by Jim Butcher
Luccio ducked the grasping arms of the first, caught the thing by a wrist, and sent it stumbling aside with a twist of her body that reminded me of one of Murphy’s moves. The second zombie drove a hammer-heavy blow at her head, but that slender blade she wore at her side swept up out of its scabbard and took off its arm at the elbow. Another move brought a chiming surge of some power I could feel even from half a block away singing through the silver steel of her sword, and she flicked it lightly at the zombie’s head. The blade touched, there was a flash of light, and the zombie abruptly fell limp to the ground, the magic that had animated it disrupted and gone.
In less than five seconds, Luccio had simply wiped out thirty undead, and it hadn’t even been a contest.
I guess you don’t get to be commander of the Wardens by collecting bottle caps, either.
My eyes flickered back to the front of the group, where Morgan met the shock of another wave. His style was rougher and more brutal than Luccio’s, but he got similar results. A heavy stomp of his foot sent a ripple through the earth that knocked undead to the ground like bowling pins. A gesture of his hand and wrist and a cry of effort drew grasping waves of concrete and earth up to clamp down on the fallen zombies. He closed his fist, and the earth tightened, drawing back down into the ground, cutting and tearing its way through undead flesh and ripping the zombies to shreds. One of the creatures was still mobile, and with a look of contemptuous impatience on his face, Morgan drew the broadsword at his hip—the one used for executions of wizards guilty of breaking one of the Laws of Magic—paused a beat to get the timing right, and then swung, once, twice, snicker-snack, and the zombie fell apart into a number of wriggling bits.
Several others got through here and there. Kowalski hammered one to the ground with unseen force, while beside him Yoshimo twisted a hand and the branches of a nearby tree reached down of their own accord, wrapped around the undead’s throat, and hauled it up off the ground. Ramirez, a fighter’s grin on his face, lashed out with some kind of bright green energy I had never seen before, and the zombie nearest him simply fell apart into what looked like grains of sand. As an afterthought, he drew his sidearm as a second creature charged him, and calmly put two rounds into its head from less than ten feet away. He must have been loaded up with hollow points or something, because the creature’s head exploded like rotten fruit and the rest fell twitching to the ground.
None of the zombies got within ten feet of the terrified children.
More of them materialized out of the rain and the night, but Luccio and the Wardens kept moving steadily forward, burning and crushing and slicing and dicing their way across the street, furiously determined to get the children clear.
Which is probably why they didn’t see the sucker punch coming.
Out of nowhere there was the roar of an engine, and an old Chrysler shot forward along the street. The driver pulled it into a sharp left turn as it got close to the Wardens and their charges, and the wet rain turned it into a broadside slide. The car swept forward like an enormous broom of iron and steel, and none of the Wardens were looking that way.
I cried out to Sue and hung on to the saddlehorn.
The car slid, sending out a bow wave of sheeting water from the wet street.
Ramirez’s head snapped around toward the car and he shrieked a warning. But it was too late to get out of the way. The group was still under attack, and the mindless creations that assaulted them cared nothing for self-preservation. They would continue the fight, and even if the Wardens could have run from the car, they would never survive being mobbed by the undead in the chaos. In a flash of insight, I realized that these were the same tactics Grevane had used at my apartment—ruthlessly sacrificing minions in order to defeat the enemy.
Everyone else’s head turned toward the oncoming car.
The muscles of Sue’s legs tensed, and the saddle lurched.
One of the little girls screamed.
And then the Tyrannosaur came down from the leap that had carried her over the besieged Wardens. Sue landed with one clawed foot on the street, and the other came down squarely on the Caddy’s hood, like a falcon descending upon a rabbit. There was an enormous sound of shrieking metal and breaking glass, and the saddle lurched wildly again.
I leaned over to see what had happened. The car’s hood and engine block had been compacted into a two-foot-thick section of twisted metal. Even as I looked, Sue leaned over the car in a curiously birdlike movement, opened her enormous jaws, and ripped the roof off.
