by Butcher, Jim
“All of them?” Kumori asked in a quiet voice. “Are you sure?”
I looked back and forth between them. “Are you telling me that someone on the Council is after Kemmler’s power?”
“The Council is not what it was,” said Cowl. “It has rotted from the inside, and many wizards who have chafed at its restrictions have seen the war with the Red Court reveal its weakness. It will fall. Soon. Perhaps before tomorrow night.”
“Oh,” I drawled. “Well, gee, why didn’t you say so? I’ll just hand you my copy of the book right now.”
Kumori held up a hand. “This is no deception, Dresden. The world is changing. The Council’s end is near, and those who wish to survive it must act now. Before it is too late.”
I took a deep breath. “Normally I’m the first one to suggest we t.p. the Council’s house,” I said. “But you’re talking about necromancy. Black magic. You aren’t going to convince me that the Council and the Wardens have suddenly gotten a yen to trot down the left-hand path. They won’t touch the stuff.”
“Ideally,” Cowl said. “You are young, Dresden. And you have much to learn.”
“You know what young me has learned? Not to spend too much time listening to the advice of people who want to get something out of me,” I said. “Which includes car salesmen, political candidates, and weirdos in black capes who mug me on the street in the middle of the night.”
“Enough,” Cowl said, anger making his voice almost unintelligible. “Give us the book.”
“Bite my ass, Cowl.”
Kumori’s hood twitched back and forth between Cowl and me. She took three steps back.
“Just as well,” Cowl murmured. “I have wanted to see for myself what has the Wardens so nervous about you.”
The cold wind rose again, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose up stiffly. A flash of sensation flickered over me as Cowl drew in power. A lot of power.
“Don’t,” I said. I lifted my shield bracelet, weaving defensive energy before me with my thoughts. I solidified my hold on my own power, wrapping my fingers tight around my staff, and then slammed it down hard on the concrete. The cracking sound of it echoed back and forth from darkened buildings and the empty street. “Walk away. I’m not kidding.”
“Dorosh,” he snarled in reply, and extended his right hand.
He hit me with raw, invisible force—pure will, focused into a violent burst of kinetic energy. I knew it was coming, my shield was ready, and I braced myself against it in precisely the correct way. My defense was perfect.
It was all that saved my life.
I’ve traded practice blows with my old master Justin DuMorne, himself at one time a Warden. I fought him in earnest, too, and won. I’ve tested my strength in practice duels against the mentor who succeeded him, Ebenezar McCoy. My faerie godmother, the Leanansidhe, has a seriously nasty right hook, metaphysically speaking, and I’ve even gone up against the least of the Queens of Faerie. Throw in a couple of demons, various magical constructs, a thirteen-story fall in a runaway elevator, half a dozen spellslingers of one amount of nasty or another, and I’ve seen more sheer mystic violence than most wizards in the business. I’ve beaten them all, or at least survived them, and I’ve got the scars to show for it.
Cowl hit me harder than any of them.
My shield lit up like a floodlight, and despite all that I could do to divert the energy he threw at me, it hit me like a professional linebacker on an adrenaline frenzy. If I hadn’t been able to smooth it out and take the blow evenly across the whole front of my body, it might have broken my nose or ribs or collarbone, depending on where the energy bled through. Instead it felt like the Jolly Green Giant had slugged me with a family-sized beanbag. If there had been any upward force on it, it would have thrown me far enough to make me worry about the fall. But the blow came head-on, driving me straight back.
I flew several yards in the air, hit on my back, scraped along the sidewalk, and managed to turn the momentum into a roll. I staggered to my feet, leaning hard against a parked car. I must have clipped my head at some point, because stars were swirling around in my vision.
By the time I got myself upright again, the panic had set in. No one had ever thrown power like that at me. Stars and stones, if I hadn’t been absolutely prepared for that blow…
I swallowed. I’d be dead. Or at best broken, bleeding, and utterly at the mercy of an unknown wizard. One who was still nearby, and probably getting ready to hit me again. I forced thoughts and doubts from my mind and readied my shield, my bracelet already grown so warm that I could feel it through the ugly scars on the skin of my wrist. I couldn’t even think about hitting back, because if my shield wasn’t back up and ready for another blow, I wouldn’t live long enough to get the chance.
