Title: Hell Bent
Author: Griffyn612
Rating: PG-13
Canon: Book
Spoilers: Spoilers through Turn Coat, with mild reference to subject matter from Changes.
Warnings: Contains mild violence and language
Setting: A fan story of the Dresdenverse. Most characters are new, with a few known characters interspersed.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.
Additional Credits: This story features characters derivative of Butcher's work, but created by other fans, and used with their permission. Please see the credits chapter for a list of characters and creators.
Summary: Woody has faced a lot. From demons to dragons, from blood-thirsty vampires to vengeful hags, he's survived it all. But nothing has prepared him for the greatest threat yet: a dark wizard, grown mad with power and bent on forging himself an army of darkness. Now Woody must work with allies old and new to stop the wizard before he bends hell itself to his will, and brings the world to its knees.
Chapter 1
The summer sun was just finishing its attempt at melting the Chicago skyline, an uneasy feeling in my gut had kept me on edge all day, and some idiot was laying on the doorbell as I made my way to the front of the house.
"Hold on a damn minute," I growled out as I finally made it to the first floor. Not for the first time, I wished that my firehouse still had the old fireman's pole. It had been removed during one of the previous owners' renovations, when they'd tried making the place into a business of one sort or another. After buying the place and beginning my own renovations, I'd considered reinstalling one. It'd make getting from the third floor to the first a hell of a lot easier.
As I reached the hallway leading toward the front door, the quick pitter-patter of amphibious feet announced the arrival of Sal. My 'pet' salamander darted up one of my pant legs and made his to my shoulder just as I reached the front door, his head cocked curiously as he sniffed at the air.
Noting his interest, I hesitated, my hand hovering over the handle as the uneasy feeling gave way to full-blown paranoia.
While the little guy might look like your everyday salamander, he was most assuredly not. Sal was a Salamander of legend; a fire elemental capable of burning my entire house down if he didn't get to watch National Geographic every once in a while.
We'd been friends for years, and in that time, I'd learned to recognize his moods. Unless I'd ordered delivery, Sal rarely took an interest in anyone ringing the bell. Even then, he'd usually remain out of sight.
Which made his current behavior notable and concerning.
Rather than opening the door, I brought my head down to look through the peep hole. To outward appearances, it looked as normal as Sal. Upon closer inspection, a keen eye might notice the etchings in the metal around the glass lens. Only a very few would recognize the spellwork as goblin magic that allowed you to see through veils or illusions that might be cast outside.
It wasn't perfect, mind you. Nothing could replace the true Sight of a magical practitioner. The spells themselves needed to constantly be refreshed, as each dawn wore away at the enchantment that allowed me to see the truth of what lay beyond. And there was always the possibility that a truly powerful being would come a'calling; one with enough power to surpass the capabilities of the Revealing spell.
But those were rare, at least in my experience, so I looked out with some confidence to see exactly who was doing their best to wear out the bell.
I couldn't see much at first glance. My home was smack dab in the middle of the city, which meant I was surrounded by soaring office and apartment buildings. The location was great, as long as you were fine with living just beside the L.
As I looked out, I could see that the sun was just beginning to set, the buildings north of the Loop casting long shadows along the sidewalk. A cloak the color of a dark merlot draped around the slight form standing outside. A matching hood left the face shrouded in darkness. The figure was short, but as the head tilted up, the shadows shifted just enough to reveal a familiar jawline.
Frowning, I opened the door, surprised.
"Viol—" I began, only to draw short as the head tilted higher, revealing the rest of the face beneath the hood.
It was a face I knew well. I knew the curve of those cheeks, and the gentle slope of the nose. I knew the fullness of those lips I had kissed so often. The pale stretch of neck was the same that my fingertips had played across countless times.
It was the face of Violet. The face of my girlfriend of the past few years. The face of the Greek Lampad that I had helped once upon a time, and formed a lasting bond with ever since.
But whoever this was, it was not her.
Anyone that knew Violet would know that this girl wasn't the same person. She might have her face, and from the looks of it, her form as well. But that's where the similarities ended.
Where Violet was full of light and joy, this girl was grim and grave. Even in her worst of days, when I'd seen her struggle with understanding human emotions and novelties, Violet had never felt alien. Never felt inhuman. She might have been an immortal Handmaiden of Hecate, filled with incredible power and incomprehensible purpose, but she had always been Violet.
This girl was not Violet.
"Woody Hayes?" the girl asked in a voice that was all too familiar, and yet somehow wrong. It was too crisp, too formal. And there was a subtle anger in it that was completely unlike the woman I knew.
Sanguine eyes stared into mine, lacking any recognition. The girl's brow and carmine eyebrows were furrowed around them. It gave that usually soft and pleasant face a decidedly darker expression.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice hard as I looked upon my girlfriend's dopple-ganger.
