Chapter 24

A worldwide plague, the likes of which humanity had never seen. Fueled by dark magic, spreading the worst diseases mankind had ever heard of. Those and more, if the little coroner was right. Triggered by a death knell that would ring in the churches where the Shroud had been stashed.

Hell's bells indeed.

And it was all my fault.

Again.

"Harry?"

Murphy's voice slowly brought me back from the dark place my mind had gone. I turned to her, and saw the desperation there. "Please, Harry. Tell me there's something. Something we can do."

My mind raced. But what could I do? I was a wizard, not a magician. I couldn't conjure up the pieces of the Shroud. Couldn't summon them from across the globe. Pandora's box had been opened; there was no putting the evil back in. No stopping the horror this man had wrought. A supernatural plague invoked by twisting a symbol of faith, an object of healing, and fueling its curse with the blood of the righteous. Not to mention the potent blood of a wizard.

My blood.

My head snapped around to Cassius.

"Where is Nicodemus?"

The man flinched at the sound of my voice, but didn't answer right away. "You said you'd release me."

"I will," I spat. "Tell me."

Cassius hesitated, but as I started spreading the ice across his body again, he found his tongue. "The church! His church!"

His words confused me, until I realized he was looking over my shoulder. I turned to watch as the blood fled from Michael's face. "St. Mary's," was all he said, and then he was running.

Sanya was on his heels in a second. Murphy started to turn, but hesitated to look back at me.

"Go," I told her. "I'll meet you outside."

Murphy glanced between Cassius and I. There was something there, something that told me she knew what I intended. She was at war with herself as to whether she should stop me or not.

In the end, all she said was, "Hurry."

As she turned, I faced Cassius. His already pale face blanched. "You said you'd release me."

"So I did," I replied icily. I let go of his chest so that I could seize both wrists in my hands. The man sagged down to his knees, but I held his arms up as I poured Winter into his flesh.

His eyes widened as he screamed. "You promised! You swore on your power!"

"I did," I repeated. "But I don't have the keys."

Cassius stared in horror as I squeezed on his wrists, both of which shattered like glass.

As the thorned manacles fell to the floor, I seized him by a shoulder, holding him aloft. "There. I've released you. Alive."

And before he could gather his thoughts, before he could gather any power into himself to even think about a death curse, my fist struck him in the chest. The blow shattered his ribcage, sending fragments of bone into his feebly beating heart.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

I bent over to retrieve the manacles, making sure to shake out the last of the frozen bits of flesh. After that, I retrieved my staff and started for the door, casting one last look over my shoulder.

"You should learn to be more specific when dealing with the Fae."


It felt wrong to be leaving Shiro behind, but we didn't have time. I noted that Murphy had at least draped the edges of the sheet over him before heading out. That would have to be enough for now.

By the time I made it outside, Murphy had already started the car and turned it around. I slid across the hood and all but leapt into the passenger seat as she took off. I had just enough time to see some guy yelling after us as we headed north. I couldn't hear his words over the sound of Murphy's siren.

The fairies had all piled in already, having been hesitant to cross the threshold of the church. They were sprawled across the back seat, their heads huddled together. Lacuna was up to something, but for the life of me I couldn't begin to guess what. All I knew was that each member of the Guard present looked determined, including Toot.

To my surprise, they were alone.

I looked pointedly into the back, and then to Murphy. "Where are Michael and Sanya?"

The detective shot me a grim look. "It seems they weren't willing to wait."

I looked out the back window at the shouting man just before he disappeared from sight. "Michael stole a car?!"

"Let's just say he made a civilian surrender theirs for police business," she said. When she saw my disbelieving look, her jaw tightened. "Charity was taking the kids to church tonight."

"Holy hell," I gasped.

"I just hope he doesn't kill someone getting there," she said as she reached for her the radio on the dash. My hand gripped her wrist, stopping her in the process. "What?"

"Don't," I told her.

"Harry, I have to call in backup," she said angrily. She wrenched her hand away from mine, but only to grasp the wheel to navigate around a car that was slow to respond to the siren and lights.

"What are they going to do, Murph?" I asked. "Run in and get killed by Nick and his daughter? Get infected and make things worse?"

