Peace Talks by Jim Butcher

Author:Jim Butcher [Butcher, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Urban, Occult & Supernatural, General
ISBN: 9780748130832
Google: SIbEDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B07SZLRHMT
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2020-07-13T14:00:00+00:00

19

We had a boring all-business meeting at six, the fete began at precisely seven thirty, no one showed up until at least eight, and the poor svartalf delegation must have spent half an hour wondering if they had come to the wrong address.

I hadn’t needed directions. The fete was being hosted at the Brighter Future Society’s headquarters, a small but genuine freaking castle that Gentleman Johnnie Marcone had flown over from somewhere in Scotland, stone by stone, and rebuilt on the lot of a burned-down boardinghouse.

My old house.

Gone now.

In fire.

I wanted to go home.

I pulled through all the familiar streets that led to my old home and my chest hurt as I did. Then I saw the castle and had it pointed out to my stupid heart, again, that home wasn’t there anymore.

It wasn’t a castle like you see at Disney World or anything. This one had been built for business, a no-nonsense block of stone that featured narrow, barred windows starting only on the second floor. It squatted on the lot like a fat frog taking up all of the lily pad, its walls starting not six inches from the sidewalk, and consequently managed to loom menacingly over pedestrians, despite being only three stories tall.

It stood out a little from my old neighborhood’s aesthetic like a luchador at a Victorian tea party.

Tonight, the place’s floodlights were on, glowing and golden, playing up over stone walls as dusk came on. When it got fully dark, Marcone’s castle would look like it was holding a flashlight under its chin. A number of staff in red jackets were running a valet service. I parked on the street instead. Better to know where my car was and how to get back to it.

I sat behind the wheel, watching cars come and go, and waited until a pair of white, gold-chased stretch limos pulled up a few minutes later. The vehicles stopped in front of the castle and the staff leapt into action, opening doors and offering hands.

I exited my car at almost exactly the same time my grandfather got out of his. He was wearing his full formal attire, flowing dark wizard’s robes with a purple stole hanging from his shoulders. Given his stocky frame and the width of the old man’s still-muscular shoulders, the outfit made him look like a Weeble—those toys that wobble but won’t fall down. He had shaved his usual fringe of wispy silver hair, and he looked younger for it, and he carried his staff in his right hand.

Ebenezar peered at the castle with narrowed eyes, then glanced sharply around and nodded when he saw me approaching.

“Hoss,” he said.

“Sir.”

Ebenezar turned to help the next person out, and I glanced back at the second limo to see Ramirez and his team pile out in rapid order, moving calmly and quickly into defensive positions around the lead limo. Carlos gave me a courteous, neutral nod as he went by.

I turned back to see a tall, sturdy woman with dark skin and thick silver hair wave off Ebenezar’s offered hand.

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