by Butcher, Jim
The enormous gruff—several feet taller than any ogre or troll I’d ever seen—squeezed all the way through the door and then rose to a crouch. His head, shoulders, and the top part of his back pressed against the ceiling. Hunched awkwardly, he slowly scanned the room, his golden eyes gleaming around their rectangular pupils. Each knuckle of his closed fists was the size of a freaking cantaloupe, and a heavy, pungent animal scent filled the air.
Thanks to the snow, the pub wasn’t crowded—just a few regulars, plus Murphy and me. But even so, this wasn’t something you saw every day, and the room went totally still.
The gruff ’s gaze settled on me.
Then he duckwalked toward my table. Mac raced for the switch that turned off the fans, but the first couple of spinning blades the gruff passed struck sharply against his curling horns—and shattered. He did not so much as blink. He stopped beside my table and surveyed Murphy, then turned his huge, heavy gaze to me.
“Wizard,” he rumbled in a voice so deep that I could feel it better than I could hear it. “I have come hence to speak to thee about mine younger brothers.” The gruff ’s huge eyes narrowed, and its knuckles creaked like shipping hawsers as its fists tightened. “And the harms thou hast wrought upon them.”
Chapter Seventeen
I picked up my staff and rose to face the enormous gruff.
Murphy watched me with very, very wide eyes.
“This is neutral ground,” I said quietly.
“Aye,” the gruff agreed. “The Accords alone keep thy neck unbroken, thy skull uncracked.”
“Or your enormous ass uncooked,” I replied, staring up and setting my jaw. “Don’t start thinking it would be easy, Tiny.”
“Mayhap, and mayhap not,” the gruff rumbled. “’Tis a question answered only by the field.”
I breathed as shallowly as I could. The huge gruff didn’t smell bad, precisely—but he sure as hell smelled a lot. “Speak.”
“We find ourselves at odds, friend of Winter,” the gruff rumbled.
“Friend of Summer, too,” I said. “They gave me jewelry and everything.”
“Aye,” the huge gruff said. “You have done good service to my Court, if not to my Queen. I am surprised, then, at your use of the bane ’pon two of my younger kin.”
“The bane?” Murphy said quietly.
“Iron,” I clarified. I turned back to the gruff. “They were trying to kill me. I wanted to survive.”
“No friend of either Court would so employ the bane, wizard,” the gruff growled. “Did you not know this? It is more than a mere weapon, and the pain it causes more than simple discomfort. It is a poison, body and spirit, that you have used ’pon us.”
I glared at the big idiot. “They were trying to kill me,” I repeated, only more slowly, you know, so it would be all insulting. “I wanted to survive.”
The gruff narrowed its eyes. “Then you intend to continue as you have begun?”
“I intend to survive,” I replied. “I didn’t ask for this fight. I didn’t begin it.”
“Thou’rt fated to die in any case, mortal, soon or late. Why not face it with honor and make thy passing more peaceful thereby?”
“Peaceful?” I asked, barely containing a laugh. “If I go down fighting, Tiny, I plan for it to be about as unpeaceful as things get.” I jabbed a finger at him. “I’ve got nothing against you and your brothers, Tiny, except that you keep trying to freaking kill me. Back off, and it won’t have to get any uglier than it already has.”
The gruff growled. It sounded like a dump truck grinding its gears. “That I will not do. I will serve my Queen.”
“Then don’t expect anything but more of the same from me,” I replied.
“You would behave this way in the service of Winter?” the gruff demanded, incredulous. “You, who struck the heart of Arctis Tor? What hold has the Dark Queen ’pon you, mortal?”
“Sorry, Tiny, but you aren’t nearly as special as you think you are. This is pretty much the way I behave every time someone tries to whack me.” I gestured at him with my staff. “So if you came here to try to talk me into lying down and dying, you can leave the way you came in. And if you’re the one coming after me next, you’d better have more brains than your brothers did, or I’m going to leave you as a great big pile of cold cuts and spare ribs.”
