Jim Butcher - Changes

Now I had it back—and this time, without the reality-blurring euphoria. I was intensely aware of the scents around me, of a hundred thousand new smells that begged to be explored, of the rush of sheer physical pleasure in racing across the ground after a friend. I could hear the breath and the bodies of the others around me, running through the night, bounding over stones and fallen trees, slashing through bits of brush and heavy ground cover.

We could hear small prey animals scattering before us and to either side, and I knew, not just suspected but knew , that I was faster, by far, than any of the merely mortal animals, even the young buck deer who went soaring away from us, leaping a good twenty feet over a waterway. I felt an overwhelming urge to turn in pursuit—but the lead runner in the pack was already on another trail, and I wasn’t sure I could have turned aside if I had tried to do so.

And the best part? We probably made less noise, as a whole, than any one of us would have made moving in a clumsy mortal body.

We didn’t cover five miles in half the time, an hour instead of two.

It took us—maybe, at the most—ten minutes.

When we stopped, we could all hear the drums. Steady, throbbing drums, keeping a quick, monotonous, trance-inducing beat. The sky to the northwest was bright with the light of reflected fires, and the air seethed with the scents of humans and not-quite humans and creatures that made me growl and want to bite something. Occasionally, a vampire’s cry would run its shrill claws down my spine.

Lea stood upon a fallen log ahead of us, staring ahead. Mouse walked up to her.

“Gggrrrr rawf arrrgggrrrrarrrr,” I said.

Mouse gave me an impatient glance, and somehow—I don’t know if it was something in his body language or what—I became aware that he was telling me to sit down and shut up or he’d come over and make me.

I sat down. Something in me really didn’t like that idea, but when I looked around, I saw that everyone else had done it too, and that made me feel better.

Mouse said, again in what sounded like perfectly clear English, “Funny. Now restore them.”

Lea turned to look at the big dog and said, “Do you dare to give me commands, hound?”

“Not your hound,” Mouse said. I didn’t know how he was doing it. His mouth wasn’t moving or anything. “Restore them before I rip your ass off. Literally rip it off.”

The Leanansidhe tilted her head back and let out a low laugh. “You are far from your sources of power here, my dear demon.”

“I live with a wizard. I cheat.” He took a step toward her and his lips peeled up from his fangs in unmistakable hostility. “You want to restore them? Or do I kill you and get them back that way?”

Lea narrowed her eyes. Then she said, “You’re bluffing.”

One of the big dog’s huge, clawed paws dug at the ground, as if bracing him for a leap, and his growl seemed to . . . I looked down and checked. It didn’t seem to shake the ground. The ground was actually shaking for several feet in every direction of the dog. Motes of blue light began to fall from his jaws, thickly enough that it looked quite a bit like he was foaming at the mouth. “Try me.”

The Leanansidhe shook her head slowly. Then she said, “How did Dresden ever win you?”

“He didn’t,” Mouse said. “I won him.”

Lea arched an eyebrow as if baffled. Then she shrugged and said, “We have a quest to complete. This bickering does not profit us.” She turned to us, passed a hand through the air in our general direction, and murmured, “Anytime you want it back, dears, just ask. You’d all make gorgeous hounds.”

Again, agony overwhelmed me, though I felt too weak to scream about it. It took a subjective eternity to pass, but when it did I was myself again, lying on my side, sweating and panting heavily.

Mouse came over and nuzzled my face, his tail wagging happily. He walked around me, sniffing, and began to nudge me to rise. I got up slowly, and actually braced my hand on his broad, shaggy back at one point. I felt an acute need to be gripping a good solid wizard’s staff again, just to hold me up. I don’t think I’d ever appreciated how much of a psychological advantage (i.e., security blanket) it was, either. But I wouldn’t have one until I’d taken a month or so to make one: Mine had been in the Blue Beetle , and died with it, too.

I was on my feet before anyone else. I eyed the dog and said, “You can talk. How come I never hear you talk?”

“Because you don’t know how to listen,” my godmother said simply.

Mouse wagged his tail and leaned against me happily, looking up at me.

I rested my hand on his head for a moment and rubbed his ears.

Screw it.

The important things don’t need to be said.

Everyone was getting back up again. The canteens made a round, and I let everyone recover for five minutes or so. There was no point in charging ahead before people could get their breath back and hold a weapon in a steady hand.

I did say something quietly to Susan, though. She nodded, frowned, and vanished.

She was back a few minutes later, and reported what she’d found into my ear.

“All right, people,” I said then, still quietly. “Gather in.”

I swept a section of the jungle floor clean and drew with my fingertip in the dirt. Martin lit the crude illustration with a red flashlight, one that wouldn’t ruin our night vision and had less chance of being glimpsed by a nearby foe.

“There are guards stationed all over the big pyramid. The girl is probably there, in the temple on top. That’s where I’m going. Me, Susan, and Lea are going to move up through the gallery, here, and head for the temple.”

“I’m with Susan,” Martin said. “I go where she does.”

This wasn’t the time or place to argue. “Me, Susan, Lea, and Martin will go in that way. I want all eyes facing north when we head for the pyramid. So I want the rest of you to circle that way and come in from that direction. Right here, there’s a cattle truck where they’re storing their human sacrifices. Get close and spring them. Raise whatever hell you can, and run fast. Head west. You’ll hit a road. Follow it to a town. Get into the church there. Got it?”

There was a round of nods and unhappy expressions.

“With any luck, that will draw off enough of them to let us pull a smash and grab on the temple.

“Also,” I said, very seriously, “what happens in the Yucatán stays in the Yucatán. There will be no jokes about sniffing butts or chasing tails or anything like that. Ever. Agreed?”

More sober nods, this time with a few smiles.

“Okay, folks,” I said. “Just so you know, friends—I’m in your debt, and it’s one I’ll never be able to repay. Thank you.”

“Gush later,” Murphy said, her tone wry. “Rescue now.”

“Spoken like a true lady,” I said, and put my hand out. Everyone piled hands. Mouse had to wedge in close to put his paw on the pile. All of us, every single one of us, except maybe my godmother, were visibly, obviously terrified, a circle of shivers and short, fast breaths.

“Good hunting, people,” I said quietly. “Go.”

Everyone had just gotten to their feet when the brush rattled, and a half-naked man came sprinting almost directly into us, his expression desperate, his eyes wide with mindless terror. He smashed into Thomas, rebounded off him, and crashed to the ground.

Before anyone could react, there was a muted rustle, and a Red Court vampire in its black-skinned monstrous form came bounding out of the forest five yards away and, upon seeing us, went rigid with startled shock. An instant later, it tried to reverse its course, its claws gouging at the forest floor.