"How about cordon off the building so that no-one gets in or out?" she snapped.

"That's only going to incite a panic," I told her. "And we don't even know how many pieces are in town; you'd have to seal off every church in Chicagoland. At that point you might as well invoke martial law."

"We can damn well do something," Murphy snarled, taking her frustration out on the only person available.

"We will," I said softly.

She cast a glance my way, her temper fading instantly. "You thought of something."

"Maybe," I said cautiously. "Either way, having cops underfoot isn't going to help matters. Especially if they get there before us."

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "I'm a cop, Harry. I have to report this."

I rested a hand on Murphy's shoulder. "The world doesn't need a cop right now."

Murphy blinked at that, and then glanced into the back seat where she'd put Fidelacchius. "Harry, I can't…"

"Murphy, I'm the first to admit I don't know a lot about that sort of magic," I said. "Faith magic is… it's not in my spectrum." Where's Bob when you need him? But she seemed to pick up on my meaning. "But I spent enough time around Michael to know a thing or two. I know that those Swords are meant to be used to do good." I tensed as we swerved around a corner, my knuckles white as I gripped the handle over the door. "And right now we could use all the good we can get."

I knew she wouldn't hear me. As pleasant as the last few hours had been, it didn't erase the years of distrust that had built up between us. She'd never fully trusted me even when I'd been working with her. My words weren't going to be enough to convince her.

But I knew who's would.

"Trust your heart."

The words made her gasp, and when she glanced at me again, her eyes were watering. She quickly turned back to the road, but I could tell she was considering it. Actually considering it.

Not because of me, who she'd known for years. But because of a man she'd known for only twenty-four hours. A man better than any other I'd known save for Michael. Shiro had given his life for a stranger. Not because the stranger was deserving, because I wasn't. He gave his life because he felt it was the right thing to do. To give everything he had for others. To sacrifice himself in the name of Good, if nothing else.

He might have been just a man, but sometimes that's enough.

And that man had placed his faith in her.

"What does your heart tell you?" I asked softly.

Murphy took her time answering, with the built-in excuse that she was driving through traffic like a mad woman.

"It tells me I'm not ready for that," she finally said. Her voice was filled with doubt and worry and a dash of despair. I'd seen eyes like hers before, the eyes of those that knew they were in way over their head.

But before I could say anything to reassure her, she added. "But maybe I could hold on to it. For tonight."

I nodded. "Nobody's asking for anything else."

Murphy nodded sharply at that, and then concentrated on not killing us. I let her do that, seeing as I'd already hit my weekly quota for car wrecks.

The journey to St. Mary's took just shy of forever. I don't know if they planned on it or not, but the Denarians had picked the most damned place to stage their ritual. St. Stephens was only twenty minutes or so from St. Mary's, but when you factored in downtown traffic on Saturday evening, it might as well have been double that. At least it wasn't rush hour on Friday.

The police light and siren helped, as did the fact that the way had already been traversed by a good man in fear for his family. We passed several cars that had already pulled over as Michael blazed past. When we finally got north of the Loop and were closing in on St. Mary's, we could just make out Michael's taillights in the distance.

But we weren't the only car with flashing lights trailing in his wake.

"Shit," Murphy said.

"He's almost there," I told her. "They won't catch him before—"

"The officers will shoot as soon as Michael and Sanya climb out of the squad car," Murphy growled. "What would you do if you saw two armed men running into a church?"

I looked from her to the squad car a block closer than we were. "Maybe you should have called it in."

"You think?!" she practically screamed.

"Since when did you start listening to me?!"

Her response was a curse as the sedan bounced through an uneven intersection. It would have been fine at normal speeds, but the landing was jarring as we sped recklessly toward the church.

Murphy grabbed for the radio attached below the dash, quickly calling dispatch to advise them of the situation. It didn't sound like the operator on the other end actually believed what she was saying, but as it was the commander of Special Investigations calling in the threat, they couldn't exactly question her.

We were still waiting for confirmation that the squad car in pursuit of Michael had received the message when the block-long St. Mary's complex came into sight.

