Peace Talks (The Dresden Files, #16)(105)

“Or a hex,” I said. “Or both. Where’s Lara?”

“She took Thomas below,” Murphy said, her voice tense. “He’s in rough shape.”

I nodded and put a foot on the gangplank. “Okay, then let’s—”

And from behind me came a deep, warbling, throbbing hum, like nothing I’d heard before.

My dad, the illusionist. I slipped the dark opal ring I’d gotten from Molly off my hand and palmed it.

Then I turned.

Hovering maybe twenty feet up, with his feet planted firmly on a stone the size of a Buick, was the Blackstaff, Ebenezar McCoy. One hand was spread out to one side for balance, fingers crooked in a mystic sign, sort of a kinetic shorthand for whatever spell was keeping that boulder in the air.

The other gripped his staff, carved with runes like mine, and they glowed with sullen red-orange energy. His face had twisted into a rictus of cold, hard fury. Flickers of static electricity played along the surface of the stone.

“You fool,” he said. “You damned fool.”

I put my feet back on the dock. Then I knelt down and tied my shoe.

“Boy,” he said. “They’re using you.”

I set the palmed ring down behind my heel, out of sight. Breathed a word in barely a whisper.

There was a moment of dizziness and then I stood up and faced my grandfather. I gathered in my will. The shield bracelet on my left wrist began drizzling a rain of green and gold sparks of light. The runes of my staff began to glow with the same energy.

“Sir,” I said. “What are your intentions?”

“To salvage something out of this mess, boy,” he snapped. “The jaws of the trap are already closing in. I’m going to open your eyes.” His gaze flicked past me to the ship, and a flicker of electricity along the stone made a thrumming crack like a miniature thunderbolt. “The vampire’s in there, isn’t he?”

“You haven’t seen him there,” I said. “You have no idea.”

“Don’t play games with me, boy,” the old man spat. “I’m not one of your new Fae friends. And I’m not a lawyer.”

“He’s working for me,” came a clear, calm voice.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Lara Raith, still dressed in her party gown, standing on the Water Beetle’s deck, arms akimbo. I didn’t see any weapons on her. I didn’t see where the dress would have allowed her to hide any weapons. But she stood there like she was ready to draw and fire, and all things considered I would judge it the better part of valor to assume the implied threat was valid.

“I worked with Mab on some visa issues some of her people were having,” Lara said. “She owed me a favor. He’s it.”

The old man’s gaze remained on mine for a moment, growing harder and hotter and more hostile. I saw the rage gathering behind his eyes, before he moved them, slowly, to Lara.

“Vampire,” he said, “the Accords are the only reason I haven’t relieved you of your arms and legs and kicked you into the lake. Your brother stands accused of murder. He’s going to answer for that.”

The voice that came out of my grandfather when he said that … I’d heard it before.

I’d been that voice before.

I thought of ghouls buried to their necks in the earth. I thought of the savage satisfaction that had filled me while I did it. Because they had done wrong, and I had seen them do it. To children. And to deliver just retribution for that crime had been to be the right arm of the Almighty Himself, to be filled with pure, righteous, unarguably just hatred.

My God, I knew how he felt. I knew how bright and pure that fire burned. But when it was happening, I hadn’t been able to feel it burning me.

I just had to live with the scars afterward.

The vampires of the White Court had hurt my grandfather to the heart. And he was determined that it would not happen again. And that they would pay for what they had done.

If Mab had been standing there advising me, she would have said something like, It is his weakness. Use it against him.

And she wouldn’t have been wrong.

Ebenezar glared his hatred at Lara, and I realized with a sinking heart that there was only one way this was going to play out. His eyes were full of hate. It made him blind. There wasn’t room in them for anything else.

“Cast off,” I said in a calm, firm voice, my eyes never leaving my grandfather. “Go ahead with the plan. I’ll catch up.”

“Dresden?” Lara asked. “Are you sure?”

“Dammit, Lara!” I said, exasperated.

I checked over my shoulder in time to see Murphy step up beside Lara, catch her eye, and nod firmly.

“Freydis,” Lara said.

The Valkyrie moved for the ropes.

“Do that,” Ebenezar called, “and I’ll sink this boat right now.”

“No,” I said, calmly, firmly. I swallowed and faced the old man. “You won’t.”

The old man’s brows furrowed, and the air suddenly became as brittle and jagged as broken glass.

“If I let you do this,” the old man said to me, his voice desperate, “you’re out of the Council. You’re an outlaw. The svartalves won’t care about who hired who. They’ll know you prevented them from having justice. And they’ll kill you for it. It’s the only outcome their worldview will accept. Don’t you see, boy? You’ll be vulnerable, compromised. Mab, and this creature, they’re isolating you. That’s what abusers do.”