Jim Butcher - Cold Days

Lily looked up at me with a sad, sober expression.

Maeve let out a peal of giggles. “It’s true,” she said. “She means to destroy the mortal world, wizard, and to do it this very night—to unleash chaos and havoc that have not been known since the fall of Atlantis. And make no mistake, she will destroy it.”

Lily nodded, her eyes pained. “Unless,” she began. “Unless . . .”

I finished the thought Lily obviously did not want to complete. “Unless,” I whispered, “someone destroys her first.”

This day had begun so simply: I’d nearly been killed at my birthday party and Mab had ordered me to kill an immortal. I’d survived the first, and if I’d had the good sense to shut up and do the second without asking questions, I might be somewhere reading a nice book or something, and waiting out the clock until it was Maeve-whacking time.

Instead I had this.

“I love watching him think,” Maeve told Lily. “You can almost hear that poor little hamster running and running on its wheel.”

“You clubbed him over the head with it,” Lily said. “What did you expect?”

“Oh, this,” Maeve said, her eyes sparkling. “Wizards are always so sure of themselves. I love seeing them off balance. This one in particular.”

“Why me?” I said. I wasn’t really participating in their conversation.

“You did kill my cousin, wizard,” Maeve said. “Aurora was a prissy little bint, but she was family. It makes me happy when you suffer.”

I glowered at Maeve and said, “One of these days, you and I are going to disagree.” I turned to Lily. “You say Mab wants to hold an Armageddon-thon, fine. How is she going to do it?”

“We aren’t completely certain,” Lily said, her eyes earnest.

“It’s something to do with that island,” Maeve said carelessly.

Gulp.

Wrecking someone’s powerful and deadly ritual wasn’t such a scary concept. I’d done that before, more than once. But somehow, knowing that it was Mab’s ritual I was supposed to derail made this situation a whole lot worse. I’d Seen Mab before, with the unadulterated perception of my Sight, and I remembered the kind of might she wielded with absolute clarity. Mab had the kind of power you had to describe using exponents. I felt like a man with a shovel and a couple of gunnysacks who has just been told to stop an oncoming tsunami.

And Mab knew the place. She’d taken care of me for months there. She knew Demonreach’s strengths, its defenses, and its potential. Hell, I’d been her ticket through the door—in fact, I was the only one who could have gotten her onto that island.

“You know,” I said aloud, “it’s just possible that I made a mistake in taking Mab’s deal.”

The two Ladies gave me level gazes. Neither of them said, “Obviously,” but it hung on the spell-muffled air nonetheless.

Then I had a thought. Cat Sith had lied to me very effectively only moments ago, because I assumed reasonable things and he allowed me to charge off down that line of thinking. This was no time to make a rookie mistake like that.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m going to do something I know you both hate. I’m going to get direct. And I’m going to get direct answers from you, answers that convince me that you aren’t trying to hide anything from me and aren’t trying to mislead me. I know you both have to speak the truth. So give me simple, declarative answers, or I assume you’re scheming and walk away right now.”

That made Lily press her lips together and fold her arms. Her gaze turned reproachful. Maeve rolled her eyes, casually gave me the finger, and said, “Wizards are such weasels.”

“Deal with it,” I said. “Lily. Are you sure that this contagion you speak of is real, and works the way you say it does?”

Lily looked like opening her mouth exposed her taste buds to something foul, but she answered, “Absolutely.”

“Are you sure Mab has been . . . been infected?”

“I am all but certain,” Lily said. “But I have not examined her for myself.”

“I have,” Maeve said calmly. “While you and my people were putting on such a garish distraction at that dreary little celebration of your birth, Sir Knight.” She stretched and yawned, making sure to pull her sweater tight against her chest. “That was the purpose of it, after all.”

I scowled. “You examined Mab?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure she’s infected?” I asked.

For just a fraction of a second, Maeve’s smug exterior changed, becoming graver, more somber. In that instant, she and Lily looked as though they might have been fraternal twins. “With absolute certainty.”

“And you’re sure she means to attack the mortal world as you’ve described?”

That serious version of Maeve met my eyes. “Yes,” she said. “Think, wizard. Remember your godmother, bound in ice at Arctis Tor. That was when my mother trapped her and spread the contagion into her. Think of the creatures of Faerie Wyld who have been behaving irregularly and unpredictably. Think of the strange conduct of some of the Houses of the White Court, changing their diets after centuries of stasis. Think of the Fomor, active and aggressive again for the first time in millennia.” She stepped up close to me. “None of these things is coincidence. It spreads, a force that will upend the world and all of us with it. And what has happened until now is nothing compared to what will come if Mab is not stopped before the sun rises once more.”

Maeve stepped back from me, watching me, her exotic eyes opaque.

Silence fell within the little privacy spell.

Well, crap.

That was pretty much that.

Neither of the Ladies could speak a direct lie. I hadn’t left them any room to dance around the truth. They were serious. I guess it was possible that they might have been mistaken, but they were damned well sincere.

“Neither of us can stop her,” Lily said into that silence. “Even working together, we do not have anything like the power needed to overcome Mab’s defenses, and she would never lower her guard for either of us.”

“But for you,” Maeve said.

“Her knight,” Lily said, “her champion.”

“She might not be quite so guarded,” Maeve said, her eyes shining fever-bright. “You have power enough to smite her, if you strike when she is unprepared.”

“What?” I blurted.

“What we ask you is not fair,” Lily said. “We know tha . . .” She glanced at Maeve. “Well. I know that. But we have no other options.”

“Uh, yes, you do,” I said. “What about Titania? The Queen of Summer is an equal opposite, isn’t she? Mab’s mirror?”

The two Ladies exchanged a guarded look.

“Out with it,” I said. “We’re way past word games here.”

Lily nodded. “She . . . refuses to act. I do not know why.”

“Because she’s terrified she’ll be infected, too, obviously,” Maeve snapped.

“Guys,” I said. “I have seen what Mab is. Even if I catch her off guard, I don’t have the kind of clout it takes to drop someone in her league.”

Lily blinked at me several times. “But . . . but you do. You have Winter.”

“Which is meaningful because . . . ?”

“Because she is Winter,” Maeve said. “The Winter within you is Mab and she is it. The one thing you can never protect yourself against is yourself. You of all people should know this, wizard.”

I shuddered. I did.

“The Winter Knight is a useful weapon,” Maeve said. “But it has ever been one with two edges. Mab stands no mightier than any of the Sidhe against your hand, Sir Knight.”