Jim Butcher - Changes

She was tall and beyond beautiful—like most of the Sidhe are. Her skin was fair and flawless, her eyes enormous, slightly oblique orbs of emerald green. In fact, they almost mirrored Mister’s eyes as he sat primly in the Sidhe woman’s lap. Her lips were full and very red, and her long red hair, accented with streaks of pure white, spilled down in silken coils and waves over her dress of emerald green.

When she saw me she smiled, widely, and it revealed neatly pointed canine teeth, both dainty and predatory. “Ah,” she said warmly. “Harry. It’s been such a long time since we’ve spoken.”

I shivered and kept my blasting rod trained on the Sidhe woman. She was a faerie, and I’d learned, from long experience, that the folk of Faerie, Summer and Winter alike, were not to be underestimated. Only a fool would trust them—but on the other hand, only a madman would offend them. They set great store by the forms of courtesy, etiquette, and the relationship of guest to host. One flouted the proper forms at peril of . . . rather extreme reactions from the Sidhe, the lords of Faerie.

So instead of opening up with fire and hoping I got in a sucker punch, I lowered my blasting rod, gave the Leanansidhe a precise, shallow bow without ever taking my eyes off of her, and said, “Indeed. It’s been a while, Godmother.”

“Aren’t you pleased with me?” the Leanansidhe said. She gestured with one manicured hand to the two cocoons, then went back to caressing Mister. “I came upon these brigands ransacking your little cave and . . . What is the word?” Her smile widened. “I apprehended them.”

“I see,” I said.

“As I understand mortal business,” she said, “next there is a trial, followed by . . . What is the word mortal law uses for murder? Ah, an execution .” Her red-gold brows furrowed briefly. “Or is it execution and then trial?” She shrugged. “La. It seems largely a matter of semantics in any case. Harry, would you prefer to be the judge, the jury, or the executioner?”

I . . . just stared.

The last time I’d seen my faerie godmother, she had been ranting and raving in a couple of distinct personalities and voices while half-entombed in a sheet of ice at the heart of the Winter Court. Since I was sixteen, she’d pursued me relentlessly whenever I crossed into the Nevernever, apparently determined to transform me into one of her hounds.

For crying out loud. Now she was all smiles and bubbles? Protecting my apartment? Offering to play courtroom with me, as if I were a child and Martin and Susan were a pair of dolls?

“It isn’t that I don’t like to see you, Lea,” I said. “But I can’t help but wonder what it is you want.”

“Merely to ensure the well-being of your spiritual self,” she replied. “That is what a godmother is supposed to do, is it not?”

“I was sort of hoping your answer would be a bit more specific.”

She let out a musical laugh that rang like distant church bells over snow. “Sweet child. Have you learned nothing of the fae?”

“Does anyone, ever?”

Her slender fingers stroked Mister’s fur. “Do you think it so impossible?”

“Don’t you think it is?”

“In what way is my opinion relevant to the truth?”

“Are we going to stand around here all day answering each other’s questions with questions?”

Her smile widened. “Would you like that?”

I lifted a hand, capitulating.

She inclined her head to me, a gracious victor. Lea was better at that sort of wordplay than me, having had several centuries to practice.

Besides, losing to the guest with grace was a traditional courtesy, as well.

“What I would like,” I said, nodding toward the cocoons, “is for you to please release these two. They aren’t robbers. They’re guests. And this is, after all, my home.”

“Of course, child,” she said agreeably. “No harm done.” She snapped her fingers and the cocoons seemed to sublimate into a fine green mist that quickly dispersed. Susan fell limply from the wall, but I was waiting to catch her and lower her gently to the floor.

Martin plummeted from the ceiling and landed on a threadbare throw rug covering the concrete floor. Nobody was there to catch him, which was awful. Just awful.

I examined Susan quickly. She had no obvious wounds. She was breathing. She had a pulse. And that was pretty much the length and breadth of my medical knowledge. I checked Martin, too, but was disappointed. He was in the same condition as Susan.

I looked up at my godmother. Mister was sprawled in her lap on his back, luxuriating as she traced her long nails over his chest and tummy. His purr throbbed continuously through the room. “What did you do to them?”

“I lulled their predator spirit to sleep,” she said calmly. “Poor lambs. They didn’t realize how much strength they drew from it. Mayhap this will prove a useful lesson.”

I frowned at that. “You mean . . . the vampire part of them?”

“Of course.”

I sat there for a moment, stunned.

If the vampire infection within half vampires like Susan and Martin could be enchanted to sleep, then it was presumably possible to do other things to it as well. Suppress it, maybe permanently.

It might even be possible to destroy it.

I felt a door in my mind open upon a hope I had shut away a long time ago.

Maybe I could save them both.

“I . . .” I shook my head. “I searched for a way to . . . I spent more than a . . .” I shook my head harder. “I spent more than a year trying to find a way to . . .” I looked at my godmother. “How? How did you do it?”

She looked back at me, her lips curled into something that wasn’t precisely a smile. “Oh, sweet child. Information of that sort is treasure indeed. What have you to trade for such a precious gem of knowledge?”

I clenched my teeth. “It’s always about bargains with you, isn’t it.”

“Of course, child. But I always live up to my end. Hence, my protection of you.”

“Protection?” I demanded. “You spent most of a couple of decades trying to turn me into a dog!”

“Only when you strayed out of the mortal world,” she said, as if baffled at why I would be upset. “Child, we had a bargain. And you had not willingly provided your portion of it.” She smiled widely at Mouse. “And dogs are so charming.”

Mouse watched her with calm, wary eyes, his body motionless.

I frowned. “But . . . you sold my debt to Mab.”

“Precisely. At an excellent price, I might add. So now, all that remains twixt thou and I is your mother’s bargain. Unless you would prefer to enter another compact, of course . . .”

I shuddered. “No, thank you.” I finally lowered my shields. The Leanansidhe beamed at me. “I saw you in Mab’s tower,” I said.

Something dark flickered through her emerald eyes, and she turned her face slightly away from me. “Indeed,” she said quietly. “You saw what it means for my queen to heal an affliction.”

“What affliction?”

“A madness had beset me,” she whispered. “Robbed me of myself. Treacherous gifts . . .” She shook her head. “I can think on it no more, lest it make me vulnerable once again. Suffice to say that I am much better now.” She stroked a fingertip over an icy white streak in her hair. “The strength of my queen prevailed, and my mind is mine own.”

“Ensuring the well-being of my spiritual self,” I murmured. Then I blinked. “The garden, the one on the other side of this place . . . It’s yours .”

“Indeed, child,” she said. “Did you not think it strange that in your turmoil-strewn time here none of your foes—not one —ever sought to enter from the other side? Never sent a spirit given form directly into your bed, your shower, your refrigerator? Never poured a basket of asps into your closet so that they sought refuge in your shoes, your boots, the pockets of your clothing?” She shook her head. “Sweet, sweet child. Had you walked much farther, you would have seen the mound of bones of all the things that have attempted to reach you, and which I have destroyed.”