The Dresden Files Collection 1-6

by Jim Butcher

  Susan moved to my other side, her anger pouring off of her like heat from a desert highway. “What have you done to him?” she snapped at Lea.

  “Nothing,” Lea replied in a cool voice. “He has done this to himself, the poor little one. One always risks dire consequences should one not keep a bargain with the sidhe.”

  “What?” Susan said.

  Michael grimaced, and said, “Aye. She’s telling the truth. Harry made a bargain last night, when we fought the Nightmare and drove it away from Charity.”

  I struggled to speak, to warn them not to let Lea trick them, but I was too busy trying to sort out where my mouth was, and why my tongue wasn’t working.

  “That doesn’t give her the right to put a spell on him,” Susan snapped.

  Michael rumbled, “I don’t think she has. I can usually feel it, when someone’s done something harmful.”

  “Of course I haven’t,” Lea said. “I have no need to do so. He’s already done it himself.”

  What? I thought. What was she talking about?

  “What?” Susan said. “What are you talking about?”

  Lea’s voice took on a patient, faux-sympathetic tone. “Poor little poppet. All of your efforts to learn and you still know so little. Harry made a bargain with me long ago—and broke it, once then, and once a few nights past. He swore to uphold it again, last night, and broke it thrice. Now he reaps the consequences of his actions. His own powers turn against him, the poor dear, to encourage him to fulfill his word, to keep his promise.”

  “They weren’t doing it a minute ago,” Susan said. “Only when you came up to him.”

  Lea laughed, warmly. “It’s a party, dear poppet. We’re here to mingle, after all. And I have lifted no weapon or spell against him. This is of his own doing.”

  “So back off,” Susan said. “Leave him alone.”

  “Oh, this won’t ever leave hm alone, poppet. It’s a small thing now, but it will grow, in time. And destroy him, the poor, dear boy. I’d hate so much for that to happen.”

  “So stop it!”

  Lea focused her eyes on Susan. “Do you offer to purchase his debt away from me? I don’t think you could afford it, dear poppet . . . though I think surcease could be arranged.”

  Susan shot a quick glance at me, and then Michael. “Surcease? Purchase?”

  Michael watched Lea, grimly. “She’s a faerie—”

  Lea’s voice crackled with irritation. “A sidhe.”

  Michael looked at my godmother and continued, “A faerie, Miss Rodriguez, and they’re prone to making bargains. And to getting the better of mortals when they do.”

  Susan’s mouth hardened. She was silent for a moment, and then said, “How much, witch? How much for you to make this stop hurting Harry?”

  I struggled to say something, but my mouth didn’t work. Things spun faster instead of slowing down. I sagged more, and Michael labored to keep me on my feet.

  “Why, poppet,” Lea purred. “What do you offer?”

  “I don’t have much money,” Susan began.

  “Money. What is money?” Lea shook her head. “No, child. Such things mean nothing to me. But let me see.” She walked in a slow circle around Susan, frowning at her, looking her up and down. “Such pretty eyes, even though they are dark. They will do.”

  “My eyes?” Susan stammered.

  “No?” Lea asked. “Very well. Your Name, perhaps? Your whole Name?”

  “Don’t,” Michael said at once.

  “I know,” Susan answered him. She looked at Lea and said, “I know better than that. If you had my Name, you could do anything you wanted.”

  Lea thrust out her lip. “Her eyes and her Name are too precious to allow her beloved to escape his trap. Very well, then. Let us ask of her a different price.” Her eyes gleamed and she leaned toward Susan. “Your love,” she murmured. “Give me that.”

  Susan arched her brows and peered over her spectacles. “Honey, you want me to love you? You’ve got a lot of surprises coming, if you think it works like that.”

  “I didn’t ask you to love me,” Lea said, her tone offended. “I asked for your love. But well enough, if that is also too steep a price, perhaps memory will do instead.”

  “My memory?”

  “Not all of it,” Lea said. She tilted her head to one side and purred, “Indeed. Only some. Perhaps the worth of one year. Yes, I think that would suffice.”