Inside was Li Xian, dressed in a black shirt and trousers. The ghoul’s forehead had a nasty gash in it, and green-black blood had sheeted over one side of his face. His eyes were blank and a little vague, and I figured he’d clipped his head on the steering wheel or window when Sue brought his sliding car to an abrupt halt.
Li Xian shook his head and then started to scramble out of the car. Sue roared again, and the sound must have terrified Li Xian, because all of his limbs jerked in spasm and he fell on his face to the street. Sue leaned down again, her jaws gaping, but the ghoul rolled under the car to get away from them. So Sue kicked the car, and sent it tumbling end over end three or four times down the street.
The ghoul let out a scream and stared up at Sue in naked terror, covering his head with his arms.
Sue ate him. Snap. Gulp. No more ghoul.
“What’s with that?” Butters screamed, his voice high and frightened. “Just covering his head with his arms? Didn’t he see the lawyer in the movie?”
“Those who do not learn the lessons of history are doomed to repeat them,” I replied, turning Sue around. “Hang on!”
I rode the dinosaur into the stream of zombies following in the Wardens’ wake and let her go to town. Sue chomped and stomped and smacked zombies fifty feet through the air with swinging blows of her snout. Her tail batted one particularly vile-looking zombie into the brick wall of the nearest building, and the zombie hit so hard and so squishily that it just stuck to the wall like a refrigerator magnet, arms and legs spread in a sprawl.
In a couple of minutes there wasn’t much in the way of zombies to keep on demolishing, so I swung Sue around to pace after the Wardens. They had gotten clear of the street while I covered their retreat, and I saw Warden Luccio at the door of the nearest building, waving the last two children and Ramirez through the door while she watched out behind.
I guided Sue up to the building, and had her settle down to the ground. “Come on. But keep the drum going,” I told Butters.
We slid out of our saddles and ran a couple of steps through the heavy rain to where Luccio stood at the door.
“Hey, there,” I said. “Sorry I’m late.”
Luccio stared at me for a moment and then at the dinosaur. Her eyes held a mixture of wonder, anger, gratitude, and revulsion. “I…Dio, Dresden. What have you done?”
“It isn’t a mortal,” I said. “It’s an animal. You know the laws are there to protect our fellow wizards and mortals.”
“It’s…” She looked like she might throw up. “It’s necromancy,” she said.
“It’s necessary,” I said, and my voice sounded harsh. I hooked a thumb up. “You’ve seen the vortex forming?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“Dark power. Kemmler’s people are going to call it down and devour it along with all the shades they could get to show up, and if they go through with it and turn one of themselves into a god…”
Luccio’s eyes widened as she figured it out and caught on. “There will be a vacuum,” she said. “It will draw in magic to replace it. It will draw in life.”
“Right,” I said. “And they’re going to be over there, directly under the vortex,” I said. “But if anyone tries to go in without a field of necromantic energy around them, the vortex will suck them dry before they get there. We need to get in there to stop them. That’s why I borrowed Tiny, here. So don’t give me any crap about the Laws of Magic, or at least wait for later, because there are too many
lives at stake.”
Anger flickered over her face and she opened her mouth. Then she frowned and closed it again. “Where did you get this information?”
“Kemmler’s book,” I said.
“You found it?”
I grimaced. “Briefly. Grevane jumped me and took it.”
Butters looked back and forth between us, marching in place to make the polka suit’s drumbeat.
Luccio blinked at him, took a deep breath, then said, “And who is this?”
“The drummer I needed to pull this off,” I told her. “And a good friend. He saved my life tonight. Butters, this is Ms. Luccio. Captain, this is Butters.”
Luccio gave Butters a courtly little bow, and he ducked his head sheepishly in reply.
“Where did you find those kids?” I asked.
She grimaced. “This building is an apartment complex. We got here just as the first of the undead arose. One of the parents was screaming about the children being at some sort of Halloween party in a building on campus. We were too late to save the women taking care of them, but at least we got the children out.”
