Jim Butcher - Changes

Esmerelda nodded. “As it was Bianca’s to collect from you, in the opening days of the war. Though many wished that she would not have done what she did, it was her right, even as a very, very young member of the Court. As her progenitor, Arianna’s mate took up that debt. As Arianna now has done herself.” She looked at Esteban and beamed. “We are so happy with the ragged wizard. It is so civil and pleasant. Completely unlike those other wizards. Might we keep it for our own?”

“Business, our love,” Esteban chided. “Business first.”

Esmerelda thrust out her lower lip—and abruptly turned, all motion ceasing, to focus intently in one direction.

“What is it, our love?” Esteban asked quietly.

“The Ik’k’uox,” she said in a distant, puzzled voice. “It is in pain. It flees. It . . .” She opened her eyes very wide, and suddenly they flooded in solid black, just as the creature’s had been. “Oh! It cheated!” Her face turned down to mine, and she bared her fangs. “It cheated! It brought a demon of its own! A mountain ice demon from the Land of Dreams!”

“If you don’t exercise them, they’re impossible,” I said, philosophically.

“The constable,” Esteban said. “Did it kill the constable?”

Esmerelda returned to staring at nothing for a moment and then said, “No. It was attacked only seconds after entering his home.” She shivered and looked up at Esteban. “The ragged wizard’s demon comes this way, and swiftly.”

Esteban sighed. “We had hoped to work out something civilized. This is your last chance, ragged wizard. What say you to my offer?”

“Go fuck yourself,” I said.

Esteban’s eyes went black and flat. “Kill him.”

Esmerelda’s body tightened in what looked like a sexual fervor, and she leaned down, teeth bared, letting out a low sound filled to the brim with erotic and physical need.

During the last few moments, the fingers of my right hand had undone the clasp on my mother’s amulet. As the little vampire leaned into me, she met the silver pentacle necklace, the symbol of what I believed. A five-pointed star, representing the four elements and the spirit, bound within a circle of mortal control, will, and compassion. I’m not a Wiccan. I’m not big on churches of any kind, despite the fact that I’ve spoken, face-to-face, with an archangel of the Almighty.

But there were some things I believed in. Some things I had faith in. And faith isn’t about perfect attendance to services, or how much money you put on the little plate. It isn’t about going skyclad to the Holy Rites, or meditating each day upon the divine.

Faith is about what you do. It’s about aspiring to be better and nobler and kinder than you are. It’s about making sacrifices for the good of others—even when there’s not going to be anyone telling you what a hero you are.

Faith is a power of its own, and one even more elusive and difficult to define than magic. A symbol of faith, presented with genuine belief and sincerity, is the bane of many an otherworldly predator—and one of the creatures most strongly affected were vampires of the Red Court. I don’t know how it works, or why. I don’t know if some kind of powerful being or Being must get involved along the line. I never asked for one of them to do that—but if so, one of them was backing me up anyway.

The pentacle flared into brilliant silver light that struck Esmerelda like a six-foot wave, throwing her off of me and tearing the flesh mask she wore to shreds, revealing the creature inside it.

I twisted and presented the symbol to Esteban, but he had already backed several paces away, and it only forced him to lift his hand to shade his eyes as he continued retreating.

There was a hissing, serpentine sound from Esmerelda, and I saw a gaunt, black-skinned creature stand up out of the ruins of gown and flesh mask alike. It was just as small as she was, but its limbs were longer, by at least a third, than hers had seemed, long and scrawny. A flabby black belly sagged down, and its face would make one of those really ugly South American bats feel better about itself.

She opened her jaws, baring fangs and a long, writhing tongue that was pink with black spots. Her all-black eyes were ablaze with fury.

Shadows shifted as a pale blue light began to grow nearer, and the woods suddenly rang out with Mouse’s triumphant hunting howl. He had found my scent—or that of the vampires—and was closing in.

Esmerelda hissed again, and the sound was full of rage and hate.

“We mustn’t!” Esteban snarled. He dashed around me with supernatural speed, giving the glowing pendant a wide berth. He seized the little vampire woman by the arm. They both stared at me for an instant with their cold, empty black eyes—and then there was the sound of a rushing wind and they were gone.

I sagged onto the ground gratefully. My racing heart began to slow, my fear to subside. My confusion as to what was happening remained, though. Maybe it was so tangled and impossible because I was so exhausted.

Yeah. Right.

Mouse let out a single loud bark and then the big dog was standing next to me, over me. He nudged me with his nose until I lifted a hand and scratched his ears a little.

Thomas and Molly arrived next. I was glad Thomas had let Mouse do the pursuit, while he came along more slowly so that my apprentice wouldn’t be alone in the woods. His eyes were bright silver, his mouth set in a smug line, and there was broken glass shining in his hair. The left half of Molly’s upper body was generously coated in green paint.

“Okay,” I slurred. “I’m backward.”

“What’s that?” Molly asked, kneeling down next to me, her expression worried.

“Backward. ’M a detective. Supposed to find things out. I been working backward. The more I look at it, the more certain I am that I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Can you stand?” Thomas asked.

“Leg,” I said. “Ribs. Might be broken. Can’t take the weight.”

“I’ll carry him,” Thomas said. “Find a phone.”

“Okay.”

My brother picked me up and carried me out of the woods. We went back to the car.

The car’s remains .

I stared dully at the mess. It looked as though something had taken Thomas’s white Jag and put it in a trash compactor with the Blue Beetle . The two cars, together, had been smashed down into a mass about four feet high. Liquids and fuel bled out onto the street below them.

Thomas gingerly put me down on my good leg as I stared at my car.

There was no way the Beetle was going to resurrect from this one. I found myself blinking tears out of my eyes. It wasn’t an expensive car. It wasn’t a sexy car. It was my car.

And it was gone.

“Dammit,” I mumbled.

“Hmmm?” Thomas asked. He looked considerably less broken up than me.

“My staff was inna car.” I sighed. “Takes weeks to make one of those.”

“Lara’s going to be annoyed with me,” Thomas said. “That’s the third one this year.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. I feel your pain. What happened with the big thing?”

“The fight?” Thomas shrugged. “Bullfighting tactics, for the most part. When it tried to focus on one, the other two would come at its back. Mouse did you rather proud.”

The big dog wagged his tail cheerily.

“Paint?” I asked.

“Oh, the thing threw a five-gallon bucket of paint at her, either trying to kill her with it or so it could try to see her through the veil. Worked for about five seconds, too, but then she fixed it and was gone again. She did fairly well for someone so limited in offense,” Thomas said. “Let me see if I can salvage anything from my trunk. Excuse me.”

I just sat down on the street in front of the car, and Mouse came up to sit with me, offering a furry flank for support. The Blue Beetle was dead. I was too tired to cry much.