  Susan looked uncertain. “I don’t know . . .”

  “Then let him suffer. He won’t live the night, with those arrayed against him. Such a loss.” Lea turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Susan said, and clutched at Lea’s arm. “I . . . I’ll make the trade. For Harry’s sake. One year of my memory, and you make whatever is happening stop.”

  “Memory for relief. Done,” Lea purred. She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss upon Susan’s forehead, then shivered, drawing in her breath in a swift inhalation, the tips of her breasts hardening against the silky fabric of her dress. “Oh. Oh, sweet poppet. What a dear thing you are.” Then she turned and slapped me across the face with a sharp sound of impact, and I tumbled down to the ground despite Michael’s best efforts.

  My head abruptly cleared. The narcotic throb of the vampire venom lessened a bit, and I found my thoughts running again, slowly, like a train gathering momentum.

  “Witch,” Michael hissed up at Lea. “If you hurt either of them again—”

  “For shame, Sir Knight,” Lea said, her voice dreamy. “ ’Tis no fault of mine that Harry made the agreement he did, nor fault of mine that the girl loves him and would give anything for him. Nor was it my doing that the Sword fell ownerless to the ground before me and that I picked it up.” She fixed Michael with that dazzling smile. “Should you wish to bargain to have it returned to you, you have only to ask.”

  “Myself, for the Sword,” Michael said. “Done.”

  She let her head fall back and laughed. “Oh, oh my, dear Knight, no. For once the Redeemer’s blade was in your hands again, you would find the shattering of our pact a simple enough matter.” Her eyes glittered again. “And you are, in any case, far too . . . restricted, for my tastes. You are set in your ways. Unbendable.”

  Michael stiffened. “I serve the Lord as I may.”

  Lea made a face. “Faugh. Just so. Holy.” Her smile turned sly again. “But there are others whose lives you hold and can bargain with. You have children, do you not?” She shivered again and said, “Mortal children are so sweet. And can be bent and shaped in so many, many ways. Your eldest daughter, I think, would—”

  Michael didn’t snarl, didn’t roar, didn’t make any sounds at all. He simply seized the front of Lea’s dress and lifted her clear off the ground by it. His voice came out in a vicious growl. “Stay away from my family, faerie. Or I will set such things in motion against you as will destroy you for all time.”

  Lea laughed, delighted. “ ‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,’ is how the phrase runs, is it not?” There was a liquid shimmering in the air, and she abruptly stood upon the ground again, facing Michael, out of his grasp. “Your power weakens with rage, dear man. You will not bargain—but I suppose I had plans for the Sword in any case. Until then, good Knight, adieu.” She gave me one last smile and a mocking laugh. Then she vanished into the shadows and the darkness.

  I gathered myself back to my feet, and mumbled, “That could have gone better.”

  Michael’s eyes glittered with anger beneath his helmet. “Are you all right, Harry?”

  “I’m better,” I said. “Stars and stones, if this is some kind of self-inflicted spell . . . I’ll have to talk to Bob about this one, later.” I rubbed at my eyes and asked, “What about you, Michael? Are you all right?”

  “Well enough,” Michael said. “But we still don’t have a culprit, and it’s getting late. I’ve got a bad feeling that we’re going to run into trouble if we don’t get out of this place soon.”

  “I’ve got a feeling you’re right,
” I said. “Susan? Are you okay? You ready to get out of here?”

  Susan brushed her hair idly back from her face with one hand, and turned to stare at me, frowning slightly.

  “What?” I asked. “Look, you didn’t have to do what you did, but we can work on getting it taken care of. Let’s just get out of here. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. Then her frown deepened and she peered at me. “This is going to sound odd, but—do I know you?”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  I stared at Susan in mute disbelief.

  She looked apologetic. “Oh, I’m sorry. I mean. I didn’t mean to upset you, Mister . . .”

  “Dresden,” I supplied in a whisper.

  “Mister Dresden, then.” She frowned down at herself, and smoothed a hand uncomfortably over the skirt, then looked around her. “Dresden. Aren’t you the guy who just opened a business as a wizard?”

