The Dresden Files Collection 7-12

by Jim Butcher

  “Death by defenestration, gotcha.”

  A few tiny cracks developed in her frown, and then she shook her head sharply, once, caught me in a hug that made my ribs ache, and went back into the house without another word.

  Mouse sat there panting and grinning happily.

  I went home and got some sleep.

  I was working in my lab the next day, trying to make notes of all that had happened so that I wouldn’t forget anything. Bob sat on the table next to me, helping me with the details.

  “Oh,” he said. “I found something wrong with Little Chicago’s design.”

  I swallowed. “Oh. Wow. Bad?”

  “Extremely. We missed a transition coupling in the power flow. The stored energy was all going to the same spot.”

  I frowned. “That’s…like a surge of electricity going through a circuit breaker, right? Or a fuse box.”

  “Exactly like that,” Bob said. “Except that you were the fuse. That much energy in one spot will blow your head off your shoulders.”

  “But it didn’t,” I said.

  “But it didn’t,” Bob agreed.

  “How is that possible?”

  “It isn’t,” he said. “Someone fixed it.”

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “It didn’t fix itself,” Bob said. “When I looked at it a few nights ago, the flawed section was in plain sight, even if I didn’t recognize it at the time. When I looked again tonight, it was different. Someone changed it.”

  “In my lab? Under my house? Which is behind my wards? That’s impossible.”

  “No it isn’t,” Bob said. “Just really, really, really, really, really, really difficult. And unlikely. He would have had to know that you had a lab down here. And he would have had to know how to get around your wards.”

  “Plus intimate knowledge of the design to tinker with it like that,” I said. “To say nothing of the fact that he would have to know it existed at all, and no one does.”

  “Really, really unlikely,” Bob agreed.

  “Dammit.”

  “Hey, I thought you loved a good mystery, Harry.”

  I shook my head and started to tell him where to stick his mystery when someone knocked at the door.

  Murphy stood on the other side and smiled at me. “Hey.” She held up my shotgun. “Thomas wanted me to bring this by. Said to tell you he was getting his own toys from now on.”

  She offered it and I took it, frowning. “He didn’t even clean it off.”

  She smiled. “I swear, Dresden. You can be such a pansy.”

  “It’s because I’m a sensitive guy. You want to come in?”

  She gave me another smile, but shook her head. “No time. Got to see the first shrink in half an hour.”

  “Ah,” I said. “How are things playing out?”

  “Oh, there’s a long investigation and evaluation to be done,” she said. “Officially, of course.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “But unofficially…” She shrugged. “I’m losing SI. They’re busting me down to detective sergeant.”

  I winced. “Who’s getting the job?”

  “Stallings, most likely. He’s the next most experienced, better record than most of the department, and he’s respected.” She looked away. “I’m losing my seniority, too. All of it. So they’re partnering me with their most experienced detective.”

  “Which is that?” I asked.

  “Rawlins,” she said, her mouth moving in a tight smile. “He did so good on this one they promoted him to SI.”

  “No good deed goes unpunished,” I said.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Murphy sighed.

  “That a bad thing? He seems like a decent guy.”

  “He is, he is,” Murphy said, scrunching up her nose. “But he knew my father.”

  “Oh,” I said. “And it’s possible you have issues.”

  “Remotely,” she said. “What about you? You okay?”

  I met her eyes for a second and then looked away. “I, uh. I’ll be okay.”

  She nodded, and then simply stepped forward and hugged me. My arms went around her without me telling them to do it. It wasn’t a tense, meaning-laden hug. She was my friend. She was exhausted and worried and suffering, and she’d had what she valued most sullied and stained, but she was worried about me. Giving me a hug. Assuring me, by implication, that everything was going to be all right.

  I gave as good as I got for a while. When we broke the embrace, it was at the same time, and it wasn’t awkward. She smiled at me, just a little bittersweet, and glanced at her watch. “I have to get moving.”

  “Right,” I said. “Thanks, Murph.”

