The Ultimate Dresden Omnibus, 0-15

by Butcher, Jim

  Hades had known we were coming, and we’d gotten in anyway. He’d known who I was. And there was, quite obviously, some kind of connection between Hades and the Queens of Faerie. I sipped at the wine. Add all that together and . . .

  I nearly choked on the mouthful as I swallowed.

  That won a brief but genuine smile from my host. “Ah,” he said. “Dawn.”

  “You let Nicodemus find out about this place,” I said.

  “And?”

  “Mab. This is Mab’s play, isn’t it?”

  “Why would she do such a thing?” Hades asked me, mock reproof in his voice.

  “Weapons,” I said. “The war with the Outsiders. Mab wants more weapons. Why just get revenge when she can throw in a shopping trip at the same time?”

  Hades sipped wine, his eyes glittering.

  I stared at him, suddenly feeling horrified. “Wait. Are you telling me that I’m supposed to take those things out of here?”

  “A much better question,” Hades noted. “My armory exists to contain weapons of terrible power during times when they are not needed. I collect them and keep them to prevent their power from being abused in quieter times.”

  “But why lock them away where anyone with enough resources can get them?” I asked.

  “To prevent anyone without the skill or the commitment to use them well from having them,” he said. “It is not my task to keep them from all of mortal kind—only from the incompetents.”

  Then I got it, and understanding made the bottom of my stomach drop out. “This hasn’t been a heist at all,” I said. “This whole mess . . . it was an audition?”

  “Another good question. But not the most relevant one.”

  I pursed my lips, and tried to cudgel my brain into working. It seemed too simple, but hell, why not take the direct route? “What is the most relevant question, then?”

  Hades settled back into his chair. “Why would I, Hades, take such a personal interest in you, Harry Dresden?”

  Hell’s bells. I was pretty sure I didn’t like the way that sounded, at all. “Okay,” I said. “Why would you?”

  He reached out a hand to the middle head of the dog and scratched it beneath the chin. One of the beast’s rear legs began to thump rapidly against the floor. It sounded like something you’d hear coming from inside a machine shop. “Do you know my dog’s name?”

  “Cerberus,” I said promptly. “But everyone knows that.”

  “Do you know what it means?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. I shook my head.

  “It is from an ancient word, kerberos. It means ‘spotted.’”

  I blinked. “You’re a genuine Greek god. You’re the Lord of the Underworld. And . . . you named your dog Spot?”

  “Who’s a good dog?” Hades said, scratching the third head behind the ears, and making the beast’s mouth drop open in a doggy grin. “Spot is. Yes, he is.”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

  Hades’ eyebrows went up. He didn’t quite smile, but he nonetheless managed to look pleased. “A rare enough sound in my kingdom.” He nodded. “I am a guardian of an underground realm filled with terrible power, the warden of a nation-prison of shades. I am charged with protecting it, maintaining it, and seeing to it that it is used properly. I am misunderstood by most, feared by most, hated by many. I do my duty as I think best, regardless of anyone’s opinion but my own, and though my peers have neglected their charges or focused upon inconsequential trivialities in the face of larger problems, it does not change that duty—even when it causes me great pain. And I have a very large, and very good dog . . .”

  Spot’s tail thumped the side of Hades’ chair like some enormous padded baseball bat.

  “. . . whom other people sometimes consider fearsome.” He turned to me, put his wineglass down and regarded me frankly. “I believe,” he said, “that we have a great many things in common.” He rose and stood before me. Then he extended his right arm. “You are here because I wanted to take a moment to shake your hand and wish you luck.”

  I stood up, feeling a little off-balance, and offered my hand. His handshake was . . .

  You can’t shake hands with a mountain. You can’t shake hands with an earthquake. You can’t shake hands with the awful silence and absolute darkness at the bottom of the sea.

  But if you could, it might come close to what it was like to trade grips with the Lord of the Underworld, and to receive his blessing.

  “Wish me luck?” I breathed, when I could breathe properly again. “You aren’t going to help?”