The chapel was on the north end of the long city block, while administrative and community rooms sat in another building on the southern end. The two were connected by a long hall, with a parking lot situated between them.

The southern-most building was finally in sight, and after one more light, we were within a block. I could see up ahead where Michael had already come to a halt outside the main doors of the church at the north end. The squad car in pursuit was just skidding to a stop behind him as my friend emerged from the vehicle, his white cloak billowing out behind him as he charged up the steps.

"Damnit. I'm supposed to be the one with the billowing wardrobe— whoa!" I shouted. My comment went unnoticed as Murphy swerved up onto the curb, the suspension bouncing roughly as we tore down the sidewalk. Before I could ask her what she was doing, she slammed on the breaks, causing her car to skid sideways.

My eyes were wide as I looked out my side window at the patrol cop, who in turn stared at us as we came perilously close to hitting him. I noted that his gun was drawn, but his aim had shifted to us, rather than at the retreating backs of Michael and Sanya.

And then the sedan rocked as it came to a complete stop mere inches from the cop car. Murphy was out before I could blink, her badge in hand. "Detective Murphy with S.I.! Stand down!"

"Are you nuts?!" the other cop shouted, but at least he lowered his gun. I took the opportunity to open my door, which required him to step back. His gaze was near manic as he watched me struggle to extract myself and my staff.

"Sorry, late for the costume party," I said apologetically as I climbed out. I didn't wait for his reply, turning and running after the others as the office gaped.

The cop started to shout something, but Murphy cut him off. "There's an emergency inside. Those men are with me. We need to cordon off the building, to keep anyone else from going in…"

I missed the rest as I charged up the steps, my stride letting me take three at a time. The power of the Winter Knight mantle helped me move faster than humanly possible, and I charged through the first set of doors, only to come to a screeching halt.

The entrance to St. Mary's was a set of several doors at the top of the steps which lead into a small narrow room. A narthax, I think they call it. It's nothing more than a space where people can shake their umbrellas out before entering into the sanctuary. On the other side of the hallway were more doors, all of which were closed.

The Knights never made it to the second set of doors.

Michael lay on the stone floor to the left of the center door. Rends had been torn into his white cloak, and I had no doubt that the armor he wore had been the only thing to spare his life.

Sanya stood over his fallen friend, his Sword in hand as he stared at a beast unlike anything I'd seen before.

It was more feline than anything, although even calling it that was a stretch of the imagination. The beast was bigger than any dog I'd ever heard of, although its musculature was lean. Its dark flesh was hairless, and looked more like worked leather than natural skin. The thing's head was a mishmash of jaguar and wild boar, with tusks and fangs glinting in the light from the Sword.

There was something else odd about it, although it took my brain a moment to recognize what it was. A hazy steam seemed to be rising from its flesh. At first I thought it might be some trait of the creature, but only belatedly realized that its dark leathery skin was on the verge of bursting into flame.

No wonder it'd been left in the narthax. The threshold of the church was burning it alive.

As I stepped forward, the creature turned toward me, unleashing a hiss-roar that did little to settle my mind on a species for it. Sanya shifted forward when its attention was diverted, but the beast moved with ungainly speed, swiping a long clawed paw in his direction as it stepped sideways.

"What is this?" Sanya asked, not daring to take his eyes off the thing.

"How the hell should I know?" I grumbled.

"I thought you wizards knew everything," he replied with a tense smile, surprising me with a sense of humor I hadn't previously seen in our interactions.

"Right. Forgot for a moment," I said as I stepped up beside him. "These are called narthaguars. They live in urban jungles and prey on the wily jackalope."

Apparently I wasn't at my most convincing. "It's okay if you don't know."

I scoffed at the man. "Admit my ignorance? They'd take my wizard license away."

Michael had managed to pick himself up by then. "We don't have time for this," he said tersely, his eyes on the other doors. The narthaguar tracked his gaze and shifted closer to the inner portals, as if intent on keeping us out.

"Sure don't," I said, before lowering my staff. "Arctis hasta!"

