The Dresden Files 4: Summer Knight

by Jim Butcher

  "God," said Fix, panting. "Oh God, oh God."

  "Look," said the woman, "if he’s here, we shouldn’t be. Not until we know what it means." Furniture, maybe a wooden chair, creaked. "Come on."

  I slipped back down the hall and around the corner into the lobby as I heard footsteps leaving the small side room. They didn’t come toward me. Instead, they moved further down the hall, away from the lobby. They had to be heading for a back door. I chewed on my lip and weighed my options. Three very apprehensive folks, maybe human, maybe not, heading down a darkened hall toward a back door that doubtless led into an equally dark alley. It sounded like a recipe for more trouble.

  But I didn’t think I had any options. I counted to five and then followed the footsteps.

  I saw only a retreating shadow at the far end of the hall. I looked into the room the three had been in as I went past it and found a small lounge with several upholstered chairs. I hesitated for a moment at the corner and heard the soft click of a metal door opening, then closing again. As I rounded the corner, I saw a door with a faded sticker spelling EXIT.

  I went to the door and opened it as quietly as I could, then poked my head out into the alley it opened into and rubbernecked around.

  They were standing not five feet away—three of the young people from Reuel’s photo. The small, skinny man with the blond-white hair and dark tan was facing me. He was dressed in what looked like a secondhand brown suit and a yellow polyester clip-on tie. His eyes widened almost comically, and his mouth dropped open in shock. He squeaked, and it was enough to let me identify him as Fix.

  Beside him was the other young man, Ace. He was the one with the dark curly hair and goatee, wearing a grey sport coat with a white shirt and dark slacks. He still had his sunglasses on when he turned to look at me, and he clawed at the pocket of his jacket upon seeing me.

  The third was the brawny, homely young woman with the muddy green hair and heavy brow. She had on a pair of jeans tight enough to show the muscles in her thighs and a khaki blouse. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t even look. She just turned, her arm sweeping out as she did, and fetched me a blow to my cheek with the back of one shovel-size hand. I managed to move with it a bit at the last second, but even so the impact threw me out of the doorway and into the alley. Stars and cartoon birdies danced in my vision, and I rolled, trying to get clear before she could hit me again.

  Ace pulled a small-caliber semiautomatic from his jacket pocket, but the woman growled at him, "Don’t be stupid! They’d kill us all."

  "Hebbity bedda," I said, by way of attempting a greeting. My mouth had gone rather numb, and my tongue felt like a lead weight. "Jussa hangonna sayke hee."

  Fix jumped up and down, pointing at me, his voice shrill. "He’s casting on us!"

  The woman kicked me in the ribs hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Then she picked me up by the back of my pants, grunting with the effort, and threw me into the air. I came down ten feet away in an open Dumpster and crunched down amid cardboard boxes and stinking refuse.

  "Go," the woman barked. "Go, go, go!"

  I lay in the garbage for a minute, trying to catch my breath. The sound of three sets of running feet receded down the alley.

  I had just sat up when a head popped into view over me, vague in the shadows. I flinched and threw up my left arm, willing power through the shield bracelet. I accidentally made the shield too big, and sparks kicked up where the shield intersected the metal of the Dumpster, but by their light I saw whose head it was.

  "Harry?" Billy the Werewolf asked. "What are you doing in there?"

  I let the shield drop and extended a hand to him. "Looking for suspects."

  He frowned and hauled me out of the trash. I wobbled for a second or two, until my head stopped spinning quite so quickly. Billy steadied me with one hand. "You find any?"

  "I’d say so, yeah."

  Billy nodded and peered up at me. "Did you decide that before or after they hit you in the face and threw you in the garbage?"

  I brushed coffee grounds off my jeans. "Do I tell you how to do your job?"

  "Actually, yeah. All the time."

  "Okay, okay," I muttered. "Did you bring the pizza?"

  "Yeah," Billy said. "Got it back in the car. Why?"

  I brushed at my shaggy hair. What I hoped were more coffee grounds fell out. I started walking down the alley toward the front of the building. "Because I need to make a few bribes," I said, looking back over my shoulder at Billy. "Do you believe in faeries?"

