Jim Butcher - Changes

At the end of the hall was another set of steel doors, which gave way soundlessly before us, revealing another room done all in stainless steel, holding only a massive desk behind which was seated a man.

Donar Vadderung sat with his chin propped on the heel of his hand, squinting at a holographic computer display, and the first thing my instincts did was warn me that he was very, very dangerous.

He wasn’t all that imposing to look at. A man in good shape, maybe in his early fifties. Lean and spare, in the way of long-distance runners, but too heavy in the shoulders and arms for that to be all he did. His hair was long for a man, and just a bit shaggy. It was the color of a furious thundercloud, and his eye was ice blue. A black cloth patch over the other eye combined with a vertical scar similar to my own made me think that I’d been right about the corporate logo. He kept a short, neat beard. He was a striking-looking rogue, particularly with the eye patch, and looked like the sort of person who might have served thirty years of a triple life sentence and managed to talk the parole board into setting him free—probably to their eventual regret.

“Sigrun,” he said, his tone polite.

Gard went down to one knee and bowed her head. There was no hesitation whatsoever to the woman’s movements—the gesture was not simply a technicality she had to observe. She believed that Vadderung merited such obeisance.

“My lord,” Gard said. “I’ve brought the wizard, as you commanded.”

“Well done,” the grey-haired man said, and made a gesture to indicate that she should rise. I don’t think she saw it, with her head bowed like that, but she reacted to it anyway, and stood up. Maybe they’d just had a few hundred years to practice.

“My lord. May I present Harry Dresden, wizard and Warden of the White Council of wizards.”

I nodded to Vadderung.

“Wizard, this is Donar Vadderung, CEO of Monoc Secur—”

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea what he’s in charge of,” I said quietly.

The old man’s mouth turned faintly up at the corners when I spoke. He gestured to a steel chair across the desk from him. “Please. Sit down.”

I pointed at the holographic display. “You sure you want to put that at risk? If I stand too close to it . . .”

Vadderung turned his face up to the ceiling and barked out a laugh of genuine amusement. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Suits me,” I said. I walked over to the desk and sat down in the steel chair across from Vadderung’s. It didn’t have a cushion or anything, but it was surprisingly comfortable nonetheless.

“Coffee?” he asked me. “Something to eat?”

I paused for a breath to think before answering. Duties such as this involved the obligations and responsibilities of guest to host and vice versa. If Vadderung was who I thought he was, he had been known, from time to time, to go forth and test people on how well they upheld that particular tradition—with generous rewards for the faithful, and hideous demises for the miserly, callous, or cruel.

In the supernatural world, such obligations and limits seem to be of vital importance to the overwhelming number of supernatural beings. I’m not sure why. Maybe it has something to do with the thresholds of protective energy that form around a home.

“Only if it isn’t too much trouble,” I said.

“And something to eat,” Vadderung told Gard.

She bowed her head and said, “My lord.” Then she padded out.

Though the big man hadn’t stood up, I realized that he was big. Damned near a giant, really. Standing, he’d have more than a couple inches on me, and his shoulders made mine look about as wide as the spine of a book. He rested his chin on the heel of his hand again and studied me with his bright blue eye.

“Well,” he said. “I take it you believe you know who I am.”

“I’ve got a few guesses,” I said. “I think they’re good ones. Sigrun was kind of a tip-off. But honestly, that’s got nothing to do with why I’m here today.”

The blue eye wrinkled at the corners. “Doesn’t it?”

I frowned at him and tilted my head. “How so?”

He lifted a hand palm up as he explained. “Someone with enough foresight might, for example, arrange to be in a position to assist a hot-headed young wizard of the White Council one day. Perhaps who I am is directly responsible for why I am here.”

“Yeah. I guess that could be it,” I said. “It’s technically possible that your motives for assisting me are altruistic. On the other hand, it’s also technically possible that you are speaking with a forked tongue, and that all you’re really trying to do is find some way to take advantage of me when I’m under pressure.” I shrugged. “No offense intended, but there’s kind of a shortage of altruism out there.”

“So cynical for one so young.” He looked me up and down. “But you would be. You would be.”

“I’ve got questions,” I said. “Granted, they aren’t as profound as ‘Who am I?’ or ‘Why am I here?’ but they’re a lot more important to me at the moment.”

Vadderung nodded. “You’re looking for your daughter.”

I felt my body go rigid. “How . . . ?”

He smiled rather wolfishly. “I know things, Dresden. And if I don’t know something, I can find out. Like yourself, it is what I do.”

I stared at the man for most of a minute. Then I said, “Do you know where she is?”

“No,” he said in a quiet, firm voice. “But I know where she will be.”

I looked down at my hands. “What’s it going to cost me to find out?”

“Chichén Itzá,” Vadderung said.

I jerked my head up in surprise. I stared at the man for a moment. “I . . .”

“Don’t understand?” Vadderung asked. “It isn’t complicated. I’m on your side, boy.”

I raked my fingers back through my hair, thinking. “Why there?”

“The Red King and his inner circle, the Lords of Outer Night, have got some big juju to brew up. They need a site of power to do it. For this, they’ll use Chichén Itzá.”

“Why there?”

“They’re enacting a sacrifice. Like in the old days.” A snarl of anger touched his voice, and made it suddenly frightening. “They’re preparing a bloodline curse.”

“A what?”

“Death magic,” he said, “focused upon the bloodline. From the sacrifice, the child, to her brothers, sisters, and parents. From the parents to their brothers, sisters, and parents, and so on. Spreading up the family tree until there’s no one left.”

A chill hit my guts. “I’ve . . . never even heard of death magic on that kind of scale. The energy required for that . . . It’s enormous.” I stopped for a moment and then said, “And it’s stupid . Susan was an only child, and she’s already lost her parents. Same with me . . .”

Vadderung arched an eyebrow at me. “Is it? They like to be thorough, those old monsters.”

I smoothed my expression over, trying not to give away anything. This spell they were doing would kill me, if they pulled it off. It could also kill my only family, my half brother, Thomas. “How does it work?” I asked him, my voice subdued.

“It tears out the heart,” Vadderung said. “Rips it to bits on the way out, too. Sound familiar?”

“Hell’s bells,” I said quietly. It had been years since I had even thought about Victor Sells or his victims. They had featured in my nightmares for quite a while until I upgraded.

Vadderung leaned toward me, his blue eye very bright. “It’s all connected, Dresden. The whole game. And you’re only now beginning to learn who the players are.” He settled back into his seat, letting silence add emphasis to his statement before he continued. “The sorcerer who used the spell in Chicago before didn’t have strength enough to make it spread past the initial target. The Red Court does. No one has used Power on this scale in more than a millennium.”