I chewed on my lip, studying the Warden. “You had evil wizards to gun down. And you stopped to get some kids out of the line of fire? I figured Wardens would have melted the bad guys first, tried to get the civilians clear later.”
She lifted her chin and regarded me with an arched brow. “Is that how you think of us?”
“Yes,” I said.
She frowned, and looked down at the hilt of her sword. “Dresden…the Wardens are not, as a rule, concerned with compassion or empathy. But they were children. I am not proud of my every act as a Warden. But I would sooner hurl myself to the demons than leave a child to die.”
I frowned at her. “You would,” I said thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t you?”
She smiled a little, her iron-grey hair plastered to her head with the rain, and it made many wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. “Not all of us share Morgan’s attitudes. But even he would never have turned aside from children in danger. He is an enormous ass at times. But a brilliant soldier. And beneath all his flaws, a decent man.”
The door to the building slammed open and Morgan came through, sword gripped in both hands. “I told you,” he said viciously to Luccio. “I told you he would turn on us. This latest violation of the laws only proves what I’ve said all along….” Hisvoice trailed off slowly as he caught me from the corner of his eye and turned to see me standing there, and Sue crouched a couple of yards behind me.
“Yeah,” I told Luccio, and my voice was the only dry thing about me. “I see what you mean.”
“Morgan, he found the book.” She looked at me. “Tell him.”
I relayed everything I had learned to Morgan. He glowered at me with enormous suspicion, but by the time I got to the part where thousands of people would die if we failed to stop the spell, his face became drawn with anxiety and then hardened with determination. He listened without interrupting.
“We need to get to the center of the spell,” I finished. “Attack them just as they try to draw it down.”
“It’s impossible,” Morgan said. “I got close enough to see them when we went in for the children. They’re in a little patch of grass and picnic tables between the buildings. There are several hundred animated corpses in our way.”
“As it happens,” I said, jerking my head at Sue, “I brought an animated corpse countermeasure along with me tonight. I’ll get us through.”
Morgan stared at me for a second and then nodded, the idea clearly gathering momentum in his thoughts. “Yes, then. We try to hit them as they complete the spell. That gives them the most time to backstab one another, and if we disrupt a working that powerful, the backlash will probably kill them.”
“Agreed,” Luccio said. “How’s Yoshimo?”
“Ramirez says her thigh is broken,” Morgan growled. “She’s not in danger but she won’t be doing any more fighting tonight.”
“Dammit,” Luccio said. “I should have caught that one before it went through.”
“No, Captain,” Morgan said implacably. “She should never have tried her sword on it. She was an unremarkable fencer, at best.”
“Gosh you’re a sweetheart, Morgan,” I said.
He glared at me, and the sword quivered in his hands.
Luccio brought her hand down between us in a gesture of absolute authority. “Gentlemen,” she said quietly. “Later. We’ve no time.”
Morgan took a deep breath in and then nodded.
I folded my arms and kept up my glower, but I hadn’t been the one near violence. Point, Dresden.
“I’ve done for Grevane’s drummer, and Sue just ate Corpsetaker’s sidekick,” I said. “That leaves us with those two and Cowl, plus Cowl’s assistant.”
“Four of them and five of us,” Morgan said.
Luccio grimaced. “It could be worse,” she admitted. “But only you and I have any experience with this kind of fight.” She glanced at me. “No offense, Dresden, but you’re young, and you haven’t seen this kind of duel very often—but even you have more experience than Ramirez or Kowalski.”
“None taken,” I said, beginning to shiver in the rain. “I’d rather be home in bed.”
“Morgan, please get the other Wardens and fill them in. Then put Yoshimo where she can see the front door and defend the building. If things don’t go well, we may need somewhere to fall back.”
“If things don’t go well,” I said, “we really won’t have to worry about that.”
Morgan shook his head at me. “I’ll be right back.”
