Gard's collection

"Give me what I need to find and question Torelli."
She shook her head. "I can get you his address and the locations of the properties he owns, places he frequents, known associates, but he won't be at any of those places. He's been in the business too long to make a mistake like that."
"Oh, please," I said, rolling my eyes. "You've got blood or hair samples for all of your people somewhere. Get me Torelli's."
Gard stared at me with her poker face.
"For that matter," I added, "get me Marcone's. If I can get close enough, it might help me find him."
"My employer keeps them under intense security. He's the only one who can access them."
I snorted. "So get me samples from the second collection."
"Second collection?"
"You know, the one you're keeping. The one Marcone doesn't know about."
Gard brushed a stray lock of gold from her cheek. "What makes you think I have any such samples?"
I showed her my teeth. "You're a mercenary, Gard. Mercenaries have to be more cautious with their own employers than they do with the enemy they've been hired to fight. They take out insurance policies. Even if Marcone didn't have samples collected, I'm betting you did."
Her eyes drifted over to the door for a moment, and then back to me. "Let's pretend, for a moment, that I have such a collection," she said. "Why on earth would I hand it over to you? You're antagonistic to my employer's business, and could inflict catastrophic damage on it with such a thing in your possession."
"Gosh, you're squeamish, considering the catastrophic damage his business inflicts on thousands of people every day of the year."
"I'm merely protecting my employer's interests." She showed me her teeth. "Almost as though I'm a mercenary."
I sighed and folded my arms. "What if I only took Torelli's and Marcone's samples?"
"Then you would still be capable of using that against Marcone in the future."
"If I want to hurt Marcone," I said, "all I need to do is sit down with a six-pack of beer and a bag of pretzels and let him twist in the wind."
"Perhaps," Gard admitted. "Swear to me that you will use none of the samples but Torelli's and Marcone's, that you will use neither of them for harm of any kind, and that you will return both to me immediately upon my request. Swear it by your power."
Oaths in general carry a lot of currency among the preternatural crowd. They're binding in more senses than the theoretical. Every time you break a promise, there's a kind of backlash of spiritual energies. A broken promise can inflict horrible pain on supernatural entities, such as the Sidhe. When a wizard breaks a promise, particularly when sworn by his own power, the backlash is different: a diminishing of that magical talent. It isn't a crippling effect by any means-but break enough promises and sooner or later you'd have nothing left.
As dangerous as the world had been for wizards over the past few years, any of us would have been insane to take the chance that our talents, and thus our ability to defend ourselves, might be hampered, even if that reduction was relatively slight.
I squared my shoulders and nodded. "I swear, by my own power, that I will abide by those restrictions."
Gard narrowed her eyes as I spoke, and when I finished she gave me a single nod. She reached into her pocket, moving very gingerly, and withdrew a single silver key. She held it out to me. "Union Station, locker two fourteen. Everything is labeled."
I reached out to take the key, but Gard's fingers tightened on it for a second. "Don't let anything you care about stand directly in front of it when you open it."


Small Favor Chapter 21, Page 176-178