Summer Knight: Book Four of the Dresden Files

by Jim Butcher

“I already have. What remains is for you to make up yours.”

  I took a wary breath before asking, “Meaning?”

  “Of the two people who entered this garden, Mister Dresden, Elaine is not the most grievously wounded. You are.”

  “Like hell. I’ve just got some cuts and bruises.”

  She rose and walked toward me. “Those aren’t the wounds I mean.” She reached out and laid a slender hand over my heart. Her skin was warm, even through my shirt, and the simple fact of her touch brought me a small but noticeable sense of comfort. Susan had been gone for months, and with the exception of the occasional assault, no one had actually touched me.

  She looked up at me and nodded. “You see. You’ve been badly wounded, Mister Dresden, and you have found neither rest nor respite from your pains.”

  “I’ll live.”

  “True,” she said. “But this is where it always begins. Monsters are born of pain and grief and loss and anger. Your heart is full of them.”

  I shrugged. “And?”

  “And it makes you vulnerable. Vulnerable to Mab’s influence, to temptations that would normally be unthinkable.”

  “I’m handling temptation pretty damned well, thank you.”

  “But for how long? You need to heal, wizard. Let me help you.”

  I frowned at her, and at her hand. “How?”

  Aurora gave me a small, sad smile. “I’ll show you. Here.”

  Her palm pressed a bit closer to me, and somewhere inside me a dam broke open. Emotions welled up like a riotous rainbow. Scarlet rage, indigo fear, pale blue sadness, aching yellow loneliness, putrid green guilt. The tide flooded through me, coursed over me like a bolt of lightning, searing and painful and beautiful all at once.

  And after the tide receded, a deep, quiet stillness followed. A sensation of warmth suffused me, gently easing away my aches and bruises. It spread over my skin, like sunlight on a lazy afternoon outside, and with the warmth my cares began to evaporate. My fear vanished, and I began to relax muscles I hadn’t realized were stretched tight as the warmth spread. I floated in warmth for a time, the release from pain an ecstasy in itself.

  When I came back to my senses, I was lying on my back on the grass, staring up at leaves and silver-starred sky. My head lay in Aurora’s lap. She knelt behind me, and her hands rested lightly, warm and soft, along the sides of my face. The pain began to return to my body, thoughts, and heart, like some quiet and odious tide washing in garbage from a polluted sea. I heard myself make a small sound of protest.

  Aurora looked down at me, her eyes concerned. “Worse even than I suspected. You didn’t even realize how much pain you were in, did you?”

  My chest heaved and I let out a quiet sob. The warmth faded entirely, and the sheer weight of the difficulties I had to face pressed down on me, suffocating me.

  Aurora said, “Please, let me help you. We’ll make it a bargain, Mr. Dresden. Desist. Relax your efforts to help Winter. Stay here for a time and let me grant you a measure of peace.”

  Real tears formed, making my vision blur. I mopped at my face with my hands, struggling to think clearly. If I took the deal, it would probably mean my ass. Backing off from Mab’s offer would mean that I didn’t get a good outcome for the White Council, which meant that they would buy peace with the Red Court of Vampires for the low, low price of one Harry Dresden, slightly damaged.

  “Forget it,” I said, my voice weak. “I’ve got a job to do.”

  Aurora closed her eyes for a moment and nodded. “At least you are true to your word, Mister Dresden. Your honor is admirable. Even if it is misguided.”

  I forced myself to sit up, away from Aurora. “Go on,” I said. “Help Elaine.”

  “I will,” she assured me. “But she is in no danger for the moment, and it will take me some time. There is something I wish to say to you first.”

  “Okay. Talk.”

  “How much did Mab tell you about Ronald’s death?”

  I shook my head. “That he was dead. That the mantle of power he wore went missing. That the killer had to be found.”

  “Did she tell you why?”

  I frowned. “Not exactly.”

  Aurora nodded and folded her hands in her lap. “Summer readies to go to war against Winter.”

  I frowned. “You mean it’s not just a theoretical possibility anymore. It’s real.”

  “I know no other kind of war. The loss of the Summer Knight has forced Summer’s hand.”

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  Her pale brow knit into a soft frown. “The power of our Knights is considerable. It carries a sort of weight that only a free mortal will can possess. That power, that influence, is a critical element of the balance between our Courts.”

  “Except now yours is gone.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Which makes Summer weaker.”

  “Yes.”

  I nodded. “Then why the hell are you planning an attack?”

  “The seasons are changing,” Aurora said. “In two days’ time, Midsummer will be upon us. The height of Summer’s strength.”

  She said nothing more, letting me do the math. “You think Winter has taken away your Knight,” I said. “And if you wait, you’re only going to grow more and more weak, while Winter gets stronger. Right?”

  “Correct. If we are to have any chance of victory, we must strike while at the peak of our strength. It will be the only time when our Court might be near equal to Winter’s strength. Otherwise, the seasons will change, and at Midwinter Mab and her creatures will come for us. And they will destroy us, and with us the balances of the mortal world.” She lifted her green eyes from her hands to my face. “Winter, Mister Dresden. Endless Winter. Unending and vicious cycles of predator and prey. Such a world would not be kind to mortals.”

