The Dresden Files Series Part I Part 144

"And the war would go on."

"It's been going on for nearly two years," I said. "It's mostly been cat and mouse, a couple of raids, fights in back alleys. It's like the Cold War, only with fewer Republicans."

Ortega frowned, and watched Mac cleaning the grill behind the bar. "It can get worse, Mister Dresden. It can get a great deal worse. And if the conflict escalates, it will threaten the balance of power throughout the worlds of flesh and spirit alike. Imagine the destruction, the loss of life that could ensue."

"So why not contribute to the peace effort? Starting with this duel. Maybe we could get some beads and some fringe and make signs that say 'Make blood not war' or something."

This time, Ortega did smile. It was a weary expression on him. "It's too late for that," he said. "Your blood is all that will satisfy many of my peers."

"I can donate," I said. "Let's say once every two months. You provide cookies and orange juice."

Ortega leaned toward me, the smile fading. "Wizard. You murdered a n.o.ble of our Court."

I got angry. My voice gained heat. "The only reason-"

Ortega cut me off, lifting his hand. "I do not say that your reasons were not valid. But the fact of the matter is that you appeared in her home as a guest and representative of the Council. And you attacked and eventually killed both Bianca and those under her protection."

"Killing me won't bring her back," I said.

"But it will slake the thirst for vengeance that plagues many of my kinsmen. When you are no more, they will be willing to at least attempt a peaceful resolution."

"Dammit," I muttered, and fiddled with the bottle.

"Though..." Ortega murmured. His eyes became distant for a moment. "There might be another way."

"What other way?"

"Yield," Ortega said. "Yield to the duel and let me take you into custody. If you are willing to work with me, I could place you under my protection."

"Work with you," I said. My stomach flip-flopped. "You mean become like you."

"It is an alternative to death," Ortega said, his expression earnest. "My kinsmen may not like it, but they could not argue against it. For taking Bianca's life, you could replace it with your own."

"As one of you."

Ortega nodded. "As one of us." He was quiet for a moment, then said, "You could bring Miss Rodriguez with you. Be together. She would not be a threat to you, were you both my va.s.sals." He put his beer down. "I think you will find that we are much alike, Dresden. We're just playing for different teams."

I rubbed at my mouth. My instinctive reaction to Ortega's offer was one of revulsion. The Red Court vampires don't look like most would think. They looked like giant, hairless bats with slick, rubbery skin. They could cover themselves with a flesh mask in order to look human, but I'd seen what was underneath the mask.

I'd been exposed to it. Thoroughly. I still had nightmares.

I opened my eyes. "Let me ask you a question."

"Very well."

"Do you live in a manor?"

"Casaverde," Ortega responded. "It's in Honduras. There is a village nearby."

"Uh-huh," I said. "So you feed on the villagers."

"Carefully. I provide them with supplies, medical attention, other necessities."

"Sounds reasonable," I said.

"It's beneficial to both of us. The villagers know that."

"Yeah, they probably do." I finished off the bottle. "Do you feed on children?"

Ortega frowned at me. "What do you mean?"

I didn't bother to hide the anger in my voice. "Do. You. Feed. On. Children."

"It's the safest way. The more the feeding is spread among many, the less dangerous it is for all of them."

"You're wrong. We're different." I stood up. "You hurt kids. We're done."

Ortega's voice sharpened. "Dresden. Do not lightly discard my offer."

"The offer to make me into a blood-drinking monster in eternal slavery to you? Why would I want to do that?"

"It is the only way to keep your life," Ortega said.

I felt the anger coalescing into rage. My upper lip curled away from my teeth, baring them in a snarl. "I thought life is more than mere survival."

Ortega's expression changed. It was only for a second, but in that moment I saw furious rage, arrogant pride, and violent bloodl.u.s.t on his face. He regained his calm quickly, but traces of the hidden emotions thickened his accent.

"So be it. I will kill you, wizard."

He sounded convincing. It scared me. I turned and walked to the door. "I'll be outside," I said to no one in particular, and stepped out into the late-February cold.

That way, I'd have an excuse to be trembling.

Chapter Eighteen I didn't have long to wait. The door opened behind me, and Kincaid emerged. He didn't say a word to me, just got into a rented sedan and left. Ortega came next. A car swung in off the street, and he opened the pa.s.senger door. He paused and looked back at me.

"I have a measure of respect for your principles and skills, Dresden. But this situation is of your own making, and I cannot allow it to continue. I'm sorry."

I watched him get in the car, and I didn't offer him any reply. h.e.l.l, he hadn't said a word that was untrue. Ortega had a genuine ax to grind and people-well, fellow monsters-to protect. And thus far, the Dresden-versus-vampires scoreboard read a whole bunch to zero.

If a vampire had done that to the White Council, I wonder if we would have reacted with as much reason and calm.

The taillights of Ortega's car hadn't yet gotten out of sight when Thomas emerged from the tavern and swaggered casually over to me. Thomas was a shade under six feet tall, which put him at half a head shorter than me. He was better-looking though, and despite my earlier comments about his outfit, he was one of those men who made anything look good. The fishnet shirt he wore cast patterns of shadow over the pale skin beneath it, adding to the lines of muscle on his stomach.

