fingers in the back of Thomas's T-shirt. I tugged hard as he stepped, and I outweighed Thomas considerably. He stumbled again, and, choking and gasping, I got ahead of him. I regained my lead and held it.