The spiraling spear of ice sprung from the tip of the staff as power poured into the soot-streaked wood. I thrust it forward as it was still forming, moving with the grace of the Winter Knight mantle. The narthaguar tried flinching away, but it didn't have the supernatural speed necessary to avoid the tip.

My strength drove the icy spear into the creature's shoulder, pinning it to the wall between the doors. As it screamed its furious call, Sanya slipped forward and buried his Sword in its neck.

The narthaguar died instantly as tiny white flames burst out across its skin.

"Right then," I said, looking to the Knights as I snapped the frozen spearhead off of my staff. "Shall we try this again?"

Michael nodded, drawing his own Sword and stepping to my side. Sanya flicked his blade to remove the gore from the creature, and then the three of us stepped to the inner doors. A gust of wind from my staff blew them open, snapping an unseen lock in two, and we stepped inside together.

A nightmare awaited us.

I couldn't say for sure if the Denarians' efforts at increasing attendance had worked or not. There were several dozen worshipers in attendance, but I couldn't say if that was a normal crowd or not for a Saturday night. I wasn't big on mass in general, but giving up a weekend night? No way.

The sanctuary at St. Mary's is large; it was a little shorter than a football field, but just as wide. The pews could seat over a thousand and still leave everyone with plenty of elbow room. With only a few dozen worshipers present, the place looked almost empty. Somehow I found it reassuring that not many had attended that night; things could have been a lot worse.

That was little comfort to those that lay sprawled in the rows and isles, dead and dying.

"Holy Father," Michael said, crossing himself as we entered. His tread slowed down as he looked over one of the victims closest to us. Sanya did as well, both observing the boils and blisters spreading across the worshipers' skin. Their breathing was shallow and haggard, their eyes desperate for relief from the suffering.

I continued on. I'd seen it before, and knew how their story would end if we didn't do something quick.

The curse was potent, perhaps working too fast. Plagues were most dangerous when they acted slowly, allowing the infected to spread the contagion among the masses before the danger was realized. But it seemed that this one was going to kill those it came into contact with far too quickly to be spread by normal means.

I could feel it working at me already. A sweat broke out across my brow, and my steps wavered for a moment as a dizzying sensation hit me. I hadn't been expecting that.

Thankfully the mantle knew what to do. My gate steadied as a cold sensation crept through my veins. The perspiration on my head froze as a thin layer of frost spread over me again. The cold would do what it could to keep the plethora of diseases at bay.

They didn't keep those things in cold storage for nothing.

I continued on, my eyes training on the lone figure standing at the front. The dark haired man wearing a tan trench-coat was looking toward the alter in front of him.

As I approached, Nicodemus turned, looking back over his shoulder with mild amusement. "Harry. Glad you could make it."

My steps slowed as I realized I was mistaken. I'd thought that Nicodemus was alone, but as he turned, I caught a glimpse of a man standing beyond him. There was just the barest hint of a youthful face surrounded by golden locks. A furious face with fierce eyes. The sight of him threw me for a second. I blinked, trying to focus my vision.

But when I looked again, I realized I must have been imagining it. The demon stood alone.

"I think I'd prefer it if you went back to calling me Mr. Dresden, Nick," I said, my stride carrying me past the outstretching arms of those in agony.

That seemed to disappoint the Denarian, as his face grew slack. His gaze drifted past me. "I can't say I'm pleased at your choice of companions."

The sanctuary was well lit, a golden yellow light filling the space and leaving little in the way of shadows. My eyes drifted to the man's own, which was sprawled out around him. Maybe I was imagining it, but it looked paler than it'd been previously. And if I wasn't mistaken, it looked as if the shadow were hovering an inch over the floor, rather than lying upon it.

Perhaps the narthaguar wasn't the only thing feeling the heat from the church's threshold.

"I'm surprised to see you on holy ground," I observed as my eyes rose to meet his.

"I walk hand in hand with an angel," Nicodemus replied righteously. "What could be more holy than that?"

"Doesn't seem like your scene."

"It was. Once," the man said, his eyes drifting up to take in the beautiful architecture.

"Why don't we find somewhere a little more to your liking," I offered with a smile. "How does hell sound?"

Nicodemus made a disappointed sound as his eyes dropped back to me. "A little on the nose, don't you think?"