  She left. A while later, my phone rang. I answered it.

  “Everything work out?” Thomas asked. “With the girl?”

  “Pretty much,” I told him. “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Need anything?” Like maybe to talk about how he was feeding on people again and making money at the same time.

  “Not especially,” he told me. I was pretty sure he had heard the unasked question, because his tone of voice carried an unyielding coolness, telling me not to push. Thomas was my brother. I could wait.

  “What’s up with Murphy?” he asked me.

  I told him about her job.

  He was silent for an annoyed second and then said, “But what’s up with Murphy?”

  I glowered and slouched down onto my couch. “There isn’t anything up with her. She isn’t interested.”

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “She told me.”

  “She told you.”

  “She told me.”

  He sighed. “And you believed her.”

  “Well,” I said. “Yes.”

  “I had a talk with her when she drove me home,” he said.

  “A talk?”

  “A talk. I wanted to figure something out.”

  “Did you?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “What?”

  “That you’re both stiff-necked idiots,” he said, his tone annoyed, and hung up on me.

  I glowered at the phone for a minute, muttered a couple of choice words about my half brother, then got out my guitar and labored to make something resembling music for a while. Sometimes it was easier for me to think when playing, and the time drifted by. I played and mulled things over until someone else knocked. I set my guitar aside and went to the door.

  Ebenezar stood on the other side, and he gave me a nod and a cautious smile when I opened the door. “Hot enough for you?” the old wizard asked.

  “Almost,” I said. “Come in.”

  He did, and I grabbed a couple of beers, offering him one. “What’s up?”

  “You tell me,” he said.

  So I told him all about the last few days, especially my dealings with Lily and Fix, Maeve, and Mab. Ebenezar listened to it all in silence.

  “What a mess,” he said when I finished.

  “Tell me about it.” I sipped at my beer. “You know what I think?”

  He finished his beer and shook his head.

  “I think we got played.”

  “By the Summer Lady?”

  I shook my head. “I think Lily got suckered just as much as we did.”

  He frowned and rubbed at his head with one palm. “How so?”

  “That’s the part I can’t figure,” I said. “I think someone set Molly up to be a beacon for the fetches. And I’m damned sure that it was no accident that those fetches took Molly to Arctis Tor when it was so lightly defended. Someone wanted me there at Arctis Tor.”

  Ebenezar pursed his lips. “Who?”

  “I think we got used by one of the Queens to one-up one of the others, somehow. But damned if I can figure out how.”

  “You think Mab really is insane?”

  “I think it would be hard to tell the difference,” I said in a sour voice. “Lily thinks so. But Lily wasn’t exactly widely famed for
her intellect before she became the Summer Lady.” I shook my head. “If Mab really is loopy, it’s going to be bad.”

  The old man nodded.

  “And since you can’t swing a cat without hitting a cat’s-paw lately, I think maybe someone was trying to use Mab for something. Like all the others who’ve gotten set up around here.”

  “Set up?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Starting with Victor Sells a few years ago. Then those FBI creeps with the wolf belts. I think that someone out there wants to get things done without getting his—”

  “Or her,” Ebenezar said.

  “Or her own hands dirty,” I continued. “Consider all these things running around with more power than they should have had or better connected than they should have been. The Shadowman, the hexenwulfen, the Nightmare, the last Summer Lady—and that’s just for starters. The Red Court sure are a hell of a lot more dangerous than anyone thought they would be.”

  Ebenezar frowned, nodding.

  “I think whoever is backstage moving things around tried to use Mab and got more than they bargained for. I think that’s what the attack on Arctis Tor was about. Maybe they tried to put her down before she turned on them.”

  “Which she would,” Ebenezar said.

  “Of course she would. She’s Mab. She’d keep any bargain she made, but she isn’t the kind who takes orders real well.”

  “Go on, boy,” Ebenezar said gently. “You’ve got facts. Where do they lead you?”

