Battle Ground

by Jim Butcher

  “Formidable enough the White Council doesn’t want anything to do with me,” I said.

  She waved a hand, her voice utterly confident. “Sheep fear wolves, my Knight. And it is appropriate that they do so.”

  “The big bad momma of wicked faeries just looked at me about a work problem and said, ‘Whatchagonnado?’” I sighed. “Maybe that’s a bad sign.”

  Mab stopped under the hole in the roof and stared up at it, her face pale and perfect in the wan shaft of daylight, filtered through thick, sleepy rain clouds. The raindrops that made it through bounced off her and landed on the floor with sharp clicks, as tiny chips of ice. “You begin to see the shape of my problems, my Knight.” She glanced at me. “You are a wolf. A predator. One they need.”

  “I’m the hero Chicago deserves,” I said in my best overblown Batman voice. “But not the one it swiped on Tinder.”

  Mab glanced at me wearily. “You know what it is,” she said, “to sell pieces of your soul so that someone who will never know your name will have another chance at life.”

  I didn’t have a response for that.

  Silence fell.

  I walked over beside Mab and looked up out of the castle at the soft daylight and the falling rain.

  When droplets hit me, I just got wet.

  “I always figured,” I said, “that when you sold your soul, it went all at once.”

  She smiled faintly. Click, click, click.

  “You didn’t even understand who would be receiving it,” she said. “Honestly, why you children keep making such bargains with old serpents like me, I shall never understand.”

  I frowned up at the light.

  “When big, bad, hungry evil showed up at the door,” I said, “I wanted the people of Chicago kept safe. So I fought it. With everything I had.”

  “Yes,” Mab said.

  “So did Marcone,” I said. “End of the day, when push came to shove, he gave people who were in trouble shelter behind his walls. And he fought to defend the city.”

  “He did,” Mab said.

  “I won’t forget it.”

  I eyed her.

  “So did you,” I said.

  She stared up at the light, ignoring me. Click, click, click.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You fought for my city. My people. Thank you.”

  She looked at me in sudden confusion.

  “Thank you,” I said, for the third time.

  Three repetitions separate the random from the intentional. Repeat something three times, and you make it more real.

  Mab shivered at my gratitude.

  She closed her eyes.

  And for a second, raindrops fell through the hole in the roof.

  Then they went click, click, click again. And Mab opened her eyes. “Child,” she said. “You are welcome.”

  “I have a question,” I said.

  “Ask.”

  “The Eye,” I said. “It was made of pure hate. I felt that.”

  “Yes.”

  “It destroyed everything it touched,” I said. “Except you. Even Titania didn’t touch it when she faced it. But you could. Why?”

  Mab’s mouth turned up into a faint smile.

  “Everyone,” she said, “thinks that hate and love are somehow opposite forces. They are not. They are the same force, facing opposite directions.” She glanced aside at me. “Love is a fire, my Knight. Love turned the wrong way has killed as many as hate. Reason, young wizard, is the opposite of hate, not love. Ethniu could not destroy me with a single blast of the Eye. I was quite certain of it. I ran the numbers.”

  I stared at her for a moment. Then I nodded.

  “You need to run a few more,” I said. “Because you’re asking too much of me. It’s more than I can give you.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Because your lover fell in battle?”

  I gave her a furious look.

  She took it without noticing, and I was too tired to keep it up. “You will heal. I have buried a cohort of lovers over the years, Dresden,” she said, without malice. “We won this battle. Enjoy the victory. But the war goes on—and it must yet be fought.”

  It wasn’t like I saw Murph’s shade standing there. That would have been too much. But I could imagine what it would look like, standing there, staring at me impatiently while Mab said things that would become no less true just because I didn’t like them.

  “You’re asking too much,” I said.

  “You find the pairing undesirable?”

  “I find it suicidal, and it wouldn’t matter who she was,” I said. “You’re forcing me into something that shouldn’t be forced.”

  Her voice turned colder and harder than any stone in Antarctica. “Yes. I am.” She glanced at me. “Because I judge it necessary. Our world has just become infinitely more uncertain and dangerous. We must become stronger and more stable to face it, securing both the appearance and fact of a secure alliance with a competent partner. That is more important than any given person or their petty desires. Including yours.”

  “Makes sense,” I said. “And it doesn’t matter. You should do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Get married. Lara wouldn’t mind.”

  “Not possible,” Mab said. “If it was work I could do myself, I would.”

  Which . . . I believed, actually. “Why not?”

  “Certain aspects of my power have to do with choices I made when I was mortal,” she said. “There would be . . . compatibility issues. This is part of the task the Knight was designed for.”

  “Designed for? I’m not. . . . That isn’t how it works. It’s not a choice I’m making. That’s just how it is.”

  Click, click, click.

  “There is,” Mab said, a very soft, very gentle tone of warning in her voice, “one year, for it to be different.”

  “That isn’t how it works,” I said. “People aren’t machine parts. You can’t just plug them in wherever. They aren’t game pieces. You can’t just pick them up and move them around the board, wherever you want them to go.”

