Jim Butcher - Dresden Files Omnibus

by Jim Butcher

  “Ms. Murphy, please.” Grey brushed imaginary lint off his shoulder and sniffed. “Like Dresden here, I do some of the work myself, and for some of it I have people.”

  “Feds, though?” she asked. “I mean, locals I could understand. But what are the Feds doing involved?”

  “We tipped off Agent Tilly, remember?” I asked.

  Grey nodded. “Isn’t Tilly, but it’s some of his guys from the local field office.”

  I grunted. “Everyone know about everyone else?” I asked.

  “They know in part and they understand in part,” Grey said, somewhat smugly. “I know about all of them.”

  “Unless you don’t,” Murphy pointed out.

  “Unless I don’t,” Grey allowed, unperturbed. “But anyone who makes a move on the girl is going to set off about three different groups of dangerous people, and I figured you needed to know what was up.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “Maybe I do.” I closed my eyes for a second, thinking.

  “Don’t hurt yourself,” Grey said.

  I opened an eye and gave him an annoyed look that was, by necessity, at only half strength. It didn’t seem to damage him. Then I closed my eye again and kept thinking.

  “One of the people surveilling Justine is the person who threatened her,” Murphy said. “And they must have given Thomas an ultimatum. And because he’s an idiot like you, Harry, he didn’t tell her about it.”

  “Yeah, feels like that’s the right ballpark,” I said.

  “Oh crap,” Grey sighed. “This is about the assassination attempt?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think someone leveraged him into it by threatening the girl.”

  “Huh,” Grey said, sitting back. “Well, he’s a dead man now. Svartalves don’t kid around.”

  I opened my eyes and looked at Grey in the mirror.

  The shapeshifter shrugged and returned my gaze with a blank expression that showed neither hostility nor fear. “Oh. It’s personal. You and him, huh?”

  “He stood beside me when it was bad,” I said.

  “Ah,” Grey said, as if enlightened. “Okay.”

  I nodded, and so did Murphy.

  “So what do you want I should do?” Grey asked.

  “Nothing’s changed,” I said. “Protect Justine.”

  “Yeah,” he said, drawing the word out. “But there’s a lot of players here. Sometimes the best defense is a good offense, right?”

  I scowled. “Hey, who is putting up the money around here?”

  Grey shrugged and said to Murphy, “Do you want to explain it to him?”

  “He’s one person, Harry, as remarkable as his abilities might be,” Murphy said thoughtfully. “Given that there are multiple threats, if he isn’t standing in arm’s reach of her, there’s not much he can do if someone decides to shoot her through the window.”

  My chest panged a bit. It did that sometimes, when I imagined someone I knew getting shot. It did that every time when I imagined it being me.

  “Let me get closer and find out more,” Grey said. “More information might help a lot. And if I can’t get anything useful, or turn up the actual threat, I can vanish the girl, get her to a safe house.”

  “You have one of those?” Murphy asked.

  Grey winked at her. “Let’s just say I can borrow one.”

  I nodded, frowning. “Can you do email?”

  “Who doesn’t do email …” Grey began, but then he looked at me. “Oh. Yes.”

  “Murph, can you give him Paranoid Gary’s email?” I asked.

  “My last fresh one was before I got hurt,” she said. “He may have moved on by now.” She took a notepad out of her jacket pocket and flipped through pages. She found the one she wanted, turned to a fresh page, and started writing. Murphy hadn’t been on the force for a while, but her habits had not changed much. She tore off the page and gave it to Grey. The email address was a string of gibberish letters and numbers. “Here. Make sure you tell him who gave you the address or he’ll assume you’re one of Them.”

  He accepted the note, glanced at it once, and handed it back to her. “And why are you trusting this guy again?”

  “It’s possible that Lara is playing games with me,” I said. “So her people might be behind it. The local cops are probably in Marcone’s pocket, and I don’t trust him any further than I can kick him. I don’t know why the Feds are involved or who is pushing them, but even though I like Tilly, he’s a square and this seems like a damned odd play for him. And I’ve never really been comfortable dealing with government agents.”