  “It is not my place,” Hades said. “I wish you good fortune, and will hope that you triumph. But even if we yet lived in the age where my will could guide the course of destiny, it is not for the Lord of Death to take sides in this struggle. The fate of the weapons you have found must be decided by those who found them.”

  “But you’ve already helped me,” I said. “Just by pointing out what was going on.”

  Hades didn’t smile, but the corner of his eyes wrinkled. “All I did was ask you a few questions. Are you ready?”

  “I have one more question,” I said.

  “Mortals generally do.”

  “What will happen to Deirdre?”

  Hades drew in his breath. His face became expressionless. For a long moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said, “Relatively few new shades come into my realm these days. Foremost amongst them are those who perish in the gates—particularly at the Gate of Blood. She will remain in my keeping.”

  “The things she’s done,” I said quietly. “The people she’s hurt. And she gets to skate justice?”

  My host’s eyes became hard, flat, like pieces of coal.

  “This is my realm,” he said, and there was a note in his voice like the grinding of tectonic plates.

  Behind him, Spot let out a warning growl. Magnified by three throats and rumbling in that huge chest, it sounded like machinery in a slaughterhouse.

  I didn’t answer. At least I had enough brains to pull my foot out of my mouth and stop talking. I bowed my head, as meekly as I knew how.

  Hades’ voice smoothed out again, and at a gesture of his hand, Spot quieted down. “Should you survive the hour, consider your classics again, Sir Harry. And revisit the question in your thoughts.”

  I nodded, and thought of others in the Underworld. Tantalus. Sisyphus. Vultures tearing out livers, water that could be carried only in sieves, and ever-spinning wheels of fire, punishments tailored specifically to the soul in question.

  I didn’t know what was going to happen to Deirdre—but she wasn’t going to get off light.

  “I understand,” I said quietly.

  Hades nodded. “You will return to the same moment in which I slowed time,” he said, “and in the same position. Are you prepared?”

  I drew a slow, deep breath. “I guess I’d better be.”

  His eyes flickered and he gave me a brief nod, maybe of approval.

  Then black fire swallowed me again.

  Chapter Forty-two

  “If there’s any kind of device built into this thing, I can’t see it,” Valmont reported in a near whisper, and rose from behind the altar.

  I looked around a bit wildly, my eyes taking a second or three to adjust to the dimmer light. I was, just as Hades had said, right back where I’d been a few objective fractions of a second before.

  Five artifacts. Mab had promised Nicodemus that I would help him recover the Grail. She hadn’t said a damned thing about any of the others. So that meant that there were four things I could keep away from him, right here, right now. Nick hadn’t seen them yet, so he couldn’t know for certain that they were here. I had to recover them if I could, but keep them away from him at all costs. That meant getting them out of sight and splitting them up as best I could.

  But it meant more than that. It meant winning the game Mab had set up for me.

  Or, now that I thought about it, the game Mab had r
igged for me. Mab had arranged to give me a target I couldn’t miss if I tried. It wasn’t a very appetizing target, but not every job I’d ever done was clean and enjoyable.

  I knew how to win the game to Mab’s satisfaction. The trick was going to be both winning the game and surviving it.

  Mentally, I went over those cards that I’d been holding close to my chest.

  Yeah. If I played them properly, I thought I had a winning hand.

  “Right,” I said quietly. I stepped up to the altar and started seizing holy objects. The placard. The crown.

  “Take these,” I said in a whisper, passing them to Valmont. “Get out of sight. Stow them in your pack if you can. Hide them somewhere else if you can’t.”

  Valmont stared at me with her eyes wide. “Why?”

  “They can’t be allowed to fall into the wrong hands,” I said.

  “Dresden,” she said, “I’m in this for the money, and revenge if I get a chance at it. I’m not here for a cause.”

  I clenched my jaw for a second, and then regarded her frankly. “Anna,” I said, “when have I ever done wrong by you? I need your help. Who do you trust more to get you out of here? Nicodemus? Or me?”

