The Dresden Files Collection 7-12

by Jim Butcher

  “I cannot set foot on the island,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because this place holds a grudge,” he said.

  I suddenly thought of the drag-thump limp of the island’s manifest spirit.

  Damn.

  He turned to the dock behind him and flicked a hand at the air. A neat, perfectly circular portal to the Nevernever appeared without a whisper or flicker of wasted power. The Gatekeeper gave me a nod.

  “Your friends will awaken in a moment. I will do what I can to help you.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He shook his head. “Do not. It may be that true kindness would have been to kill you today.”

  Then he stepped through the portal and was gone. It vanished an instant later. I stood there in the rain and watched the others begin to stir. Then I sighed and walked back to them, to help them up and explain what was going on.

  We had to get moving. The day wasn’t getting any younger, and there were a lot of things to do before nightfall.

  Chapter Forty

  We worked for three hours before I started dropping things, tripping on nice flat ground, and bumping into other people because I’d forgotten to keep an eye out for them.

  “That’s it, Harry,” Georgia said firmly. “Your sleeping bag is in the cottage. Get some more sleep.”

  “I’ll be all right,” I said.

  “Harry, if anything happens to you, we aren’t going to have anyone we know looking out for us. You need to be able to focus. Go rest.”

  It sounded awfully good, but my mouth opened on its own. “We’ve still got to lay out the—”

  Will had come up behind me in complete silence. He pulled my arm behind my back in a capable, strong grip, and twisted carefully. It didn’t hurt, until he leaned gently into me and I had to move forward to keep the pressure off. “You heard the lady,” he said. “We can finish the rest of it on our own. We’ll wake you up if anything happens.”

  I snorted, twisted at the waist, bumping Will off balance with my hip, and broke the lock. Will could have broken my arm and kept hold of me, but instead he let go before it could happen. “All right, all right,” I said. “Going.”

  I shambled into the cottage and collapsed onto a sleeping bag that lay on top of a foam camp pad.

  Four hours later, when Will shook me awake, I was lying in the exact same position. Late-afternoon light slanted into the half-ruined cottage from the west. Morgan lay on his own pallet, made by stripping the foam mattress from the bunk on the Water Beetle. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady. Will must have carried him up from the boat.

  “Okay,” I slurred. “I’m up. I’m up.”

  “Georgia has been patrolling the shoreline,” he said. “She says there’s a boat approaching.”

  My heart began beating a little faster, and my stomach fluttered. I swallowed, closed my eyes for a moment, and imagined a tranquil tropical beach in an effort to calm my thoughts. But the beach kept getting overrun by shapeshifting zombie vampires with mouths on the palms of their hands.

  “Well, that’s useless,” I said in sleepy disgust. I got to my feet and gathered my things. “Where’s it coming from?”

  “West.”

  “He’ll have to sail a third of the way around the island then, to get through the reefs,” I yawned. “Where’s Georgia?”

  Claws scraped on hard-packed earth, and a large tawny wolf appeared in the doorway. She sat down and looked at me, her ears perked forward.

  “Good work,” I told her. “Molly?”

  “Here, Harry,” she called, as she hurried into the cottage. She held a crystal of white quartz about two inches thick and a foot long in her hands.

  “Get to work, grasshopper. Don’t hesitate to use the crystal if things get dicey. And good luck to you.”

  She nodded seriously and went to Morgan’s side. She reached out and took his limp hand, frowned in mild concentration, and they both vanished behind one of her wonder veils. “God be with you, Harry,” she said, her voice coming out of nowhere.

  “Will,” I said. “Get your game face on.” I turned to Will to find the young man gone and a burly dark-furred wolf sitting in his place next to a pile of loose clothes. “Oh,” I said. “Good.”

  I checked my gear, my pockets, my shoelaces, and realized that I had crossed the line between making sure I was ready and trying to postpone the inevitable. I straightened my back, nodded once, and began to stride toward the cottage door. “Let’s go, people. Party time.”

