The Dresden Files Series Part I Part 79

Energy gathered in the circle, rising in a growing whirl of invisible, tingling power. I stretched out my hand and willed more energy into it, feeling dizzy.

The Nightmare finally seemed to take notice of what was around it again. Lydia shivered and leaned a little away from Thomas, breaking some of the contact between them-then the bloodred eyes snapped open, and focused on me. Lydia began to rise, but Thomas clutched onto her hard, holding her.

The power rose again, a second vortex whirling around the pair of them, tugging at spiritual energies within. Lydia screamed.

"Leonid Kravos!" I thundered. I repeated the name, and saw Lydia's eyes fly open wide in shock. "Begone, Kravos! You second-rate firecaller! Begone! Begone!" And with the last word, I stamped my foot down, releasing the power of the exorcism down, into the earth.

Lydia screamed, her body arching, her mouth dropping open wide. Within the whirling vortex, glittering motes of silver and gold light gathered into a funnel, centered on Lydia's gaping mouth. Scarlet energy flooded out of her screaming mouth, and for a moment there was an unnerving overlap of screams-one high-pitched, young, feminine, terrified, while the other was inhuman, otherworldly. More scarlet light lashed forth from Lydia's eyes, stolen away by the vortex's power.

And then with a rush and an implosion of suddenly empty air, the vortex swirled into an infinitely thin line and vanished, dropping down into the floor, lower, deep into the earth.

Lydia let out a low, exhausted cry, and dropped limply to the floor. Thomas, still clutching her, tumbled down with her. Silence fell on the room, but for the four of us, gasping for breath.

Finally, I managed to sit up. "Michael," I called, my voice hoa.r.s.e. "Michael. Are you okay?"

"Did you stop it?" he asked. "Is the girl all right?"

"I think so."

"Thank G.o.d," he said. "It kicked me, got one of my ribs. I'm not sure I can sit up."

"Don't," I said, and mopped sweat from my brow. "Broken ribs could be bad. Thomas? Are you-Hey! What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?"

Thomas lay with his arms around Lydia, his pale, naked body pressed against hers, his lips nuzzling her ear. Lydia's eyes were open, colored naturally again, but not focused on anything. She didn't look conscious, but she was making tiny, aroused motions of her body, her hips, leaning back to him. Thomas blinked up at me when I spoke, eyes still empty and white.

"What?" he asked. "She's not unwilling. She's probably just grateful to me, for my help."

"Get away from her," I snapped.

"I'm hungry, hungry," he said. "It won't kill her, Dresden. Not the first time. You'd be dead right now without me. Just let me-"

"No," I said.

"But-"

"No. Get off of her, or you and I are going to have words."

A snarl split the air between us, Thomas's full lips peeling back from his teeth. They looked like human teeth, not vampire fangs. Whiter and more perfect than human teeth, but other than that, normal.

I returned his stare coolly.

Thomas looked away first. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, there were pale rings of color in them once more, slowly darkening. He released Lydia and rolled away from her. His ribs still looked dented, but not as much as before. He got to his feet and wrapped the towel around his hips again, then stalked back toward the bathroom without another word.

I checked Lydia's pulse, blushed, and tugged her shorts back into place. Then I righted the couch and put her back onto it, beneath the blankets. After that, I went to Michael.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

I told him what had happened, in terms as PG rated as possible. He scowled, flicking a glance back toward the bathroom. "They're like that. The White Court. Seducers. They feed on l.u.s.t, fear, hatred. Emotions. But they always use l.u.s.t to seduce their victims. They can force them to feel it, indulge in s.e.x. It's how they feed."

"s.e.x vampires, I know," I muttered. "Still. It's interesting."

"Interesting?" Michael sounded skeptical. "Harry, I wouldn't call it interesting interesting."

"Why not?" I said. I squinted after Thomas, thoughtfully. "Whatever he used, it worked on the Nightmare. Caught it up. That means that it's either some kind of ambient magic, maybe that cold I felt, that works on everything around, or else it's something chemical-like Red Court venom. Something that got to Lydia's body and bypa.s.sed the Nightmare's control of her mind, altogether. Pheromones, maybe."

"Harry," Michael said, "I really don't mean to discourage your scholarly pursuits, but would you mind, very much, helping me with these broken ribs."

We took inventory. I had some nasty bruises on my throat, but nothing more. Michael had one rib that was definitely broken, and one more that might have been cracked, tender as it was. I got him wrapped up pretty well. Thomas came out of my room, dressed in some of my spare jogging clothes. They hung off of him, and he had to roll the sleeves and legs of the sweatpants up. He slouched into a chair, his gaze settling on Lydia's sleeping form with a rather disconcerting intensity.

"It all fits now," I told them. "I know what's going on, so I can finally do something about it. I'm going to go to the town house, and get everyone out."

Michael frowned at me. "What fits?"

"It wasn't the demon that crossed over, Michael. We were never fighting the demon. It was Kravos himself. Kravos is the Nightmare."

Michael blinked at me. "But we didn't kill Kravos. He's still alive."