  “Ah,” Grey said. “And the Internet guy is safe?”

  “Paranoid Gary is a creep and a weirdo, but he’s our creepy weirdo,” I said. “If he’s the one doing the hacking thing, he can probably assist you. If it isn’t him doing it, he can probably find out who it is.”

  “If he will,” Murphy said.

  “Sure,” Grey said, almost jovially. “Because paranoid.” He shook his head. “Well. You don’t ever bore me, Dresden.”

  “I’m good like that,” I said.

  “At least you pay well,” he said, and nodded to Murphy. “Ma’am.”

  “You’re going to need someone to relieve you eventually,” Murphy said.

  “Only if we do this for a couple of weeks,” he said. He nodded to her; then he got out of the Munstermobile and walked back to his old Jeep.

  “Useful guy,” she noted as Grey cranked up the vehicle and left, turning back toward Chicago.

  “Very.”

  “You trust him?”

  “Well. I hired him. I trust him to live up to that.”

  “So did Nicodemus,” Murphy noted. “But someone else had hired him first. So what if someone else hired him first, again?”

  I grimaced. “Thanks for bringing that up.”

  “You’re a good person, Harry. You trust people too easily.” She shifted in her seat, wincing.

  “The leg?” I asked.

  “Hip,” she said shortly. “Don’t forget your cold medicine.”

  Murphy had given me something that promised to remove mucus and sneezing and coughing and aching for eight hours at a time, about seven hours ago. I opened the little bottle and took more of it.

  “Are we getting old?” I asked her. “Is this what that’s like?”

  She smiled slightly and shook her head. “It is what it is.” She eyed me. “Do you think Lara is behind this?”

  “My instinct says no. But she’s tricky enough to try it, and it’s called treachery because you don’t see it coming,” I said. “Wow, though. She’s standing really close to Mab’s toes on this one, no matter how you look at it.”

  “How she reacts to the proposal is going to tell us a lot,” Murphy said.

  “You ever get involved in one of my cases and find yourself drowning in an overabundance of information?” I asked.

  She snorted. “Point.”

  “It might tell us something,” I said. “Best we can hope for.”

  “We’re moving ahead blind,” she noted.

  “Maybe.” I pulled the car back onto the road and toward the highway. “But there’s no use in wasting time.”

  Chapter

  Twenty-four

  Freydis met us at the door of Château Raith and said, “Seriously? You just drive here and walk up to the front door? Obvious much?”

  “Aw,” I said. “It’s so cute when you guys try to employ the vernacular. It’s just never quite on point. You know?”

  The ginger Valkyrie gave me a narrow-eyed look and said, “Don’t make me stop this car.”

  “Somehow worse and better at the same time,” I said approvingly.

  Freydis snorted. “Who is the mortal?”

  “Please,” Murphy said. “You know who I am, and you know what I do.”

  Freydis showed her teeth. “The Einherjaren like you, Ms. Murphy. But that doesn’t give you a pass. This is an internal matter. You aren’t coming into it.”

  “I already
have,” Murphy said. “Years ago. Unless Ms. Raith would prefer me to make a non-secret of her open secret about her father.”

  “Are you threatening my employer?” Freydis asked in a very level tone.

  “I am a threat to your employer,” Murphy replied calmly. “But there’s no reason we can’t be civilized about it.”

  “I could kill you right now,” Freydis noted.

  “You could try,” Murphy answered. “But however that turned out, your boss would be working without Dresden’s help.”

  Freydis narrowed her eyes and then looked at me. “What do you say, Dresden?”

  “Good morning,” I said. “Nothing further to add.”

  “The woman speaks for you?”

  “For herself. But I don’t see the point in repeating her.”

  “Her injuries …” Freydis began.