  She stared at me hard for only a fraction of a second before she gave me a curt nod, and took them. She started stuffing them into her pack. She hadn’t filled even half of it with diamonds, and was able to slide them in. “Hey, is that the Shroud?”

  “This one looks older and shabbier than the one you stole from the Church,” I said, rolling up the old cloth and stuffing it into my duster’s pocket. It was thin stuff, terribly thin, and made a smaller bundle than you’d think. “Hell, maybe that investigative panel was right. Maybe the Church does have a knockoff.”

  “But I thought that one had power?” she asked.

  “It did, but not like this.” My fingers still tingled from touching the cloth. “Besides, we’re talking about the power of faith, here,” I said. “Enough people believe that the fake is really the Shroud, maybe that’s enough to make it powerful all by itself.”

  “Seems like a cheat.”

  “Don’t knock it,” I said.

  Her head snapped up, and her eyes widened. “Dresden,” Anna hissed.

  I heard footsteps approaching a couple of seconds later. My heart thudded in my chest. I managed to get the knife and slip it up the sleeve of my duster, then quietly slid the cup into the exact center of the altar. Even that brief contact was like touching a live wire. Tingles flew up my arm and set every hair of my body on end.

  I fought to suppress a full-body shudder, and about half a second later, Nicodemus appeared, trailing Michael, Hannah Ascher, and the Genoskwa. Ascher carried my staff in one hand, the lights of its runes gradually growing dimmer. She looked tired but smug, wearing one backpack that sagged with wealth and lugging a second like a too-heavy carry-on bag at the airport.

  “There,” Michael said when he spotted me. He looked relieved, and he hadn’t, as far as I could tell, picked up anything. “Thank God.”

  I waved a hand at the group, using the gesture to let the knife fall a little deeper into my sleeve. “Over here. Found it.”

  They all came down to the stage with me. Nicodemus’s eyes were narrow with suspicion as he walked. “Dresden. You’ve found the Grail?”

  “I just had Valmont check this altar for traps, and she says it’s clear,” I said, not quite lying. “I just got done examining it myself.”

  “Why did you leave your staff back there?” Nicodemus asked, his rough voice harsh. “A distraction?”

  “Figured you guys could use it as a waypoint to find us,” I lied blatantly. I stepped aside with a little Vanna White gesture, revealing the cup, and said, “Ta-da.”

  Nicodemus stared at me hard for a second, then at the cup on the marble altar. I could see the wheels spinning in his head as he thought. Michael’s eyes went to it as well, widening.

  “That’s it?” Michael asked. “That’s really it?”

  “Thing makes my teeth buzz it’s so powerful,” I said. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” I looked at Nicodemus and said, “You’ve got your damned cup. Let’s pack up, get Grey his share, and get the hell out of here.”

  Nicodemus walked a slow circle around the altar, examining it. His shadow twisted and writhed with eagerness where it fell on the floor around him. I took a step to one side to avoid letting it fall on me, because ick.

  “I know you’ve been aching to have your hands on my staff,” I said to Ascher, as Nicodemus examined the altar for himself. I held out my hand. “But I’d rather be the one fondling my tool. Wizards are weird like that.”

  “Wow,” she said, and flashed me a grin, her face flushed, excited. “You left me nowhere to go with that one. I have nothing to add.”

  “I’m just that good,” I said.

  She tossed the staff back to me, imprecisely, and I fumbled it for a second and nearly dropped it. I had a hell of a time both catching it in my right hand and keeping my left arm bent enough to keep the knife from slipping out of my sleeve.

  And the brass hilt of the knife clicked against the aluminum splint still on my left arm.

  Nicodemus looked up sharply at the sound.

  His eyes stayed on me, dark and opaque for a moment.

  “Miss Valmont,” he said quietly. “Go back to the entrance. Stand watch there and tell Grey he’s free to collect his share.”

  Valmont hesitated, looking at me.

  She was a liability here. If I could get her clear, it would be harder for Nicodemus to use her against me. Also, the more I could spread these artifacts out, the better.