My stomach had muscles, but not so many that you could see them rippling. I'd have looked pathetic in a shirt like that.

"That was simple enough," Thomas said. He drew a pair of black leather driving gloves from his jacket pocket and started tugging them on. "Though I take it this duel isn't the only game in town at the moment."

"Why would you say that?" I asked.

"I've had a pro hitter following me ever since I landed yesterday. The itch between my shoulder blades got annoying."

I glanced around. "Is he here now?"

Thomas's eyes glittered. "No. I introduced him to my sisters."

The White Court were the most human of the vampires and in some ways the weakest. They fed on psychic energies, on pure life force rather than on blood. Most often, they would seduce those they fed upon, drawing life from them through physical contact during the act. If a couple of Thomas's sisters had met the hired gun tailing Thomas, the a.s.sa.s.sin probably wasn't going to be a problem to anyone. Ever. My eye twitched.

"The gunman was probably Ortega's," I said. "He hired some goons to take out people I knew if I didn't agree to this duel."

"That explains it, then," Thomas said. "Ortega really doesn't like me much. Must be the unsavory company I've kept in the past."

"Gee, thanks. How the h.e.l.l did you end up his second?"

"It's my father's idea of a joke," Thomas said. "Ortega asked him to be his second. Show of solidarity between the Red and White Courts. Instead, Daddy dearest found the most annoying and insulting member of the family he possibly could to stand in."

"You," I said.

"C'est moi," Thomas confirmed with a little bow. "One would almost think Father was trying to get me killed." Thomas confirmed with a little bow. "One would almost think Father was trying to get me killed."

I felt one side of my mouth tug up into a smile. "Nice father figure. Him and Bill Cosby. How's Justine?"

Thomas grimaced. "She's in Aruba is how she is. Which is where I was until one of pappa Raith's goons dragged me back up here."

"What did you two decide on for the duel?"

Thomas shook his head. "Can't tell you. Shiro is supposed to do that. I mean, technically I'm at war with you."

I grimaced and stared after Ortega's vanished car. "Yeah."

Thomas was quiet for a second, then said, "He means to kill you."

"I know."

"He's dangerous, Harry. Smart. My father is afraid of him."

"I could like him," I said. "It's sort of refreshing to have someone trying to kill me right to my face, instead of throwing me a bunch of curveb.a.l.l.s and shooting me in the back. It's almost nice to have a fair fight."

"Sure. Theoretically."

"Theoretically?"

Thomas shrugged. "Ortega's been alive for about six hundred years. It isn't something you do by playing nice."

"From what I've heard, the Archive will object to any monkey business."

"It's only cheating if he gets caught."

I frowned at him and said, "Are you saying someone is planning to avoid getting caught?"

Thomas put his hands in his jacket pockets. "I'm not saying anything. I wouldn't mind seeing you kick his a.s.s, but I'm sure as h.e.l.l not going to do something that would attract attention to me."

"You intend to partic.i.p.ate without being involved. That's clever."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "I won't throw a banana peel under you. But don't expect any help from me, either. I'm just making sure it's a fair fight and then I'm back at my beach house." He drew car keys from his pocket and headed for the parking lot. "Good luck."

"Thomas," I said to his back. "Thanks for the heads-up."

He paused.

I asked, "Why do it?"

The vampire glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. "Life would be unbearably dull if we had answers to all our questions." He walked out to a white sports car and slipped into it. A second later, loud, screaming metal music started from the car's stereo, the engine roared, and Thomas drove off.

I checked my watch. Ten more minutes until Susan arrived. Shiro emerged from McAnnally's and put on his gla.s.ses. Once he spotted me, he walked over and took the gla.s.ses off again. "Ortega refused to cancel the duel?"

"He made me an offer I couldn't excuse," I said.

Shiro grunted. "Duel is wills. Tomorrow, just after sundown. Wrigley Field."

"A stadium? Why don't we put it on pay-per-view while we're at it." I glowered at the street and checked my watch again. "I'm meeting someone in a minute. I'll give you the keys to my car. I can pick it up from Michael's tomorrow."

"No need," Shiro said. "Mac called me a cab."

"Okay." I pocketed my keys.

Shiro stood quietly for a moment, lips pursed thoughtfully, before he said, "Ortega means to kill you."

"Yes. Yes, he does," I said. I managed not to grind my teeth as I said it. "Everyone is saying that like I didn't know it already."

"But you do not know how how." I frowned and looked down at Shiro. His shaved head gleamed under a nearby streetlight. "The war is not your fault."

"I know that," I said, but my voice lacked conviction.

"No," Shiro said. "It truly truly is not your fault." is not your fault."

"What do you mean?"

"The Red Court has been quietly building its resources for years," he said. "How else were they ready to start their attacks in Europe only days after you defeated Bianca?"

I frowned at him.

Shiro drew a cigar from inside his jacket and bit off the end. He spat it to one side. "You were not the cause of the war. You were merely the excuse. The Reds would have attacked when they were ready."

"No," I said. "That's not how it is. I mean, d.a.m.n near everyone I've spoken to on the Council-"

Shiro snorted. He struck a match and puffed on the cigar a few times while he lit it. "The Council. Arrogant. As if nothing significant could happen unless a wizard did it."