  I shook my head. “Why would Winter pull this now? I mean, if they had waited another couple of days, they could have held all the cards. Why leave you enough space to wriggle out?”

  “I cannot even pretend to know the mind of Winter,” Aurora said. “But I know that they must not be allowed to destroy us. For your sake as well as ours.”

  “Boy, everybody’s looking out for my best interests.”

  “Wizard, please. Promise me that you will do what you can to stop them.”

  “I’m finished making promises.” I stood up and started for the path that led back to the elevator and out, but part of me wanted to do nothing but return to the comfort Aurora had offered. I paused and squeezed my eyes shut, focusing my resolve. “But I will say this. I’m going to find the killer and straighten this out, and I’m going to do it before Midsummer.”

  I didn’t bother to add, “Because I’m as good as dead if I don’t.”

  No need to belabor the obvious.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I got the hell away from the Rothchild and found a pay phone. Murphy picked up on the first ring. “Dresden?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Finally. You all right?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  There was a short pause, then her voice softened. “Where?”

  I rubbed at my head with the heel of one hand, trying to nudge my brain into gear. My thoughts stumbled around sluggishly and in no particular order. “Dunno. Someplace public, bunch of people, quiet enough to talk.”

  “In Chicago. At this time of night.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” Murph said. “I guess I know a place.” She told me, we agreed to meet in twenty minutes, and hung up.

  As I pulled into the parking lot, I reflected that odds were that not a lot of clandestine meetings involving mystical assassination, theft of arcane power, and the balance of power in the realms of the supernatural had taken place in a Wal-Mart Super Center. But then again, maybe they had. Hell, for all I knew, the Mole Men used the changing rooms as a place to discuss plans for world domination with the Psychic Jellyfish from Planet X and the Disembodied Brains-in-a-Jar from the Klaatuu N
ebula. I know I wouldn’t have looked for them there.

  After midnight the Wal-Mart wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t the usual deserted parking lot you’d expect after hours around Wrigleyville, either. The store was open all night, and there were plenty of people in a town like Chicago who would do their shopping late. I had to park about halfway down a row and walk through the cool of the evening before stepping into the refrigerator-cold of the enormous store, whose massive air conditioners had too much momentum to slow down for a few paltry hours of darkness.

  A greeter nodded sleepily to me as I came in, and I passed up his offer of a shopping cart. Before I’d gotten all the way into the store, Murphy fell into step beside me. She was wearing a Cubs jacket, jeans, and sneakers, and she had her blond hair tucked up underneath an undecorated black ball cap. She walked with her hands in her pockets, and her expression, one of belligerent annoyance, didn’t seem to fit on someone that short. Wordlessly, we walked past all the little hole-in-the-wall franchise businesses, closed and locked up behind their grills, and settled down at the generic cafe near the deli section of the grocery store.

  Murphy chose a booth where she could watch the door, and I sat across from her, where I could watch her back. She picked up a couple of cups of coffee, bless her noble heart. I dumped sugar and creamer into mine until bits floated on the surface, stirred it up, and took a slow sip that nearly scalded my tongue.

  “You don’t look so good,” Murphy said.

  I nodded.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  To my own surprise, I did. I set the coffee down and said without preamble, “I’m furious, Murph. I can’t think straight, I’m so mad.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m screwed. That’s why. No matter what I do, I’m going to take it up the ass.”

  Lines appeared between her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s this job,” I said. “Investigating Reuel’s death. There’s a lot of resistance and I don’t know if I can beat it. And if I don’t beat it before tomorrow night, things are really going to go to hell.”

  “The client isn’t being helpful?”

  I let out a bitter laugh. “Hell, for all I know the client is doing this to me just so I can get myself horribly killed.”

  “You don’t trust them, then.”

  “Not as far as I could kick her. And the people who are supposed to be working with me are driving me nuts.” I shook my head. “I feel like some guy in a magician’s box, just before he starts pushing all those swords through it. Only it’s not a trick, and the swords are real, and they’re going to start skewering me any second. The bad guys are doing their best to get me wiped out or screwed up. The good guys think I’m some kind of ticking psycho, just waiting to go off, and it’s like pulling teeth to try to get a straight answer out of any of them.”

  “You think you’re in danger.”

  “I know it,” I said. “And it’s just too damned big.” I fell quiet for a moment, and sipped my coffee.

  “So,” Murph said. “Why did you want to see me?”

  “Because the people who should be backing me up are about to throw me to the wolves. And because the only person actually helping me is green enough to get himself killed without a baby-sitter.” I set the empty cup down. “And because when I asked myself who I could trust, I came up with a damned short list. You’re it.”

  She settled back in her seat with a slow, long exhalation. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “If you’re willing,” I said. “I know I’ve kept things from you. But I’ve done it because I thought it was how I could protect you best. Because I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I know. It’s annoying as hell.”

  I tried to smile. “In this case, ignorance is bliss. If I tell you this stuff, it’s going to be serious. Just knowing it could be dangerous for you. And you aren’t going to be able to get away from it, Murph. Not ever.”