  “Yet the machine still must function. The game must be played,” she said, her voice implacable, stating facts, not angry. “Do not test me. There is no margin here for you to dance within. Bend, wizard. Or I will break you.”

  I drew in a breath and let it out again.

  “I guess we’ll see,” I said.

  Her eyes glinted. But she looked like someone who had heard what she expected to hear. She inclined her head to me in an opponent’s acknowledgment. “We will see.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Molly’s car was being driven by one of the Sidhe who I couldn’t quite tell was male or female, and who could presumably kill me a dozen times while I tried to figure it out.

  “You hear nothing,” Molly told the Sidhe, and the being shuddered a little and nodded.

  “Literally,” Molly said. “That’s my Winter Law voice. The driver is effectively deaf until I say otherwise.”

  And then she rolled up the privacy curtain between the front and the back.

  “Your driver reads lips?” I guessed.

  “I find it best to assume,” she said. “The Winter Court is just that kind of place.” She folded her arms and crossed her knees, which looked very nice in the sharp, rather conservative dress suit she wore. “I can’t believe she’s just selling you off like a horse to Lara.”

  “Thanks?” I said.

  She waved a hand in a vaguely apologetic gesture. “You know what I mean. It’s unconscionable.”

  “For most of humanity’s history,” I said, “it was standard practice. Marriage of a couple, symbolizing the actions of a state, bound together in an act of ritual high magic. And it was practiced so long because it worked.”

  Molly eyed me. “Who exactly do y
ou think you’re teaching, here, Socrates?”

  I lifted a hand in acknowledgment. “I’m . . . tired, Molly. Sorry.”

  She grimaced and looked out the window. “No. I shouldn’t have pushed.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe Mab is doing this to you now. The dirt’s barely settled on Murphy’s grave.”

  No.

  It hadn’t.

  I stared out the window for a while, just sort of letting the world happen to me. Molly spoke, I think.

  “You haven’t heard a word I said, have you?” she asked me, a while later.

  I blinked and tried to recall, but I hadn’t really been tracking too well. “Sorry,” I said. “I mean, I’m not sorry. I’m hurt, and I deserve consideration for it. But I’m sorry that’s a pain for you right now.”

  Molly gave me a faint, grim smile and shook her head. “No. I get it. Losing someone you feel that way about. Having them taken away. It changes you for a while.”

  I looked at her and winced.

  I started to apologize.

  She saw it coming, and smiled and shook her head firmly, even while tears formed in her eyes. “We’ve dealt with that already. That was pain and it happened and it was real and necessary, and now it’s in the past.”

  I cupped her cheek with my hand. She closed her eyes and leaned against my palm.

  “Harry,” she said. “She was a good person. I’m sorry.”

  I nodded several times and couldn’t say anything. Or see anything.

  “But listen. I don’t expect you to be fine. I expect you to maybe behave like an ass for a while, because you’re hurting. And while we would all be grateful if you didn’t, if you do sometimes, you’ve . . . earned it. There are people around you who understand what it’s cost you to do the things you’ve done. And if you’re grouchy while you heal from the wounds you’ve taken, it’s unpleasant and understandable.” She looked up at me. “So, yeah. It’s okay if you’re a mess for a while. That’s how you heal from stuff like this. And when everything shakes out, I’ll still be your friend.”

  “Oh, thank God,” I said, and even if I laughed, I mostly meant it. “This Lara thing Mab’s throwing at me. I can’t deal with it.”

  “I don’t think Lara was thinking things would happen at that pace, either,” Molly said, her tone dry. “The year was for herself as much as for you.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “It’s a year. I don’t have to figure everything out right now, today.” I settled back in my seat and swept a hand at my eyes. “Good thing. I’m not really up for it at the moment.”

  “And I’m still pushing,” said Molly, her tone even more wry. She took my hand between hers and held it firmly. “You’re my Knight as well, Harry. And I owe you a great deal. I am on your side. When you’re ready to act, I’ll be there. And until then, I’ll be here.”

  “Thanks, Molls,” I said.

  She smiled at me fleetingly. Then she bit her lip and said, “How do I look?”

  Her hair was styled back into the natural golden brown color she’d been born with, and fell in a long, natural cut. She wore minimal makeup and muted lipstick. She looked like she’d gained weight and . . . were those the beginnings of crow’s-feet at the corners of her eyes?

  “This is approximately what I’d look like, if I wasn’t . . .” she said. Then she flailed her hands and said, “How in the hell do you go to your parents and say, ‘Hi, Mom, Dad, I’m a faerie princess. The evil sexy kind’?” She looked up at me, and her eyes were a bit desperate. “Harry, this was a bad idea. You can make excuses for me, right? We’re really Catholic. We can be polite around problems right in the middle of the room for generations if we need to.”

  “No, you can’t,” I said, gently, and squeezed her hands back. “That’s not worthy of any of you.”

  “They’re not going to understand,” she said.

