White Night Part 43

He had to shout. The nearest of the ghouls were about ten feet away, doing battle against, for lack of a more cliched term, a thin white line of Raith, including my brother with his two blades spinning.

"Go!" Marcone said, and the soldier went through. Marcone, a fresh shotgun in hand, stepped up next to me. "Dresden?"

"What are you hanging around for?"

"If you recall," he said, "I agreed to extract you alive. I'm not leaving until I have done so." He paused and added, "Provided, of course, that it happens in the next two minutes."

From where I was standing, I could see three two-brick bundles of C4, detonators thrust into their soft surfaces, each fitted with old-fashioned precision timepieces. They were simple charges on the floor. The other three must have been shaped charges affixed to the cavern walls. I had no idea how much destruction was going to be wrought by them, but I didn't suppose it would be much fun to be there when they went boom. Alas, that the poor ghouls would most likely be staying for the fireworks.

"Thomas!" I called. "Time to go!"

"Go!" Thomas shouted, and the other vampires with him broke from their line and fled for the gate, except for one, a tall female Raith who...

I blinked. Holy c.r.a.p. It was Lara.

The other vampires fled past me, through the gate, and Thomas and his sister stood alone against the horde of eight-foot ghouls. Stood against it, and stopped it cold.

Their skin gleamed colder and whiter than glacial ice, their eyes blazed silvery bright, and they moved with blinding speed and utterly inhuman grace. His saber fluttered and slashed, drawing a constant stream of blood, punctuated by devastating blows of his kukri.

(Ah, right, that was the name of that inward-bent knife. I knew I'd remember it eventually.) Lara moved with him, trailing her damp, midnight hair and shredded silk kimono. She covered Thomas's back like a cloak hung from his shoulders. She was no weaker than her younger brother, and perhaps even faster, and the wavy-bladed short sword in her hand had a penchant for leaving spills of ghoulish entrails in its wake. Together, the pair of them slipped aside from repeated rushes and dealt out deadly violence to one foe after another.

Ultimately, I think, their fight was futile-and all the more valiant and astonishing for being so doomed. No matter how lethal Thomas and Lara proved to be, or how many ghouls went screaming to the floor, their black blood continued to slither back into their fallen bodies, and the ghouls that had been taken down continued to gather themselves together to rise and fight again. Most of those who reentered the fight with renewed vigor and increased fury remained hideously maimed in some way. Some trailed their entrails like slimy grey ropes. Others were missing sections of their skulls. At least two entered the fray armless, simply biting with their wide jaws of vicious teeth. Beside the beauty of the brother and sister vampires, the ghouls' deformed bodies and hideous injuries were all the more monstrous, all the more vile.

"My G.o.d," Marcone said, his voice hushed. "It is the most beautiful nightmare I have ever seen."

He was right. It was hypnotic. "Time?" I asked him, my voice rough.

He consulted his own stopwatch. "One minute, forty-eight seconds."

"Thomas!" I bellowed. "Lara! Now!"

With that, the pair of them bounded apart, apparently the last thing the ghouls had been expecting, and dashed for the gate.

I turned to go-and that was when I felt it.

There was a dull pulse, a throb of some power that seemed at once alien and familiar, a sickening, whirling sensation and then a sudden stab of energy.

It wasn't a magical attack. An attack implies an act of force that might be predicted, countered, or at least mitigated in some way. This was something far more existential. It simply a.s.serted itself, and by its very existence, it dictated a new reality.

A spike of thought slammed into my being like a physical blow-it wasn't any one single thought. It was, instead, a melange of them, a c.o.c.ktail of emotions so heavy, so dense, that it drove me instantly to my knees. Despair flooded through me. I was so tired. I had struggled and fought to achieve nothing but raw chaos, rendering the whole of my effort useless. My only true friends had been badly injured, or had run, leaving me in this h.e.l.lish cavern. Those who currently stood beside me were monsters, of one stripe or another-even my brother, who had returned to his monstrous ways in feeding on other human beings.

Terror followed hard on its heels. I had been paralyzed, while surrounded by monsters of resilience beyond description. In mere seconds, they would fall on me. I had fallen with my face toward the gate, and though physical movement was beyond me, I could see that everyone, everyone had also pitched over onto the ground, vulnerable to the attack while the gate remained open. Vampires, thralls, and mortal warriors alike, they had all fallen.