  She regarded me soberly. “Then why tell me now?”

  “Because you deserve to know, long since. Because you’ve risked your life for me, and to protect people from all the supernatural crud that’s out there. Because being around me has bought you trouble, and knowing more about it might help you if it comes your way again.” My cheeks flushed, and I admitted, “And because I need your help. This is a bad one. I’m afraid.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Harry.”

  I gave her a tired smile. “One last thing. If you come in on this, you have to understand something. You have to promise me that you won’t haul SI and the rest of the police in on everything. You can dig up information, use them discretely, but you can’t round up a posse and go gunning for demons.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why the hell not?”

  “Because bringing mortal authorities into a conflict is the nuclear assault of the supernatural world. No one wants to see it happen, and if they thought you might do it, they’d kill you. Or they’d pull strings higher up and get you fired, or framed for something. They would never allow it to pass. You’d get yourself ruined or hurt or killed and it’s likely a lot of people would go down with you.” I paused to let the words sink in, then asked, “Still want me to tell you?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and then nodded, once. “Hit me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right,” I said. And I told Murphy all of it. It took a while. I told her about Justin and about Elaine. I told her about the supernatural forces and politics at play in and around the city. I told her about the war I’d started because of what the Red Court had done to Susan. I told her about the faeries and Reuel’s murder.

  And most of all, I told her about the White Council.

  “Those spineless, arrogant, egomaniacal sons of bitches,” Murphy growled. “Who the hell do they think they are, selling out their own people like that?”

  Some silent, delighted part of me let out a mental cheer at her reaction.

  She made a disgusted noise and shook her head. “So let me get this straight,” she said. “You started a war between the Council and the Red Court. The Council needs the support of the faeries in order to have a chance at victory. But they can’t get that support unless you find this killer and restore the stolen magical power thingie—”

  “Mantle,” I interjected.

  “Whatever,” Murphy said. “And if you don’t get the magic whatsit, the Council fixes you up in a carryout box for the vampires.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “And if you don’t find the killer before Midsummer, the faeries slug it out with each other.”

  “Which could be bad no matter who won. It would make El Niño look as mild as an early spring thaw.”

  “And you want my help.”

  “You’ve worked homicide before. You’re better at it than me.”

  “That goes without saying,” she said, a trace of a smile on her mouth. “Look, Harry. If you want to find out who did the killing, the best way to start is to figure out why.”

  “Why what?”

  “Why the murder. Why Reuel got bumped off.”

  “Oh, right,” I said.

  “And why would someone try to take you out in the park yesterday?”

  “It could have been almost anyone,” I said. “It wasn’t like it was a brilliant attempt, as far as they go.”

  “Wrong,” Murphy said. “Not neat, but not stupid either. After you called earlier tonight, I snooped around.”

  I frowned at her. “You found something?”

  “Yeah. Turns out that there have been two armed robberies in the past three days, first outside of Cleveland and then at a gas station just this side of Indianapolis, coming toward Chicago.”

  “That doesn’t sound out of the ordinary.”

  “No,” Murphy said. “Not unless you throw in that in both cases, someone was grabbed at the scene and abducted, and both times the video securit
y broke down just as the robbery started. Eyewitnesses in Indiana identified the perpetrator as a woman.”

  I whistled. “Sounds like our ghoul, then.”

  Murph nodded, her lips pressed together. “Any chance those people she grabbed are alive?”

  I shook my head. “Not likely. She probably ate them. A ghoul can go through forty or fifty pounds of meat a day. She’ll put whatever’s left someplace where animals can get to it, cover her tracks.”

  She nodded. “I figured. The pattern matches several incidents over the past twenty years. It took me a while to piece it together, but something similar has happened three times in connection with the operations of a contract killer who calls herself the Tigress. A friend at the FBI told me that they suspect her of a number of killings in the New Orleans area and that Interpol thinks she’s pulled jobs in Europe and Africa, too.”

  “Hired gun,” I said. “So who did the hiring?”

  “From what you’ve said, my money’s on the vampires. They’re the ones who benefit most from you being dead. If they punch your ticket, the Council will probably sue for peace, right?”

  “Maybe,” I said, but I doubted it. “If that’s what they had in mind, it’s stupid timing. They Pearl-Harbored a bunch of wizards somewhere in Russia two nights ago, and the Council was pretty angry about it.”

  “Okay. So maybe they figure that if your investigation finds Reuel’s killer and gets the Council brownie points with the faeries, they’re in for a real fight. Killing you before that happens makes sense.”

  “Except that when it went down, I wasn’t involved in the investigation yet.”

  Murphy shook her head. “I wish we could get you together with a sketch artist, describe her.”

  “Doubt it would help much. She was in makeup at first, and I didn’t give her a second look. By the time I was paying attention, she mostly looked like something out of a Japanese horror cartoon.”

  She glanced down at her now cold coffee. “Not much we can do but wait, then. I’ve got a couple of sources trying to turn up more, but I wouldn’t bet anything on them. I’ll let you know.”

  I nodded. “Even if we find her, it might not help with the faerie stuff.”