I stood there for a moment. A mangled zombie wandered up the sidewalk. I walked back to Sue and touched her flank and her thoughts, and she flicked her tail, batting the thing away into the darkness. Then I walked back over to Luccio.
“Incredible,” she said quietly, looking at Sue. “Dresden, this…this kind of magic is an abomination. Perhaps a necessary one this night, but hideous all the same. And yet look at it. It’s amazing.”
“Pretty good for zombie crushing too,” I said.
“Indeed.” She looked up at the sky again. “How will we know when they begin drawing down the power?”
I started to say, “Your guess is as good as mine,” but I didn’t get any of it out of my mouth before the clouds rolled and stirred and suddenly began to spin in a single enormous spiral. More lightning showed me the dim form of what looked like a thin, almost spidery tornado that dropped from the cloud and began to descend to the ground.
I stiffened and nodded at it. “There you go,” I said. “They’re starting now.”
“Very well,” Luccio said. “Then we must move at once. I want you to—”
Luccio didn’t get to tell me what she wanted me to do, because the earth suddenly boiled with writhing masses of pale green light that came surging up out of the ground. They took on form as they came, first vaguely human, then over the next instants resolving into clearer images of what looked like Amerind tribesmen. As they came, their mouths opened in shrieks and wails of excitement and rage, and ghostly weapons appeared in their hands—spears and hatchets, clubs and bows.
One of them turned and threw a translucent, shimmering spear at my chest. I barely had time to think, but my left arm swept up, my charred shield bracelet exploded into a cloud of blue and white sparks, and the hurled spear shattered into angry green flames against my shield. I heard a short cry beside me and ducked, narrowly avoiding a swing from a spectral hatchet whose wielder floated over me. I threw myself forward and rolled, coming up with my shield ready and my will gathering in my staff, making the sigils carved along its length glow with sullen fire.
A specter swung a club at Luccio, and she rolled with the blow, but even so took a hit to her jaw and mouth that staggered her. She recovered her balance, ducked to avoid a second swing, and once more drew the silver sword of a Warden from her hip. Again the blade sang with that buzzing power I’d sensed before, and Luccio made a clean lu
nge at the specter that thrust the blade through its heart. The specter arched as if in agony and then simply exploded into flashes of sickly light and falling globs of ectoplasm. Luccio swept her sword back and spun on a heel to face two more of the quasi-solid spirits.
I blocked a second blow of the hatchet on my shield, looking wildly around for Butters. I spotted the little guy five yards away, on his hands and knees on the crosswalk, his legs still kicking wildly to keep the drum going. Three of the deadly specters were closing in on him with wails of madness and rage.
“Butters!” I shouted, and rose to go to him, but two more specters dove at me and forced me to crouch behind my shield. I could only watch what happened as the three undead swarmed Butters and attacked him.
Butters spun around wildly, his eyes down, evidently not even aware that they were coming. One of them swung a great two-handed club back, as Butters put one hand to his mouth and then slammed it back down on the ground again. The specter’s weapon swept down with a clean and lethal grace, heading directly for the back of Butters’s head.
And suddenly shattered against the curving curtain of an empowered circle.
Butters looked up at the specters as they flailed uselessly against the circle. He had the piece of chalk I’d given him in one hand, and he’d torn the little cut he’d used before open once more with his teeth. He stood up, the drum still thumping, and gave me a shaky thumbs-up.
“Good, Butters!” I shouted at him. “Stay in there!”
He nodded, his face pale, and marched in place to keep the drum going.
I swung my staff at a specter and hit it, and the ghostly warrior reacted as if struck by a heavy brick. It was a curious kind of impact—not the thudding thump of hitting something solid, but some kind of impact nonetheless. I knew from the way that the specters had come up through the earth that they were only partially material. A material impact would have little enough effect on them, and the strength of my arm behind the swing meant nothing to them. But the power of my will that I had called up and held ready in my staff—that was something else. That energy was what the specter reacted to, and I pressed my advantage, whipping my staff through the specter’s head and belly on two separate swings, driving the apparition away with howls of pain.