Part 41 (1/2)

Bam, bam, bam. The ghoul slammed against my s.h.i.+eld, and it was an almost painful effort to hold it. The ghoul slammed against my s.h.i.+eld, and it was an almost painful effort to hold it.

”Justine!” Thomas screamed.

I wouldn't be able to hold this ghoul off for long-which was all right, because the other eleven were going to go right around my s.h.i.+eld while he forced me to hold it steady against him, and tear me into tiny pieces and eat me. Hopefully in that order.

Bootsteps thudded behind me, and a voice barked. A second ghoul, several steps in front of the rest, flung itself around my s.h.i.+eld but was intercepted by Ramirez. It leaped at him and hit that gelatinous-looking green cloud of a s.h.i.+eld he used.

What happened to the ghoul as its speed carried its whole ma.s.s all the way through the s.h.i.+eld does not bear thinking on. But Ramirez was going to need new clothes.

Bam. Bam. BAM Bam. BAM!

Murphy screamed, ”Harry, Thomas, Ramirez, down!”

I dropped and dragged Carlos down with me, lowering my s.h.i.+eld as I went. Thomas. .h.i.t the ground a fraction of a second after I did.

And the world came apart in thunder. Sound hammered at my head and ears, and I found myself screaming in pain and shock, before I ground my teeth and shot a quick glance behind me, trying not to lift my head any higher than I had to.

Murphy knelt on the ground by my feet in her dark fatigues, body armor, black baseball cap, and amber safety gla.s.ses. She had a weird little rectangular gun about the size of a big box of chocolates held to one shoulder. It had a tiny little barrel, one of those little red dot optical sights, and Murphy's cheek was laid on it, one eye aligned with the sight as she poured automatic fire into the oncoming ghouls in neat, chattering bursts that ripped the ghoul that had been pounding on my s.h.i.+eld into a spray of broken bits. It went over backward, thras.h.i.+ng one arm and howling in agony.

Beside Murphy, playing Clifford the Big Red Dog to her Emily Elizabeth, was Hendricks. The huge redheaded enforcer was also kneeling and firing, but the gun he held to his shoulder was approximately the size of an intercontinental ballistic missile and spat out a stream of tracer rounds that ripped into the attacking creatures with a vengeance. Several men I recognized from Marcone's organization were lined up next to him, all firing. So were several more men I didn't recognize, but whose clothing and equipment were sufficiently different to make me think they were freelancers, hired for the job. A few more were still pouring through the open gate and into the cavern.

The ghouls were hardy as h.e.l.l, but there is a difference between shrugging off a few rounds from a sidearm and wading through the disciplined hail of a.s.sault-weapon fire that Marcone's people laid down on them. Had it been one man firing at one ghoul, it might have been different-but it wasn't. There were at least twenty of them shooting into a packed ma.s.s, and they kept kept shooting, even after the targets were thras.h.i.+ng on the ground, until their guns were empty. Then they reloaded, and returned to firing. Marcone had given his men the instructions I'd advised-and I imagined the guns he had hired on must have been used to facing supernatural threats of this sort as well. Marcone was nothing if not resourceful. shooting, even after the targets were thras.h.i.+ng on the ground, until their guns were empty. Then they reloaded, and returned to firing. Marcone had given his men the instructions I'd advised-and I imagined the guns he had hired on must have been used to facing supernatural threats of this sort as well. Marcone was nothing if not resourceful.

Murphy stopped shooting and screamed something at me, but it wasn't until Marcone stepped forward into the peripheral vision of the armed gunmen and held up a hand with a closed fist that they stopped firing.

For a second, nothing but a high, heavy tone buzzed in my ears, making me deaf to the other sounds in the cavern. The air was full of the sewer stench of wounded ghoul and the sharp scent of burning cordite. A swath of stone floor ten yards across and thirty deep had just been carpeted in pureed ghoul.

The fight was still going on all around us, but the main force of ghouls was concentrating on the hard-pressed vampires. We'd bought ourselves a temporary quiet spot, but it couldn't last.

”Harry!” Murphy screamed over the merely horrific cacophony of the slaughter.

I gave her a thumbs-up. I pushed myself to my feet. Someone gave me a hand up and I took it gratefully-until I saw that it was Marcone, dressed in his black fatigues, holding a shotgun in his other hand. I jerked my fingers away as if he were more disgusting than the things fighting and dying all around us.

