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Life is hard. Dying’s easy.
Ending a life, by comparison, is simple. Easy, even. It can be done with a relatively minor effort, a single microbe, a sharp edge, a heavy weight…or a few ounces of lead.
You know that tunnel with the light at the end of it that people report in near-death experiences? Been there, done that. Granted, I never heard of anyone rushing toward the light and suddenly hearing the howling blare of a train’s horn.
I was supposed to be at peace, or merging with the holy light, or in line for my next turn on the roller coaster, or maybe burning in an oven equipped with a stereo that played nothing but Manilow. That’s what happens when you die, right? You meet your reward. You get to find out the answer to the Big Questions of life.
“Why am I here as opposed to—you know—wherever it is I’m supposed to be?” “Maybe you’re having a near-death experience,” Carmichael said.
The guard’s blue eyes shifted to me at once. He lifted a hand and said in a gentle voice, “No.” And as suddenly as a door slamming into my face, my Sight vanished, and the weapon was just a gun again. The guard nodded at me. “My apologies for being abrupt. You might have harmed yourself.”
“This isn’t what I expected out of the afterlife,” I said. “That’s because it isn’t,” he said.
“It isn’t about the physical. It’s about the spiritual.” I frowned. “Spiritual?” “The opposition,” Jack said. “You died because they cheated.” “Wait. What opposition?” “The angel standing guard at the elevator is what we cops think of as a clue. You need me to draw you some pictures?”
expanded the logic and realized that I didn’t actually feel all that incredible—I was simply missing an entire catalog of injuries and trauma.
“Okay. How do we fix it?” “You go back,” Jack said. “And you catch the scum who did you.” “Back?” I said. “Back to…” “Earth, yeah,” Jack said. “Chicago.” He closed the folder and dropped it into his out-box. “You gotta find out who killed you.”
“You want me to solve my own murder?”
“If it makes any difference,” Jack said, “three of the people you love will
Besides, there was one more thing that made me certain that I wanted to go back. At the end of the day…some son of a bitch had freaking killed me. That’s not the kind of thing you can just let stand.
“Captain Collin J. Murphy?” I asked quietly. He grunted. “You’re Karrin’s dad. Used to run the Black Cat case files.”
“Ye’ve the look of a scoundrel!” boomed the man. “And a dandysprat and a ragamuffin. Though I’ll admit, for all that, ye could yet be a congressman.”
There was no magic. There was no magic. “Oh, crap,”
I felt my jaw drop open. “W-what? Six months?” The ghost nodded. “Today is the ninth of May, to be precise.”
“Time has little meaning to us now, Dresden, and it’s very easy to become unattached to it. I once lost five years listening to a Pink Floyd album.”
“I can see you were a fighter, boy,” Stuart said, his voice harsh. “But now you’re a child. You’ve neither the knowledge nor the tools you need to survive.”
I got up in time to see the Grey Ghost rising as well, and those burning green-white eyes met mine. In the air behind the ghost floated…a skull. A skull with cold blue flames flickering in its empty eye sockets. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whispered. “Bob?” “You!” the ghost hissed.
I could run through freaking walls. Granted, I think it would have been more fun to be Colossus than Shadowcat. But you take what you can get, and any day you’ve merely got the powers of an X-Man can’t be all that bad. Right?
What could happen in one hour?” And that’s how I knew that Mort was telling the whole truth when he said he wasn’t a hero. Heroes know better than to hand the universe lines like that.
He opened his garage door and peered out at the snow. It was coming down even more thickly than earlier in the night. Chicago is pretty good about keeping its streets cleared in winter weather, but it was freaking May.
Hint about Mab?
Your own White Council is a famous bunch of namers,” he said. “Their history is, I have heard, rooted in old Rome.” “Yeah,” I said. He nodded. “And, like the Romans, they love to name and classify and outline facts to the smallest, permanently inflexible, set-in-stone detail. The truth, however, is that the world of remnant spirits is not easily cataloged or defined.” He shrugged. “I dwell in Chicago. I defend Mortimer’s home. I am what I am.”
“You can’t not think about something,” I said. “Quick, don’t think about a purple elephant. I dare you.”
Stars and stones, I hate being the new guy.
“You should know,” Murphy said quietly, “that my trust issues don’t change the fact that she’s one of mine. If I think for a second that the outfit has done any harm to Molly Carpenter, the arrangement is over and we segue directly to the OK Corral. Starting with you.”
Tears blurred my eyes as I saw Mister. My cat.
“Of course cats,” Sir Stuart said, his voice faintly amused. “As far as I can tell, all cats. But they aren’t terribly impressed with the fact that we’re dead and still present. One rarely gets a reaction from them.”
Tough to blame the kid. I’ve been a young man. Boobs are near the center of the universe, until you turn twenty-five or so. Which is also when young men’s auto insurance rates go down. This is not a coincidence.