  Anger made me clench my teeth. “Son of a—”

  “Harry,” Michael said. “I think we need to leave, rather than stand about cursing.”

  My knuckles whitened as I tightened my fingers on my cane. No time for anger. Not now. Michael was right. We had to move, and quickly. “Agreed,” I said. “Susan, did you drive here?”

  “Hey,” she said, squaring off against me. “I don’t know you, okay? My name is Miss Rodriguez.”

  “Look, Su—Miss Rodriguez. My faerie godmother just stole a year’s worth of your memory.”

  “Actually,” Michael put in, “you traded it away to her to keep some kind of spell from leaving Harry helpless.”

  I shot him a glare and he subsided. “And now you don’t remember me, or I guess, Michael.”

  “Or this faerie godmother, either,” Susan said, her face and stance still wary.

  I shot Lea a look. She glanced over at me and her lips curved up into a smirk, before she turned back to her conversation with Thomas. “Oh, damn. She’s such a bitch.”

  Susan rolled her eyes a little. “Look, guys. It’s been nice chatting with you, but this has got to be the lamest excuse for a pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

  I reached a hand toward her again. Her own flashed down into the picnic basket and produced a knife, a G.I.-issue weapon from the last century, its edge gleaming. “I told you,” she said calmly, “I don’t know you. Don’t touch me.”

  I drew my hand back. “Look. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

  Susan’s breathing was a little fast, but other than that she concealed her tension almost completely. “I’m perfectly fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “At least get out of here. You’re not safe here. You came in on an invitation you had made up. Do you remember that?”

  She screwed up her face into a frown. “How did you know that?” she asked.

  “You told me so about five minutes ago,” I said, and sighed.

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You’ve had a bunch of your memories taken.”

  “I remember coming here,” Susan said. “I remember having the counterfeit invitation made.”

  “I know,” I said. “You got it off of my living room table. Do you remember that?”

  She frowned. “I got it . . .” Her expression flickered, and she swallowed, glancing around. “I don’t remember where I got it.”

  “There,” I said. “Do you see? Do you remember driving out to bail me out of jail a couple of nights ago?”

  She’d lowered the knife by now. “I . . . I remember that I went down to the jail. And paid the bail money, but . . . I can’t think . . .”

  “Okay, okay,” I said. My head hurt, and I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “It looks like she took all of your memories that had me directly in them. Or her. What about Michael, do you remember him?”

  She looked at Michael and shook her head.

  I nodded. “Okay. Then I need to ask you to trust me, Miss Rodriguez. You’ve been affected by magic and I don’t know how we can get it fixed yet. But you’re in danger here and I think you should leave.”

  “Not with you,” she said at once. “I have no idea who you are. Other than some kind of psychic consultant for Special Investigations.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “Not with me. But at least let us walk you out of here, so that we can make sure you get out okay. You can’t swing a cat without hitting a vampire in here. So let us get you out to your car and then you can go wherever you like.”

  “I didn’t get my interview,” she said. “But . . . I feel so strange.” She shook her head, and replaced her knife in her picnic basket. I heard the click of a tape recorder being switched off. “Okay,” she said. “I guess we can go.”

  I nodded, relieved. “Wonderful. Michael, shall we?”

  He chewed on his lip. “Maybe I should stay, Harry. If your godmother’s here, the Sword might be here too. I might get the chance to take it back.”

  “Yeah. And you might get the chance to get taken from behind without someone here to cover for you. There’s too much messed up stuff here, man. Even for me. Let’s go.”

  Michael fell in behind me, to my right. Susan walked beside him, on my left, keeping us both in careful view, and one hand still inside her picnic basket. I briefly wondered what kind of goodies she’d been bringing in case the big, bad wolf tried to head her off from grandma’s house.

  We reached the foot of the stairs that led back up into the house. Something prickled the hairs at the back of my neck, and I stopped.

  “Harry?” Michael asked. “What is it?”

