He peered up at me, his green eyes calculating. "I am hardly in a position to bargain, Mr. Dresden. What you need, I will give you."

I nodded. "Answers. I've got about a million questions."

"Dark will come in less than two hours. Moonrise is only slightly more than an hour after that. We don't have much time for questions."

"Time enough," I assured him. "Why did you come here?"

"I woke up about five miles from here this morning," MacFinn said, looking away from me as he did, staring at the fire. "I've got several stashes hidden around the city. Just in case. This is one of the older ones. The damp had gotten to the clothes, and all I had was these." He gestured at the jean shorts.

"Do you remember what you did?" The words had an edge to them, but at least I didn't say, "Do you remember murdering Kim Delaney?" Who says I can't be diplomatic?

MacFinn shuddered. "Pieces," he said. "Just pieces." He looked at me and said, "I didn't mean to hurt her. I swear to you."

"Then why is she dead?" The words came out flat, cool. Tera glared at me, but I watched MacFinn for his answer.

"The curse," he said quietly. "When it happens, when I change—have you ever been angry, Mr. Dresden? So angry that you lost control? That nothing else mattered to you but acting on your anger?"

"Once," I said.

"Maybe you can understand part of it then," MacFinn said. "It comes on me, and there's nothing left but the need to hurt something. To act on the rage. I tried to tell Kim that the circle wasn't working, that she had to get out, but she wouldn't listen." I heard the frustration in his voice, and his hands clenched into fists. "She wouldn't listen to me."

"It frustrated you," I said. "And when you changed …"

He nodded. "It's how I came back from 'Nam. Everyone else in my platoon died but me. I knew the full moon was coming. And I knew that I hated them, hated the soldiers who had killed my friends. When I changed, I started killing until there wasn't anyone left alive within maybe two miles."

I stared at MacFinn for a long moment. I believed that he was telling me the truth. That he didn't have much control, if any, over his actions when he transformed. Though it occurred to me that if he wanted someone dead, he could probably point his monster-self in the right direction before he lost control.

Note to self: Do not cut MacFinn off in traffic.

"All right," I said. "Why come here? Why to 'Wolf Woods'? Why not to one of the other stashes?"

He smirked at the flames. "Where else would a werewolf run, Mr. Dresden?"

"Someplace a little less freaking obvious," I shot back.

MacFinn shook his head. "The FBI doesn't believe in werewolves. They aren't going to make the connection."

"Maybe," I conceded. "But there are smarter people than the FBI looking for you now. I don't think we should stay here for long."

MacFinn glanced at me, and then around him, as though listening for pursuers. "You might be right," he admitted. "But I'm not going anywhere until my head stops spinning. You don't look so good, either."

"I'll make it," I said. "All right, then. How did you know Kim Delaney? From her activist functions, I assume."

MacFinn's face went pale at the mention of her name, but he nodded. "Originally. We came to know of her talents about a year ago. She told us how you were helping her control her abilities. She was helping me, indirectly, with the Northwest Passage Project. Then, last month, I asked her for her help."

"Why did you do that?"

MacFinn glanced warily at Tera, and then back at me. "Someone broke my circle."

I hunkered down on my heels, resting my aching arm on my knees. "Someone broke your circle? The one in the basement?"

"Yes," MacFinn said. "I don't know who. I'm not at home a lot. We found it broken when we went downstairs before moonrise, last month."

"And you asked Kim to fix it?"

MacFinn closed his eyes and nodded. "She said she could. She told us she would be able to make a new circle, one that would keep me from …"

I chewed on my lip as his voice trailed off. "Last month, you were meeting with Marcone's business partner, right? Negotiations over the Project?"

"I didn't kill him," MacFinn said quickly. "He died the night after the full moon. I couldn't have made the change and done it then. And the other two nights, I made sure I was well away from human beings. I didn't kill anyone the second two nights, either. I was alone."

"Your fiancée could have done those killings," I said, and flicked a glance at Tera West. She glared at my eyes for a moment, and then looked away.

"She didn't," MacFinn said, his tone cool.

"Let's go back a bit," I said. "Someone messed up your circle. To do that, they would have had to know about your curse, right? And they would have had to get into your house. So, the question is, who could do those things? And then the question is, who would have done it, and why?"

MacFinn shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I just don't. I don't have much contact with the supernatural, Mr. Dresden. I keep my head down. I don't know anyone else who can make the change, except for her." He put his hand over that of the woman beside him.

A suspicion took root in my mind, someplace dark and sneaky. I studied Tera as I spoke to MacFinn. "You want to hear a theory?" I said. I didn't wait for him to answer. "Presuming you're telling the truth, I figure someone else did the killings the night before the full moon, last month. Some gangsters in town. Then they made sure that you would be the one going berserk the next three nights by fucking up your circle."

"Why would they do that?" MacFinn asked.

"To set you up. They kill some people, maybe just for kicks, maybe for a good reason, and then they lay the blame at your feet. Someone like me, or the White Council, comes poking around, and they go straight to you. You're notorious. Like a convicted felon. They find you over the body with a bloody knife, metaphorically speaking, and you're the one to burn at the stake. Literally."

MacFinn studied my face for a moment. "Or you think that there might be another reason."

I shrugged. "Maybe you are the killer. You could be trying to make it look like someone is setting you up to me and the Council. The police can't prove shit against you under the mundane justice system, and using this deception clears you with the supernatural community. So you moan and pose and say 'Woe is me, I am only the poor cursed guy, and meanwhile a bunch of people end up dead. People who were standing in the way of your completing the Northwest Passage Project."

MacFinn showed me his teeth. "You think the world wouldn't be better off without people like Marcone and his lickspittles?"

"Good word, lickspittles," I replied, keeping my voice bland. "That doesn't really concern me right now, MacFinn. Men like Marcone know the risks and take their chances. What bothers me is that a bunch of other people are getting dead, and they don't really deserve it."

"Why would I be killing innocents?" MacFinn demanded, his voice growing tight, clipped.

"Innocents like Kim?" I said. I'm a wizard, not a saint. I'm allowed to be vindictive.

MacFinn went pale and looked down.

"Maybe you're doing it as a smoke screen. Maybe you can't help it. Or hell, maybe you really are just a poor cursed guy, and someone's using you like a puppet. There's no way for me to tell right now."

"Assuming I'm not lying," MacFinn grated, "who would have an interest in setting me up?"

I shook my head. "That's the million-dollar question. I'd say that it was Johnny Marcone—he stands to benefit if you can't oppose his business interests in the Northwest. As I understand it, the Northwest Passage would pretty much put nails in the coffin of a lot of industry up in that direction."