“All over the world, dark things are rising up against mortals connected to the supernatural. Killing them or dragging them away into the dark. Creatures that haven’t been seen by mankind in the past two millennia are reappearing. Fighting mortals. Fighting one another. The shadows are boiling over with death and terror, and no one is doing anything about it!
“Excalibur, Durendal, and Kusanagi, yes, yes,” Sir Stuart said, his tone a little impatient.
“Mr. Carpenter,” Murphy said. “I assume you have divulged secrets enough to the enemies of humanity for one evening?” Daniel said nothing.
Murphy said, “You want to feed on me.” Felicia ran a very pink tongue over her upper lip, her eyes growing paler. “I do. Very much.” Murphy frowned and nodded. Then she whipped the pistol in a bone-breaking stroke, smashing it into the vampire’s jaw. “Yes!” I hissed, clenching my hands into fists.
Murph wasn’t having any of it. She grabbed Felicia by the hair, hauled her halfway to her feet, and then, with a furious shout and a contraction of her whole body, Murphy slammed the vampire’s face down onto the coffee table. Felicia’s head shattered the teapot and the platter beneath, and struck the oak table with such force that a crack erupted from end to end in the wood. Murph slammed Felicia’s head down with near-equal violence two more times. Then she turned and dragged Felicia over to the front door of her house by the hair. Murphy let her go with a contemptuous shove, stood over her,
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“This is what happens,” Murphy said in a very quiet, hard voice. “You leave here alive. You keep your fucking mouth shut. And we never mention tonight ever again. If the White Court even blinks in the Swords’ direction, I am going to come find you, Felicia. Whatever happens to me in the end, before I am taken, I will find you.”
Murphy leaned a little closer and put the barrel of the gun against Felicia’s forehead. Then she whispered, very quietly, “Bang.” The vampire shuddered. “Do what you think best, Felicia,” Murph whispered.
“Oh, my,” Sir Stuart said, his voice muted with respect. “I can see why you’d come to her for assistance.” “Damn skippy,” I agreed. “Better go get Morty while she’s still in a good mood.”
There was a familiar soft pattering of paws on the floor, and Mister sprinted into the room. He went right across Murphy’s hardwood floors and cannonballed into my shins. Mister is a lot of cat, checking in at right around thirty pounds. The impact staggered me, and I rocked back, and then quickly leaned down to run my hand over the cat’s fur. He felt like he always did, and his rumbling purr was loud and happy.
It took me a second to realize that I could touch Mister. I could feel the softness of his fur and the warmth of his body. More to the point, a large cat moving at a full run over a smooth hardwood floor had shoulder-blocked empty air and had come to a complete halt doing it. Everyone was staring at Mister with their mouths open.
“Oh,” Murphy said, staring, her eyes welling up. Will let out a low whistle. Father Forthill crossed himself, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Mort looked at the cat and sighed. “Oh, sure. Professional ectomancer with a national reputation as a medium tells you what’s going on, and nobody believes him. But let a stump-tailed, furry critter come in and everyone goes all Lifetime.” “Heh,” said Sir Stuart, quietly amused. “What did I tell you? Cats.”
Paranoid? Probably. But just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean there isn’t a wizard’s ghost standing beside you with tears in his eyes.
1. Beautiful call back to Storm Front.
2. How dare you do that to us, Jim?!
But it was her eyes that were the worst. My apprentice’s blue eyes were sunken, surrounded by shadows of stress and fatigue, and an odd light glittered there in the glassy shine I’d seen mostly in people recovering from anesthesia.
She straightened her back and shoulders, turned toward me, took a deep breath, and opened her Sight. I’d never seen such a thing from this angle before. It was as if a sudden light, burning steady and unwavering, kindled just between and above her eyebrows.
I did what any sane person would do in a situation like that. I threw myself to the ground. “Oh, honestly, Dresden,” Sir Stuart snapped.
“Can’t we…I don’t know, possess them and make them bang their heads into a wall or something?” Sir Stuart barked out a harsh laugh. “We cannot enter unless the mortal is willing. That is the purview of demons, not shades.”
He grunted and said, in a tired monotone, “Sure, Harvey. Whatever.” Old books and old movies. I had to help this kid.
She looked at me intently and then said, “I think…you shall be”—she pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes, and nodded slowly—“a monster.”
“Oh,” the girl said, shaking her head. “Don’t be so simple. People adore monsters. They fill their songs and stories with them. They define themselves in relation to them. Do you know what a monster is, young shade? Power. Power and choice. Monsters make choices. Monsters shape the world. Monsters force us to become stronger, smarter, better. They sift the weak from the strong and provide a forge for the steeling of souls. Even as we curse monsters, we admire them. Seek to become them, in some ways.” Her eyes became distant. “There are far, far worse things to be than a monster.”
She looked me up and down again, her eyes dancing, and nodded firmly. “Monster. They’ll write books about you.”
