I got out the lump of chalk I always keep in my duster pocket, and the circular plastic dome compass that rides a strip of velcro on my dashboard, then squatted down, my voluminous coat spreading out over my legs and ankles. I drew a rough circle upon the asphalt around me with the chalk. The markings were bright against the dark surface and almost glowed beneath the light of the nearly full moon.
I added an effort of will, a tiny investment of energy, to close the circle, and immediately felt the ambient magic in the air around me crowd inward, trapped within the confines of the design.

MAGIC

And it only took us five chapters to get there.

The problem with this particular spell was that the compass needle would point unerringly at whomever the blood had come from until the sun rose the next morning and disrupted the simple magical energies I had used to make the spell; but it didn’t point out the swiftest way to get to the target, only the direct direction in which he, she, or it lay.

…so it isn’t actually limited by the blood drying like it was last time.

Even giving the magic system the benefit of the doubt and saying that Harry worked out the compass spell to be longer lasting than the bloodhound hack he did last time, we know Harry is a magic powerhouse. If the sun disrupting it due to its “simple magical energies” is the only reason it ends so quick, then just put more power into the spell! As soon as it’s made clear that Harry can make a spell that outlasts the blood it’s based off, it’s clear he should’ve had no trouble making it last a week if he wanted to, plenty of time to find Murphy.

But no, instead Harry heads on his own off to what turns out to be, surprise surprise, the bad side of town. He informs us that furthermore, there’s plenty of magic things there preying on people. Come to think of it, why? Wouldn’t the people in the bad part of town be more likely to be armed and dangerous? The benefits of the bad part of town is that your victim is less likely to have help, but vampires are terrifying wizard-murdering monsters, I don’t buy Harry’s claim they find this place a better choice for prey than somewhere people think it’s safe to wander about after dark.

He finds some abandoned building that appears to have his target.

I got the map of the city out of the glove box and squinted at it for a moment. Washington Park and Burnham Park, where four of last month’s deaths had taken place, were less than a mile away on either side of me.

Nice attention to detail there.

Harry then tells us he’s armed to the teeth.

I took a moment to take a deep breath, to clear my mind, and to clarify what I wanted to do. I wasn’t here to bring the killer down, whoever he was. I was just locating him for Murphy.
Murphy could put the guy under surveillance and nail him the next time he tried to move. Even if I did capture him, Murphy couldn’t exactly bring him up on charges, based on the word of a professional wizard. Municipal judges would love having a cop appear before them and start spouting such crazy talk.
I spun my blasting rod around in my fingers, grinned, and started forward. That was all right. I didn’t need the justice system to recognize my power to be able to use it.

I think this may just be bad writing. It seems like Harry’s starting off thinking he should locate the guy, then listing all the reasons why Murphy can’t actually do much and he should deal with it himself. But cut the final bit and it’s just that Murphy can’t do anything about Harry arresting the guy. I assume the final bit is just because we needed to hammer in that Harry is so great and his life is so great even as he angsts about it, even if it undermines everything else.

Harry decides to poke the boards covering the windows, finds one that’s extremely loose, then sees there’s bells attached to it and takes them off before entering. How hard is it to make a jangling trap that actually works, people? Stores manage to have bells go off as soon as the door’s moved at all. And yes, I get that Harry needs to be able to get in, but why couldn’t he cast a silence spell or something?

Harry heads toward the light, which also has some whispering voices.

Gathered around an old Coleman lantern were several people, all young, of various shapes and sizes and both genders. They were dressed in all shades of black, and most wore jackets and bracelets and collars of dark leather. Some had earrings and nose rings; one had a tattoo showing on his throat. If they had been tall, muscular folk, they would have looked intimidating, but they weren’t. They looked like college students, or younger, some still with acne, or too-oily hair, beards that wouldn’t quite grow all the way in, and the thinness of youth. They looked awkward and out of place.

It’s a little weird to keep the whole “not fully grown” idea all the way into college.