  I nodded, and Valmont vanished silently toward the entrance to the vault.

  Michael came to stand next to me, and abruptly tilted his head, looking up at the statues. “Harry,” he asked, “does that statue look like Molly to you?”

  Oh, crap. I so didn’t need this kind of thing distracting either of us right now.

  “Pffffft,” I said. “What? No. That’s absurd. Maybe a little. Some people might think so. She’s got, uh, one of those faces.”

  He pursed his lips and eyed me.

  “Would you get your head in the game?” I said. “Trapped in the Underworld, possible epic Greek menace all around us? Focus, please.”

  Michael eyed me.

  Dammit, I so didn’t need this right now. Anna had, by now, gotten well out of the way. For the next few moments, Grey might be distracted with collecting his share, leaving Nick and the Genoskwa against me and Michael.

  I’d take that fight.

  But where would Hannah Ascher come down? Whichever side she chose would have the advantage, and that was that. Ascher liked me, on the one hand. But on the other, Nicodemus had saved her life against the Salamander, and she had signed on to be a part of his crew, not mine. If she held to Binder’s mercenary code, she’d back Nick’s play and not mine. I racked my brains for anything I could do to get her to come down on my side, at this point. But I had nothing.

  Man.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have rejected her advances. Especially not if she’d already been feeling the rejection from Binder. Maybe that would have made a serious difference.

  On the other hand, who knows? It had been a while for me. Maybe that would have hurt my chances even more.

  Something nagged at the back of my brain, an instinct that was attached to Ascher but too vague to make any sense out of.

  The moment was passing, when Nicodemus was at the height of his tension and uncertainty. If I didn’t hurry, I was going to lose it. Time to start pushing.

  “Would you hurry it up?” I said to Nicodemus. “I don’t want to get eaten by a three-headed dog or maybe bump into the shade of Medusa because you went into gloat-mode like every Evil Overlord shouldn’t. I told you we already checked it.”

  “If you don’t mind,” Nicodemus said, going back to his examination, “I’m going to make certain for myself.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, you
can’t be serious,” I said. “Mab is a tricksy bitch, but she’s good to her word. She gave you her word that I would help you secure the cup and bring it back as long as you didn’t get up to any shenanigans, and that’s what I’m going to do. It’s safe. Stick a needle in my eye.”

  Nicodemus continued in his slow circle.

  “You get all cautious now?” I asked him. And I shifted my staff into the crook of my left arm and plucked up the Grail.

  Nicodemus’s hand went to his sword, and his eyes narrowed, but I just held it speculatively, bouncing it in my hand. “See? No traps. It’s not an Indiana Jones movie, man.”

  Nicodemus remained there, frozen—but his shadow exploded back across the amphitheater stage and climbed halfway up the rear arch of the seating, its edges flaring out wildly, like a monstrous cobra. As tells go, that seemed like a pretty damned big one.

  My stomach turned as I began to speak, but I didn’t let that show in my voice. “This is what you came for, right?” I said quietly. “What your daughter died to give you. Hey, if I dropped it, do you think it would break?”

  “Dresden,” Nicodemus said. There was no silk in his voice now—only rasp.

  “Gravity seems a little higher here,” I said. “You notice? Maybe exactly high enough to break something like this if it fell. And then she’d have died for nothing.”

  “Give me the Grail,” he said, his voice a whisper. “Now.”

  “Sure. Come get it,” I said.

  He started stalking around the altar toward me, and I casually mirrored him, keeping it between us. “Deirdre talked to me about your relationship yesterday,” I said. “Did you know that?”

  He swallowed. His shadow shifted, surging toward me, spreading out in a large circle around us. The light from the upraised hands of the two triple statues grew a little dimmer. It was like suddenly being enfolded in enormous, shadowy wings.

  “She went on about the centuries you two had spent together,” I said carelessly. “About how there was no word for how close you two had become because no mortal could possibly understand. Hell, I guess that’s true. Because you threw her away like she was so much trash. I don’t have a word that seems sufficient to cover a father who would do that.”