Cowl walked slowly toward me down the sidewalk, all cloak and hood and shadows. “Disappointing,” he said. “I hoped you were ready for the heavyweight division.”
He flicked his wrist, and the next blow howled at me in the freezing wind blowing off the lake. This one came in at an angle, and I didn’t even try to stop it cold. I sidestepped like a nervous horse, angling my shield to deflect the blow. Again energy leaked through, but this time it only shoved me across the sidewalk.
My shoulder hit the building, and it drove the breath out of me. I’ve had shoulder injuries before, and it probably made it feel worse than it was. I bounced off the building and kept my feet, but my legs wobbled—not from the effort of holding me up, but from the energy I’d had to expend to survive the attacks.
Cowl kept walking toward me. Hell’s bells, it didn’t even look like he was trying all that hard.
I got a cold feeling in my chest.
This man could kill me.
“The book, boy,” Cowl said. “Now.”
What rose up in me then wasn’t outrage or terror. It wasn’t righteous wrath. It wasn’t confidence, or surety, or determination to protect a loved one. It was 100 percent pure, contrary stubbornness. Chicago was my town. I didn’t care who this joker was; he wasn’t going to come gliding down the streets of my town and push in my teeth for my milk money.
I don’t get pushed around by anyone.
Cowl was strong, but his magic wasn’t inhuman. It was huge, and it was different from what I worked with, but it didn’t have that nauseating, greasy, somehow empty feel that I’d come to associate with the worst black magic. No, that wasn’t entirely true. There was a lingering sense of black magic involved in his power. Then again, there’s a little of it in mine, too.
The point being that Cowl wasn’t some kind of demon. He was a wizard. Human.
And, behind the magic, just as fragile as me.
I poured power down my arm, whirled my staff, pointed it at the car on the street beside him, and snarled, “Forzare!”
The sigils on the staff burst into sudden, hellish scarlet light, as bright as the blaze of my shield, and shimmering waves of force flowed out from me. They flooded out over the sidewalk, under the Toyota parked on the street nearest Cowl. I snarled with effort, and the Hellfire force abruptly lashed up, underneath the street side of the car. The car flipped up as lightly and quickly as a man overturning a kitchen chair. Cowl was under it.
There was a crash, and Hell’s bells, it was loud. Glass shattered everywhere, and sparks flew out in every direction. The car’s alarm went off, warbling drunkenly, and alarms started going off all up and down the street. In apartment windows, lights started blinking on.
I fell to one knee, suddenly exhausted, the light from staff and shield both dwindling to nothing and vanishing. I had never moved that much mass before, that quickly, with nothing but raw kinetic energy, and I could hardly find enough energy to focus my eyes. If I hadn’t had the staff to lean on, I’d have been hugging the sidewalk.
There was the sound of metal grating on concrete.
“Oh, come on,” I said panting.
The car shuddered, then slid a few inches to one side. Cowl straightened slowly. He
’d gotten back to the very rear of the car’s impact area somehow, and he must have been able to shield himself from the partial impact. As he straightened he wavered, then braced himself against a streetlight with one black-gloved hand. I felt a surge of satisfaction. Take that, jerk.
A low growling sound came warbling out of the black hood. “The book.”
“Bite,” I panted, “me.”
But he hadn’t been talking to me. Kumori stepped out of the shadows of a doorway and gestured with a whispered word.
I felt a sudden, strong tug at my duster’s pocket. The flap covering it flew up, and the slender book in its paper bag started sliding out.
“Ack,” I managed, which was all the repartee I was up for at the moment. I rolled and trapped the book between my body and the ground.
Kumori extended her hand again, and more forcefully. I slid two feet over the concrete, until I braced a boot against an uneven joint in the sidewalk and saw movement behind the two figures. “Game over,” I said. “Stop it.”
