"Oh, uh," said a somewhat nervous voice on the other end. "This is Waldo Butters. I was calling to speak to Harry Dresden."

I moderated my voice to a mere snarl. "Oh. Hey."

"I woke you up, huh?"

"Some."

"Yeah, late nights suck. Look, there's something odd going on and I thought maybe I could ask you something."

"Sure."

"Sullen monosyllabism, a sure sign of sleep deprivation."

"Eh."

"Now descending into formless vocalization. My time is short." Butters cleared his throat and said, "The germs are gone."

"Germs?" I asked.

"In the samples I took from that body. I ran all the checks again just to be sure, and better than half of them turned up negative. Nothing. Zip, zero."

"Ungh," I said.

"Okay, then, Caveman Og. Where germs go?"

" Sunrise ," I said. "Poof."

Butter's voice sounded bewildered. "Vampire germs?"

"The tiny capes are a dead giveaway," I said. I started pulling my train of thought into motion at last. "Not vampire germs. Constructs. See, at sunrise it's like the whole magical world gets reset to zero. New beginnings. Most spells don't hold together through even one sunrise. And it takes a lot to make them last through two or three."

"Magic germs?" Butters asked. "Are you telling me I've got magic germs?"

"Magic germs," I confirmed. "Someone called them up with magic."

"Like an actual magic spell?"

"Usually you call nasty hurtful spells a curse. But by tomorrow or the next day, those other samples will probably have zeroed out too."

"Are they still infectious?"

"Assume they are. They're good as real until the energy that holds them together falls apart."

"Christ. You're serious. It's for real."

"Well, yeah."

"Is there a book or a Cliff's Notes or something on this stuff?"

I actually smiled that time. "Just me. Anything else?"

"Not much. I swept the body for genetic remains but got nothing. The cuts on the corpse were made with either a surgical scalpel or some other kind of small, fine blade. Maybe a utility knife."

"I've seen cuts like that before, yeah."

"Here's the best part. The same blade evidently took off the hands and head. The cuts are cleaner than a surgeon could manage on an operating table. Three single cuts. The heat from it half cauterized parts of the wounds. So what kind of tool can cut fine, precise lines and cleave through bones too?"

"Sword?"

"Have to be one hell of a sharp sword."

"There's a few around like that. Any luck identifying the victim?"

"None. Sorry."

"'S okay."

"You want to know if anything changes?"

"Yeah. Or if you see anyone else come in like that guy."

"God forbid, will do. You find anything on that tattoo?"

"Called the Eye of Thoth," I said. "Trying to narrow down exactly who uses it around here. Oh, give Murphy a call. Let her know about those samples."