  I lowered my own voice to a whisper. “A new power is moving around out there. Something big, smart, strong, and sneaky as hell. Something with a lot of strength and magical know-how.” I licked my lips. “Put that together with the evidence of varied powers. Wolf belts handed out to those poor FBI bastards. Black magic being taught to small-timers like the Shadowman and the Nightmare. Vampires cross-training one another in sorcery. Hellfire used on Arctis Tor. And, of course, the White Council’s highly placed traitor. All of that together doesn’t point to just one person. It indicates an organization.” I regarded the old man steadily. “And they’ve got wizards on the staff. Probably several of them.”

  Ebenezar grunted. “Damn.”

  “Damn?”

  “I was hoping maybe I was starting to go senile. But I came to the same conclusion.” He nodded. “Boy, don’t breathe a word of this. Not to anyone. I got the feeling that this is information worth as much as your life.” He shook his head. “Let me think about who else needs to know.”

  “Rashid,” I said in a firm voice. “Tell the Gatekeeper.”

  Ebenezar frowned, though it looked more weary than anything else. “Likely he knows already. Knew already. Maybe even pointed you in a direction that would show you more. Assuming he wasn’t simply using you to poke a hornet’s nest and see what flew up.”

  Which was somewhat creepy to think about. If Ebenezar was right, I could count myself among the pawns in play, courtesy of the Gatekeeper.

  “You don’t want to tell him?” I asked.

  “Rashid is a tough one to figure,” Ebenezar said. “Three, four years ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice. But with all that’s happened…since Simon died…” He shrugged. “Better to be cautious. We can’t put the genie back in the bottle once it’s out.”

  “Or maybe that’s the worst thing we could do,” I said. “Maybe it’s what these…Black Council assholes are counting on.”

  He looked up at me sharply. “Now why would you call them that?”

  “Black Council?” I shrugged. “If the shoe fits. It’s better than the Legion of Doom.”

  He regarded me for a moment more and then shrugged. “Times are changing, Hoss. That’s for sure.” He polished off his beer. “But they always do. I know you’re going to do what you think you need to do. But I’d like to ask that you be very cautious, Hoss. We still don’t know what our enemies look like. That means we’ll have to bring in our allies carefully.”

  “Meaning without troubling the White Council and the Wardens about it?” I asked, my tone dry.

  He grunted in the affirmative. “Don’t forget the other loose end.”

  I frowned and thought back over it. “Huh,” I said. “You’re right. Who was driving that car that ran into me?”

  “Exactly,” he said.

  “More mysteries.”

  “Thought you were a professional investigator, Hoss,” he teased. “For you, this should be fun.”

  “Yeah. Fun. Fun, fun, fun. I’m having fun already.”

  He smiled. “Mmmmph. It isn’t good news that Winter isn’t going to stand with us against the Reds, but it could have been worse. And we learned something valuable.”

  I grunted. “The traitor to the Council. Someone had to tell the Reds where Luccio’s boot camp was hidden.”

  “Yes,” he said, and leaned forward. “And outside of Luccio only four people knew.”

  I arched my brows at him. “Morgan?”

  “That’s one,” he agreed. “Injun Joe, the Merlin, and Ancient Mai were the only others.”

  I whistled slowly. “Heavy hitters. But knock Morgan off your list. He didn’t do it.”

  Ebenezar arched his brows. “No?”

  I shook my head. “Guy is a dick,” I said, “but he’s on the level. We shouldn’t tell him, but he’s no traitor.”

  Ebenezar frowned for a moment and then nodded slowly. “Very well, then. I’ll vouch for Injun Joe.”

  “So what comes next?” I asked him.

  “Watching them,” he said. “Waiting. Not letting on that we know. We won’t get more than one chance to take them off guard. When we do move, we got to make it hurt.”

  I frowned at my now-empty bottle and nodded. “We wait. Lie in the weeds. Keep a low profile. Got it.”