  Murphy didn’t seem to move quickly, but everything happened with smooth precision as she stepped forward and to one side. She drove the elbow of her injured arm at Freydis’s midsection. It didn’t hit hard, but it forced the Valkyrie’s balance off, and Murphy followed up with a step into her as her cane clattered to the porch. She stepped into the Valkyrie, pinning her against the side of the doorway—and Murphy’s gun came out and nestled up under Freydis’s chin.

  “I am getting tired,” Murphy said, in a faintly annoyed tone, “of people using that phrase as if I was not standing right here.”

  Freydis stared down at Murphy for a long moment. If she was bothered by the gun under her chin, it didn’t show on her face. She nodded and turned her palms up. “Enter, warrior.”

  Murphy met her eyes and nodded. She withdrew carefully, keeping the gun on Freydis until the last possible second, then took a limping step back. I picked up her cane and held it for her while she put the gun away, her eyes still on the Valkyrie. She accepted the cane with a nod.

  I gestured toward the house and said, “Lead on, then?”

  Freydis lifted a hand and rubbed briefly at the spot on her chin where the gun’s muzzle had left a mild indentation. Then she said, to Murphy, “Are you seeing anyone?”

  Murphy blinked.

  “Mortals make the best lovers by far,” Freydis explained. “And this job means I’m basically sexually frustrated around the clock. But it’s hard to find mortals I respect.”

  Murphy’s cheeks turned bright pink. “Um.”

  Freydis frowned slightly and glanced from Murphy to me and back. “I don’t mind sharing.”

  “I’m … I’m Catholic,” Murphy said.

  Freydis’s eyes shone with a wicked sparkle. “I don’t mind conflicted, either.”

  Murphy gave me a somewhat desperate glance.

  Huh. I’d officially seen everything now. Murphy asking for a rescue. From monsters and madmen, she’d never cried uncle.

  It had taken a redhead.

  “Business first, maybe?” I suggested.

  “We could all die tonight,” Freydis said. “But as you wish.”

  Freydis led us to the rear of the château and outside, to gardens I had never seen before. There was even a hedge maze, or maybe an hedge maze, depending on who you asked, a good ten feet high, and Freydis led us right into it.

  “I apologize for the walk, Ms. Murphy,” Freydis said.

  Murphy limped along grimly, leaning on her cane. “I’m fine.”

  Freydis nodded but glanced my way, and it was possible that her steps gradually, imperceptibly slowed a bit over the next couple of minutes, until we reached the center of the maze.

  We stepped into a grassy bower where apple trees had been planted beside a beautifully laid-out … not pond; it was definitely a water feature, complete with an abstract statue of a pair of faceless lovers intertwined in its center, with water rippling down over them. A party had taken place the night before, apparently. There were bottles and plates scattered with the remnants of food lying about on the grass, along with articles of clothing. Many of them ripped.

  The center of the bower was … Well, I’m sure it had some kind of official garden title, but it amounted to a giant canopy bed, big enough for at least half a dozen people, and probably more if you squeezed, gauzy white curtains all around it. The morning light made them mistytranslucent, and the breeze, enough to keep away the promise of another hot day, for the moment, stirred them in rippling waves.

  Sitting cross-legged at the head of the bed, sipping a tiny cup of espresso, was Lara Raith. She was wearing an oversized blue T-shirt and old cutoff sweatpants with paint stains on them. Her hair was rumpled, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all. As we entered, she looked up, and her eyes were absolutely sapphire blue, almost gemlike. She stretched, as anyone might in the morning, though not many of us would have made it look that good in those clothes, and smiled at us. “Harry. Ms. Murphy. Good morning.”

  I looked around. “Late night?”

  “Your people and the svartalves aren’t the only ones I’m practicing diplomacy with,” she replied. “And it’s always a good idea to eat a large meal before one expects difficulty.”

  Murphy leaned on her cane. “You prepare for trouble by having sex?”

  “I’m a vampire, Ms. Murphy,” Lara said calmly. “I have certain physiological needs. So yes. It is also often necessary for celebrating a victory. Or recovering from a defeat.”

  “I’m sensing a pattern,” Murphy said in a very dry voice.