His cold green eyes wrinkled at the corners. ”Dresden. If it's all right with you, I think it would be prudent to retreat back through the gate.”

That was probably a very smart idea. The gate was six feet away from me. We could pull up stakes, hop through, and close it behind us. Gates to the spirit world paid absolutely no attention to trivial things like geography-they obeyed laws of imagination, intention, patterned thought. Even if Cowl was back there, he wouldn't be able to open a gate to the same place as mine, because he didn't think like me, feel like me, or share my intent and purpose.

Seeing fallout from the war with the Red Court had convinced me that running when you didn't have to fight was a really great idea. In fact, the Merlin had written a letter to the Wardens directing them to do so, rather than lose even more of our dwindling combat resources. If we hung around much longer, no one was getting out of this abattoir.

Thomas's sword came down on a thras.h.i.+ng ghoul, and he shouted, with desperation bordering on madness, ”Justine!” He spun to me. ”Harry, help me!”

Leaving was smart.

But my brother wasn't leaving. Not without the girl.

So I wasn't leaving without her, either.

Come to think of it, there were a whole lot of people who didn't need to be here. And, in point of fact, there were some d.a.m.ned compelling reasons to take them with us when we went. Those reasons didn't make it any less dangerous, and they sure as h.e.l.l didn't make the idea any less scary, but that didn't stop them from existing.

Without Lara's peace initiative (fronted by her puppet father), the White Court would pitch in more heavily with the Reds than they already had. If I didn't get Lara and her puppet out, what was already a grim war with the vampires would quite possibly become an impossible one. That was a d.a.m.ned good reason to to stay. stay.

But it wasn't the one that kept me there.

I saw another ghoul tear into a helpless, unresisting thrall, closed my eyes for a second, and realized that if I did nothing to save as many as I could, I would never leave this cavern. Oh, sure, I might get out alive. But I'd be back here every time I closed my eyes.

”Dresden!” Marcone shouted. ”I agreed to an extraction. Not to a war.”

”A war's all we've got!” I shouted back. ”We've got to get Raith out of this in one piece, or the whole thing was for nothing and no one pays you off!”

”No one will pay me off if I'm dead, either,” Marcone said.

I snarled and stepped closer, getting into Marcone's face.

Hendricks rolled a half a step toward me and growled.

Murphy seized the huge man by one enormous paw, did something that involved his wrist and his index finger, and with a grunt Hendricks dropped to one knee while Murphy held one of his arms out straight behind him and angled painfully upward. ”Take it easy, big guy,” she said. ”Someone might get hurt.”

”Don't move,” Marcone snarled-to his men, not to me. His eyes never wavered from mine. ”Yes, Dresden?”

”I could tell you to do it or I'd strand you all in the Nevernever on the way home,” I said quietly. ”I could tell you to help me or I'd close the gate, and we'd all die here. I could even tell you to do it or I'd burn you to ashes where you stand. But I won't tell you that.”

Marcone narrowed his eyes. ”No?”

”No. Threats won't deter you. We both know that. I can't force you to do anything, and we both know that, too.” I jerked my head at the cavern. ”People are dying, John. Help me save them. G.o.d, please please help me.” help me.”

Marcone's head rocked back as if I'd slapped him. After a second he asked, ”Who do you think I am, wizard?”

”Someone who can help them,” I said. ”Maybe the only one.”

He stared at me with empty, opaque eyes.

Then he said, very quietly, ”Yes.”

I felt a fierce smile stretch my mouth and turned to Ramirez at once. ”Stay here with these guys and hold the gate.”

”Who are are these people?” Ramirez said. these people?” Ramirez said.

”Later!” I whirled back to Marcone. ”Ramirez is with the Council, like me. Keep him covered and hold the gate.”

Marcone pointed at several of the men. ”You, you, you. Guard this man and hold the gate.” He pointed out several more. ”You, you, you, you, you, start rounding up anyone close enough to us to get to without undue risk and help them through.”

Men leaped to obey, and I felt impressed. I'd never seen Marcone quite like this before: animated, decisive, and totally confident despite the nightmare all around. There was a power to it, something that brought order to the terrifying chaos around us.

I could see why men followed him, how he had conquered the underworld of Chicago.

One of the hired guns cut loose with a burst of fire, still shockingly loud enough to make me flinch. ”You know what else?” I asked Marcone. ”I don't really need this cave. Neither do you.”