The gruff growled again and gave me a stiff nod. “Then come out. And let us settle this.”
Uh. Uh-oh.
Showing bravado to the bad guys—or the not-so-bad guys, as the case may be—is a given, a part of the territory. But I’d never taken on anything with the sheer mass of Tiny the gruff, and I really didn’t think I’d care to try my hand against him without one hell of a lot of preparation first. I also had to remember that big didn’t necessarily equal stupid, not given the circles he apparently moved in.
In fact, most of the higher reaches of the Summer Court knew a formidable amount of countermagic. If Tiny here had half the ability I’d seen demonstrated in the past, I would be in real trouble in a straight fight. All he had to do was stand outside and wait. Mac’s place had only the one door.
Worse, Thomas and Molly were waiting outside in Thomas’s barge, and they would be sure to join in. I wasn’t sure what could happen at that point. Leaving totally aside the fact that we’d be brawling in the middle of Chicago in broad daylight, I had to think that the gruff might have backup waiting nearby to intervene if anyone outside the business of the Courts of Winter and Summer tried to interfere. Molly was of limited capability in a fight, and Thomas tended to believe that the best way to approach any given combat was with a maximum of power, speed, and aggressive ferocity.
Things could get really messy, really fast.
I was trying to think of a way of getting out of this without getting anyone killed when Murphy put her gun on the table and said in a very clear, loud, challenging tone, “I don’t think so.”
The gruff turned to stare at her in surprise.
So did Mac.
So did everyone else there.
Heck, so did I.
Murphy stood straight up and turned to face the enormous gruff with her feet spread. “I will not let this challenge to my authority pass.”
The gruff tilted its head to one side. Its horns dug furrows in the wooden ceiling.
Mac winced.
“Lady?” it rumbled.
“Do you know who I am?” Murphy asked.
“A lady knight, a shield bearer of this mortal demesne,” the gruff replied. “An…officer of the law, or so I believe it is called.”
“That’s right,” she said calmly.
“I make no challenge to your authority, Dame…”
“Murphy,” she said.
“Dame Murphy,” rumbled the gruff.
“But you do,” Murphy said. “You have threatened one I am sworn to protect.”
The gruff blinked—a considerable gesture on his scale—and glanced at me. “This wizard?”
“Yes,” Murphy said. “He is a citizen of Chicago, and I am sworn to protect and defend him against those who would harm him.”
“Dame Murphy,” the gruff said stiffly, “this matter is not one of mortal concern.”
“The hell it isn’t,” Murphy said. “This man lives in Chicago. He pays taxes to the city. He is beholden to its laws.” She glanced aside at me, and her mouth quirked wryly. “If he is to suffer the headaches of citizenry, as he must, then it is fair and lawful that he should enjoy the protections offered to every citizen. He is therefore under my protection, and any quarrel you have with him, you also have with me.”
The gruff stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought. “Art thou quite certain of thy position, Dame Murphy?”
“Quite certain,” she replied.
“Even knowing that the duty solemnly charged unto me and my kin might require us to kill thee?”
“Master Gruff,” Murphy replied, laying a hand on her gun for the first time, “consider for a moment what a steel
-jacketed round would feel like as it entered your flesh.”
The gruff flicked its ears in surprise. A number of napkins were blown from the surface of a nearby table. “Thou wouldst aim such weapons of the bane at a lawful champion of the Seelie Court?”
“In your case, Master Gruff,” Murphy said, “I would hardly need to aim.” Then she picked up the gun and aimed it at the gruff ’s eyes.
I started to panic. Then I saw where I thought Murph was going with this one, and I had to work to keep myself from letting out a cheer.
The gruff ’s knuckles popped again. “This,” it growled, “is neutral ground.”
“Chicago,” she replied, “has never signed any Accords. I will fulfill my duty.”
“Attack me here,” the gruff said, “and I will crush you.”
“Crush me here,” Murphy said, “and you will have broken the Accords while acting on behalf of your Queen. Was that your intention in coming here?”