  Chapter Thirteen

  Billy held the pizza while I drew the chalk circle on the ground, back in the alley. "Harry," he said, "how is this supposed to work exactly?"

  "Hang on," I said. I didn’t quite complete the circle, but took the pizza box from him. I opened it, took out one piece, and put it down in the middle of the circle on a napkin. Then I dabbed a bit of blood from the corner of my mouth where the girl had slugged me onto the bottom of the piece of pizza, stepped back, and completed the circle without willing it closed.

  "Pretty simple," I said. "I’ll call the faerie in close to the pizza there. He’ll smell it, jump on it, eat it. When he does, he’ll get the bit of my blood, and it will be enough energy to close the circle around him."

  "Uh-huh," Billy said, his expression skeptical. He took out a second piece and started to take a bite. "And then you beat the information out of him?"

  I took the piece out of his hand, put it back in the box, and closed it. "And then I bribe the information out of him. Save the pizza."

  Billy scowled at me, but he left the pizza alone. "So what do I do?"

  "Sit tight and make sure no one else tries to pop me while I’m talking to Toot-toot."

  "Toot-toot?" Billy asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  "Hell’s bells, Billy, I didn’t pick the name. Just be quiet. If he thinks there are mortals around he’ll get nervous and leave before I can snare him."

  "If you say so," Billy said. "I was just hoping to do more good than to deliver pizza."

  I raked my fingers through my hair. "I don’t know what you could do yet."

  "I could track those three in the picture you showed me."

  I shook my head. "Odds are they just got into a car and left."

  "Yeah," he said, some forced patience in his voice. "But if I get their scent now, it might help me find them later on."

  "Oh," I said, feeling a bit stupid. Okay, so I hadn’t considered the whole shapeshifting angle. "Fine, if you want to. Just be careful, all right? I don’t know what all might be prowling around."

  "Okay, Mom," Billy said. He set the pizza box on top of a closed trash can, fell back down the alley, and vanished.

  I waited until Billy had gone to find a nice patch of shadows to step into. Then I closed my eyes for a moment, drawing up my concentration, and began to whisper the faerie’s Name.

  Every intelligent being has a Name, a specific series of spoken sounds linked to its very being. If a practitioner knows the Name of something, knows it in every nuance and detail of pronunciation, then he can use that Name to open a magical conduit to that being. That’s how demons get summoned to the mortal world. Call something’s Name and you make contact with it—and if you’re a wizard, that means that you can then exercise power over it, no matter where in the world it is.

  Controlling an inhuman being via its Name is a shady area of magic, only one step removed from taking over the will of another mortal. According to the White Council’s Seven Laws of Magic, that’s a capital crime—and they make zero-tolerance policies look positively lenient.

  Given how much the Council loves me, I’m a tad paranoid about breaking any of the Laws of Magic, so while I was calling the faerie’s Name, I put only the tiniest trickle of compulsion into it, just enough to attract his unconscious attention, to make him curious about what might be down this particular alley. I whispered the faerie’s Name and stood in the shadows, waiting.

  Maybe ten minutes later, something ma
de from a hummingbird and a falling star spiraled down from overhead, a flickering ball of blue-white light. It alighted on the ground, the light dimming to a luminous sheen over the form of a tiny faerie, Toot-toot.

  Toot stood about six inches tall. He had a mane of dandelion-fluff hair the color of lilacs and a pair of translucent dragonfly wings rising from his shoulders. Otherwise he looked almost human, his beauty a distant echo of the lords of Faerie, the Sidhe. On his head he wore what looked like a plastic Coke bottle cap. It was tied into place with a piece of string that ran under his chin, and his lilac hair squeezed out from beneath it all the way around, all but hiding his eyes. In one hand he carried a spear fashioned from a battered old yellow Number 2 pencil, some twine, and what must have been a straight pin, and he wore a little blue plastic cocktail sword through another piece of twine on his belt.

  Toot landed in a cautious crouch near the pizza, as though streaking in like an errant shot from a Roman candle might not have alerted anyone watching to his presence. He tiptoed in a big circle around the piece of pizza, and made a show of looking all around, one hand lifted to shade his eyes. Then he raised his arm into the air, balled up a tiny fist, and pumped it up and down a few times.

