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The last time I had seen a binding circle even approaching this magnitude, it had been on Demonreach. The spell had been created and maintained with a circle of rare materials and artifacts.
The one Dresden was creating now was made with discount spray paint. Store brand.
I did not pretend to understand all the intricacies of magic. I did, however, have some doubts about this, particularly since I had been given to understand that the city would likely be forfeit if it failed.
“Is this the traditional means for summoning this particular fae?”
“It is not,” Gard informed me helpfully. “Traditionally, a braided circle of iron and gold was used.”
Dresden scowled as he sprayed the finishing touches of his masterpiece onto the concrete of the parking garage. “Which is why we’re using yellow and black,” he said, voice decidedly touchy. “It doesn’t really matter, anyway; it’s just a ritual to make it easier to maintain.”
“Given the stakes and your . . . condition . . . I would prefer that it be as easy as possible for you to maintain the circle,” I said drily.
Dresden looked at me for a moment before it finally seemed to occur to him that having significant blood welling up against numerous bandages might not be the ideal condition in which to begin a summoning. “Yeah, well, this is as good as it’s going to get,” he said. “I’ve done more with less.”
I did not actually doubt this, which really only concerned me more. It had become significantly harder to sleep at night once I realized just how many things wanted to eat this city whole and just how often one sleep deprived wizard was all that stood in the way of it.
And just how often he was using discount materials to do so.
“And is there a particular reason you did not reach out to me to see if I could procure better once it became obvious this would be necessary?” Why he hadn’t procured better himself was obvious; the state of the wizard’s finances had been painfully obvious even before I had started . . . making relevant enquiries.
Normally, I wouldn’t bother.
Normally, the state of one man’s finances and the fate of the city weren’t quite so intertwined.
Dresden stopped spraying to stare at me. “I really don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”
I gestured rather pointedly at the decay that was creeping up the concrete wall that surrounded the parking garage. The decay that would only get worse if this wasn’t stopped. “I think the consequences of failure and my stake in it are clear here.”
Dresden looked bemused. “Yeah, but this happens, like. Once a week, these days. Well, not this, but something on this level. What’s got you so worked up about this one?”
I took a deep breath. I turned to Gard.
“Incursions will increase in frequency until the Outsiders are dealt with,” she informed me.
She had discussed this with me previously. She had not quite made clear what that meant.
It was not that I hadn’t noticed supernatural issues cropping up around the city with Dresden always close on their heels. I had just failed to realize that Dresden’s presence was the only thing keeping the city from collapsing quite so . . . frequently.
“It’s not like this one’s special,” Dresden said. “Once I deal with this, I’ve got to track down a warlock that’s gotten it into his head that if the end times are coming, he might as well hurry them along. If the city’s still standing after that, I’m going to take a nap.”
He said it more as if he were defying the heavens then as if he really expected the fulfillment of this plan.
I hoped very much that the part about the end times was more about the warlock’s delusions than anything else.
Given how the rest of the day had gone, I made a mental note to check with Gard about it. Since it seemed we needed to have an intense discussion about what I needed to know.
“Dresden.” It took considerable control not to let my frustration spill into my tone. “I know you are averse to working for me - “
“You promised you wouldn’t bring that up again!”
That had been a threat, actually, not a promise, though it said something about Dresden that he had interpreted it as a positive.
“ - and I’m not bringing it up now,” I said smoothly. I had a reputation to maintain, after all. “But have you ever considered charging for services beyond investigation? I am confident that plenty of people would be more than willing to contribute financially to the continued existence of this city.”
Myself, for instance. I would give a great deal of funds not to be staring at these slowly disintegrating walls while Dresden tried to shore up reality with spray paint.
“I’m not going to charge people to save the city, Marcone,” Dresden huffed. The sound of spray paint had started up again. “This isn’t some kind of protection racket.”
“Not at all,” I agreed. “Think of it like - a GoFundMe. For saving Chicago. Or whatever website is popular these days.” Not, of course, that Dresden could use said website himself, but presumably one of his less technologically explosive friends and allies could handle that for him. “I hear excellent things about the Paranet; surely they would be happy to contribute.”
Dresden had at last finished the summoning - something. It had started as a circle, but it had grown complicated enough since then that I hesitated to credit it as such.
“I’m on the White Council now. Doing this is literally my job. Why am I even arguing with you about this?”
“Then surely they should be supporting you better in it. You cannot expect me to believe that they would be happy to know Chicago is currently melting around us.” Surely they should have sent some sort of support out here by now if Chicago was truly drawing in so many incursions.
Dresden started to answer that question before his eyes flicked to Gard, and he very visibly changed his mind.
“Look, do you want to keep arguing about this, or do you want me to save the city?”
“By all means, don’t let me keep you.”
“Very kind,” Dresden said, voice dripping sarcasm, and he began the summoning.
“Rumor has it that the White Council’s resources are spread . . . thin,” Gard said quietly once he was distracted.
I took a moment to contemplate the idea of the White Council being spread thin enough that sparing a single wizard to deal with this mess was the best they could do.
I took another moment to consider the idea that Dresden seemed very certain that things would only get worse.
And the even more concerning fact that against forces like the ones he routinely went up against, I had very, very little to offer.
I was very familiar with the methods of extorting people out of their money and resources.
It seemed I was going to have to become equally familiar with the methods of extorting one very particular person into accepting money and resources before he collapsed from sleep deprivation and we all died.
. . . failing all else, I was at least finding an alternative to the spray paint.