The gruff ground its teeth, a sound like creaking millstones. “My quarrel is not with you.”
“If you attempt to take the life of a citizen of Chicago, whom I am sworn to protect, you have made it my quarrel, Master Gruff. Does your Queen wish to declare war upon the mortal authorities of Chicago? Would she wish you to decide such a thing?”
The gruff stared at her, evidently pondering.
“Lady has a point, Tiny,” I drawled. “There’s nothing to be gained here but trouble, and nothing to be lost but a little time. Walk away. You’ll find me again soon enough.”
The gruff stared at Murphy, and then at me. If I’d been less intrepid and fearless, I would have held my breath, hoping I’d avoided a fight. As it was, I held my breath mostly to cut down on the smell.
Finally the gruff bowed its head toward Murphy, with more scraping of ceilings and wincing of bartenders. “Courage,” he rumbled, “should be honored. Though thou art less a man than I thought, wizard, hiding behind a mortal, however valiant she may be.”
I let out a long breath as silently as I could and said, “Gosh. Somehow I’ll try to live with myself.”
“It will not o’erburden you long. This I promise.” The gruff nodded once to Murphy, then turned and scuttled out the way he’d squeezed in. He even shut the door behind him.
Murphy let out her breath and put her gun away in its shoulder holster. It took her two or three tries.
I sank into my chair on weak legs. “You,” I said to Murphy, “are so hot right now.”
She gave me a weak smile. “Oh, now you notice.” She glanced at the door. “Is he really gone?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I figure he is. The Summer Court aren’t exactly sweetness and light, but they do have a concept of honor, and if any faerie gives his word, he’s good for it.”
Mac did something I’d rarely seen him do.
He got three black bottles out from beneath the bar and brought them over to the table. He twisted the tops off and put one down in front of me, and another in front of Murphy, then kept the third for himself.
I took up the bottle and sniffed at it. I wasn’t familiar with the brew, but it had a rich, earthy aroma that made my mouth water.
Without a word Mac held up his bottle in a salute to Murphy.
I joined him. Murphy shook her head tiredly and returned the salute.
We drank together, and my tongue decided that any other brew it ever had would probably be a bitter disappointment from this day forward. Too many flavors to count blended together into something I couldn’t describe if I’d had a week to talk about it. I’d never had anything like it. It was God’s beer.
Mac drained the bottle in a single pull, with his eyes closed. When he lowered it, he looked at Murphy and said, “Bravely done.”
Murphy’s face was flushed with relief and with a reaction to her beer that was at least as favorable as mine. I doubt Mac could have seen it, but I’d known Murph long enough to see that she started blushing, too.
Mac went back to the bar, leaving Murphy and me to finish our bottled ambrosia.
“Okay,” Murphy said in a weak voice. “Where were we?”
“You were about to tell me how you thought I was wrong and that the Chicago PD needed to intervene.”
“Oh,” Murph said. “Right.” She stared after the departed gruff for a moment. “You said that that thing was from the nicer of the two groups causing us grief?”
“Yep,” I said.
“We’ve gone up against the supernatural three times,” she said quietly. “It’s ended badly twice.”
We meaning the cops, of course. I nodded. One of those occasions had killed her partner, Ron Carmichael. He hadn’t been an angel or anything, but he had been a good man and a solid cop.
“All right,” she said quietly. “I’m willing to hold off for now. On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“I’m in from here on out. You obviously need someone to protect you from the big, bad billy goats.”
I snorted. “Yeah, obviously.”
She held up the last of her beer. I held up mine.
We clinked them, finished them, and went back out into the winter cold together.
Chapter Eighteen
“All right,” I said. “I hearby call this war council to order.”
We were all sitting around my tiny living room, eating Burger King. Thomas and Molly had voted for McDonald’s, but since I was paying, I sternly informed them that this was not a democracy, and Burger King it was.
Hail to the King, baby.