My free hand drifted up to my ear as I cocked my head to the side. "I'm sorry, did you say a little tug on the noose?"

The man's humor fled in an instant as he turned to me. "That's close enough."

I was still ten yards away, but the shadow seemed to think that was entirely too close. The darkness gathered between us, although I noticed it still looked thin.

At that distance, I could see the suit he wore beneath his trench-coat. If not the same as he'd worn before, it was similar enough. The noose-tie around his neck was the same, as was the sword sheathed at his hip.

The white cloth tied around his waist was new, though.

"I thought you guys cut that up?" I asked, momentarily confused.

Nicodemus looked puzzled as well for a moment, before his eyes widened. "Ah. I take it Cassius won't be joining us?"

"Nah," I said with a shake of my head. "He sent us on ahead. Was real broken up about missing it." I shrugged. "I mean, he just went to pieces."

Nicodemus didn't seem to appreciate that either. "Unfortunate," he said simply, his eyes drifting over my shoulder as the Knights arrived. "But inconsequential. What we've set into motion cannot be undone."

"Madness," Michael rumbled, his voice deep and unforgiving. "You not only blasphemy this holy ground with your presence, but you defile the Earth with your insanity. All for nothing."

"Not nothing," Nicodemus said, his hands crossing behind his back as he faced Michael. "For progress."

"Progress?" I asked. I wasn't all that curious; not with time of the essence. But I was willing to let him run his mouth while I tried to figure out a way to get the Shroud from him. From appearances, it too looked thinner than it had before. Maybe Cassius had been telling the truth after all.

"Fear. Desperation. Chaos," Nicodemus said easily, as if naming virtues. The plague didn't seem to be affecting him, the bastard. "As I said, progress."

"Madness," Michael repeated, stepping forward with Amoracchius raised before him. The light from its blade was almost blinding. "But I will put an end to both it and you."

Nicodemus's eyes drifted between the three of us as we stepped forward. The Knights had stepped to either side, working to box in the demon. Escaping would prove difficult, as the only way out was through us. There were doors to the rear of the apse behind him, but I don't think he could outrun me.

"It seems I am outnumbered," Nicodemus observed, although he still wasn't as concerned as he should be. "That hardly seems fair."

"I'll show you fair, demon," Michael thundered, his voice furious. It was enough to draw my head around, shocked at the sound of it. I found his face twisted with hate, something I'd never seen in the man before.

And for some reason, it terrified me.

"And what will you do, Knight?" Nicodemus asked, his tone mocking. "Perhaps I should give up my coin here and now. What would you do then?"

An inhuman growl rumbled up from within Michael, and for a moment I worried that I'd have to restrain him. As angry as he was, I don't think Nicodemus surrendering would be enough for Michael, regardless of what he'd said back at St. Joseph's.

From my experience with the Sword, I knew it had a weakness. If it were used with impure intentions, the blade would fail. Become vulnerable. In that state, it could be unmade. I wasn't sure if it was permanent or not, but it didn't sound good.

In his rage, I momentarily worried that Michael might go too far.

But despite his fury, my friend did not attack. Nicodemus gave him a long moment, just to be sure. When he saw that the Knight would not be misusing the Sword, he simply shrugged. "Very well. We will do it the hard way."

"Not as hard as you think," Michael growled, beginning to advance.

"Careful," Nicodemus said in a warning tone, his hand drifting to the hilt of his own sword while taking a slight step back. "You don't want to start anything with your family so close at hand, do you?"

The demon's smile grew as he turned to look past Sanya, toward the front row of the pews to the right. We looked as well, and my friend gasped when he spotted his children all huddled together.

"Molly!" he said, running toward them. Sanya and I stayed where we were, but Nicodemus showed no inclination to make a run for it.

"Dad," the young girl cried, her voice trying for brave but sounding just this side of desperate. As her father approached, her eyes widened. "We're fine! Don't come any closer!"

Michael stumbled to a halt, his eyes drifting down to look at them. I did as well, my own eyes widening at what I saw.