Guilt came next. Murphy. Carlos. I had gotten them both killed.

Useless. It had all been useless.

Marcone's stopwatch lay on the ground near his limply outstretched hand. He'd fallen next to me. The second hand was sweeping rapidly downward, and the watches on the charges of C4, the nearest of them about ten feet away, did the same.

Then I understood it. This was Vittorio Malvora's attack. This hideous, paralyzing brew of everything darkest in the moral soul was what he had poured out, as the Raith administered desire, the Malvorans gave fear, and the Skavis despair. Vitto had gone beyond them all. He had taken all the worst of the human soul and forged it into a poisonous, deadly weapon.

And I hadn't been able to do a d.a.m.ned thing to stop him.

I lay staring at Marcone's stopwatch, and wondered which would kill us all first: the ghouls or the explosion.

CHAPTER Forty-One

Between 1:34 and 1:33, the backward-running hand of the stopwatch suddenly halted. Or it seemed that way. But several moments later, the hand twitched down to the next second, and the tick sounded more like a hollow thump. I just lay there staring at it, and wondering if this was how my mind was reacting to my own imminent death.

And then I thought that I'd had enough will to wonder about something, rather than just being crushed and suffocated by despair and terror. Maybe that that was how I was reacting to my imminent death: with denial and escapist self-induced hallucinations. was how I was reacting to my imminent death: with denial and escapist self-induced hallucinations.

"Not precisely, my host," came Lasciel's voice.

I blinked, which was a lot more voluntary movement than I'd had a second before. I tried to look around.

"Don't try," Lasciel said, her voice a little alarmed. "You could harm yourself."

What the h.e.l.l. Had she somehow slowed down time?

"Time does not exist," she said, her tone firm. "Not the way you consider it, at any rate. I have temporarily accelerated the processes of your mind."

The stopwatch thud-thumped thud-thumped again: 1:32. again: 1:32.

Accelerating my brain. That made more sense. After all, we all use only about ten percent of our brain's capacity, anyway. There was no reason it couldn't handle a lot more activity. Well, except that...

"Yes," she said. "It is dangerous, and I cannot maintain this level of activity for very long before it begins inflicting permanent damage."

I presumed that Lasciel was about to make me an offer I couldn't refuse.

Her voice became sharp, angry. "Don't be a fool, my host. If you perish, I perish. I simply seek to give you an option that might enable us to survive."

Right. And by some odd coincidence, might that option just happen to involve the coin in my bas.e.m.e.nt?

"Why do you continue to be so stubborn stubborn about this, my host?" Lasciel demanded, her voice tight with frustration. "Taking up the coin would not enslave you. It would not impede your ability to choose for yourself." about this, my host?" Lasciel demanded, her voice tight with frustration. "Taking up the coin would not enslave you. It would not impede your ability to choose for yourself."

Not at first, no. But it would finish up with me enslaved to the true Lasciel, and she knew it.

"Not necessarily," she said. There was a tone of pleading to her voice. "Accommodations can be reached. Compromises made."

Sure, if I'm willing to go along with her every plan, I'm sure she'd be quite agreeable.

"But you would be alive," alive," Lasciel cried. Lasciel cried.

It didn't matter, given that the coin was buried in the stone under my lab anyway.

"Not an obstacle, my host. I can teach you how to call it to you within a few seconds."

Thud-thump: 1:31.

A thud from behind me. Footsteps. The ghouls. They were coming. I could see part of Marcone's face, twisted in agony under Vittorio Malvora's psychic a.s.sault.

"Please," Lasciel said. "Please, let me help you. I don't want to die."

I didn't want to die, either.

I closed my eyes for another second.

Thud-thump: 1:30.

It took an effort of will, and what seemed like several moments of effort, but I managed to whisper aloud, "No."

"But you will die," die," Lasciel said, her voice anguished. Lasciel said, her voice anguished.

It was going to happen sooner or later. But it didn't have to be tonight.

"Then quickly! First, you must picture the coin in your mind. I can help you-"

Not like that. She could help me.

Silence.

Thud-thump: 1:29.

"I can't," she whispered.

I thought she could.