Murphy rolled her eyes over the whole thing.
“War council?” Molly asked, wide-eyed. “Are we going to start another war?”
“I sort of meant it as a metaphor,” I said, as I made sure the ketchup-mustard ratio on my burger was within acceptable parameters. “I need to decide on my next step, and I’ve been hit in the head a few times lately. Figured my brain could use a little help.”
“Just now worked that out, did you?” Thomas murmured.
“Quiet, you,” I growled. “The idea is to generate useful thoughts here.”
“Not funny ones,” Molly said, suppressing a laugh.
I eyed her. She ate a french fry.
Murphy sipped at her Diet Coke. “Well,” she said, “I don’t know how much advice I can give you until I know what you’re up against.”
“I told you in the car,” I said. “The Knights of the Blackened Denarius.”
“Fallen angels, old tarnished coins, psychotic killers, got it,” Murphy said. “But that doesn’t tell me what their capabilities are.”
“She’s got a point,” Thomas said quietly. “You haven’t said much about these guys.”
I blew out a breath and took a big bite of hamburger to give me a moment to think while I chewed. “There’s a lot that these things can do,” I said afterward. “Mostly, the coins seem to allow their users to alter their physical form into something better suited for a fight than a regular human body.”
“Battle shapeshifting,” Molly said. “Cool.”
“It isn’t cool,” I told her. Then I paused and admitted, “Okay, maybe a little. It makes them harder to hurt. It makes them faster. It arms them with various forms of weaponry. Claws, fangs, that kind of thing. Cassius looked like he might have had a poisonous bite, for example. Ursiel’s wielder could shift into this huge bear thing with claws and fangs and horns. Another one turned her hair into about a million strips of living titanium blade, and they were whipping all over the place and shooting through walls. Stretched out like twenty or thirty feet.”
“I have some customers like that,” Thomas quipped.
Murphy blinked and glanced at him.
I cleared my throat and gave Thomas another glare. “Another one of them, Nicodemus, didn’t seem to do any shapeshifting, but his freaking shadow could leap off the wall and strangle you. Creepy as hell.”
“They don’t all have, like, a uniform or something?” Molly asked.
“Not even close,�
�� I replied. “Each of the Fallen seems to have its own particular preferences. And I suspect that those preferences adapt themselves differently to different holders of the coins. Quintus Cassius’s Fallen had this whole serpent motif going, and Cassius’s magic was pretty snake-intensive, too. But he was totally different from Ursiel, who was totally different from Mantis Girl from this morning, who was different from the other Denarians I’ve seen.”
Murphy nodded. “Anything else?”
“Goons,” I said. “More like a cult, really. Nicodemus had a number of followers whose tongues had been removed. They were fanatics, heavily armed, and crazy enough to commit suicide rather than be captured by his enemies.”
She winced. “The airport?”
“Yeah.”
“That it?”
“No,” I said. “Nicodemus also had these…call them guard dogs, I guess. Except that they weren’t dogs. I don’t know what they were, but they were ugly and ran fast and had big teeth. But all of that isn’t what makes them dangerous.”
“No?” Thomas said. “Then what is?”
“The Fallen,” I replied.
The room fell silent.
“They’re beings older than time who have spent two thousand years learning the ins and outs of the mortal world and the mortal mind,” I said quietly. “They understand things we literally could not begin to grasp. They’ve seen every trick, learned every move, and they’re riding shotgun for each coin holder—if they aren’t in the driver’s seat already. Every one of them has a perfect memory, a library of information at his immediate disposal, and a schemer that makes Cardinal Richelieu look like Mother Teresa hanging around in his brain as an adviser.”
Thomas stared at me very hard for a moment, frowning. I tried to ignore him.
Murphy shook her head. “Let’s sum up: an unknown number of enemies with unknown capabilities, supported by a gang of madmen, packs of attack animals, and superhumanly intelligent pocket change.” She gave me a look. “It’s sort of tough to plan for that, given how much we don’t know.”