Ghost Story (The Dresden Files #13) - Jim Butcher Page 0,112
eyes had changed color. I remembered them as a clear grey. Now they were a deep, deep purple. I don’t mean purple like the dark violet eyes that lots of Bob’s romance-novel heroines always seem to have. They were purple like a bruised corpse, or like the last colors of a twilit sky.
He faced the Grey Ghost calmly and bowed from the waist, the gesture slow and fluid. “Greetings, Lady Shade, from my master, Cantrev Lord Omogh.”
“Hello. Listen,” the Grey Ghost replied, her tone sour, “what does Omogh want from me now?”
Listen bowed again, purple eyes gleaming. “My master desires to know whether or not your campaign is complete.”
The Grey Ghost’s voice came out from between clenched teeth. “Obviously not.”
Listen bowed. “He would know, then, why you have escalated your search to a seizure of a second-tier asset.” The servitor paused to glance at Morty and then back to the robed figure. “This action runs counter to your arrangement.”
The eye sockets of the skull flickered more brightly. “We could still send the Fomor the message about calling ahead.”
“No,” the Grey Ghost said severely.
“It would be simple and direct. . . .”
“No, spirit,” the Grey Ghost snarled. “I forbid it.”
The skull’s eyes flickered rapidly for a moment, agitated. Then it bowed lower and said, “As you wish.”
The Grey Ghost turned to Listen and said, “My servant believes it would be logical to murder you and send your corpse back to your master in order to express my displeasure.”
Listen bowed again. “I am one of many, easily replaced. My death would be but a brief annoyance to my lord, and, I think, a somewhat anemic symbolic gesture.”
The Grey Ghost stared at him and then said, “If you weren’t speaking the literal truth, I think I should be satisfied with letting the skull have you. But you really have no sense of self-preservation at all, do you?”
“Of course I do, Lady Shade. I would never throw away my life carelessly. It would make it impossible for me to ensure that my death is of maximum advantage to my lord.”
The Grey Ghost shook her head within the hood. “You are a fool.”
“I will not contest the statement,” Listen said. “However, Lady Shade, I must ask you for an answer to return to my lord.” He added mildly, “Whatever form that answer may take.”
“Inform him,” said the Grey Ghost, voice annoyed, “that I will do as I see fit to acquire an appropriate body.”
Whoa.
The Lady Shade was looking for a meat suit.
Which meant . . .
I shook off the line of logic to be examined later. I focused on the conversation at hand.
“You made no mention of requiring such a valuable specimen for your ends,” Listen said.
“Look at what I have to work with,” Lady Shade snarled, gesturing at the Big Hoods gathered around the pit. “Scraps that cannot support the weight of my talent. Tell Omogh that if he wishes an ally who can face the Wardens, he must be tolerant. This specimen is of the least value to his purposes, and the greatest to mine.”
Listen considered that for a moment and then nodded. “And the Rag Lady?”
“Once I am seated within a mortal form, I will deal with her,” Lady Shade said. Her voice became detectably smug. “Assuming, of course, you have not already removed her yourself. Is that a burn on your cheek, Listen? I hope it does not pain you.”
“Very kind, Lady,” Listen said with another bow. “I am in no discomfort worth noting. May I tell my lord that you will make him a gift of these fourth-tier creatures, once you are restored?”
Lady Shade seemed to consider that for a moment. She tilted her head and looked around at the Big Hoods. “Yes, I suppose so. I’ll have little need for such baubles.”
“Excellent,” Listen said. He sounded genuinely pleased.
Lady Shade shook her head again. “Is he so enamored of such minor talents?”
“A moment ago,” Listen said, “I was preparing to inform him of the potential loss of a second-tier. Now I may inform him of the probable gain of a dozen lesser acquisitions. It pleases me to draw positive gains for my lord from negative situations.”
From his place dangling over the pit, Morty said, in a slurred voice, “Tell him he ain’t getting squat. Bitch can’t have me.”
Listen lifted both eyebrows and looked at Lady Shade.
“I require his consent,” the Lady Shade said, her voice tight. “I will have it. Had you not interrupted me, I would have it already.