"I am here for your services," she said in reply. Her voice chilled me. It was so much like Violet's own, but so unlike her as well. As she spoke, her head nodded in a slight, terse bow. A luscious lock of carmine hair fell loose, one that she deftly tucked behind an ear as she lowered her hood.
"I don't know what you're trying to pull, but it's not going to work," I growled out, my temper flaring at the presumption of this creature. A creature that dared take on the appearance of the girl I loved.
"You will assist me in this matter," the girl replied sharply, in that foreign voice I knew so well. Her eyes narrowed even further, and a scarlet light sparked in her sanguine eyes.
"Like hell," I snapped, ready to slam the door in her face.
"You must," the girl countered with her furious frown. "You owe a debt, and I am here to claim it."
As much as I wanted to leave her standing on the sidewalk, I couldn't ignore those words. In human society, saying such a thing was practically meaningless. Plenty of people could claim a debt was owed, but it didn't mean you had to do anything.
In the supernatural world, the most important currency was debt. And if you reneged on a favor owed, no matter how small, it could cost you everything.
It was my turn to frown darkly as I pulled the door open again. "I don't owe you anything. I don't even know who you are."
"It is not my debt that I claim," she replied, her own tone remaining terse. "I am here on behalf of my… sister." The girl hesitated over the last word.
"Your…" I started, before trailing off. My anger at her appearance began to shift into confusion.
"You know her as Violet," the girl replied softly.
I stared at the unfamiliar set to a familiar face as my mind quickly worked at figuring out just what was going on.
I'd known Violet for years, and she'd never said anything about having a sister. Especially a twin sister. Which is what this girl would have to be, to look so much like my girlfriend. But at the end of the day, that didn't mean much. I knew practically nothing about Violet or her life, including her true name.
We'd met when I'd crossed paths with the unfortunate man that had come into possession of the Lampad's torch. The purple fires of her misplaced lantern had driven him mad, and he'd set out to burn the city down. I'd managed to stop him, and in the process, recovered the bone-white torch that the Lampad had lost ages ago.
I'd returned it to her, and that had begun our journey together. She'd felt indebted to me, and had repaid that debt with the bone-white ring I wore on my right middle finger. The ring was a piece of the very torch I had recovered. It granted me protection from fire and flame, and any harm that stemmed from either.
But as far as I knew, that had squared our debt. If anything, she had owed me.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I told the girl with sanguine eyes.
"My sister lent you her power," she explained, impatience creeping into her voice as she glanced toward the distant sunset. "Now you must aide us in return."
"Are you talking about this?" I asked, holding up the hand with the ring on it. "Because it was given in repayment of a debt she owed me."
"No," the girl said sharply. "I speak of the debt you incurred several years ago. In the Providence of Lakes."
"The Providence—" I began, only to realize what she was talking about. "You mean my home town? Lake Providence, Michigan?"
"Yes," the girl replied.
Although, if she was telling the truth, I couldn't think of her as a girl. Like Violet, she looked to be in her early twenties, but had most likely spent centuries — if not millennia — walking the surface of the planet.
"I don't recall any debt," I replied, although something began gnawing at the back of my mind. I glanced just to make sure Sal wasn't literally taking a chunk out of my head, but saw that he was still on my shoulder, paying rapt attention to the girl. At least he wasn't acting like the being in front of us was any kind of threat.
"She lent you her power," the girl with carmine hair explained. "In your fight with the Demon Summoner."
As she said it, my mind went back to that night in Lake Providence. A kid had gotten hold of an honest-to-God book of magic, and used it to summon up a few demons. He'd screwed up the initial summoning, but by the end of things, he'd figured out how to use them to enact his will.
He'd sent several after me and a few residents of the town, including my mother. Violet had arrived at dusk, and aided me in defending the children I'd sworn to protect. When things had started falling apart, she'd been forced to act. Only the fires from her torch had driven away one of the demons before it could harm its intended victims.
She'd made a comment the next night, about how her actions might be questioned by others. Something about her offensive acts not being excusable.
She hadn't said anything about it since. I figured we'd gotten away with whatever she had been worried about.
Apparently I was wrong.
"So…" I said, drawing the word out as I considered the ramifications. "You're saying I owe Violet for helping me that night."
"Yes."
"And you're claiming that debt?" I asked, my tone doubtful.
"On her behalf," the girl replied.
"Can you do that?"
The girl's eyes narrowed, and her right arm lifted as she twisted her wrist. There was a flash of light, and suddenly her palm wasn't empty.
There, held tightly in her grasp, was the bone-white torch of a Lampad.
Crimson and cardinal flames roared from the top, swirling angrily, matching the light in the Lampad's eyes. The heat rolled over me, and even Sal shrunk back from the furious fire.
"Okay, okay," I said, holding my hands up and patting the air. "Let's assume you can do that."
After a moment, the Lampad's anger abated, as did the flames. With another flick of her wrist, the torch disappeared, and the light shining in her eyes faded back to the sanguine shades I'd seen before.