  It was getting darker over the enormous expanse of the lake. Twilight is a much different experience when you’re far away from the lights of a city or town. Modern civilization bathes us in light throughout the hours of darkness—lighted billboards, streetlights, headlights, airplane lights, neon decorations, the interior lights of homes and businesses, floodlights that strobe across the sky. They’re so much a part of our life that the darkness of night is barely a factor in our daily thinking anymore. We mock one another’s lack of courage with accusations of being afraid of the dark, all the while industriously making our own lights brighter, more energy efficient, cheaper, and longer-lasting.

  There’s power in the night. There’s terror in the darkness. Despite all our accumulated history, learning, and experience, we remember. We remember times when we were too small to reach the light switch on the wall, and when the darkness itself was enough to makes us cry out in fear.

  Get a good ways out from civilization—say, miles and miles away on a lightless lake—and the darkness is there, waiting. Twilight means more than just time to call the children in from playing outside. Fading light means more than just the end of another day. Night is when terrible things emerge from their sleep and seek soft flesh and hot blood. Night is when unseen beings with no regard for what our people have built and no place in what we have deemed the natural order look in at our world from outside, and think dark and alien thoughts.

  And sometimes, just sometimes, they do things.

  I walked down the ancient hillsides of Demonreach and felt acutely aware of that fact; night wasn’t falling, so much as sharpening its claws.

  I walked out to the end of the floating dock alone. Billy and Georgia remained behind, in the woods. You would not believe how sneaky a wolf is capable of being until you’ve seen one in action. Wolves acting with human-level intelligence—and exceptional human intelligence at that—are all but invisible when they choose to be.

  A boat was rounding the buoy that marked the opening in the reef. It was a white rental boat, like any number available to tourists in the area, a craft about twenty feet long and rigged for waterskiing. The wind had risen, coming in from the southwest, and the lake was getting choppier. The rental boat was wallowing a little, and bouncing irregularly against the waves, throwing up small shocks of spray.

  I watched it come in over the last few hundred yards, until I could see who was on board. The boat was fairly new. Its engine made an odd, clattering noise, which served to identify the occupants. The White Council, it seemed, had arrived on time.

  Ebenezar McCoy was at the wheel of the boat, his bald head shiny in the rain. Listens-to-Wind sat in the passenger seat, wearing a rain poncho, one hand gripping the side of the boat, the other holding on to the dashboard in front him. His weather-seamed face was grim.

  In the center of the rear bench was a tiny figure in white silk embroidered with red flowers. Ancient Mai was Chinese, and looked as delicate and frail as an eggshell teacup. Her hair was pure white and long, held up with a number of jade combs. Though she was now old, even by the standards of the White Council, she was still possessed of a sizable portion of what would have been a haunting, ethereal beauty in her youth. Her expression was serene, her dark eyes piercing and merciless.

  She frightened me.

  Veteran Wardens sat on either side of Ancient Mai, dour in their grey cloaks, and three more were sitting or crouching elsewhere in the boat—all of them from the hard-bitten
squad that had been on standby back in Edinburgh. They were all armed to the teeth, and their expressions meant business. Apparently Mai scared them at least as much as she did me: one of them was holding an umbrella for her.

  I waited at the end of the dock, inviting Ebenezar by gesture to pull up on the side opposite the Water Beetle. He brought the boat in with considerably more skill than I had shown, killed the ailing engine while it was still moving, and got up to toss me a line. I caught it and secured the boat to the dock without taking my eyes off of anyone in the boat. No one spoke. Once the engine had fallen silent, the only sound was rain and wind.

  “Evening,” I ventured, nodding to Ebenezar.

  He was staring hard at me, frowning. I saw his eyes scan the shoreline and come back to me. “Hoss,” he said. He rose and stepped out onto the dock. One of the Wardens tossed him another line, and he secured the back end of the craft. Then he got off, walked up to me, and offered me his hand. I shook it.

  “Rashid?” he whispered so low I could barely hear it over the rain.

  “With us,” I replied as quietly, trying not to move my lips.

