by Jim Butcher
I kept going until it became too dark to see, and I started to put Elaine down so that I could take out my amulet to make some light. Just as I did, a pair of elevator doors swept open, spilling light and canned music onto the breezeway.
A girl stood in the doors. She was five nothing, a hundred and nothing, her sunny hair pulled back into a braid. She wore a blue T-shirt with white painter’s overalls, and she was liberally splattered with flecks of what looked like clay. Her rosy mouth opened in dismay as she saw me standing there with Elaine.
“Oh, no!” she exclaimed. She beckoned me urgently. “Come on, get her inside. The Lady can see to her.”
My arms and shoulders had begun to burn with the effort of supporting Elaine, so I didn’t waste time talking. I shuffled forward into the elevator and leaned against the back wall with a wheeze. The girl closed the elevator doors, took a key from her overalls pocket, and inserted it into a solitary keyhole where you would expect a bunch of buttons to be. The elevator gave a little lurch and started up.
“What happened to Ela?” the girl asked me. She looked from me to Elaine and chewed on one lip.
Ela? “Beats me. I found her like this in my car. She told me to bring her here.”
“Oh. Oh, God,” the girl said. She looked at me again. “You’re with Winter, aren’t you?”
I frowned. “How did you know?”
She shrugged. “It shows.”
“I’m with Winter for now. But it’s a one-shot deal. Think of me as a free agent.”
“Perhaps. But an agent of Winter all the same. Are you sure you want to be here?”
“No,” I said. “But I’m sure I’m not leaving Elaine until I’m convinced she’s in good hands.”
The girl frowned. “Oh.”
“Can’t this thing go any faster?” My shoulders burned, my back ached, my bruises were complaining, and I could feel Elaine’s breathing growing weaker. I had to fight not to scream in sheer frustration. I wished there had been a bank of buttons to push, just so that I could have slammed the right button a bunch of times in a senseless effort to speed up the elevator.
The doors opened a geological epoch later, onto a scene as incongruous as a gorilla in a garter belt.
The elevator had taken us to what could only have been the roof of the hotel, assuming the roof opened up onto a section of rain forest in Borneo. Trees and greenery grew so thick that I couldn’t see the edge of the roof, and though I could hear the nighttime noises of Chicago, the sounds were vague in the distance and could almost not be heard over the buzz of locusts and the chittering of some kind of animal I did not recognize. Wind rustled the forest around me, and silver moonlight, brighter than I would have thought possible, gave everything an eerie, surreal beauty.
“I’m so glad I was going out for more clay just then. This way,” the girl said, and started off on a trail through the forest. I followed as quickly as I could, puffing hard to keep holding Elaine. It wasn’t a long walk. The trail wound back and forth and then opened onto a grassy glade.
I stopped and looked around. No, not a glade. More like a garden. A pool rested at its center, still water reflecting the moon overhead. Benches and stones of a good size for sitting on were strewn around the landscape. Statuary, most of it marble and of human subjects, stood here and there, often framed by flowers or placed between young trees. On the far side of the pool stood what at first glance I took to be a gnarled tree. It wasn’t. It was a throne, a throne of living wood, its trunk grown into the correct shape, branches and leaves spreading above it in stately elegance, roots spreading and anchoring it in the earth.
People stood here and there. A paint-spattered young man worked furiously on some sort of portrait, his face set in concentration. A tall man, his ageless beauty and pale hair marking him as one of the Sidhe, stood in the posture of a teacher beside a slender girl, who was drawing back a bow, aiming at a target of bundled branches. On the far side of the glade, smoke rose from stones piled into the shape of an oven or a forge, and a broad-chested man, shirtless, bearded, heavy-browed and fierce-looking, stood on the other side of it, wielding a smith’s hammer in regular rhythm. He stepped away from the forge, a glowing-hot blade gripped in a set of tongs, and dunked it into a trough of silvery water.