This seems like it’s going for a more high school vibe, and I can’t help but wonder if the reason Harry’s pegging them as college is just to make perving over them seem acceptable. You know, like H-game translations insisting all the flat-chested three foot tall girls in grade school are totally eighteen.

Four or five of them were gathered behind and around a stout young man less than five and a half feet tall. He had thick glasses and pudgy fingers, and would have looked more at home with a pocket protector than with the spiked leather gloves on his fingers.

Like seriously, how many people are in college and still haven’t hit their growth spurt? Does Harry not know what college kids look like? Next to him is a rail-thin blonde girl at least a head taller than he, the lines of her willowy body all awkward so this is now sounding like middle school age. Short pudgy boys, willowy girls who just shot up but haven’t had time to fill out because they’re only halfway through puberty.

Her hair is also described as a mane. I think Kim is the only new female character who doesn’t have one.

“And I’m telling you,” the young man snarled in a muted voice, “that we should be out there right now. We can’t allow ourselves to rest until we’ve found them all and torn them apart.”

The conversation continues to debate the merits of attacking a “them” vs avoiding notice by possibly the same “them”.

“She told us not to move again tonight, and I’m not moving. And if you try it, so help me, I’m going to tie your ankles to your ears.”
Billy growled, actually growled, though it sounded posed and forced, and stepped forward.
Georgia’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t sign on to this wolf thing to fight hapless losers like you, Billy. Don’t make me start now.” She glared at the young people standing behind Billy. “You know what she told us. Are you going to start going up against her word?”
“Listen, Alphas,” Billy said, turning to look at those behind him, and then at those backing his opponent. “I’ve led you for all this time. I’ve done what I’ve promised to do. Are you going to stop trusting me?”

Confusingly, this is actually set up well. Billy is talking like he’s in charge, but Willowy is making it clear he’s at best second in command, and apparently not in the way where anyone else is meaningfully taking orders from you at all. Even his “You think you can handle me, bitch?” he said. “Bring it on.” comes off as desperate middle school nonsense and not actual misogyny for once.

Of course, I’m also given to understand Billy actually does end up being the leader as the books progress which appears to just be because men get to be in charge, which is pretty ominous for any claims of the series improving over time.

Harry insists the bunch can’t possibly be the killers because They looked more like a group of computer
nerds geared up for Leather Night and we all know nerds would never, ever go on killing sprees if they had the power to.

Also Harry how do you even know about what middle school computer nerds would look like when you’re not allowed near computers?

This was a start at least. I could clear out now, and let Murphy know what I had seen. I’d need to check around the building outside first, see if any of the group had any cars parked nearby, to be able to give Murphy the license plate numbers. Hell, we weren’t far from the university. Maybe some of them would have parking passes.

Harry won’t do this.

I mentioned I’d gotten partway through the second book before giving up. I didn’t realize just how few chapters that was. I quit when Harry fucks this up. See, I asked myself, why am I listening to this horrible misogynistic book if it doesn’t even have a functioning plot? Then I deleted the audiobook and moved on to something else.

Anyway, our first dark-skinned person since last book’s evil boater-skinned guy has arrived.

solid with muscle and moving with an animal surety

Nothing about her tits!

Seriously, nothing. She’s got brown with grey hair. She’s the woman who was tailing them. She has eerie amber eyes. There’s nothing about any sex traits whatsoever.

She yells at everyone for being dumbasses and continues with the fact someone’s followed her, and Harry agrees that yes, the needle’s pointing at her specifically.

My heart leapt into my throat. I considered this woman, with her almost animal vitality, her commanding presence and force of will. This woman, I thought, might be a killer.

“This woman seemed assertive. That fits with the idea of madly tearing apart people.”

Harry then realizes she’s staring right at her hiding place, then she seems to smell him, but instead of going after him she tells the group to hold hands and then snuffs the flame of the lantern they were using.

Harry can hear the group moving away and here’s where I quit:

I rose, blind, and headed around the shelves toward them as quickly as I could, trying to follow.