"Dollars to donuts he isn't. I figure the night before the Nightmare's attacks started, he puts together a ritual and takes himself out."

"Why would he do that?"

"To come back as a ghost. To get revenge. Think about it-that's all the Nightmare has been doing. It's been rampaging around, avenging Kravos."

"Could he do do that?" Michael asked. that?" Michael asked.

I shrugged. "I don't see why he couldn't, if he had raised a bunch of power, and if he was focused on getting his vengeance and turning himself into a ghost. Especially ..."

"... with the border to the Nevernever as turbulent as it was," Michael finished.

"Exactly. Which means that Mavra and Bianca helped him out, specifically. h.e.l.l, they probably put together the ritual that he used. And if someone in federal custody here in Chicago suddenly turned up suicided in his cell, it would cause a big stir in local police-and would be serious news for the media. Which is why Murphy was being so hush-hush, and Susan was so distracted. She was working on a story, finding out what happened. Following up a rumor, maybe."

Thomas frowned. "Let me get this straight. This Nightmare is the ghost of the sorcerer Kravos. The cult murderer in the news several months ago."

"Yeah. The turbulence in the Nevernever let him get made into a bada.s.s ghost."

"Turbulence?" Thomas said.

I nodded. "Someone began binding the local spooks with torment spells. They went wild and started stirring the border between the real world and the Nevernever. I figure it was Mavra, working with Bianca. That same turbulence let Kravos. .h.i.t everyone he could in their dreams. It's how he got to me, and how he got to poor Malone, and how he got to Lydia just now. Lydia knew what he was doing. That's why she never wanted to go to sleep. I didn't see it coming, when he hit me in my dreams. I wasn't ready for a fight, and he kicked my a.s.s."

"But now you can defeat him?" Michael asked.

"I'm ready for him now. I beat this punk when he was alive. Now that I know what I'm dealing with, I can do it to his shade, too. I'll go to the house, take out the Nightmare, Bianca if I have to, and get everyone out."

"Did you get hit on the head when I wasn't looking?" Thomas asked. "Dresden, I told you about the guards. The machine guns. I did mention the machine guns, didn't I?"

I waved a hand. "I'm already past the point where a sane man would be afraid. Guards and machine guns, whatever. Look, Bianca has Susan, plus Justine, and maybe twenty or thirty kids being held captive, or getting set to get turned into fresh vampires. The police's hands are tied on this. Someone has to do something, and I'm the only one in a position to-"

"Get riddled with bullets," Thomas interjected, his tone dry. "My, how very helpful that will be toward attaining our mutual goals."

"Oh ye of little faith," Michael said, from his place in my easychair. He swung his head back toward me. "Go ahead, Harry. What do you have in mind?"

I nodded. "All right. I figure Bianca will have security all over the outside of the house. She'll cover all the approaches to it, any cars that go in are going to get searched, and so on."

"Exactly," Thomas said. "Dresden, I thought maybe we could pool our resources. Work something out with our contacts and spies. Perhaps disguise ourselves as caterers and sneak in." He paused. "Well. You You could pa.s.s for a caterer, in any case. But if we simply a.s.sault her house, we'll all be killed." could pa.s.s for a caterer, in any case. But if we simply a.s.sault her house, we'll all be killed."

"If we walk up where they can see us."

Thomas frowned. "You have something else in mind? I doubt we could veil ourselves with magic. In familiar surroundings, she's going to be difficult to fool with those kinds of glamour."

I lifted an eyebrow at the vampire. "You're right. I had something else in mind."

I came through the rift between the mortal world and the Nevernever last. I bore my staff and rod, and wore my leather duster, my shield bracelet and a copper ring upon my left hand matched by another upon my right.

The Nevernever, near my apartment, looked like ... my apartment. Only a bit cleaner and brighter. Deep philosophical statement about the spirituality of my little bas.e.m.e.nt? Maybe. Shapes moved in the shadows, scurrying like rats, or gliding over the floor like snakes-spirit-beings that fed on the crumbs of energy that spilled over from my place in the real world.

Michael bore Amoracchius Amoracchius in his hand, its blade glowing with a pearly luminescence. As soon as he had picked up the blade, his face had regained color, and he had moved as though his bandaged ribs no longer pained him. He wore denim and flannel and his steel-toed work boots. in his hand, its blade glowing with a pearly luminescence. As soon as he had picked up the blade, his face had regained color, and he had moved as though his bandaged ribs no longer pained him. He wore denim and flannel and his steel-toed work boots.

Thomas, dressed in my castoffs and carrying an aluminum baseball bat from my closet, looked about the place, amused, his dark hair still damp and curling wetly over his shoulders.

In a sack made of fishnet, Bob's skull hung from my fist, the orange skull-lights glowing dimly, like candles. "Harry," Bob asked. "Are you sure about this? I mean, I don't really want to get caught in the Nevernever if I can avoid it. A few old misunderstandings, you see."

"You aren't any more worried about it than I am. If my G.o.dmother catches me here, I've had it. Take it easy, Bob," I said. "Just guide us through the shortest path to Bianca's place. Then I tear a hole back over to our side, into her bas.e.m.e.nt, we get everyone and get them out again, and bring them home."