  “There’s someone . . .” I said, and closed my eyes. I brought up my Sight, just for a moment, and felt the pressure just a little above the spot between my eyebrows. I looked up again. The Sight cut through the enchantment in front of me like sunlight through a wispy cloud. Behind me, Michael and Susan both took in sharp breaths of surprise.

  The Hamlet lookalike stood three stairs up, half smiling. I realized only then that the figure was a woman rather than a man, the slender shape of her slim hips and breasts obscured by the sable doublet she wore, giving her an odd, androgynous appearance. Her skin was pallid—not pale, not creamy. Pallid. Translucent. Almost greyish. Her lips were tinged very faintly blue, as though she’d been recently chilled. Or dead. I shivered, and lowered the Sight before it showed me something that I didn’t want to keep with me.

  It didn’t change her appearance one bit. She wore a cap, which hid her hair completely, one of those puffy ones that fell over to one side, and stood with one hip cocked out, a rapier hanging from her belt. She held a skull in her other hand—it was a real one. And the bloodstains on it couldn’t have been more than a few hours old.

  “Well done, wizard,” she said. Her voice sounded raspy, a quiet, hissing whisper, the kind that comes from throats and mouths which are perfectly dry. “Very few can see me when I do not wish to be seen.”

  “Thank you. And excuse me,” I said. “We were just leaving.”

  Bluish lips curved into a chill little smile. Other than that, she didn’t move. Not an inch. “Oh, but this is the hour for all to mingle and meet. I have a right to introduce myself to you and to hear your names and exhange pleasantries in return.” Her eyes fastened calmly on my face, evidently not fearing to meet my gaze. I figured that whatever she was, she probably had an advantage on me in the devastating gaze department. So I kept my own eyes firmly planted on the tip of her nose, and tried very hard not to notice that her eyes had no color at all, just a kind of flaccid blue-grey tinge to them, a filmy coating like cataracts.

  “And what if I don’t have time for the pleasantries?” I said.

  “Oh,” she whispered. “Then I might be insulted. I might even be tempted to call for satisfaction.”

  “A duel?” I asked, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

  Her eyes drifted to my right. “Of course, if you would rather a champion fought in your place, I would gladly accept.”

  I glanced back at Michael, w
ho had his eyes narrowed, focused on the woman’s doublet or upon her belt, perhaps. “You know this lady?”

  “She’s no lady,” Michael said, his voice quiet. He had a hand on his knife. “Harry Dresden, Wizard of the White Council, this is Mavra, of the Black Court of Vampires.”

  “A real vampire,” Susan said. I heard the click of her tape recorder coming on again.

  “A pleasure,” Mavra whispered. “To meet you, at last, wizard. We should talk. I suspect we have much in common.”

  “I’m failing to see anything we might possibly have in common, ma’am. Do you two know each other?”

  “Yes,” Michael said.

  Mavra’s whisper became chill. “The good Knight here murdered my children and grandchildren, some small time ago.”

  “Twenty years ago,” Michael said. “Three dozen people killed in the space of a month. Yes, I put a stop to it.”

  Mavra’s lips curved a little more, and showed yellowed teeth. “Yes. Just a little time ago. I haven’t forgotten, Knight.”

  “Well,” I said. “It’s been nice chatting, Mavra, but we’re on our way out.”

  “No you’re not,” Mavra said, calmly. But for her lips and her eyes, she still hadn’t moved. It was an eerie stillness, not real. Real things move, stir, breathe. Mavra didn’t.

  “Yes, we are.”

  “No. Two of you are on your way out.” Her smile turned chilly. “I know that the invitations said only one person could be brought with you. Therefore, one of your companions is not under the protection of the old laws, wizard. If the Knight is unprotected, then he and I will have words. A pity you do not have Amoracchius with you, Sir Knight. It would have made things interesting, at least.”

  I got a sinking feeling in my gut. “And if it isn’t Michael?”

  “Then you keep offensive company, wizard, and I am displeased with you. I will demonstrate my displeasure decisively.” Her gaze swept to Susan. “By all means. Choose which two are leaving. Then I will have a brief conversation with the third.”