Out Law (Dresden Files)

Chapter One

Why is he here?” I demanded as I pulled on my spell-armored leather duster. “And why this early? And why on a Monday?”

Bear shrugged, an impressive movement. The Valkyrie was seven feet tall, must have weighed four hundred pounds, and was built like an early atomic bomb. She wore jeans, a T-shirt, and a black biker jacket. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just invite him in? He abides by the old laws.”

“No,” I said adamantly. I hung my blasting rod from its tie inside the coat and took up my wizard’s staff. “Principle of the thing. And Maggie’s in the house.”

Bear pursed her lips and then nodded once. “You don’t think you’re being a little paranoid?”

I paused and considered. “Nah,” I said. “You loaded up?”

Bear hefted her four-bore rifle up onto one shoulder. It was a weapon large enough to club a polar bear to death, and she handled it as if it was a broomstick. “That’s pretty much my job,” she said. She tilted her head to one side and said, “You’re scared of him.”

“I know him,” I said. I made sure my charm bracelet hung with medieval shields was about my left wrist and ready to go. “You’re sure he’s here alone?”

“Yes.”

I frowned. “He never does that. Something is off. Best to be careful.”

I strode out of my quarters on the third floor and down to the main level of the castle, my footsteps thumping on stone floors in the predawn darkness.

I took note of the old iron torches in their sconces on the walls as I went.

They had kindled to life with blue flame that illuminated the runes and sigils carved into the stones of the castle around them—warning that a powerful and potentially hostile magical presence was nearby.

Early autumn in Chicago could be blazing hot during the day and uncomfortably cold at night, but the interior of the old stone building stayed pretty stable and cool year-round.

I strode across the great hall toward the entryway, and as I did, there were hurried footsteps and my apprentice, Fitz, came down the stairs behind me, hair mussed from sleep, dressed in pajama bottoms and his own spell-armored leather jacket.

We’d driven out to the country and cut him the wood for his first staff from a hickory tree, and he carried it in both hands in a slant across his chest, as if it had been a rifle.

Fitz was a leanly muscular young man with a heritage as mixed and varied as rural Cajun gumbo, and his reddish, curly hair was mussed from sleep.

“Harry,” he said. “The wardflames went off. What’s up?”

“A villain is knocking at the door,” I said. “I’m going to go talk to him.”

He squinted toward the front door. “What do you want me to do?”

Fitz had some real talent as a combat wizard—but he was still inexperienced. “Veil up,” I told him. “Stay here in the main hall. Stay quiet. I don’t want him knowing about you.”

He grimaced. “You sure?”

“I’m sure. Trust me, kid.”

“Okay,” he said, clearly unhappy about it. He paused and frowned in concentration, murmured to himself, and then the air around him shimmered and he became a blur that was difficult to focus upon. Once veiled, he slipped to the deeper shadows to the side of the door to the entry hall.

Bear and I left the main hall for the entry hall.

“You’re not going to be able to keep the fact that you have an apprentice secret forever,” Bear noted.

“Don’t need it to be forever,” I said. “Just long enough that Fitz gets his feet underneath him and can earn the respect of the White Council when they do pick him up on their radar. And the less he knows about my business, the better.”

The large wooden gates of the castle had been replaced after the attack the previous spring, complete with the smaller door built into the gates that was used for most comings and goings.

Bear went to the door and put her hand on the large handle, glancing back at me. “You sure you want me to stay back?”

I gripped my staff, straightened my back, squared my shoulders, and nodded. “If this is a trick, I want you holding the door. I’ll look after myself.”

Bear looked like she wanted to ask me another question, then shook her head, and simply opened the door.

I stepped out into the blue light of predawn and found myself facing Gentleman John Marcone, Baron of Chicago.