"There is no shortest path, Harry," Bob said. "This is the spirit world. Things are linked together by concepts and ideas and don't necessarily adhere to physical distance like-"

"I know the basics, Bob," I told him. "But the bottom line is that you know your way around here a lot better than I do. Get us there."

Bob sighed. "All right. But I can't guarantee we'll be in and out before sundown. You might not even be able to make a hole through, while the sun's still up. It tends to diffuse magical energies that-"

"Bob. Save the lecture for later. Leave the wizarding to me."

The skull swung around to Michael and Thomas. "Excuse me. Have either of you told Harry what a brainless plan this is?"

Thomas raised his hand. "I did. It didn't do much good."

Bob rolled his eyelights. "It never does. So help me, Dresden, if you die I'm going to be very annoyed. You'll probably roll me under a rock at the last minute, and I'll be stuck there for ten thousand years until someone finds me."

"Don't tempt me. Less talk, more guide."

"Si, memsahib," Bob said, seriously. Thomas snickered. Bob turned his eyelights toward the stairs leading out of the Nevernever version of my apartment. "That way," he said. Bob said, seriously. Thomas snickered. Bob turned his eyelights toward the stairs leading out of the Nevernever version of my apartment. "That way," he said.

We pa.s.sed out of the apartment, and into a sort of vague representation of Chicago, which looked like a stage set-flat building faces with no real substance to them, vague light that could have come from sun or moon or streetlights, plus a haze of grey-brown fog. From there, Bob guided us down a sidewalk, then turned into an alley, and opened a garage door, which led to a stone-carved staircase, winding down into the earth.

We followed his lead, into the darkness. At times, the only light we had was the orange glow of the skull's eyelights. Bob turned his head in the direction required, and we pa.s.sed through a subterranean region that was mostly blackness and low ceilings, eventually rising up a slope that emerged in the center of a ring of standing dolmens atop a long hill. Stars shone overhead in a fierce blaze, and lights danced in the woods at the base of the hill, skittering around like manic fireflies.

I stiffened in my boots. "Bob," I said. "Bob. You blew it, man. This is Faerie."

"Of course it is," Bob said. "It's the biggest place in in the Nevernever. You can't get to anywhere without crossing through Faerie at one place or another." the Nevernever. You can't get to anywhere without crossing through Faerie at one place or another."

"Well hurry up and cross us out," I said. "We can't stay here."

"Believe me, I don't want to hang here, either. Either we get the Disney version of Faerie, with elves and tinkerbell pixies and who knows what sugary cuteness, or we get the wicked witch version, which is considerably more entertaining, but less healthy."

"Even the Summer Court isn't all sweetness and light. Bob, shut up. Which way?"

The skull turned mutely toward what seemed to be the western-most side of the hill, and we descended down it.

"It's like a park," Thomas commented. "I mean, the gra.s.s should be over our knees. Or no, maybe like a good golf course."

"Harry," Michael said, quietly. "I'm getting a bad feeling."

The skin on my neck started to crawl, and I looked back to Michael, nodding. "Bob, which way out?"

Bob nodded ahead, as we rounded a stand of trees. An old, colonial-style covered bridge arched up over a ridiculously deep chasm. "There," Bob said. "That's the border. Where you're wanting isn't too far past that."

In the distance, came the notes of a hunting horn, dark and clear-and the baying of hounds.

"Run for the bridge," I snapped. Thomas sprinted beside me without apparent effort. I glanced at Michael, who had reversed his grip on the sword and held it pommel-first, the blade lying against his forearm as he ran. His face was twisted up in effort and pain, but he kept pace.

"Harry," Bob commented. "If it's all the same, you might want to run a bit faster. There's a hunt coming."

The horn belled again, backed up by the dolmens, and the cries of the pack rang out sharp and clear. Thomas whirled to look, running a few paces backward, before turning again. "I could have sworn they were miles away a moment ago."

"It's the Nevernever," I panted. "Distance, time. It's all f.u.c.ked up here."

"Wow," Bob commented. "I hadn't realized that they grew grew h.e.l.lhounds that big. And look, Harry, it's your G.o.dmother! Hi, Lea!" h.e.l.lhounds that big. And look, Harry, it's your G.o.dmother! Hi, Lea!"

If Bob had a body, he'd have been jumping up and down and waving his fingers at her. "Don't be so enthusiastic, Bob. If she catches me, I get to join the pack."

Bob's eyelights swung toward me and he gulped. "Oh," he said. "There's been a falling out, then. Or a falling further out, at any rate, since you weren't on such great terms to begin with."

"Something like that," I panted.

"Um. Run," Bob said. "Run faster. You really need to run faster, Harry."

My feet flew over the gra.s.s.

Thomas reached the bridge first, his feet thumping out onto it. Michael got there a pace later. With a broken rib and twenty years on me, he still outran me to that d.a.m.n bridge. I've got to work out more.

"Made it!" I shouted, taking a last long step toward the bridge.