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Lacking any more sensible way to make Denton point the gun somewhere else, Harry initiates a soul gaze. This takes effort, and it hurts, because his magic is still damaged. We never see anything along these lines happen again - nowhere else does a soul gaze require the kind of mental effort described here, which reinforces the idea that this isn't something a wizard can do to themself without the help of something like that meth super coffee.
Denton's soul is, I think, the first one to be described in the landscape terms that become ubiquitous later in the series. This is yet another thing that points me towards there having been a major revision at some point, after which Jim Butcher did not tidy up properly, because the earlier soul gaze in this book, with Parker, didn't do this - it was like the ones in Storm Front, with description but no specific imagery.
Dentons's soulscape looks like the Parthenon, or some other vast structure representative of order and civilization. Time isn't really a thing in a soul gaze, so we're simultaneously looking at how it started and how it's going. In the former, we've got a blue sky, grass and flowers, children playing. In the latter, the building itself is worn down by the passage of time, the grass and flowers are dead, leaving weeds and dry brambles. The children are aged, traumatized, and jaded. (I have excluded the troubling and needlessly judgemental language used to describe their adult selves). There are unsettling shadows. The whole thing kind of reminds me of the Town in Wheel of Time. Dresden explicitly attributes these changes to the "cares and trials and difficulties of the world a cop inhabits" in which context I suppose Shadar Logoth would be the more appropriate comparison. Over all this lies a layer of dark, sticky, unpleasant sludge, the magic of the wold best, literally, almost physically poisoning Denton's soul. Harry actually gets a flash of Denton on his knees, receiving the belts from...someone, but it's gone to quick for any details about who he might have gotten them from.
In the way of soul gazes, it takes much longer to describe than it does to happen. Whatever Denton saw in Harry's soul, it has him spooked - pale, shaking, and sweating. He says "No, Wizard. I don't believe in Hell, I won't let you." Hey, Denton, what the fuck does this mean? I understand that "people freak out when they soul gaze Harry, but he has no idea what they see" thing is a thing - especially in the early series, when Harry is at maximum self-hatred, but I suspect any number of things might be clearer if we knew what Denton was on about here.
Marcone knows, apparently. Or he's walking in with no context and capitalizing on the moment. Either thing would be well within his character. In any case, he materializes out of the shadows, pointing a laser sight at Denton, and says "Yes. You will." like he totally know what he's talking about. He chastises the hexenwulfen for having been about to shoot Harry when their instructions were to bring Dresden to him alive. I either don't know or don't remember what Marcone actually wanted with Dresden here - presumably to try to hire him again, but to what end, at this point? Maybe he's just cognizant that Harry has some powerful people who won't necessarily help him while he's alive, but would be pretty annoyed if he got killed. Harry makes a creditable effort to explain to Marcone that Denton is a) an insane person and b) planning a betrayal, but Marcone is not receptive. I don' think it's that he doesn't believe Harry, but his own sense of honor requires that he give Denton the maximum opportunity to not betray their agreement, even if it means passing up his best chance to kill a guy who he's 95% sure is planning to screw him over. This is, it occurs to me, exactly the kind of "too trusting" behavior for which Gard criticizes Marcone in Small Favor. Marcone almost dies in this book, because he was told straight out that Denton was planning to kill him, and refused to act on that information while the cop who is also a psychically corrupted werewolf still has a chance to think better of it.
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peremptory manner just pushes him over the edge. When Marcone tells him to come attend to some details, he shoots Hendricks instead. Repeatedly. Hendricks goes down. Wilson and Harris jump Marcone. Been grabs Harry. Denton orders his people to take everyone to "the pit".
Harry lands face first in muddy water, and Murphy, of all people, pulls him out before he has a chance to die of "Oh but this is nice and cool on my face." They're in an extremely literal pit, with about forty feet deep. Harry, Murphy, Tera, and the alphas, who are starting to regain consciousness but not yet ambulatory, are all present and accounted for. Murphy is acting weirdly normal, like her last interaction with Harry didn't involve arresting him for almost no reason. So Harry fills her in, and around the time he finishes doing so, an unconscious Marcone is swung out over the pit on a rope, very literally strung up as bait for the incoming Loup Garou. According to Tera, the hope is that MacFinn will fall into the pit going after Marcone, kill everyone else whose down there, and then be stuck until morning, when he'll return to human form and can be killed or handed over to the White Council or whatever.