  Immediately, half a dozen similar streaks of glowing color darted down out of the air, each one a different color, each one containing a tiny faerie at its center. They alighted more or less together, and every one of them was armed with a weapon that might have been cobbled together from the contents of a child’s school box.

  "Caption!" Toot-toot piped in a shrill, voice. "Report!"

  A green-lit faerie beside Toot snapped to attention and slapped herself on the forehead with one hand, then turned sharply to her left and barked, "Loo Tender, report!"

  A purple-hued faerie came to attention as well and smacked himself in the head with one hand, then turned to the next faerie beside him and snapped, "Star Jump, report!"

  And so it went down the line, through the "Corpse Oral," the "First Class Privy," and finally to the "Second Class Privy," who marched up to Toot-toot and said, "Everyone’s here, Generous, and we’re hungry!"

  "All right," Toot-toot barked. "Everyone fall apart for messy!"

  And with that, the faeries let out shrill hoots of glee, tossed aside their weapons and armaments, and threw themselves upon the piece of pizza.

  As soon as the little faeries started eating, the magic circle snapped closed around them with a hardly audible pop as it sprang into place. The effect was immediate. The faeries let out half a dozen piercing shrieks of alarm and buzzed into the air, smacking into the invisible wall of the circle here and there, sending out puffs of glowing dust motes when they did. They fell into a panicked spiral, around the inside of the circle, until Toot-toot landed on the ground, looked up at the other faeries, and started shouting, "Ten Huts! Ten Huts!"

  The other faeries abruptly came to a complete stop in the air, standing rigidly straight. Evidently, they couldn’t do that and keep their little wings going at the same time, because they promptly fell to the alley floor, landing with a half-dozen separate "ouches" and as many puffs of glowing faerie dust.

  Toot-toot recovered his pencil spear and stood at the very edge of the closed circle, peering out at the alley. "Harry Dresden? Is that you?"

  I stepped out from my hiding spot and nodded. "It’s me. How you doing, Toot?"

  I expected a torrent of outraged but empty threats. That was Toot-toot’s usual procedure. Instead, he let out a hiss and crouched down in the circle, spear at the ready. The other tiny faeries took up their own weapons and rushed to Toot-toot’s side. "You can’t make us," Toot said. "We haven’t been Called and until we are, we belong to ourselves."

  I blinked down at them. "Called? Toot, what are you talking about?"

  "We’re not stupid, Emissary," Toot-toot said. "I know what you are. I can smell the Cold Queen all over you."

  I wondered if they made a deodorant for that. I lifted my hand in a placating gesture. "Toot, I’m working for Mab right now, but it’s just another client, okay? I’m not here to take you anywhere or make you do anything."

  Toot planted the eraser end of his spear on the ground, scowling suspiciously up at me. "Really?" he demanded.

  "Really," I said.

  "Promise?"

  "Promise."

  "Super duper double dog promise spit swear?"

  I nodded. "Super duper double dog promise spit swear," I repeated gravely.

  "Spit!" Toot demanded.

  I spat on the ground.

  "Oh. Well, then," Toot said. He dropped his spear and darted over to the pizza, much to the consternation of the other little faeries, who let out piping shrills of protest and then followed him. The piece of pizza didn’t last long. It was like watching one of those nature shows, where the piranha devour some luckless thing that falls in the water—except here there were glittering wings and motes and puffs of glowing, colorful dust everywhere.

  I watched, frowning, until Toot-toot flopped onto his back, his tummy slightly distended. He let out a contented sigh, and the other faeries followed suit.

  "So, Harry," Toot said, "who do you think is going to win the war?"

  "The White Council," I said. "The Red Court’s got no depth on the bench and nothing in the bullpen."

  Toot snorted and flipped his plastic bottle-cap helm off his head. His hair waved around in the breeze. "Just because they don’t have any cows doesn’t mean that they won’t win. But I don’t mean that war."

  I frowned. "You mean between the Courts."

  Toot nodded. "Yeah."

  "Okay. What’s with the armor and weapons, Toot?"

  The faerie beamed. "Neat, huh?"

  "Highly scary," I said gravely. "But why do you have them?"

