Prologue
I'm at the edge. I can feel it.
Lasciel's shadow no longer plagues me. She's dead. Spiritually.
Gone.
But I get the feeling that she was protecting me at the same time from something more dangerous than her. Lately, I've been getting that weird, creepy feeling you get when you know you're being watched. Most likely, I am being watched – but not by the government, as those paranoid conspiracy folks online say. I'm being watched by a manner of butt-ugly monsters, all of them ravenous for a taste of the infamous Harry Dresden. They want to skip appetizers and head straight for the main course, a.k.a. me.
Yummy.
Bob the Skull was saying something to me – probably to wake me up. Normally, I'd use an alarm clock, but being a certified wizard and all, technology and I don't mix well. I can't even use a wind-up alarm clock. The last time I tried to wind one of those up, it exploded in my lap.
Luckily, it missed the most important part of me. Otherwise, I'd probably be stuck talking in a stupid high-pitched voice like they do in the movies when someone kicks a guy in the nuts.
"Hey, Harry! Yoo-hoo – Harry Dresden? You've got a visitor." Bob the Skull was yelling at me. I groaned and heard a knock at the door. I creakily forced myself to a sitting position, grumbled and zombie shuffled toward the heavy door. My wards sensed no danger, and after unlocking it – physically and magically – I opened it to find the unsmiling face of Sergeant Karrin Murphy.
"Murphy? God, what time is it?" I blearily eyed her. Man, I was so freaking tired. The weird thing is, I don't remember doing anything yesterday –
Free me, free me, FREE ME,
at all.
I blinked. What was I just thinking? Damn. I needed a vacation more than I originally thought.
Murphy looked up at me with a cautious face, and my adrenaline went into overdrive. I've always trusted her; she and I had been through one too many scraps and battles and wars. We shared scars and fond memories of fighting for our lives against gruesome odds. Calling her a close friend would be a gross understatement. Our relationship was closer than most couples forge in a lifetime.
But that look she was giving me. It was the one she put on for interrogating a witness.
Or a suspect.
My guard went up – and I immediately put it back down. She was a friend. Something had to be up.
"What's up, Murphy?"
"Where were you last night, Harry?" The question was blunt. No beating around the bush with her.
"Here." I gestured at my measly "apartment". "Why?" I tried not to sound defensive about it.
Her lip trembled – and I suddenly noticed that it was cut. Fresh.
A black eye. A bandaged wrist. I probed with my keen magical sixth sense, and found numerous other injuries all over her body. She had been in a big fight last night.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and demanded, "Who did this to you?"
She jerked and threw my hands off. Surprised, I took a step back. Before I knew it, a gun was pointed squarely at my head. It shook slightly, but was otherwise steady. My adrenaline pumped into overdrive, and I found it hard not to reach for the concealed blasting rod in my cotton bathrobe.
Huh? Wait a minute. How had that gotten there –
"I'll ask again", Murphy said in a more calm voice, "where were you last night."
"Murphy, I was here! Bob can cover for me – I was talking to him all last night." He wouldn't stop talking about a not-so-funny story of when a goat met a nymph during mating season. Grisly stuff and he knew the details like the back of his skull.
"Don't lie to me, Harry!" The cut lip burst open again. Red blood began to dribble down her chin.
"Murphy", was all I could say. I was at a loss for words. What the hell was going on?
Heavy stomping began to come toward my doorway, and Michael suddenly materialized next to Murphy. His face could have been made of granite, and his hand rested lightly on his holy sword, Amoracchius.
"Harry", he said in a monotone.
More footsteps, and suddenly I found an old U.S. cavalry saber at my throat. The seductively handsome face of my half-brother Thomas stared at me in disbelief. "Harry – what Karrin said was a lie, right? You really didn't do that – right?"
I blinked at the three of them.
"WHAT. ARE. YOU. TALKING. ABOUT." I gritted out. This was not a very good wake-up call to have in the morning. Having your three closest friends and family accuse you of something you don't even know about tends to make a guy angry.
I was beyond angry. I was pissed.
I wanted –
To smite them, SMITE THEM ALL! They don't understand, power – who needs them, power, I need it, power, GIVE IT TO ME! I NEED MORE POWER. Do it, Harry, it's so easy; you know you want to, reach in, take the blasting rod – burn them all. BURN THEM ALL! We could do it, just let me go, let me go, LET ME GO –
- to know the truth.
