Grave Peril (Page 45)

I groaned and struggled to push myself up. Lea watched me through golden, cat-slitted eyes, interested and uncaring. I managed to get to my feet, my back and most of my weight leaning against the column. In the rain, I could dimly see Charity on her knees. The Nightmare stood over her, one hand clutching her hair. It pushed the other toward her head. She fought it, uselessly, shuddering in the rain. Its fingers sunk into her skull, and Charity’s struggles abruptly ceased.

I groaned and pushed myself forward, to get closer, to do something. Everything spun around and I fell to the earth again, hard.

"Sweet boy." Lea sighed. "Poor child." She knelt down beside me again, and stroked my hair. It felt nice, through my nausea and pain. I think the nausea and pain definitely cut down on the seductive potential of it, though. "Would you like me to help you?"

I managed to look up at her lovely face. "Help me?" I asked. "H-how?"

Her eyes sparkled. "I can give you what you need to save the White Knight’s Lady."

I stared up at her. All the pain, the terror, the stupid, rainy cold made me ache horribly. I heard Charity whimper. I had tried. Dammit, I had done my best to help the woman. She didn’t even like me. It wasn’t my fault if she died, right? I had done everything in my power.

Hadn’t I?

I swallowed down the sickly taste of bile and acid and asked, "What do you want, Godmother?"

She shivered and drew in a swift breath. "What I have always wanted, sweet boy. This bargain is no different than the one we made years ago. It is, in fact, a part of the same. I give you power. And in return, I get you." Her eyes flashed. "I want your promise, wizard. I want your promise that when the woman is safe, you will come to me. You will take my hand. Here, tonight."

"You want me to go back with you," I whispered. "But you don’t want me like this, Godmother. All torn up. I’m empty inside."

She smiled, and stroked the hellhound’s head. "Yes. In time, you will heal. And I will make that time pass swiftly, my sweet." She leaned closer to me, golden eyes burning. "Such pleasures I will teach you. No man could wish for a merrier passing." She looked up again, over the bier that hid my view of Charity and the Nightmare. "The White Knight’s Lady sees such things, now. Soon, she will be trapped, as is the police woman."

"How did you know about Murphy?" I demanded.

"I know many things. I know that you may die, if you do nothing, my sweet. You may die here cold and alone."

"I don’t care about that," I said. "I …"

Charity let out a choking, sobbing sound nearby. Lea smiled, and murmured, "Time is fleeting, child. It waits for no one, not man nor sidhe nor wizard."

Lea already had me over a barrel. If I deepened our pact, reconfirmed it, I’d be letting her nail it closed with me inside. But I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t do a damned thing to save Charity without getting some help.

I closed my eyes, and saw Michael’s little daughter. I thought of her growing up without a mother.

Damn it.

"I accept your bargain, Godmother." When I spoke the words, I felt something stir against me, something that sealed closed.

Lea gasped, eyes closing as she shuddered again, then opening with a feral glow. She leaned down and murmured, "The answer, my sweet, is all around you." Then she kissed my forehead and was gone in a flicker of shadows.

I found myself thinking clearly again. It still hurt to move – stars, did it hurt, but I managed it. I clambered to my feet, leaned against the bier, and looked up to let the rain wash the blood from my eyes.

The answer was all around me. What the hell kind of idiotic advice was that? I glared around, but saw nothing but rolling lawns, trees, and graves. Lots of graves. Plain tombstones and marble markers, graves with ponds beside them, graves with lights, graves with small fountains. Dead people. That’s what was all around.

I focused my eyes on Charity and the Nightmare, and felt cold anger inside. I moved around the edge of the bier, gaining a little stability and balance as I went, and shouted, "Hey! You! Ugly!"

The Nightmare turned its head to blink in my direction, surprised. Then it smiled again and said, "Thou art not yet dead. How interesting." It released Charity, fingers gliding out of her as they had from Murphy, and she fell limply to her side. "I can finish that one at leisure. But thou, wizard, I will make an end to at once."

"Yadda yadda yadda," I muttered. I bent down and recovered my staff, standing again with it in both hands. "People don’t talk like that anymore. All those thous and thees. Hells bells, at least the faeries can keep up with the dialect."

The Nightmare frowned at me, and started walking toward me. "Dost thou not realize it, fool? This is thy death come upon thee."

A boot planted itself heavily on the marble beside me. Then another. Amoracchius cast a glowing white light upon my shoulder, and Michael said, "I think not."

I glanced aside at Michael. "You," I groaned, "have very good timing."

He bared his teeth in an unpleasant, fierce expression. "My wife?"

"She’s alive," I said. "But we’d better get her out of here."

He nodded. "I’ll kill it again," he said. He passed me something hard and cool – a crucifix. "You get her. Give her this."

The Nightmare came to a halt, its eyes narrowing upon the pair of us. "Thou," it said to Michael. "I knew it would come to this."

"Oh, shut up!" I shouted, exasperated. "Michael, killing this thing already!"

Michael started forward, the sword’s white fire lighting the night like a halogen torch. The Nightmare screamed in fury and threw itself to one side, avoiding the blade, then rushed back in toward Michael, fingers raking like claws. Michael ducked under them, planted a shoulder in the thing’s gut, and shoved it away, spun, and whipped the sword at it. Amoracchius cut into the Nightmare’s midsection, and white fire erupted from the wound.

I hurried forward, around Michael’s back to Charity. Already, she was stirring, trying to sit up. "Dresden," she whispered to me. "My husband?"

"He’s busy kicking ass," I said, and pressed the crucifix into her fingers. "Here. Take this. Can you walk?"

"Mind your tongue, Mr. Dresden." She grasped the crucifix and bowed her head for a second. "I don’t know," she said. "Oh, Lord help me. I think – " Her whole body tightened, and she let out a low gasp, pressing her hand against her belly.

"What?" I said. Had she been injured? Behind me, I could hear Michael grunting, see the sweep of Amoracchius’s white fire making shadows dance. "Charity, what is it?"