When I got a better look at him, I understood what he was. Steam rose in a cloud over his heavy, equine forelegs, then over his human belly and broad chest, and the centaur stamped a rear hoof impatiently, muttering under his breath, while colored lights played back and forth in the water of the trough. Haunting pipe music, sad and lovely, drifted through the glade from a young woman, mortal, sitting with a set of reed pipes, playing with her eyes closed.
“Where is she?” I demanded. “Where is the Lady?”
The centaur’s head snapped around, and he snarled in a sudden, harsh basso. He took up his hammer again, whipped it in a quick circle, and started toward me at a slow canter, Clydesdale-sized hooves striking the ground with dull thumps. “Winterbound? Here? It cannot be borne.”
I tensed, holding Elaine a little closer, and my heart lurched into a higher gear. The centaur was huge and looked ready to kill. “Whoa, there, big fella. I’m not looking for trouble.”
The centaur bared his teeth at me and spoke, his deep voice filled with outrage. “There you stand with our Emissary’s blood on your hands and expect us to believe you?”
The tall Sidhe man barked, “Korrick, hold.”
The centaur drew up short, rearing onto his hind legs and kicking at the air with heavy hooves. “My lord Talos,” he growled in frustration. “This arrogance cannot be tolerated.”
“Peace,” the Sidhe lord said.
“But my lord—”
The Sidhe lord stepped between me and the centaur, his back to me. He wore close-fit trousers of dark green and a loose shirt of white linen. The Sidhe lord said nothing, and I couldn’t see his expression, but the centaur’s face reddened, then blanched. He bowed his head, a stiff gesture, and then walked back over to his forge, hooves striking the ground in sharp, angry motions.
The Sidhe—Talos, I presumed—turned back to me and regarded me with calm, feline eyes the color of a summer sky. He had the pale hair of the Sidhe, hanging in a straight, fine sheet to brush his shoulders. There was a quality of quiet confidence in his features, of relaxed strength, and the sense of him was somehow less alien than that of most of the Sidhe I had encountered. “I hope you will not judge Korrick too harshly, sir. You are, I take it, Harry Dresden?”
“If I’m not, he’s going to be upset with me when he catches me running around in his underpants.”
Talos smiled. The expression came easily to his features. “Then I grant you passport and license in agreement with the Accords. I am Talos, Lord Marshal of the Summer Court.”
“Yeah, that’s great, nice to meet you,” I said. “Hey, do you think you could help me save this woman’s life now?”
The Sidhe’s smile faded. “I will do what I can.” He glanced to the side and gestured with a roll of his wrist.
The garden flew into activity. A cloud of pixies darted through the air, bearing stalks of green plants and broad, soft leaves. They piled them into a soft-looking mound near the side of the pool. Talos looked at me for permission and then gently took Elaine’s weight into his arms. My shoulders and biceps all but screamed in relief. The Sidhe lord carried Elaine to the bed of leaves and laid her down upon it. He touched her throat and then her brow with one hand, his eyes closing.
“Weak,” he said quietly. “And cold. But she has strength left in her. She will be all right for a little while.”
“No offense, but your people have some odd notions about time. Go get your Lady. She needs to see to Elaine now.”
Talos regarded me with that same quiet, opaque expression. “She will be here when she will be here. I cannot hurry the sunrise, nor the Lady.”
I started to tell him where he could stick his sunrise, but I bit back the words and tried to take out
some frustration by clenching my fists. My knuckles popped.
A hand touched my arm, and the girl, the sculptor from the elevator, said, “Please, sir. Let me get you something to drink, or some food. Mortal food, I mean. I wouldn’t offer the other kind.”
“Like hell,” I said. “Not until Elaine is taken care of.”
From where he knelt beside Elaine, Talos lifted both eyebrows, but he shrugged his shoulders. “As you wish.” He rested his fingertips lightly on either side of her face and bowed his head. “My skills are rather limited. I can at least assure that she loses no ground.”
There was a quiet surge of energy, something as gentle and strong as the weight of a wave lifting you off your feet. Elaine suddenly took a deep breath, and color came back into her cheeks. She blinked her eyes open for a moment, then sighed and closed them again.
