Turn Coat (The Dresden Files 11)

He shook his head and actually wiped tears away from his good eye. It took him another moment or two to compose himself, but when he spoke, his living eye sparkled, an echo of his laughter. "You've endured more than most young people," he said. "And tasted more triumph than most, as well. It is a very encouraging sign that you can still laugh at yourself."

"Well, gosh," I said. "I'm just so ignorant, I don't know what else to do."

He stared at me intently. "You don't know what this place is."

"It's out of the way of innocent bystanders," I said. "And I know it better than most of the people who are on the way."

He nodded, frowning. "I suppose that is logical."

"So?"

"Hmm?"

I sighed. Wizards. "So? What is this place?"

He considered his words for a moment. "What do you think it is, beyond the obvious physical and tactical terrain?"

"Well," I said. "I know there's a ley line that comes through here. Very dark and dangerous energy. I know that there's a genius loci present and that it is real strong and isn't very friendly. I know that they tried to start up a small town here, linked with the shipping interests in the Great Lakes, but it went sour. Demonreach drove them away. Or insane, apparently."

"Demonreach?" he asked.

"Couldn't find a name on the books," I said. "So I made up my own."

"Demonreach," the Gatekeeper mused. "It's... certainly fitting."

"So?"

He gave me a tight smile. "It wouldn't help you for me to say anything more-except for this: one of your facts is incorrect. The ley line you speak of does not go through the island," he said. "This is where it wells up. The island is its source."

"Ah," I said. "Wells up from what?"

"In my opinion, that is a very useful question."

I narrowed my eyes. "And you aren't going to give me anything else."

He shrugged. "We do have other matters to discuss."

I glanced back at my unconscious friends. "Yeah. We do."

"I am willing to accept that your intentions are noble," he said. "But your actions could set into motion a catastrophic chain of events."

I shrugged. "I don't know about that," I said. "What I do know is that you don't kill a man for a crime he didn't commit. And when someone else tries to do it, you stop them."

"And you think that this will stop them?" the Gatekeeper asked.

"I think it's my best shot."

"You won't succeed," he said. "If you press ahead, it will end in violence. People will die, you amongst them."

"You don't even know what I have in mind," I said.

"You're laying a trap for the traitor," he said. "You're trying to force him to act and reveal himself."

A lesser man might have felt less clever than he had a moment before. "Oh."

"And if I can work it out," the Gatekeeper said, "then so can the traitor."

"Well, duh," I said. "But he'll show up anyway. He can't afford to do anything else."

"And he'll come ready," the Gatekeeper said. "He'll choose his moment."

"Let him. I've got other assets."

Then he did something strange. He exhaled slowly, his living eye closing. The gleaming steel eye tracked back and forth, as if looking at something, though I could only tell it was moving because of the twitches of his other eyelid. A moment later, the Gatekeeper opened his eye and said, "The chances that you'll survive it are minimal."

"Yeah?" I asked him. I stepped around him and hopped off the dock and onto the island, immediately feeling the connection with Demonreach as I turned to face him. "How about now?"

He frowned at me, and then repeated the little ritual.

Then he made a choking sound. "Blood of the Prophet," he swore, opening his eyes to stare at me. "You... you've claimed this place as a sanctum?"

"Uh-huh."

"How?"

"I punched it in the nose. Now we're friends," I said.

The Gatekeeper shook his head slowly. "Harry," he said, his voice weary. "Harry, you don't know what you've done."

"I've given myself a fighting chance."

"Yes. Today," he replied. "But there is always a price for knowledge. Always."

His left eyelid twitched as he spoke, making the scars that framed the steel orb quiver.

"But it will be me paying the price," I said. "Not everyone else."

"Yes," he said quietly. We were both silent for several minutes, standing in the rain.

"Been longer than five minutes," I said. "How do you want it to be?"

The Gatekeeper shook his head. "May I offer you two pieces of advice?"

I nodded.

"First," he said, "do not tap into the power of this place's well. You are years away from being able to handle such a thing without being altered by it."

"I hadn't planned on touching it," I said.

"Second," he said, "you must understand that regardless of the outcome of this confrontation, someone will die. Preferably, it would be the traitor-but if he is killed rather than captured, no one will be willing to accept your explanation of events, no matter how accurate it may be. Morgan will be executed. Odds are excellent that you will be as well."

"I'm sure as hell not doing this for me."

He nodded.

"Don't suppose you'd be willing to lend a hand?"

"I cannot set foot on the island," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because this place holds a grudge," he said.

I suddenly thought of the drag-thump limp of the island's manifest spirit.

Damn.

He turned to the dock behind him and flicked a hand at the air. A neat, perfectly circular portal to the Nevernever appeared without a whisper or flicker of wasted power. The Gatekeeper gave me a nod. "Your friends will awaken in a moment. I will do what I can to help you."

"Thank you," I said.

He shook his head. "Do not. It may be that true kindness would have been to kill you today."

Then he stepped through the portal and was gone. It vanished an instant later. I stood there in the rain and watched the others begin to stir. Then I sighed and walked back to them, to help them up and explain what was going on.

We had to get moving. The day wasn't getting any younger, and there were a lot of things to do before nightfall.