“Death magic,” he said, “focused upon the bloodline. From the sacrifice, the child, to her brothers, sisters, and parents. From the parents to their brothers, sisters, and parents, and so on. Spreading up the family tree until there’s no one left.”
A chill hit my guts. “I’ve . . . never even heard of death magic on that kind of scale. The energy required for that . . . It’s enormous.” I stopped for a moment and then said, “And it’s stupid. Susan was an only child, and she’s already lost her parents. Same with me . . .”
Vadderung arched an eyebrow at me. “Is it? They like to be thorough, those old monsters.”
I smoothed my expression over, trying not to give away anything. This spell they were doing would kill me, if they pulled it off. It could also kill my only family, my half brother, Thomas. “How does it work?” I asked him, my voice subdued.
“It tears out the heart,” Vadderung said. “Rips it to bits on the way out, too. Sound familiar?”
“Hell’s bells,” I said quietly. It had been years since I had even thought about Victor Sells or his victims. They had featured in my nightmares for quite a while until I upgraded.
Vadderung leaned toward me, his blue eye very bright. “It’s all connected, Dresden. The whole game. And you’re only now beginning to learn who the players are.” He settled back into his seat, letting silence add emphasis to his statement before he continued. “The sorcerer who used the spell in Chicago before didn’t have strength enough to make it spread past the initial target. The Red Court does. No one has used Power on this scale in more than a millennium.”
“And they’re pointing it at me?”
“They say you can know a man by his enemies, Dresden.” He smiled, and laughter lurked beneath his next words, never quite surfacing. “You defy beings that should cow you into silence. You resist forces that are inevitable for no more reason than that you believe they should be resisted. You bow your head to neither demons nor angels, and you put yourself in harm’s way to defend those who cannot defend themselves.” He nodded slowly. “I think I like you.”
I arched an eyebrow and studied him for a moment. “Then help me.”
Vadderung pursed his lips in thought. “In that, you may be disappointed. I am . . . not what I was. My children are scattered around the world. Most of them have forgotten our purpose. Once the Jotuns retreated . . .” He shook his head. “What you must understand is that you face beings such as I in this battle.”
I frowned. “You mean . . . gods?”
“Mostly retired gods, at any rate,” Vadderung said. “Once, entire civilizations bowed to them. Now they are venerated by only a handful, the power of their blood spread out among thousands of offspring. But in the Lords of Outer Night, even the remnants of that power are more than you can face as you are.”
“I’ve heard that one before,” I said.
Vadderung just looked at me. Then he said, “Let me help you understand.”
And a force like a hundred anvils smashed me out of the chair and to the floor.
I found myself on my back, gasping like a landed fish. I struggled to move, to push myself up, but I couldn’t so much as lift my arms from the ground. I brought my will into focus, with the idea of using it to deflect some of that force from me and—
—and suddenly, sharply felt my will directly in contention with another. The power that held me down was not earth magic, as I had assumed it to be. It was the simple, raw, brute application of the will of Donar Vadderung, Thunder’s Father, the Father and King of the Aesir. Father Odin’s will held me pinned to the floor, and I could no more escape it or force it away than could an insect stop a shoe from descending.
In the instant that realization came to me, the force vanished, evaporating as if it had never been. I lay on the floor gasping.
“It is within my capabilities to kill you, young wizard,” Vadderung said quietly. “I could wish you dead. Especially here, at the center of my power on Midgard.” He got up, came around the desk, and offered me his hand. I took it. He pulled me to my feet, steady as a rock. “You will be