Death Masks

"It is an alternative to death," Ortega said, his expression earnest. "My kinsmen may not like it, but they could not argue against it. For taking Bianca’s life, you could replace it with your own."

"As one of you."

Ortega nodded. "As one of us." He was quiet for a moment, then said, "You could bring Miss Rodriguez with you. Be together. She would not be a threat to you, were you both my vassals." He put his beer down. "I think you will find that we are much alike, Dresden. We’re just playing for different teams."

I rubbed at my mouth. My instinctive reaction to Ortega’s offer was one of revulsion. The Red Court vampires don’t look like most would think. They looked like giant, hairless bats with slick, rubbery skin. They could cover themselves with a flesh mask in order to look human, but I’d seen what was underneath the mask.

I’d been exposed to it. Thoroughly. I still had nightmares.

I opened my eyes. "Let me ask you a question."

"Very well."

"Do you live in a manor?"

"Casaverde," Ortega responded. "It’s in Honduras. There is a village nearby."

"Uh- huh," I said. "So you feed on the villagers."

"Carefully. I provide them with supplies, medical attention, other necessities."

"Sounds reasonable," I said.

"It’s beneficial to both of us. The villagers know that."

"Yeah, they probably do." I finished off the bottle. "Do you feed on children?"

Ortega frowned at me. "What do you mean?"

I didn’t bother to hide the anger in my voice. "Do. You. Feed. On. Children."

"It’s the safest way. The more the feeding is spread among many, the less dangerous it is for all of them."

"You’re wrong. We’re different." I stood up. "You hurt kids. We’re done."

Ortega’s voice sharpened. "Dresden. Do not lightly discard my offer."

"The offer to make me into a blood-drinking monster in eternal slavery to you? Why would I want to do that?"

"It is the only way to keep your life," Ortega said.

I felt the anger coalescing into rage. My upper lip curled away from my teeth, baring them in a snarl. "I thought life is more than mere survival."

Ortega’s expression changed. It was only for a second, but in that moment I saw furious rage, arrogant pride, and violent bloodlust on his face. He regained his calm quickly, but traces of the hidden emotions thickened his accent.

"So be it. I will kill you, wizard."

He sounded convincing. It scared me. I turned and walked to the door. "I’ll be outside," I said to no one in particular, and stepped out into the late-February cold.

That way, I’d have an excuse to be trembling.

Chapter Eighteen

I didn’t have long to wait. The door opened behind me, and Kincaid emerged. He didn’t say a word to me, just got into a rented sedan and left. Ortega came next. A car swung in off the street, and he opened the passenger door. He paused and looked back at me.

"I have a measure of respect for your principles and skills, Dresden. But this situation is of your own making, and I cannot allow it to continue. I’m sorry."

I watched him get in the car, and I didn’t offer him any reply. Hell, he hadn’t said a word that was untrue. Ortega had a genuine ax to grind and people-well, fellow monsters-to protect. And thus far, the Dresden-versus-vampires scoreboard read a whole bunch to zero.

If a vampire had done that to the White Council, I wonder if we would have reacted with as much reason and calm.

The taillights of Ortega’s car hadn’t yet gotten out of sight when Thomas emerged from the tavern and swaggered casually over to me. Thomas was a shade under six feet tall, which put him at half a head shorter than me. He was better-looking though, and despite my earlier comments about his outfit, he was one of those men who made anything look good. The fishnet shirt he wore cast patterns of shadow over the pale skin beneath it, adding to the lines of muscle on his stomach.

My stomach had muscles, but not so many that you could see them rippling. I’d have looked pathetic in a shirt like that.

"That was simple enough," Thomas said. He drew a pair of black leather driving gloves from his jacket pocket and started tugging them on. "Though I take it this duel isn’t the only game in town at the moment."

"Why would you say that?" I asked.

"I’ve had a pro hitter following me ever since I landed yesterday. The itch between my shoulder blades got annoying."

I glanced around. "Is he here now?"

Thomas’s eyes glittered. "No. I introduced him to my sisters."

The White Court were the most human of the vampires and in some ways the weakest. They fed on psychic energies, on pure life force rather than on blood. Most often, they would seduce those they fed upon, drawing life from them through physical contact during the act. If a couple of Thomas’s sisters had met the hired gun tailing Thomas, the assassin probably wasn’t going to be a problem to anyone. Ever. My eye twitched.

"The gunman was probably Ortega’s," I said. "He hired some goons to take out people I knew if I didn’t agree to this duel."

"That explains it, then," Thomas said. "Ortega really doesn’t like me much. Must be the unsavory company I’ve kept in the past."

"Gee, thanks. How the hell did you end up his second?"

"It’s my father’s idea of a joke," Thomas said. "Ortega asked him to be his second. Show of solidarity between the Red and White Courts. Instead, Daddy dearest found the most annoying and insulting member of the family he possibly could to stand in."

"You," I said.

"C’est moi," Thomas confirmed with a little bow. "One would almost think Father was trying to get me killed."

I felt one side of my mouth tug up into a smile. "Nice father figure. Him and Bill Cosby. How’s Justine?"

Thomas grimaced. "She’s in Aruba is how she is. Which is where I was until one of pappa Raith’s goons dragged me back up here."

"What did you two decide on for the duel?"

Thomas shook his head. "Can’t tell you. Shiro is supposed to do that. I mean, technically I’m at war with you."

I grimaced and stared after Ortega’s vanished car. "Yeah."

Thomas was quiet for a second, then said, "He means to kill you."

"I know."

"He’s dangerous, Harry. Smart. My father is afraid of him."

"I could like him," I said. "It’s sort of refreshing to have someone trying to kill me right to my face, instead of throwing me a bunch of curveballs and shooting me in the back. It’s almost nice to have a fair fight."