  Lara laughed. It was just a laugh, with none of the supernatural comehither in her voice I’d heard before. “Our information suggested you’d be in the casts for another week.”

  “Four days,” Murphy corrected her. “And I got bored. But this isn’t really a social call.”

  “Oh, how unprofessional of me,” Lara said.

  I peered around and said, “Someone bugged your office, didn’t they?” Lara lifted her little cup to me in a salute. “And they say you’re a mindless thug.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Even if I felt like sharing my”—she fluttered her lashes—“intimate details with you, Harry, what makes you think it would be wise to do so?”

  “Just asking,” I said. “One professional to another.”

  “I know you meant that to be flattery,” Lara said, her tone wry. “So I’m going to take your intention into consideration.” She visibly considered it for a moment before saying, “I’m not sure. But too many leaks have happened in the past few weeks. I’m secure against strictly technical means of doing it. And I’ve never had issues with my people betraying me.”

  “Not even in the Raith Deeps?” I asked.

  She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that was just everyday treachery. That’s different.”

  “How?”

  “It was kept mostly in-house,” she said. “It benefits all of the White Court to have the strongest and most capable leadership possible. Challenging that leadership for control of our people’s aims is good for everyone.”

  I sputtered. “I almost died. So did you.”

  “Don’t be a whiner, Harry,” Lara said. “Neither of us did. When my people turn on me, we keep it mainly between us. This information has been falling into outside hands. I work with consultants in such matters, of course, but they haven’t been able to find any magical surveillance, either. My working theory is that it would take one of your people to manage a spell they couldn’t detect.”

  I frowned. The White Council tended to wage information-based warfare whenever it could, right up until it was time to start ripping satellites out of orbit and triggering volcanic eruptions, on the theory that with enough knowledge, leverage would be far more effective, obviating the necessity for open war. It was an obnoxious, arrogant stance to take on such matters—and it worked.

  Mostly.

  That didn’t mean being the target of a full-court press on surveillance was fun. I hadn’t much liked it when they’d been monitoring me more closely, earlier in my career.

  Wizards could be really annoying sometimes.

&nbs
p; “Would either of you care for coffee?” she asked.

  We did. Freydis set us up, her eyes always looking at nothing specific, as if she was trying to take in everything around us at once.

  “So,” Lara said. “Why are you here?”

  “It’s about tonight,” I said.

  She gave me a sharp look and then glanced at Murphy.

  “You demanded my help,” I said. “You’re getting it. My way.”

  Something that very nearly resembled anger changed the shape of her face, made it look remote and cold. It was gone again after a breath. “I see.” Her eyes went to Murphy. “I apologize that you were dragged into the matter.”

  “Then why’d you do it?” Murphy asked.

  I shifted my weight a little so that my hip pressed against Murphy’s. Well. It pressed against her upper arm.

  Lara took that in for a moment and nodded slowly. “I see. I trust that you can keep this matter a professional one?”

  “Try to stab us in the back or feed on either one of us, and I’ll make holes in your skull,” Murphy said. “Play it straight with us and we’ll all be fine. I like your brother.”

  “Did you just threaten me in my own garden?” Lara asked.

  “I just explained our stance to you,” Murphy said.

  Lara glanced at me.

  I shrugged. “Better to have it out in the open than under the table.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “I suppose we are all here for Thomas, are we not?”

  “Which is why we’ve come,” I said. “This can’t be a smash-and-grab run.”

  Lara frowned. “Given the security around him, I don’t see any option.”

  “Do you want a war with Svartalfheim? What happened to avoiding open conflict?”

  She gave me a pained glower and looked abruptly away. “The equation changed when they moved my brother. I’ll be facing considerable in-house trouble if my own sibling is put to death. My enemies within the Court will use it as a justification to rally against me. If I can’t protect my own family, how can I protect them, et cetera.” She shook her head. “Allies outside the Court will also be watching. A quick conflict and a brokered peace could make my position stronger than it currently is.”

  “So this is all about power,” Murphy noted.