“Talos can sustain her for a time,” the girl said. “Until the Lady decides. He has been Ela’s guardian and friend for several years.” She tugged at my arm. “Please, take something to eat. You’ll make us poor hosts if you do not.”
My stomach growled again, and my throat started to complain after all the hard breathing I’d been doing. I exhaled through my nose and nodded to the girl, who led me to one of the benches not far away and pulled a plastic Coleman cooler from underneath it. She rummaged inside, then tossed me a cold can of Coke, a small bag of potato chips, and a long hoagie. None of them held any of the subtle, quivering lure of faerie fare.
“Best I can do for now,” she said. “Turkey sub sound all right?”
“Marry me,” I responded, tore into the food with fervor, and spent a couple of minutes indulging in one of the purest primal pleasures. Eating. Food never tastes so good as when you are starving, and Talos had granted me safe passport under the Accords, so I wasn’t worried about any drugs in it.
While I ate, the girl drew a short stand over to her, on which was a clay bust of a young woman, parts of it still rough, still marked with the tracks of her fingers. She dipped them into a bowl of water attached to the stand and started working on the bust.
“What happened to her?” she asked.
“Hell if I know,” I said between bites. “She was in my car like that. Wanted me to bring her here.”
“Why did you?” She flushed. “I mean, you’re working for Summer’s enemies. Right?”
“Yeah. But it doesn’t mean I’m friendly with them.” I shook my head, washed down a half-chewed bite with a long drink of Coke. Heaven. I ate for a moment more and then frowned at the bust she was working on. The face seemed familiar. I studied it a bit, then asked, “Is that Lily?”
The girl blinked at me. “You know her?”
“Of her,” I said. “She’s a changeling, isn’t she?”
The girl nodded. “Winter, but she hasn’t chosen to go over to them. She was under Ronald’s protection, and she models for us sometimes.” She gestured vaguely toward the young man who was painting intently. “See, there are a few other pieces she modeled for around here.”
I looked around the garden and picked out a pair of statues among all the rest. Both were nudes of white marble. One of them depicted the girl in a tiptoe stretch, arms over her head, body arched prettily. The other showed her kneeling, looking at something cupped in her hands, her expression one of quiet sadness. “Seems like she’s well liked.”
The girl nodded. “She’s very gentle, very sweet.”
“Very missing,” I said.
She frowned. “Missing?”
“Yeah. Her roommate asked me to see if I could find her. Have you seen her in the past couple of days?”
“She hasn’t been here to model, and I’ve never seen her anywhere but here. I’m sorry.”
“Worth a shot,” I said.
“Why are you looking for her?”
“I told you. Her roommate asked for my help. I gave it.” Which was mostly true. Technically, I suppose, I’d sold it. I got the uneasy feeling that I might start feeling too guilty over the cash Meryl had given me to spend it. “I’m a tad busy this week, but I’ll do what I can.”
The girl’s brow furrowed as she worked at the bust. “You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met who was working for Winter. Mab usually likes her agents . . . colder, I think. Hungrier. More cruel.”
I shrugged. “She wanted someone to find a killer. I’ve had some experience.”
She nodded. “Still, you seem like a decent enough person. It makes me sad to think that you’ve gotten entangled in Winter’s snares.”
I stopped chewing and looked up at her, hard. “Oh, Hell’s bells.”
She looked at me and lifted an eyebrow. “Hmm?”
I put the sandwich down and said, “You’re her. You’re the Summer Lady.”
The shadow of a smile touched the girl’s lips, and she bowed her head toward me. Her blond hair cleared out to Sidhe white, her fingers and limbs suddenly seemed slightly longer, and her features became almost identical to Maeve’s, eyes vertically slitted and almost violently green. She still wore the coveralls and blue T-shirt, and was still liberally covered in flecks of clay, though. They stood out in sharp contrast to her fair skin and pale hair.
“Call me Aurora,” she said. “It’s a little easier for everyone.”