"Okay," I repeated, my own pulse not settling as quickly as her temper had. "What is it you need from me?"
"Someone has taken a Hound," she said, casting another look to the west, toward the setting sun. Her head turned back to me. "You must retrieve it, and kill he that dared."
"Okay. A hound," I said, nodding through my ignorance. "Is this your pet? Someone stole your dog?"
"Anóitos," the Lampad muttered softly, a growl in her voice. Her eyes bore holes into mine. "Not a pet. A Hound of Hades."
I opened my mouth to reply.
And then I left it open, as I tried to process what she'd said.
I closed it, and then opened it again, only to forget what I was going to say.
Her glare finally brought me back on track. "Okay. Someone took a hellhound," I said in a reasonably understanding tone. Because apparently those were real?
"No," she grumbled, her eyes glinting sharply. "Neither hell nor Hel have anything to do with this. The mágos has taken a Hound of Hades."
"Hades," I repeated, sensing that there was an important distinction there. Not that I knew what it was. Hades was hell, after all.
Or was it?
"Um, I'm not sure what good I'm going to do you," I told her as her glare grew more impatient. "I'm an arson investigator that dabbles with magic on the side. I'm not sure how to find your do— er, Hound."
"I do not need you to find it," the Lampad growled. "The Hound is on Chios, with the mágos that took it. You must retrieve it for me, and kill the mágos."
"Mágos?" I asked, my tone growing more cautious.
"Sorcerer," the Lampad explained. "A wizard."
A chill ran down my spine. "What kind of sorcerer are we talking? Because I'm not all that powerful." In all honesty, I had no magical talent myself. Other than a quick rate of recovery, I had nothing to call on personally. Only magical items crafted by others had seen me get through some tight spots. "This wizard. Is he like the demon summoner?"
"No," the Lampad said softly. "He is much worse."
"How much worse?" I asked, a sinking feeling in my gut.
"He is of the White Council."
And that would be the sound of the floor dropping out from beneath me.
"Sorry, that's way out of my league," I told her with my hands raised again, this time in defeat. "I've done some things, faced some things. But nothing in the league of a full fledged wizard of the White Council."
"You must," the girl insisted, her eyes hardening. "You are in debt. This must be done."
"Are you listening?" I asked, my temper returning. "There's nothing I can do against a wizard."
"You have resources. You have allies," she explained, as if I had some secret stash of Super Friends I could ring up to help me take on a dark wizard.
"Yeah," I admitted, letting just a hint of sarcasm through. "One of which is right here," I said, pointing a thumb at Sal. "But I don't have anyone else to call on right now."
Which was unfortunately the truth. The next best thing to an ally would be my roommate, who happened to be a goblin with a unique lifestyle. Qilluhrang had helped me numerous times in the past, claiming that it was all part of our arrangement of him living in — or, rather, under — my home.
But Q was away, as he often was during stretches of the summer. He was supposedly delivering something to a client across the country. The goblin was unique among his kind, creating and selling crafted items rather than spending all his time hunting and killing.
He still did the hunting and killing, and quite well. But he did it a lot less than his goblin brethren.
The only other person I could call on that might be able to help was Violet herself. She came in and out of my life without any real frequency, but she tended to show up when I needed her. But if she'd sold my debt to her sister, then she clearly wasn't in a position to help.
"I'm sorry," I said with a final shake of my head. "There's nothing I can do."
"You refuse to honor your debt?" the Lampad asked, her tone dangerous. Those sanguine eyes glinted darkly as her body straightened. Sal tensed on my shoulder, and suddenly I was quite aware of the fact that I was facing off against a Lampad of Greek legend; a Handmaiden of Hecate, equal in power to Violet, singularly the most powerful being I'd ever met.
"No, I'm not," I said quickly. "But there's nothing I can do. Look, where's Violet? She'll explain."
"She is unavailable," the Lampad said, her eyes shifting to the west, to the setting sun.
I sighed. "Look, I don't know how to explain it any better. This is way above my pay grade. Why can't you retrieve it?" At that, she turned back to me.
"One of my sisters already attempted to retrieve the Hound," the Lampad said softly. She cast her eyes down. "The dark magics the mágos used to enslave the Hound were turned against her."
"Damn," I said breathlessly. "You mean—"
My words died in my throat, as I realized exactly what she meant.
"Where is Violet?" I asked, my voice hushed as the uneasy feeling in my gut returned full-force.
"The task of retrieving the Hound was given to one of my sisters," the Lampad said. She wouldn't meet my eyes. "She failed, and is now a slave to the one she was sent against. Others would only meet the same fate."
"Where is Violet?" I repeated.
"Chios."
"Chios," I repeated numbly. The Lampad nodded. "Where the Hound is."
"Violet is the one," the Lampad said. She finally raised her eyes to me, and I saw pain and rage within them. "The mágos has taken my sister, and the Hound. He has enslaved them." She hesitated.
"And with them, he holds the power over life and death."