  His head tipped me a tiny nod, and then he turned to beckon the others. Wardens and Senior Council members began clambering out of the boat. I walked down the dock beside Ebenezar, watching the Wardens over my shoulder. They were the sort of men and women who had no illusions about violence, magical or otherwise. If they decided that the best way to deal with me would be to shoot me in the back, they wouldn’t hesitate.

  I stepped off the dock and onto the island again, and immediately felt the presence of Demonreach. At the moment, the only persons on the island were those I had brought with me.

  Ebenezar followed me, and I felt it the instant he stepped onto the shore. It wasn’t as if someone had whispered in my ear. I simply knew, felt it, the way you know it when an ant is crawling across your arm. He stopped a step later, and I kept going until I was about ten feet away. I turned to face them as their group came down the dock to stand on the shore. I kept close track of them through the link with the island, making sure that there weren’t any Wardens hiding behind veils so that they could sneak up behind me and start delivering rabbit punches.

  Ebenezar, Ancient Mai, and Listens-to-Wind, his expression bearing a faintly greenish cast, stood side by side, facing me. The Wardens fanned out behind them, wary eyes watching every possible route of approach, including from the lake.

  “Well, Wizard Dresden,” Ebenezar said. He leaned on his staff and regarded me blandly. “We got your note.”

  “I figured,” I said. “Did you get as far as the part where I said if you wanted a fight, I would oblige you?”

  The Wardens didn’t actually bare their teeth and start snarling, but it was close.

  “Aye, aye,” Ebenezar said. “I thought it might be more profitable if we could talk about things first.”

  “Indeed,” said Ancient Mai. Her voice was too smooth and too confident to match the tiny fragile person speaking in it. “We can always kill you afterward.”

  I didn’t actually break out into rivulets of sweat, but it was close.

  “Obviously, the disrespect you have offered the White Council merits some form of response,” she continued. “Do not flatter yourself by thinking that we have come to you because we lack other options.”

  Ebenezar gave Mai a mild look. “At the same time,” he said, “your reputation as an investigator is unrivaled within the Council. That, added to the nature of your relationship with the alleged murderer, is reason enough to hear what you have to say.”

  “Wizard Dresden,” Listens-to-Wind said. “You said you had proof of Morgan’s innocence. You said you had a witness.”

  “And more,” I replied.

  “And where are they?”

  “We need to wait a moment,” I said, “until everyone arrives.”

  Ancient Mai’s eyes narrowed. The Wardens got even more alert, and spread out a bit, hands on their weaponry.

  “What others, Hoss?” Ebenezar asked.

  “Everyone directly involved in this plot,” I said. “Warden Morgan wasn’t the only one being set up as a patsy. When you manage to track down the source of the money found in Morgan’s account, you’ll find that it comes from a corporation owned by the White Court.”

  Listens-to-Wind frowned. “How do you know this?”

  “I investigated,” I said. “After further investigation, I concluded that the money had probably been moved without the knowledge of the White Court’s leaders. The guilty party not only wished LaFortier dead, and Warden Morgan to take the blame for it, he also wanted to manipulate the Council into renewing hostilities with the Vampire Courts.”

  The Wardens traded looks with one another when I said that. It was getting darker, and I had trouble making out their expressions. Listens-to-Wind’s face became thoughtful, though. “And there is proof of this?” he asked.

  “I believe there will be,” I replied. “But it might take time to find—longer than the duration of Morgan’s unjust trial and undeserved execution, anyway.”

  Ancient Mai suddenly smiled, an expression with all the joy and life of frozen porcelain. “In other words,” she said, “whatever measures being taken to veil Morgan from our tracking spells were near their limits, forcing you to seek this meeting.”

  I had to work hard to keep from twitching. The only thing worse than scary is smart and scary.

  Mai turned to Ebenezar. “It seems obvious that Dresden was involved in this plot on some level, and if Dresden is here, Morgan is probably nearby. Arrest Dresden and resume attempting to track Morgan immediately. We can attend to the business in a proper and orderly fashion back at Edinburgh.”