“Uh, right,” I said. I finished the bite I was on and said, “So are you going to stop playing games with me and help Elaine, Aurora?”
She glanced over at Elaine, lying on the ground, and her expression grew troubled. “That depends.”
My teeth clenched, and I said in a falsely pleasant voice, “On what?”
She turned her calm, inhuman eyes to me. “On you.”
“Don’t go getting specific on me, now,” I said. “I wouldn’t know how to handle it.”
“Do you think this is a joke, Mr. Dresden? A game?”
“I know damn well it isn’t a game.”
She shook her head. “And that is where you are wrong. It is a game, but unlike the ones you know. You aren’t allowed to know the rules to this game, and it was never intended to be fair. Do you know why Mab chose you, wizard?”
I glared at her. “No.”
“Neither do I,” she said. “And that is my part of the game. Why choose you? It must be because she expects something of you that she would get from no one else. Perhaps bringing Ela here is what she expected.”
“What’s the difference?” I demanded. “Elaine is hurt. Your Emissary has been wounded in the line of duty. Don’t you think you should get her moving again?”
“But if that is what Winter expects, it could be used against me. I am the least Queen of Summer, but even so I must be cautious in the use of my power.”
I snorted. “Maeve sure as hell doesn’t think that way.”
“Of course not,” she said. “She’s Winter. She’s violent, vicious, merciless.”
“And your centaur is just the soul of gentleness and understanding.”
Aurora sighed and lowered her clay-crusted fingers. “I hope you will forgive Korrick’s temper. He is usually a merrier sort. Everyone’s been edgy because of matters here.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “Just so we’re clear, that was really mortal food, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said. “I have no desire to threaten your freedom, Mister Dresden, or to bind you in any way.”
“Good.” I knew she couldn’t lie to me, so I took another bite of the sandwich and some more chips. “Look, I’m not here to try to undermine your power or sabotage Summer, Aurora. I just want you to help Elaine.”
“I know,” she said. “I believe you. But I don’t trust you.”
“What reason do you have not to trust me?”
“I’ve watched you,” she responded. “You’re a mercenary. You work for hire.”
“Yeah. To pay the bills and—”
She lifted a hand. “You’ve made bargains with demons.”
“Nickel-and-dime stuff, nothing huge or—”
“You traded yourself to
the Leanansidhe for power.”
“When I was younger, and a hell of a lot stupider, and in trouble—”
Her inhuman eyes met mine, penetrating. “You’ve killed.”
I looked away from her. There wasn’t much to say to that. My stomach turned, and I pushed the food a bit away from me.
Aurora nodded, slowly. “From the beginning, you have been meant to be a destroyer. A killer. Do you know the original purpose of a godparent, Mr. Dresden?”
“Yeah,” I said. I felt tired. “A godparent was chosen to ensure that a child had religious and moral guidance and teaching.”
“Indeed,” she said. “And your godmother, your teacher and guide, is the most vicious creature of Mab’s Court, more than Maeve’s equal, second in strength only to Mab herself.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “Teacher? Guide? Is that what you think Lea is to me?”
“Isn’t she?”
“Lea barely noticed me except when she thought she could get something from me,” I spat. “The rest of the time she couldn’t care less. The only thing she taught me was that if I didn’t want to get walked on I had to be smarter than her, stronger than her, and willing to do something about it.”
Aurora turned her lovely face fully toward me and regarded me with deep, quiet eyes. “Yes.” Unease gnawed at my belly as she continued. “The strong conquer and the weak are conquered. That is Winter. That is what you have learned.” She leaned closer and said, quietly emphatic, “That is what makes you dangerous. Do you see?”
I stood up and walked a few paces away. Aurora didn’t say anything. I heard drips of water as she washed her hands in the little bowl.
“If you aren’t going to help Elaine, tell me. I’ll take her to the hospital.”
“Do you think I should help her?”
“I don’t give a damn if you do or not,” I said. “But one way or another I’m going to make sure she’s taken care of. Make up your mind.”