  “Hoss,” my old teacher said quietly. “What you did for that girl…”

  “Yeah,” I said, waving a hand. “Stupid. The Merlin is going to be royally pissed at me. He’ll probably start insisting I go on shooting missions now, in hopes someone will take me out and remove a thorn in his side.”

  “True,” Ebenezar said. “But what I meant to say was that what you did was damned brave. From what I hear, you were ready to take on everyone there if you had to.”

  “Wouldn’t have lasted long.”

  “No. But then, that wasn’t the point.” He rose a little stiffly and said, “I’m proud of you, boy.”

  Something inside me melted.

  “You know,” I said. “You always told me you weren’t at my trial. That the Council saddled you with me because you skipped out. I think that isn’t true.”

  He grunted.

  “It was all in Latin, which I didn’t understand then. And I had that hood over my head, so I couldn’t see anyone. But someone had to have defended me, the way I did Molly.”

  “Could be.” He rolled one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m getting old, Hoss. I forget things.”

  “Ah,” I said. “You know, I’ve missed a meal or three lately. And I know this little joint that’s got the best spaghetti in town.”

  Ebenezar froze in place, like a man walking on ice who suddenly hears cracking sounds. “Oh?” he asked, tone careful.

  “They’ve got this great bread that goes with it, too. And it’s right by the campus, so cute waitresses.”

  “Sounds promising,” Ebenezar said. “Makes me feel a mite hungry hearing about it.”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “Let me get my shoes. If we hurry we can get there before the evening rush.”

  We looked at each other for a long moment, and my old teacher bowed his head to me. It conveyed a lot of things. Apology. Gratitude. Happiness. Forgiveness. Affection. Pride.

  “You want me to drive us?” he asked.

  I bowed my head in reply. “I’d like that, sir.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  When I was seven years old, I got a bad case of strep throat and was out of school for a whole week. During that time, my sisters bought me my first fantasy and sci-fi novels:
the boxed set of Lord of the Rings and the boxed set of the Han Solo adventure novels by Brian Daley. I devoured them all during that week.

  From that point on, I was pretty much doomed to join SF&F fandom. From there, it was only one more step to decide I wanted to be a writer of my favorite fiction material, and here we are.

  I blame my sisters.

  My first love as a fan is swords-and-horses fantasy. After Tolkien I went after C. S. Lewis. After Lewis, it was Lloyd Alexander. After them came Fritz Leiber, Roger Zelazny, Robert Howard, John Norman, Poul Anderson, David Eddings, Weis and Hickman, Terry Brooks, Elizabeth Moon, Glen Cook, and before I knew it I was a dual citizen of the United States and Lankhmar, Narnia, Gor, Cimmeria, Krynn, Amber—you get the picture.

  When I set out to become a writer, I spent years writing swords-and-horses fantasy novels—and seemed to have little innate talent for it. But I worked at my writing, branching out into other areas as experiments, including SF, mystery, and contemporary fantasy. That’s how the Dresden Files initially came about—as a happy accident while trying to accomplish something else. Sort of like penicillin.

  But I never forgot my first love, and to my immense delight and excitement, one day I got a call from my agent and found out that I was going to get to share my newest swords-and-horses fantasy novel with other fans.

  The Codex Alera is a fantasy series set within the savage world of Carna, where spirits of the elements, known as furies, lurk in every facet of life, and where many intelligent races vie for security and survival. The realm of Alera is the monolithic civilization of humanity, and its unique ability to harness and command the furies is all that enables its survival in the face of the enormous, sometimes hostile elemental powers of Carna, and against savage creatures who would lay Alera in waste and ruin.

  Yet even a realm as powerful as Alera is not immune to destruction from within, and the death of the heir apparent to the Crown has triggered a frenzy of ambitious political maneuvering and infighting amongst the High Lords, those who wield the most powerful furies known to man. Plots are afoot, traitors and spies abound, and a civil war seems inevitable—all while the enemies of the realm watch, ready to strike at the first sign of weakness.