“Or what?” Cowl demanded.
“Ever see Wolfen?” I spat.
Wolves appeared, just freaking appeared out of the Chicago night. Big wolves, refugees from a previous epoch, huge, strong-looking beasts with white fangs and savage eyes. One was crouched on the wrecked Buick, within an easy leap of Cowl, bright eyes fastened on him. Another had appeared behind Kumori, and a third leapt lightly down from a fire escape, landing in a soundless crouch in front of her. One appeared on either side of me, and snarls bubbled out of the night.
More lights were coming on. A siren wailed in the night.
“What big teeth they have,” I said. “You want to keep going until the cops show up? I’m game.”
There wasn’t even a pause for the two cloaked figures to look significantly at each other. Kumori glided to Cowl’s side. Cowl gave me a look that I felt, even if I couldn’t see his face, and he growled, “This isn’t—”
“Oh, shut up,” I said. “You lost. Go.”
Cowl’s fingers formed into a rigid claw and he snarled a word I couldn’t quite hear, slashing at the air.
There was a surge of power, darker this time, somehow more nebulous. The air around them blurred, there was the sudden scent of mildew and lightless waters, a sighing sound, and as quickly as that, they were simply gone.
“Billy,” I said a second later, angry. “What the hell are you doing? Those people could have killed you.”
The wolf crouching on the wrecked car looked at me, and dropped its mouth open into a lolling grin. It leapt over the broken glass to land beside me, shimmered, and a second later the wolf was gone, replaced by a naked man crouching beside me. Billy was a little shorter than average, and had more muscle than a Bowflex commercial. Medium brown hair, matching eyes, and he wore a short beard now that made him look a lot older than when I’d met him years ago.
Of course, he was older than when I’d met him years ago.
“This is my neighborhood,” he said quietly. “Can’t afford to let anyone make me look bad here.” He moved with quick efficiency, getting a shoulder under one of mine and hauling me to my feet by main strength. “How bad are you hurt?”
“Bruises,” I said. The world spun a little as he hauled me up, and I wasn’t sure I could have stood on my own. “Little wobbly. Out of breath.”
“Cops will be here in about seventy seconds,” he said, like someone who knew. “Come on. Georgia’s in the car at the other end of this alley.”
“No,” I said. “Look, just get me to my car. I can’t be…” I couldn’t be seen with him. If Mavra was watching me, or having me tailed, it might mean that she would release the dirt she had on Murphy. But I damn sure couldn’t just explain everything to him. Billy wasn’t the sort to stand by when he saw a friend in trouble.
And I was damned lucky he wasn’t. I hadn’t had much left in me but some hot air when Cowl had stood up again.
“No time,” Billy said. “Look, we’ll get you back here after things calm down later. Christ, Harry, you crushed that car like a beer can. I didn’t know you were that strong.”
“Me neither,” I said. I couldn’t get to my car on my own. I couldn’t afford to be seen with Billy and the Alphas. But I couldn’t allow myself to get detained or thrown into jail, either. Never mind that if Cowl and his sidekick had found me, there might be other interested parties after me, too. If I kept showing my face on the streets, someone would tear it off for me.
I had to go with Billy. I would cut things as short as I could. I didn’t want them involved in this business any more than they already were, anyway, as much to protect them as Murphy. Dammit, Mavra would just have to show some freaking understanding. Maybe if I said please.
Yeah, right.
I might already have blown it and doomed Murphy, but I didn’t have much choice.
I leaned on Billy the werewolf, and did the best I could to hobble along with him down the alley and off the street.
Chapter
Nine
Billy probably could have picked me up and carried me at a flat run if he needed to, but we had to cross only about fifty yards of alley and darkened street before an expensive SUV, its lights out, cut over to the curb and made a swift stop in front of us.
“Quick,” I said, still panting, “to the Woofmobile.”