  Toot folded his arms and said, with all the gravity that six inches of fluff and pixie dust can muster, "Trouble’s coming."

  "Uh-huh. I hear the Courts are upset."

  "More than just upset, Harry Dresden. The drawing of the wyldfae is beginning. I saw some dryads walking with a Sidhe Knight from Summer, and a canal nereid climbed up out of the water a couple of blocks over and went into a Winter building."

  "Drawing of the wyldfae. Like you guys?"

  Toot nodded and propped his feet up on the legs of the Star Jump, who let out a surprisingly basso belch. "Not everyone plays with the Courts. We mostly just do our jobs and don’t pay much attention. But when there’s a war on, the wyldfae get Called to one side or another."

  "Who picks which way you go?"

  Toot shrugged. "Mostly the nice wyldfae go to the Warm Queen and the mean ones go to Cold. I think it’s got something to do with what you’ve been doing."

  "Uh-huh. So have you been doing Warm or Cold things?"

  Toot let out a sparkling laugh. "How should I remember all those things?" He patted his stomach and then rose to his feet again, eyes calculating. "Is that a pizza box you have there, Harry?"

  I held the box out and opened it, showing the rest of the pizza. There was a collective "Ooooo" from the faeries, and they all pressed to the very edge of the circle, until it flattened their little noses, staring at the pizza in fascinated lust.

  "You’ve sure given us a lot of pizza the past couple of years, Harry," Toot said, with a swallow. He didn’t look away from the box in my hands.

  "Hey, you gave me a hand when I needed it," I said. "It’s only fair, right?"

  "Only fair?" Toot spat, outraged. "It’s … it’s … it’s pizza, Harry."

  "I’m wanting some more work done," I said. "I need information."

  "And you’re paying in pizza?" Toot asked, his tone hopeful.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Wah-hoo!" Toot shouted and buzzed into the air in an excited spiral. The other faeries followed him with similar carols of happiness, and the blur of colors was dizzying.

  "Give us the pizza!" Toot shouted.

  "Pizza, pizza, pizza!" the other faeries shrilled.

  "Fir
st," I said, "I want some questions answered."

  "Right, right, right!" Toot screamed. "Ask already!"

  "I need to talk to the Winter Lady," I said. "Where can I find her, Toot?"

  Toot tore at his lavender hair. "Is that all you need to know? Down in the city! Down where the shops are underground, and the sidewalks."

  I frowned. "In the commuter tunnels?"

  "Yes, yes, yes. Back in the part the mortals can’t see, you can find your way into Undertown. The Cold Lady came to Undertown. Her court is in Undertown."

  "What?" I sputtered. "Since when?"

  Toot whirled around in impatient loops in the air. "Since the last autumn!"

  I scratched at my hair. It made sense, I supposed. Last autumn, a vengeful vampire and her allies had stirred up all sorts of supernatural mischief, creating turbulence in the border between the real world and the Nevernever, the world of spirit. Shortly after, the war between the wizards and the vampires had begun.

  Those events had probably attracted the attention of all sorts of things.

  I shook my head. "And what about the Summer Lady? Is she in town?"

  Toot put his fists on his hips. "Well, obviously, Harry. If Winter came here, Summer had to come too, didn’t it?"

  "Obviously," I said, feeling a little slow on the uptake. Man, was I off my game. "Where can I find her?"

  "She’s on top of one of those big buildings."

  I sighed. "Toot, this is Chicago. There are a lot of big buildings."

  Toot blinked at me, then frowned for a minute before brightening. "It’s the one with the pizza shop right by it."

  My head hurt some more. "Tell you what. How about you guide me to it?"

  Toot thrust out his little chin and scowled. "And miss pizza? No way."

  I gritted my teeth. "Then get me someone else to guide me. You’ve got to know someone."

  Toot scrunched up his face. He tugged at one earlobe, but it evidently didn’t help him remember, because he had to rub one foot against the opposite calf and spin around in vacant circles for ten whole seconds before he whirled back to face me, the nimbus of light around him brightening. "Aha!" he sang. "Yes! I can give you a guide!" He jabbed a finger at me. "But only if that’s all the questions, Harry. Pizza, pizza, pizza!"