Murphy announces, more or less apropos of nothing, that she's concluded that there's a "reasonable chance" that Harry isn't involved with the murders. Harry is very reasonably exasperated and points out that his role in this case (mostly getting beaten up) and the amount of time Murphy's known him, should earn him some trust. Murphy says that after "what she's seen", she's no longer capable of trust. She is, in other words, situating herself as damaged in the same way Denton is and, especially coming in the very same chapter as that soul gaze, similarly susceptible to to corruption. I know that in the most recent book, Murphy died without this ever really getting addressed, but this is the first in a chain of mounting evidence that at some point, maybe in Grave Peril, maybe in Dead Beat, certainly no later than between Proven Guilty and White Night, something got into Murphy's head. It hasn't yet happened here, obviously, but this exchange establishes the vulnerability.
The Dresden Files seems to have a difficult relationship with law, police, and policing. I don't think Denton and Murphy are our only examples of burnout, trauma, and professionally cultivated mistrust of ones peers and fellow citizens creating vulnerability, both to the temptation of darker powers and to direct psychic attack. Look at Mickey Malone. Look at Morgan. Luccio needed a damn truth spell to believe the way he'd been persecuting Dresden. Morgan was her apprentice - she knows him. As far as we know, he had a normal apprenticeship, not like Harry had with Ebenezer or Molly had with Harry, meaning that they worked together for decades. Nothing this big should have been a surprise to her, unless it represented a substantial and unexpected change. Obviously, Morgan would have been exposed to Peabody's ink, but he's supposed to be too old for mind magic to cause big changes - unless the particular mixture of trauma and vocational paranoia inherent to the work of a Warden, or of any named law enforcement professional in an urban fantasy setting, creates an opening that otherwise wouldn't exist. With the exception of Rawlins, I think literally every cop or warden who appears as a living person in more than two books either definitely falls in with dark forces (Denton, Rudolf) or experiences either confirmed or implied magical corruption of some kind. Ramirez, out of nowhere in Peace Talks, displays the same kind of paranoia that Murphy demonstrates in the first three and last four books. (Although honestly, I think her not doing that for so long, the abrupt change between Grace Peril and Summer Knight, is the best evidence that she's being messed with). So, to a certain extent, does Fix, once he takes up the Summer Knight's mantle. (See: the parking lot confrontations in Small Favor and Cold Days). Micky Malone, like Morgan, took a kind of psychic damage that shouldn't have been possible, unless I'm missing something. It's established that his house has a strong threshold, so the torture spell, much less the ghost that cast it, shouldn't have been able to enter - unless there was another way in.
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Harry, meanwhile, starts guilt spiraling about how everyone's going to die and it's all his fault. We don't need to revisit the reasons this isn't an accurate assessment. Yes, Harry could have handled Kim Delaney better, but it wouldn't have changed the basic shape of things. Kim might still be alive, and obviously that's preferable, but most of the deaths predate Harry's involvement, and nothing he could have done would have stopped Murphy from arresting MacFinn, so the deaths at the police station, including Carmichael's, were pretty much going to happen. But Harry is now firmly in "I have to do something" mode, and asks Murphy to help him climb out of the pit. He doesn't have much of a plan, but the as-yet unnamed "ace in the hole" is reinforced.
Murphy agrees, despite her apparent mistrust of Harry, but they haven't done much more than verbally explore the options before MacFinn appears at the edge of the bit, looking straight at Harry and snarling.
Glad we finally have a chapter with a little more to chew on here It's hard to do interesting analysis on like, half an action scene. I've reworked a few things, which should allow me to pick up the pace a little, but I can't promise anything specific. Until next time, be gay, do crimes, and read all the things!