Part I Part 80 (2/2)

”No,” she said. ”I will not set you free in exchange for this potion. I too can find the thistle.”

”Maybe,” I admitted. ”Maybe you can even do it in time. Maybe not. Either way, without a trip to the hospital, there's not much chance of me living, even with the extract. And none at all, really, if I don't get it soon.”

”I will not trade you away! You have given yourself to me!”

Michael shrugged one shoulder. ”I believe that you wrought a bargain with a foolish young man caught in the heat of the moment. But we aren't asking you to undo it altogether.”

Lea frowned. ”No?”

”Naturally not,” Thomas said. ”The extract only offers Harry a chance at life. That's all we'd ask from you. You'd be obliged to let him go-and bound for a year and a day to do no harm to him or his freedom so long as he remains in the mortal world.”

”That's the deal,” I said. ”As a faithful pet, I should point something out: If I die, you never never get me, G.o.dmother. If you let me go now, you can always give it a shot another night. It isn't as though you have a limited number of them, is it. You can afford to be patient.” get me, G.o.dmother. If you let me go now, you can always give it a shot another night. It isn't as though you have a limited number of them, is it. You can afford to be patient.”

Lea fell silent, staring at me. The night fell silent as well. We all waited, saying nothing. The quiet panic I already felt, after eating the toadstool, danced about my belly, making it twitch and jerk.

”Why?” she said, finally, her voice very quiet, pitched only for me. ”Why would you do this to yourself, Harry? I don't understand.”

”I didn't think you would,” I said. ”There are people who need me. People who are in danger because of me. I have to help them.”

”You cannot help them if you are dead.”

”Nor if I am taken by you.”

”You would give your own life in place of theirs?” she asked, her tone incredulous.

”Yes.”

”Why?”

”Because no one else can do this. They need me. I owe it to them.”

”Owe them your life,” Lea mused. ”You are mad, Harry Dresden. Perhaps it comes of your mother.”

I frowned. ”What's that supposed to mean?”

Lea shrugged. ”She spoke as you do. Near the end.” She lifted her eyes to Michael and straightened on the horse. ”A dangerous play, you made tonight, wizard. A bold play. You cut the traditions of my people very close to the bone. I accept your bargain.”

And then, with a casual flick, she removed the lariat from me. I stumbled back, away from her, gathered up my fallen staff and rod, and Bob in his net sack, and made my way to the bridge. Once there, Michael gave me the vial. I unstoppered it and drank. The liquid within tasted gritty, a little bitter. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, after swallowing it down.

”Harry,” Michael said, watching Lea. ”Are you sure you'll be all right?”

”If I get to the hospital soon,” I said. ”I've got somewhere between six and eighteen hours. Maybe a little longer. I drank all that pink stuff before we left to line my stomach. It might slow down the rate of digestion on the mushroom, give the extract a chance to beat it to my guts.”

”I don't like this,” Michael muttered.

”Hey. I'm the one who ate the deadly poison, man. I don't much care for it myself.”

Thomas blinked at me. ”You mean, you were telling her the truth?”

I glanced at him, nodding. ”Yeah. Look, I figure we'll be in there and out again in an hour, tops. Or else we'll be dead. Either way, it will happen in plenty of time before the first round of symptoms sets in.”

Thomas just stared at me for a moment. ”I thought you were lying,” he said. ”Bluffing.”

”I don't bluff if I can help it. I'm not too good at it.”

”So you really could die. Your G.o.dmother is right, you know. You are mad as a hatter. Nutty as a fruitcake.”

”Crazy like a fox,” I said. ”All right. Bob, wake up.” I shook the skull, and its empty eye sockets kindled with orange-red lights, somehow too far back inside them.

”Harry?” Bob said, surprised. ”You're alive.”

”For a while,” I said. I explained to him how we'd gotten me away from my G.o.dmother.

”Wow,” Bob said. ”You're dying. What a great plan.”

I grimaced. ”The hospital should be able to take care of it.”

”Sure, sure. In some places, the survival rate is as high as fifty percent, in the case of amantin poisoning.”

”I took extract of milk thistle,” I said, a little defensive.

Bob coughed, delicately. ”I hope you got the dosage right, or it could do more harm than good. Now, if you'd come to me about this to begin with-”

”Harry,” Michael said, sharply. ”Look.”

I turned to look at my G.o.dmother, who had ridden a little way off and sat still upon her dark steed. She raised in her hand something dark and gleaming, maybe a knife. She waved it to the four corners, north, west, south, east. She said something in a twisting, slippery tongue, and the trees began to moan as the wind rose, was.h.i.+ng through them. Power washed out from the sidhe sorceress, from the dark knife in her hand, and raised the hairs on my arms, the nape of my neck.

”Wizard!” she called to me. ”You have made bargain with me tonight. I will not seek you. But you have made no such bargain with others.” She threw back her head in a long, loud cry, somehow terrifying and beautiful at once. It echoed over the rolling land, and then was answered. More sounds came drifting back, high-pitched howls, whistling shrieks, and deep, throaty coughing roars.

”Many there are who owe me,” Lea sneered. ”I will not be cheated of you. You have had the potion. You would not have placed your life in such jeopardy without a cure to hand. I will raise no hand against you-but they will bring you to me. One way or another, Harry Dresden, you will be mine this night.”

The wind continued to rise, and overhead sudden clouds began to blot out the stars. The howls and calls came closer, carried on the rising wind.

”s.h.i.+t,” I said. ”Bob, we have to get out of here. Now.”

”It's still a pretty good walk to the spot you showed me on the map,” Bob said. ”A mile, maybe two, in subjective terms.”

”Two miles,” Michael noted, clinically. ”I can't run that far. Not with my ribs like they are.”

”And I can't carry you,” Thomas said. ”I'm amazing and studly, but I have limits. Let's go, Harry. It's just me and you.”

My mind raced, and I struggled to put together a plan. Michael couldn't keep up. He had managed the sprint before, but his face looked a little greyish, now, and he carried himself stiffly, as though in pain. I trusted Michael. I trusted him at my side, and at my back. I trusted him to be able to take care of himself.

But alone, against a wrathful faerie posse, how would he do? I couldn't be sure-even with the sword, he was still a man. He could still lose his life. And I didn't want another life on my conscience.

I glanced over at Thomas. The handsome vampire managed to wear my castoff clothes and make them look like some kind of fas.h.i.+on statement. Slouch nouveau. He returned my glance with a perfect, s.h.i.+ning smile, and I thought about what he had said, about what a good liar he was. Thomas had sided with me. Mostly. He'd been friendly enough. He even, apparently, had every reason to want to help me and work with me to get Justine back.

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