Peace Talks by Jim Butcher Page 0,23

and I was alone in the Munstermobile.

“Drama queen,” I muttered, and started rolling down the windows. A few minutes later, the glass was clear and I was on the road, muttering imprecations about the ruthless nature of Faerie Queens as I drove back to the apartment.

I heard the sirens a couple of blocks out. I nudged the accelerator as I came down the street toward the svartalf embassy, suddenly anxious.

I became a lot more anxious when I saw the haze of smoke in the air—and when I saw the fire department’s emergency vehicles deploying onto the grounds, anxiety blossomed into pure panic.

Flames leapt forty feet into the air above the compound as the building burned.

The embassy was on fire—and my daughter was inside.

7

I parked the Munstermobile a block away and ran in. I didn’t really feel like being stopped by a well-meaning first responder, so I ran in under a veil. I also didn’t feel like being away any longer than necessary, so I ran in at something like Olympic speed. It probably would have been more subtle if I hadn’t vaulted the hood of the last police car in the way. The cop standing next to the driver’s-side door goggled and fumbled his radio, which I guess is understandable when something resembling a low-budget Predator goes by.

There’s no point in having a soul-threatening source of power to draw on if you aren’t going to draw on it when your daughter is in danger.

That’s exactly the reasoning that got you into this mess in the first place, Dresden, isn’t it?

Shut up, me.

The svartalves must have disabled the wards all over the exterior grounds, or else CFD wouldn’t have been able to get near the place. It must have pained Austri to no end to lower the defenses for a gang of humans. I went by the little security shack outside the place and saw no one in it.

The front door of the building was open, and smoke was billowing from it, hazing out everything more than thirty or forty feet away. Two teams of firefighters with hoses had already deployed up to the door and were flooding the place with water, evidently preparing to work their way inside. I didn’t feel like getting hosed down or set on fire, so I skirted the front door, circling the building. There was an emergency exit on the side of the building, and a secondary entrance in the rear where deliveries came in.

The earth abruptly became liquid under my feet and forced me to slow my pace or pitch forward into it. The svartalves manipulated earth the way mortals do plastic, only with magic, obviously, and I dropped my veil at once, lifting my hands. “Whoa, whoa, it’s me! Harry Dresden!”

A svartalf’s head came up out of the ground without any kind of accompanying illusion, enormous dark eyes blinking twice and staring at me. “Ah,” the svartalf said, rising higher out of the ground, and I recognized the voice. It was Etri’s sister, Evanna, his second-in-command. Her hair was pale and so silken-fine that it hung rather lankly around her head. More of her rose out of the ground, clothed in a simple shift the same color as her hair. “Wizard, I was told to watch for you. I need you to come with me.”

“My daughter,” I said. “I have to get to her.”

“Precisely,” Evanna said, her voice crisp. She held out her hand to me.

I gritted my teeth and said, “We’re going to earthwalk?”

“If you please,” she said.

“I hate this,” I said. “No offense.” Then I took a deep breath and took her hand.

I can earthwalk. Technically. I mean, if I really, really, really wanted to, I could do it. Wizards can pull off almost anything other supernatural beings can do, if we want to work at it.

But why would I want to?

Evanna’s hand pulled me down and I sank into the ground as if it had suddenly become thick Jell-O. Dirt-flavored Jell-O. We began moving, and the ground passed through us in the most unsettling way imaginable. I could feel the earth grinding at every inch of my skin, as if I was thrashing my way through fine sand, and my clothes didn’t do a thing to stop the sensation. Worse, it gritted away at my eyelashes, forcing me to blink and hold my hand up over my eyes—which also did no good whatsoever.

Worst was the phantom sensation of earth in my mouth and my nose and tickling at my throat.

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