Molly seemed to have drawn all of the kids to her on the floor in front of the pew. The next eldest, Daniel, held some of his younger siblings close, while Molly held the rest. They were in a tight bunch, to keep from breaking the circle that had been dribbled around them.

"What is this?" Michael asked, confused. My sight shifted as the mantle telescoped my vision using the frost on my eye. When it focused, I realized someone had poured what looked like several shades of nail polish in a circle around the siblings.

"Just something I'd read," his eldest daughter said, sounding embarrassed. "I'm not sure it's doing any good, though."

I blinked in surprise as I realized that Michael's daughter had tried making an empowered circle to protect them.

Unfortunately, it seemed the girl's concern was valid. Despite her efforts, I could see the sores forming on their flesh. They looked better than some of the others present, but they hadn't escaped the curse.

"I was surprised as you are," Nicodemus said with some mild amusement. "To think, Michael Carpenter's daughter turning to magic rather than faith."

"Bastard!" Michael bellowed, twisting back toward the Denarian. "You did this to strike at me?! To strike at my family?!"

Nicodemus blinked. "My. Whatever made you think that? It's not all about you, Sir Knight."

As he finished speaking, a loud bang sounded off to one side. I turned to look beyond Michael, toward the northern transept. It was the front wing of the church, a squared off alcove to one side of the room. A door in the back corner led off to the back rooms, and as we watched, four figures appeared from within.

"Charity!" Michael gasped, his face paling as he spotted his wife being held by the metallic skinned demon. Two sets of glowing eyes shined out as Deirdre looked over the gathering at the front of the church. Steel tendrils were wrapped around Charity's neck. I could see several trickles of blood dripping down from where she'd already been cut.

"I'm alright," the blond woman assured her husband. Her eyes drifted toward me, but didn't linger. Even in that moment of desperate danger, there was no disguising the hate she felt for me.

Charity Carpenter was a large woman, but in a good way. Despite having a litter of children, she was fit and strong. If it weren't for Deirdre's metallic skin and flesh, I had no doubt the blond woman could tear the smaller in half.

"Not for long," Deirdre mused as she strode forward, her skin surprisingly dull in the church lights. Her eyes drifted to me. "Hello, wizard. I'm so glad you made it."

Just like her father's shadow, there was something off about her transformation. Something subtle. It seemed the Denarians weren't faring much better than the narthaguar had within the church's threshold. Her flesh was mottled, and I could almost see some rust forming along some of her sharper edges.

"You're going to want to get a tetanus shot after this is over," I said to Charity.

The blond didn't seem amused.

Neither did Deirdre, as both sets of eyes narrowed. "So very glad indeed. I hate leaving loose ends."

"Yeah, I think we left things unsettled," I replied darkly. "How about we square up now?"

The slight woman's glowing eyes widened. "Oh, I would love that. But I'm afraid someone else has first claim on you."

The other two with them came into sight as they stepped to the side of the women. As they did, my own eyes widened. I was surprised to see Father Forthill in the grasp of one of Nicodemus's tongueless henchmen. The latter stared at me with pure loathing, which was somewhat surprising, as I'd never met him before.

As they approached, the thug threw Forthill to the side. The old man landed painfully, but was quick to look to us with shame in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I had no choice. They threatened to kill her."

"What are you—" I began, but stopped when the thug continued to advance toward me, his bland face twisting up in pure hate. Which I really didn't understand. I mean sure, I tend to piss people off. It's kind of my thing. But I couldn't recall doing anything to this particular miscreant.

It didn't make sense until he was about six feet away, when a pair of glowing eyes appeared on his forehead.

"Oh shit," I managed to get out, before the man's flesh erupted as he transformed. His already large body tripled in size as dark hair sprung out from his flesh. What had been a man's face twisted into a nightmarish muzzle of sharp teeth, as curling horns sprung from either side of his head. Glowing hot claws sizzled as his arms seemed to split in half, before thickening into four muscled limbs.

"This seems more fair," Nicodemus mused behind us.

And for the second time in just a few short days, the Fallen angel named Ursiel leapt toward me in a righteous fury, even as the others all sprung into motion, saints and sinners alike intent on sending each other to meet their maker.