  “Especially if you never talk to them about it,” I said.

  “It’s the look,” she said. “The look my father is going to give me. The disappointed look.” She shook her head. “Fighting Corb and his buddies didn’t scare me. But that does.”

  “If you love them,” I said, “you kinda have to build that on something real. That means telling them the truth. It’s not a very good way to build real love and trust. It’s just the only way.”

  She released me and waved both hands as though plagued by a swarm of insects. “Yes. I know, I know, I know.” She sniffed and started blinking her eyes clear. “I just wanted a moment to imagine myself panicking and running away. It seemed so restful.”

  The car slid to a stop outside the Carpenters’ home.

  “Moment’s over,” I said gently. “You ready?”

  I offered her my hand.

  She took it and gave me a faintly puzzled smile. “You never push me about things like this, Harry. But you haven’t relented. Why not?”

  “Because I’m in your corner, kiddo,” I said. “Including backing you on this whole Winter Lady gig. But it occurs to me that what has made you a successful Winter Lady hasn’t got anything to do with what Mab gave you.” I nodded toward the house. “It’s mostly about what you learned from them. I know you’re all about the job right now. But keep yourself, Molly. It’s easy to lose perspective if you don’t have somewhere solid you can plant your feet from time to time.”

  “You think that place is here?” she asked.

  I opened the car door and got out, drawing her with me. She murmured something to the driver and then followed me into the early Sunday afternoon sunshine, behind clouds that promised more rain before too much longer.

  We walked up to the porch and I knocked on the door.

  Somewhere in the house, Mouse let out a single basso woof, and then heavy paw steps sounded on the stairs.

  “I don’t know of many more solid places,” I said.

  The door opened, and Michael smiled out at us. His smile became radiant when he saw Molly. “Oh, oh my goodness, you look so . . .” He huffed out a quick breath of laughter and nodded. “Perfect.”

  “Dad,” Molly stammered. She glanced up at me for a second and then plowed doggedly ahead. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  “Molly,” Michael said.

  “Dad, this is important,” she said. “I haven’t been saying much about my new job, because I knew you wouldn’t like what you heard.”

  “Molly, we know that—”

  “No, wait,” she said. “Because I have to make sure that we are absolutely clear.”

  “That you’re the Winter Lady now,” Michael said. “Yes, obviously. You think your mother and I are blind as well as old?” He kissed her hair, turned to me, and said, “Hello, Harry.”

  Molly blinked.

  “Now, we’ve checked all the glassware and we’ve gotten out your grandmother’s silverware,” Michael said. “I had no idea how much the tradition of silverware for guests is bound up with the idea of being able to prepare a proper dinner for the Fair Folk, should they come to visit, and I suppose this is technically the same thing. The silver shouldn’t be a problem for you, should it?”

  Molly blinked several more times, then smiled slowly and carefully at her father and said, “That will be fine, Dad.”

  “Good, because your mother says you’re not getting out of helping in the kitchen just because you’re a faerie princess now. She got you those long kitchen gloves so that you can still wash dishes.”

  Molly blinked several more times.

  I just sort of drank it in.

  Michael saw the expression on his daughter’s face. He put his hand on her shoulder. Then he enfolded her in a slow, gentle hug.

  “Don’t think that you’re getting out of a talking-to, either, young lady,” he said, his big voice gentle and deep. “Your mother and I have concerns, and we’re going to address them with you because we love you
and we know what happened to the last young woman with your job. But that’s for later. For now, I’m just glad that you’re home to see us. And you still eat meat, don’t you? Your mother found this fancy flavored salt for the roast and it really is quite good.”

  “Oh, very meat-friendly, is Winter,” Molly stammered. She looked at Michael, her expression faintly baffled and very much full of affection, and said, “I love you, Dad.”

  Michael smiled and kissed her hair again.

  Then there was a high-pitched shriek and Maggie came flying over the doorway and into my arms. I caught her without too much trouble. She was such a little thing.

  She hugged me with improbable strength. I think she cheated, by using her legs as much as her arms. I hugged her back, as gently as I knew how. She always laid her head against my arm and closed her eyes for a moment when she greeted me like that.

  I would close my eyes with her when she did.

  Because that was my solid place.

  I’d taken a horrible loss.

  But I’d lost before, and survived it.

  And it wasn’t just me, now.

  I felt a gentle bump and looked down to see Mouse leaning sleepily against my leg, his great tail wagging gently. My little family.

  Michael and Molly went into the house arm in arm. From within, Charity and Sanya exclaimed their enthusiastic greetings.

  I held on to Maggie for a moment more.

  Michael stuck his head back out, saw me, smiled, and went inside.

  Michael knows about taking a moment.

  Life in the supernatural world was about to get a lot more complicated, for everyone. Every bad guy I’d ever angered out there was going to reevaluate whether or not they could take me down, now that I was out of the White Council. Mab planned to marry me off to the nice vampire queen next door. And I had a whole castle to furnish on a limited budget.