Harry currently has a way to keep following the woman he thinks is the killer until dawn. He’s seen the faces of everyone involved. If he heads out now, he has a good chance of being able to see their cars too and they’ll have more trouble getting rid of him on the more open streets. It’s just been established that at least one of them has good enough senses to tell he’s there even when he’s perfectly still and well-hidden.

So obviously he should blunder forward in unfamiliar territory in the dark instead.

In retrospect, it wasn’t the smartest decision, but I knew that I couldn’t afford to let them get away.

Yes, you could.

This is also yet another of those weird moments where he never actually does anything wrong. It’s dumb in retrospect, except it’s objectively true that he needs to try because it’d be a disaster to let them escape, so it’s not actually.

The spell I’d wrought on my compass wouldn’t last long, not long enough to find the woman again, much less any of her pack of young people.

So according to this, dawn in October ranges from 6:00 to 6:51. How exactly would it “not last long”? When were you eating that supper, four AM?

I wanted to follow them out, to get the license plates on their cars, anything that would let me help Murphy locate them after they’d run.

Go out of the building to where you can see. Walk toward the back. Write down the number of any cars suddenly driving away all at once. Profit. Get justiably yelled at by Murphy.

I miscalculated the length of my stride and bounced into the wall at the end of the aisle. I sucked in a hiss of pain and reoriented myself, following them, using the darkness to conceal me as much as they did. I could have made some light for myself—but as long as no one could see, no one would start shooting, either, I reasoned.

“Shooting is definitely what I should be concerned about when chasing the presumed killer behind a dozen deaths that involved no guns whatsoever. Also, I’m sure the lack of light is as much an impediment to the werewolves that primarily rely on sound, smell and touch as it is for a hairless monkey that’s primarily visual. No need to activate my actual super sight powers!”

I had only a second’s warning, the sound of claws sliding on the old tile, and then something large and furry slammed into my legs below the knee

YOU DID NOT HAVE ONLY A SECOND’S WARNING YOU HAD THE PART WHERE YOU WERE TOLD “IT’S FUCKING WEREWOLVES” AND THEN TRACKING DOWN THE FUCKING WEREWOLF BLOOD AND BEING ALL YES THAT IS THIS PERSON SHE IS A FUCKING WEREWOLF AND THEN THEM SAYING “WE’RE TOTALLY FUCKING WEREWOLVES” AS WARNINGS.

Harry does not, of course, activate his shield charm. Instead, he tries to use his blasting rod, and by that I mean he just tries to hit them with his big stick, then when the FUCKING WEREWOLF WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT WOULD HELP plays reverse fetch with that he tries to grab his gun rather than ANY FUCKING MAGIC I HATE YOU SO MUCH HARRY.

To remind everyone, Harry can light fires with his mind. He could light the thing he’s facing on fire with his mind, which is both a more effective method of dealing with things than hitting it with a stick and would let him get a glimpse of what the fuck is actually happening.

Once he gets the gun, he spends a minute being confused that even worked, because even Harry has to admit this is incredibly stupid. We also get a reminder of why powerful white guys are so dangerous.

Fear made my heart pound, and as always, anger followed hard on the heels of fear. I was furious that I had been attacked.

While Harry seethes with rage that someone dared threaten him, he realizes that the reason nothing has happened is because the werewolf or wolves decided he’s really not worth the effort and had already left. Then he uses the pentacle to make a gentle glow light despite it seeming super weird Harry doesn’t have any decent way to make light, because Harry needs to exposit about how it’s his mom’s and such.

Harry makes it outside eventually.

Something hit me heavily from behind, driving me to the ground, gravel digging into my ribs through my shirt. My concentration vanished, and with it the light of my amulet. I felt something hard and metallic shoved against the back of my skull, a knee pressed into the small of my back, and a woman’s voice snarled, “Drop the gun, or I blow your head off.”

Yay it’s the part where the detective gets beat up!