Billy helped me into the backseat, followed me in, and before the door was even shut the SUV began accelerating smoothly and calmly from the scene. The interior smelled like new-car-scented air freshener and fast food.
“What happened?” asked the driver. She was a willowy young woman about Billy’s age, somewhere around six feet tall. Her brown hair was pulled into a severe braid, and she wore jeans and a denim jacket. “Hello, Harry.”
“Evening, Georgia,” I replied, slumping back against the headrest.
“Are you all right?”
“Nothing a nice long nap won’t fix.”
“He was attacked,” Billy supplied, answering the first question. He tugged sweats and a T-shirt out of an open gym bag and hopped into them with practiced motions.
“The vampires again?” Georgia asked. She turned on the headlights and joined other traffic. Reflected streetlights gleamed off the diamond engagement ring on her left hand. “I thought the Reds were staying out of town.”
“Not vampires,” I said. My eyelids started increasing their mass, and I decided not to argue with them. “New friends.”
“I think they must have been other wizards,” Billy said quietly. “Big black cloaks and hoods. I couldn’t see their faces.”
“What set the police off?” she asked.
“Harry flipped a car over on top of one of them.”
I heard Georgia suck in her breath through her teeth.
“Yeah, and I’m the one who lost the fight,” I muttered. “Barely even rattled his cage.”
“My God,” Georgia said. “Is everyone all right?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “The bad guys got away. If the Alphas hadn’t come along when they did, I’m not sure I would have.”
“Everyone else scattered, and they’ll meet us back at the apartment,” Billy said. “Who were those guys?”
“I can’t tell you that,” I said.
There was an empty second, and then Billy’s voice turned cautious. “Why? Is it some kind of secret, need-to-know wizard thing?”
“No. I just have no freaking clue who it was.”
“Oh. What did they want?” Billy asked. “I only showed up at the end.”
“I picked up a rare book at Bock’s. Apparently they wanted it.”
I could have sworn I heard his brow furrow. “Is it valuable?”
“Something in it must be,” I answered. I fumbled at my pocket and drew out the book to make sure it was still there. The slender volume looked innocent enough. And at least it wouldn’t take too long to read through. “I appreciate the assist, but I can’t stay.”
“Sure, sure,” Billy said. “What can we do t
o help?”
“Don’t take me to your apartment, for one,” I said. “Somewhere you don’t go as much.”
“Why not?” Billy asked.
“Please, man. Just do it. And let me think for a minute,” I said, and closed my eyes again. I tried to work out how best to keep the Alphas from getting involved in this business, but my weary, aching body betrayed me. I dropped into a sudden darkness too black and silent to allow for any dreams.
When I jerked awake, my neck was aching from being bent forward, my chin on my chest. We weren’t driving anymore, and I was alone in the SUV. The hollow weariness had abated significantly, and I didn’t feel any trembling in my limbs. I couldn’t have been out for very long, but even a little sleep can do wonders sometimes.
I got out and found myself in a garage big enough to house half a dozen cars, though the SUV and a shiny black Mercury were the only two vehicles in it. I recognized the place—Georgia’s parents’ house, an upper-end place on the north side of town. The Alphas had brought me here once before, when they helped rescue me from the lair of a gang of psychotic lycanthropes. Susan had been with me.
I shook my head, took up my staff and the little book, and walked toward the door to the house. I paused just before I opened it, and heard voices speaking in quiet tones. I closed my eyes and focused on my sense of hearing, head tilted to one side, and the sound of the voices became clear and distinct enough for me to understand. It’s a useful skill, Listening, though I couldn’t tell you exactly how to do it.
There was the sound of a phone being returned to its cradle. “They’re all fine,” Billy said.
“Good,” Georgia replied. “Something’s going on. Did you see his face?”
“He looked tired,” Billy said.
“He looked more than just tired. He’s afraid.”
“Maybe,” Billy said, after a second of hesitation. “So what if he is?”
“So how bad must things be if he is afraid?” Georgia asked. “And there’s more.”
Billy exhaled. “His hand.”