Cold Days (The Dresden Files #14) - Jim Butcher Page 0,174

instead of a roar, it came out as a primal screech. The cry was instantly taken up by every single member of the Hunt, even as Kringle, his shadow mask restored, remounted his steed and whirled it to face me.

“Sir Knight,” Kringle said, inclining his head slightly to me, “what game amuses you this fine, stormy evening?”

I started loading shells from the ammo belt into the Winchester, until the rifle was full again. Then I levered a shell into the pipe, slipped a replacement into the tube, shut the breach with a snap, and felt a wolfish smile spreading my mouth. “Tonight?” I asked. I raised my voice to address them all. “Tonight we hunt Outsiders!”

The bloodthirsty screech that went up from the Wild Hunt was deafening.

Chapter

Forty-two

“Pipe down!” I shouted. “We’re going quiet until we get there!”

The Hunt settled down, though not instantly. Karrin revved the Harley’s engine, and it was completely, entirely silent. I could feel the vibration of the increased revolutions, but they did not translate into sound. The shadows around the Harley shifted and wavered, and after a second I realized that they had taken on a shape—that of an enormous black cat, muscled and solid, like a jaguar. That was astounding to me. Magic was not some kind of partially sentient force that did things of its own volition. It wasn’t any more artistic than electricity.

“Okay,” I said to Karrin. “Let’s move.”

“Uh,” she asked, without turning her head, “move where?”

“The island,” I said.

“Harry, this is a motorcycle.”

“It’ll work,” I said. “Look at it.”

Karrin jerked as she noted the appearance of the Harley. “You want me to drive into the lake.”

“You have to admit,” I said, “it isn’t the craziest thing I’ve ever asked you to do. It isn’t even the craziest thing I’ve asked you to do tonight.”

Karrin thought about that one for a second and said, “You’re right. Let’s go.”

She dropped the Harley into gear, threw out a rooster tail of dirt and gravel, and we rushed toward the shore of the lake. The steel mills had been engaged in actual shipping traffic in their day, and the level field of construction marched right up to the water’s edge and dropped off abruptly, the water four or five feet straight down.

Karrin gunned the engine, covering the last two hundred yards in a flat-out sprint, and the torque on that Harley’s engine was something epic, its bellow too loud to be wholly contained by the shadow mask, emerging from the shadow tiger’s mouth as a deep-throated roar. Karrin let out a scream that was two parts excitement to one part terror, and we flew twenty feet before the tires crashed down onto the surface of the lake—and held.

The bike jounced a couple of times, but I held on to Karrin and kept from flying off. It was an interesting question, though: If I had, would the water have supported me, like an endless field of asphalt? Or would it have behaved as it normally would?

The entire Hunt swept along behind us, silent but for the low thunder of hooves and the panting of the hounds—when suddenly the silver starlight turned bright azure blue.

“Whoa!” Karrin said. “Did you do that?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. I looked over my shoulder and found Kringle and the Erlking riding along behind me, I jerked my head at them in a beckoning gesture, and they obligingly came up on either side of the Harleytiger.

“What is that?” I asked, pointing at the sky.

“A temporal pressure wave,” the Erlking said, his flaming eyes narrowed.

“A wha’?” I asked.

The Erlking looked at Kringle. “This is your area of expertise. Explain it.”

“Someone is bending time against us,” Kringle said.

I stared at him for a second and then it clicked. “We’re being rushed forward so that we’ll get there too late,” I said. “We’re looking at a Doppler shift.”

“Is what he said correct?” the Erlking asked Kringle curiously.

“Essentially, aye. We’ve already lost half of an hour by my count.”

“Who could have done this?” I asked.

“You have encountered this before, wizard,” Kringle said. “Can you not guess?”

“One of the Queens,” I muttered. “Or someone operating on their level. Can we get out of this wave?”

The Erlking and Kringle traded a look. “You are the leader of the Hunt,” Kringle said. “What you wright with your power will grace each of us. Would you like to do it?”

Was he kidding me? I had almost as much of an idea of how to screw around with the fabric of