"I can't," can't," she replied, her voice anguished. "She would never forgive that. Never accept me back into her... just take the coin. Harry, just take the coin. P-please." she replied, her voice anguished. "She would never forgive that. Never accept me back into her... just take the coin. Harry, just take the coin. P-please."

I gritted my teeth.

Thud-thump: 1:28.

Again, I said, "No."

"I can't do this for you!"

Untrue. She'd already partially shielded me from the effects of Malvora's attack. The situation was simple, for her: She could do more of what she'd already done. Or she could stand by and do nothing. It was her choice.

Lasciel appeared in front of me for the first time, on her hands and knees. She looked... odd. Too thin, her eyes too sunken. She had always looked strong, healthy, and confident. Now, her hair was a wreck, her face twisted with pain, and...

... and she was crying. She looked blotchy, and she needed a tissue. Her hands touched either side of my face.

"It could hurt you. It could inflict brain damage. Do you understand understand what that could mean, Harry?" what that could mean, Harry?"

Never can tell. It might be nice to have brain damage. I already liked Jell-O. And maybe they'd have cable TV at whatever home they wound up sticking me in. Either way, it would be better than having my brains scooped out by ghouls.

Lasciel stared at me for a moment and then let out a choking little laugh. "It's your brother. Your friends. That's why."

If frying my brain got Murphy, Ramirez, Thomas, and Justine out of the mess I'd gotten them into, it would be worth it.

She stared at me for another long moment.

Thud-thump: 1:27.

Then a look of almost childish resentment came over her face, and she looked over one shoulder before turning back to me. "I..." She shook her head and said, very softly, wonderingly, "She... "She... doesn't deserve you." doesn't deserve you."

Deserved or not, the fallen angel wasn't getting me. Not ever.

Lasciel squared her shoulders and straightened. "You're right," she said. "It is is my choice. Listen to me." She leaned closer, her eyes intent. "Vittorio has been given power. That is how he can do this. He is possessed." my choice. Listen to me." She leaned closer, her eyes intent. "Vittorio has been given power. That is how he can do this. He is possessed."

I wished I could have raised my eyebrows. Possessed by what?

"An Outsider," Lasciel said. "I have felt such a presence before. This attack is drawn directly from the mind of the Outsider."

Gosh, that was interesting. Not relevant, but interesting.

"It is is relevant," Lasciel said, "because of the circ.u.mstances of your birth-because of relevant," Lasciel said, "because of the circ.u.mstances of your birth-because of why why you were born, Harry. Your mother found the strength to escape Lord Raith for a you were born, Harry. Your mother found the strength to escape Lord Raith for a reason." reason."

What the h.e.l.l was she talking about?

Thud-thump: 1:26.

"There was a complex confluence of events, of energies, of circ.u.mstances that would have given a child born under them the potential to wield power over Outsiders."

Which didn't make any sense. Outsiders were all but immune to magic. It took power garnered only from centuries of study and practice, wielded by the most powerful wizards on the planet, even to slow them down.

"Strange, then, don't you think, that you defeated one when you were sixteen years old?"

What? Since when? The only serious victory I'd had over a spiritual ent.i.ty when I was that young had been when my old master had sent an a.s.sa.s.sin demon after me. It hadn't turned out the way DuMorne had been hoping.

Lasciel leaned closer. "He Who Walks Behind is is an Outsider, Harry. A terrible creature, the most potent of the Walkers, a powerful knight among their ruling ent.i.ties. But when he came for you, you overthrew him." an Outsider, Harry. A terrible creature, the most potent of the Walkers, a powerful knight among their ruling ent.i.ties. But when he came for you, you overthrew him."

True. I had. It was all still a little blurry, but I remembered the end of the fight well enough. Lots and lots of kaboom, and then no more demon. And there was a burning building.

Thud-thump: 1:25.

"Listen," Lasciel said, giving my head a little shake. "You have the potential to hold great power over them. You may be able to escape the power now held over you. If you are sure it is what you want, I can give you an opportunity to defy Malvora's sending. But you'll have to hurry. I don't know how long it will take to throw it off, and they are almost upon you."

After which, we were going to have a long talk about my mother and these Outsiders and their relation to the Black Court and exactly what the h.e.l.l was going on.