Read Online My Big Fat Supernatural Honeymoon by Jim Butcher, Kelley Armstrong, P. N. Elrod, Katie MacAlister, Rachel Caine, Marjorie M. Liu, Lilith Saintcrow, Caitlin Kittredge, Ronda Thompson - Free Book Online
Authors: Jim Butcher, Kelley Armstrong, P. N. Elrod, Katie MacAlister, Rachel Caine, Marjorie M. Liu, Lilith Saintcrow, Caitlin Kittredge, Ronda Thompson
Tags: sf_fantasy_city
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answer. A vague answer, but an answer. I pressed ahead. "Then how?"
"Grendelkin are strong," Gard said. "Fast. And they can bend minds in an area around them."
"Bend how?"
"It can make people not notice it, or to notice only dimly. Disguise itself, sometimes. It's how they get close. Sometimes it can cause malfunctions in technology."
"Veiling magic," I said. "Illusion. Been there, done that." I mused. "Mac said there were two disruptions. Is there any reason it would want to steal a keg from the beer festival?"
Gard shot me a sharp look. "Keg?"
"That's what those yahoos in the alley were upset about," I said. "Someone swiped their keg."
Gard spat out a word that would probably have gotten bleeped out had she said it on some kind of Scandinavian talk show. "What brew?"
"Eh?" I said.
"What kind of liquor was in the keg?" she demanded.
"How the hell should I know?" I asked. "I never even saw it."
"Dammit."
"But…" I scrunched up my nose, thinking. "The sign from his table had a drawing of a little Viking bee on it, and it was called Caine's Kickass."
"A bee," she said, her eyes glittering. "You're sure?"
"Yeah."
She swore again. "Mead."
I blinked at her. "This thing ripped off a keg of mead and a girl? Is she supposed to be its… bowl of bar nuts or something?"
"It isn't going to eat her," Gard said. "It wants the mead for the same reason it wants the girl."
I waited a beat for her to elaborate. She didn't. "I'm rapidly running out of willingness to keep playing along," I told her, "but I'll ask it—why does it want the girl?"
"Procreation," she said.
"Thank you, now I get it," I said. "The thing figures she'll need a good set of beer goggles before the deed."
"No," Gard said.
"Oh, right, because it isn't human. The
thing
is going to need the beer goggles."
"No," Gard said, harder.
"I understand. Just setting the mood, then," I said. "Maybe it picked up some lounge music CDs too."
"Dresden," Gard growled.
"Everybody needs somebody sometime," I sang. Badly.
Gard stopped in her tracks and faced me, her pale blue eyes frozen with glacial rage. Her voice turned harsh. "But not everybody impregnates women with spawn that will rip its own way out of its mother's womb, killing her in the process."
See, another answer. It was harsher than I would have preferred.
I stopped singing and felt sort of insensitive.
"They're solitary," Gard continued in a voice made more terrible for its uninflected calm. "Most of the time, they abduct a victim, rape her, rip her to shreds and eat her. This one has more in mind. There's something in mead that makes it fertile. It's going to impregnate her. Create another of its kind."
A thought occurred to me. "That's what kind of person still has her instructions taped to her birth control medication. Someone who's never taken it until very recently."
"She's a virgin," Gard confirmed. "Grendelkin need virgins to reproduce."
"Kind of a scarce commodity these days," I said.
Gard snapped out a bitter bark of laughter. "Take it from me, Dresden. Teenagers have always been teenagers. Hormone-ridden, curious, and generally ignorant of the consequences of their actions. There's never been a glut on the virgin market. Not in Victorian times, not in the Renaissance, not at Hastings, and not now. But even if they were ten times as rare in the modern age, there would still be more virgins to choose from than at any other point in history." She shook her head. "There are so
many
people, now."
We walked along for several paces.
"Interesting inflection, there," I said. "Speaking about those times as if you'd seen them firsthand. You expect me to believe you're better than a thousand years old?"
"Would it be so incredible?" she asked.
She had me there. Lots of supernatural critters were immortal, or the next best thing to it. Even mortal wizards could hang around for three or four centuries. On the other hand, I'd rarely run into an immortal who felt so human to my wizard's
"Grendelkin are strong," Gard said. "Fast. And they can bend minds in an area around them."
"Bend how?"
"It can make people not notice it, or to notice only dimly. Disguise itself, sometimes. It's how they get close. Sometimes it can cause malfunctions in technology."
"Veiling magic," I said. "Illusion. Been there, done that." I mused. "Mac said there were two disruptions. Is there any reason it would want to steal a keg from the beer festival?"
Gard shot me a sharp look. "Keg?"
"That's what those yahoos in the alley were upset about," I said. "Someone swiped their keg."
Gard spat out a word that would probably have gotten bleeped out had she said it on some kind of Scandinavian talk show. "What brew?"
"Eh?" I said.
"What kind of liquor was in the keg?" she demanded.
"How the hell should I know?" I asked. "I never even saw it."
"Dammit."
"But…" I scrunched up my nose, thinking. "The sign from his table had a drawing of a little Viking bee on it, and it was called Caine's Kickass."
"A bee," she said, her eyes glittering. "You're sure?"
"Yeah."
She swore again. "Mead."
I blinked at her. "This thing ripped off a keg of mead and a girl? Is she supposed to be its… bowl of bar nuts or something?"
"It isn't going to eat her," Gard said. "It wants the mead for the same reason it wants the girl."
I waited a beat for her to elaborate. She didn't. "I'm rapidly running out of willingness to keep playing along," I told her, "but I'll ask it—why does it want the girl?"
"Procreation," she said.
"Thank you, now I get it," I said. "The thing figures she'll need a good set of beer goggles before the deed."
"No," Gard said.
"Oh, right, because it isn't human. The
thing
is going to need the beer goggles."
"No," Gard said, harder.
"I understand. Just setting the mood, then," I said. "Maybe it picked up some lounge music CDs too."
"Dresden," Gard growled.
"Everybody needs somebody sometime," I sang. Badly.
Gard stopped in her tracks and faced me, her pale blue eyes frozen with glacial rage. Her voice turned harsh. "But not everybody impregnates women with spawn that will rip its own way out of its mother's womb, killing her in the process."
See, another answer. It was harsher than I would have preferred.
I stopped singing and felt sort of insensitive.
"They're solitary," Gard continued in a voice made more terrible for its uninflected calm. "Most of the time, they abduct a victim, rape her, rip her to shreds and eat her. This one has more in mind. There's something in mead that makes it fertile. It's going to impregnate her. Create another of its kind."
A thought occurred to me. "That's what kind of person still has her instructions taped to her birth control medication. Someone who's never taken it until very recently."
"She's a virgin," Gard confirmed. "Grendelkin need virgins to reproduce."
"Kind of a scarce commodity these days," I said.
Gard snapped out a bitter bark of laughter. "Take it from me, Dresden. Teenagers have always been teenagers. Hormone-ridden, curious, and generally ignorant of the consequences of their actions. There's never been a glut on the virgin market. Not in Victorian times, not in the Renaissance, not at Hastings, and not now. But even if they were ten times as rare in the modern age, there would still be more virgins to choose from than at any other point in history." She shook her head. "There are so
many
people, now."
We walked along for several paces.
"Interesting inflection, there," I said. "Speaking about those times as if you'd seen them firsthand. You expect me to believe you're better than a thousand years old?"
"Would it be so incredible?" she asked.
She had me there. Lots of supernatural critters were immortal, or the next best thing to it. Even mortal wizards could hang around for three or four centuries. On the other hand, I'd rarely run into an immortal who felt so human to my wizard's
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