"Harry", Michael started, "we're worried about your condition."
"I'm fine." I said. But something began to nag at the back of my head.
"You've been seen outside your apartment late at night. . ."
. . . I was so tired.
"Doing things." Michael finished lamely.
"Like what?" I retorted. "Look whatever it is, it isn't the worst thing you guys have caught me doing late at night when I'm by myself."
"Well, mainly, talking to yourself." Thomas interjected.
. . . I've been having the feeling that I was being watched.
"Cut to the chase." Murphy said, a hint of iron in her voice. "He needs to know."
Michael shifted uncomfortably, his tall, sturdy frame suddenly awkward and ungainly. "Harry, we followed you last night to a warehouse last night."
"I wasn't at any warehouse last night. I was sitting here in my living room having a conversation with Bob." But even that memory was fuzzy.
"It was vampire warehouse, Harry, for the Red Court. They were collecting humans and harvesting their life energy for a massive attack on you and the White Council. They had enough to feed a medium-sized army." Thomas shuddered. I know what he had to endure in order not to feast with them, even though he was a White Court vampire.
"Okay . . ." I said.
"You attacked them."
"Well, good." I said coldly. The war effort wasn't going so well for us wizards, and we needed every victory we could get.
"You don't remember." It was a statement, not a question.
"No, I don't." I said coolly. But this information was disturbing to me.
"Well you slaughtered them."
"So?"
"All of them. The humans as well."
My blood turned to ice, and my heart skipped a beat. "What?"
"You heard me. You destroyed everything. Nothing survived that night."
A flash of red filled my vision, and maniacal laughter rang in my ears. Very familiar, maniacal laughter.
"And when we tried to stop you. . . you turned on us." Murphy's lip trembled again, oh so slightly. The hurt in her blue eyes was enough to convince me of her truthfulness.
"It took everything we had just to subdue you." Thomas's voice was quiet.
Michael stepped forward. "Harry, we fear for your soul. You are becoming very near to succumbing to your dark side."
"Star Wars", I muttered.
"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing." A sudden, frightening image of a smiling me, filled my vision. It was me – but at the same time, it wasn't. The hair was shorter, combed back and slick. This me had shaved, and there were no puffy tired eyes with huge bags underneath them. His skin was a healthy color, not bruised or burned. He was handsome, powerful, and in control.
Most importantly, he appeared to have been laid recently. The lucky bastard.
My fist clenched and I suddenly began to see red.
The maniacal laughter filled my ears again. Louder and louder.
I sagged to my knees. "What am I going to do?" I whispered.
"Nothing." Michael knelt down with me, motioning at Murphy and Thomas to lower their weapons. "We are going to help you."
"How?"
"By sending you to face your innermost demons."
I've never heard of such a magic. You could see inside a person's soul – I do it all the time. But you can't actually step inside. That's sacred territory. The only time I've actually been inside my own soul, was when I was near death –
My eyes widened.
Michael's voice was hoarse. "Forgive me."
Amorrachius plunged into my chest, straight through the heart. It's glowing blade burned my eyes with its divine light. I suddenly felt no pain. The huge sword sticking into my chest no longer existed. I felt great. The best I've ever felt. My consciousness was floating away . . .
I dimly heard the rest of the conversation before I passed out into the blackness.
Michael's voice, iron-hard. "Karrin. You agreed to do it."
A choking sob. "Jesus Christ. I can't believe I'm doing this." Karrin.
"You must. Otherwise, Harry cannot overcome his demon. He must die, in order to cleanse his soul."
A gun materialized into the white light flooding my eyes. It was ugly, black, and out of place. I felt myself smile at the person holding it.
"I can't watch this." Thomas turned away.
The gun was shaking. "Karrin."
Tears ran down her beautiful face, unchecked. Saddened and alarmed at this, I reached up with my hand and caressed her soft cheek, unaware that I was leaving a streak of blood with each tender stroke.
"Harry, Harry, oh Harry, I'm so sorry, I'm so fcking sorry." I heard a trigger pulled.
Then, the rest was silence.
A voice floated out to me, while I was sinking into the darkness. A very recognizable voice. Mine.
It said, in a cocky, jeering manner, "Hello, King."
TO BE CONTINUED. . .
I'm a recent reader of the Dresden Files. Awesome books. This is an idea that I've been toying with for a while, and finally got around to writing. See how you like it. Read and review.
- Illuminated Pen