  Ebenezar eyed Mai and then looked at Listens-to-Wind.

  The old medicine man stared at me for a time, and then reached up an ink-stained finger to pull back a few loose hairs that had been plastered to his face by the rain. He leaned on his staff and looked around the island for a long minute, his expression distant. “No mention was made of other parties being present,” he said, finally. “This is Council business, and no one else’s. Adding representatives of the White Court to this . . . meeting could prove as disastrous as the war you claim to be trying to avoid, Wizard Dresden.”

  Ebenezar’s jaw tensed up. “That’s not the same thing as saying we should arrest him.”

  Listens-to-Wind faced Ebenezar stolidly. “If what he says is so, the truth will come out. We can postpone a trial so that if this evidence exists, it can be found.”

  “You know as well as I do,” Ebenezar said, “that the outcome of the trial is not going to be changed by the truth.”

  Listen-to-Wind’s voice became hard and rough, holding a deep and burning anger that I had never heard from the old man before. “There is the world that should be,” he growled, “and the world that is. We live in one.”

  “And must create the other,” Ebenezar retorted, “if it is ever to be.”

  Listens-to-Wind looked down and shook his head. He looked very old and very tired. “There are no good paths to choose, old friend,” he said quietly. “All we can do is choose if many die, or a few.” He looked up at me, his face hard. “I am sorry, Hoss Dresden. But I must agree. Arrest him.”

  Chapter Forty-one

  Demonreach allowed me to sense Billy and Georgia slinking closer, and to feel an uncertain sense of excitement that could have been tension or fear or anger coming from them. It had a much more vague idea of the emotions of the Wardens, but I could tell that they weren’t eager to start a fight with me.

  Which made me want to laugh. I mean, seriously. One on one, sure, maybe I could have been a handful for any of them. But there were three members of the Senior Council there, any one of which could have tied me in knots. And they had me outnumbered five to one, beyond that.

  And then it hit me. They were dealing with something far more dangerous than me, Harry Dresden, whose battered old Volkswagen was currently in the city impo
und. They were dealing with the potential demonic dark lord nightmare warlock they’d been busy fearing since I turned sixteen. They were dealing with the wizard who had faced the Heirs of Kemmler riding a zombie dinosaur, and emerged victorious from a fight that had flattened Morgan and Captain Luccio before they had even reached it. They were dealing with the man who had dropped a challenge to the entire Senior Council, and who had then actually showed, apparently willing to fight—on the shores of an entirely too creepy island in the middle of a freshwater sea.

  Granted, I technically was that person, but they had no idea how close several of those calls had been. They didn’t know the small details, the quirks of fate, or the assists from allies I probably didn’t deserve that allowed me to shamble out of those clouds of insanity in more or less one piece.

  They just knew that I was the one still standing—and that fact inspired a healthy and rational fear. More than that, they were afraid of what they didn’t know I could do. And none of them knew that I would so much rather be back in my apartment, reading a good book and drinking a cold beer.

  I didn’t move when Listens-to-Wind made his statement. I just stood there, as if I wasn’t much impressed. The Council had evidently sent the three Senior members as a kind of quorum, and I would think that the word of two of them would be enough to decide a course of action—but the oldest of the Wardens there, a large man with a big black beard whose name was Beorg, or Yorg, or Bjorn—definitely Scandinavian—turned to look at Ebenezar.

  The wizard of the Ozarks stood looking at me, a small smile on his face. I recognized the smile. When I’d first gone to live with him, after I’d killed my foster father, we would go into town every week for supplies. A gang of teenage boys, bored, reacted to the presence of a new boy with typical adolescent thoughtlessness. One of them had tried to get me to fight him.

  At the time, I remember being annoyed at the distraction from my day. Because I had just wiped out a major demon and a former Warden of the White Council in a pair of fair fights, local teenage bullies were really kind of beneath my notice. They were kids playing a game, and I had grown older very quickly. I could have killed them, all of them, without too much trouble, but the very idea was laughable. It would have been like using a flamethrower to clean cobwebs out of the house.