by Jim Butcher
“She is my child,” Charity objected.
“She was,” Forthill corrected her, “if only for a time. Children are a precious gift, but they belong to no one but themselves. They are only lent us a little while.” The priest folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorway. “I think you should consider what has happened, Charity. Dresden is perhaps the only one who could have helped you and Molly. I think it no accident that he became involved in this situation.” He gave me a whimsical little smile. “After all. He does work in mysterious ways.”
I walked across the floor and lowered myself to one knee before Charity. “I don’t know anything about that. But for whatever it is worth, I promise you,” I said very quietly. “I will bring your daughter back from the Council safe and well. They’ll have to kill me to stop me.”
Charity looked up at me, and I saw a dozen emotions flicker over her features. Hope, fear, anger, sadness. Twice she opened her mouth to speak, but bit down on the words before she uttered them.
Finally, she whispered, “I have your word on it?”
“You do,” I said.
She stared at me for a moment. Then she looked up and said, to Forthill, “I wish Michael was here.”
Forthill asked her, “If he was, what do you think he would say?”
Her eyes moved back to me, and she said, frowning faintly, “To have faith. To trust the wizard. That he is a good man.”
The priest nodded. “I think he would say that, too.”
Charity glanced at me without meeting my eyes. “How long will it take?”
“I’ll contact the Council today. Depends on who is available, but this kind of thing gets high priority. Tomorrow, the next day at the latest.“
She bowed her head again, and nodded. She said to Forthill, “Is there nothing we can do?”
“Molly’s made her decision,” Forthill said quietly. “And everything I’ve learned about the effects of black magic upon those who use it agrees with what Dresden has told you. Your daughter is in very real danger, Charity.”
“Can’t the Church…?”
Forthill gave her a faint smile and shook his head. “There aren’t many of us still standing sentinel against the Shadows. Of those who do, none of us have any real skill with magic. We could assist her in turning aside from her gifts, but given her age it would in effect be nothing more than imprisonment.” He nodded to Molly. “And, no offense, child, but with your temperament, without your full cooperation, it would only push you more quickly toward the darkness.”
“No,” Charity said. “She’s got to set this aside.”
Molly folded her arms tightly against her stomach, and nodded, lips pressed together. “No.”
Charity looked up and all but pleaded, “Molly. You don’t understand what it could do to you.”
The girl was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “Do you remember the parable of the talents?”
Charity’s eyes blazed. “Don’t you dare attempt to use the scripture to justify this.”
I held up a hand for silence and said, “I haven’t read this one.”
Forthill said, “Three men were given money by their lord in the amount of fifteen, ten, and five silver talents. The man with fifteen invested the money, worked hard, and returned thirty talents to his lord. The man with ten did the same, and returned twenty talents. The lord was most pleased. But the third man was lazy. He buried his five talents in the ground, and when he returned them to the lord, expecting to be rewarded for keeping them safe, his lord was angry. He had not given the lazy man the money to be hidden away. He’d given it to the man so that he could use it and make his lands better, stronger, and more productive. The moral being that, to whom much is given, much is required.”
“Oh,” I said. “Stan Lee said it better. Or at least faster.”
“I’m sorry?” Forthill said.
“Spider-Man. With great power comes great responsibility,” I said.
Forthill pursed his lips and nodded. “That is faster, I suppose. Though I’m skeptical on how it could be worked into a sermon.”
I frowned and glanced at Charity. She had her head bowed, and her hands clenched into fists over and over again. Another insight about her hit me, then.
Charity had been the one given five talents. She’d had the power, and she buried it in the ground.
“My teacher told me something once,” I heard myself say in a quiet voice. “That the hardest lesson in life is learning when to do nothing. To learn to let go.”
Molly laid her head in Charity’s lap and said, “You know bad things are out there. I have a chance to make a difference. I want to help.”
Something inside the steely will of Michael’s wife suddenly broke. She gathered Molly up into another hug and just held her there while she shivered. Then Charity whispered, “Of course you do. You’re your father’s child. How could you want anything else?”
Molly let out a choking little laugh and leaned closer. “Thank you.”
“I will pray for you,” Charity said quietly. She looked up at me and tried to smile. “And for you, Harry.”
Chapter Forty-three
Forthill led me to a small, cluttered office I was sure was his own. He pointed me at the phone and then shut the door, giving me privacy before I could ask him for it. I sat down on the edge of his desk, got the notebook I kept my contact information in from my duster pocket, and called up the Wardens.
I did a password and countersign routine with the young-sounding woman who answered the phone, after which she asked, in accented English, “What is the nature of your call?”
“A report,” I said. “I’ve got a young woman here who’s broken one of the Laws.”
“You’ve captured a warlock?” the woman asked.
“She turned herself in, full cooperation. There are extenuating circumstances around it. I want her to have a hearing.”
“A hearing…” the young woman said. I heard paper rustling. “Warden, I’m sorry, but I don’t think we do hearings anymore.”
“Sure we do,” I said. “We just haven’t had one for ten or twelve years. Pass word to command and tell them we’ll use the same location, sundown tomorrow. I’m tasking Warden Ramirez with security.”
“I don’t know,” the woman hedged. She sounded young and uncertain. Our recent losses to the Red Court had created openings for a lot of young wizards, and they had inherited a hellishly dangerous responsibility from the fallen. “I’m not sure if this is appropriate.”
“This is how we’re doing it,” I told her. “All you have to do is get word to Morgan and Luccio. Tell them what I said. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. She sounded almost grateful. “I’ll pass word up the line.”
“Thank you,” I said, and hung up.
I took a deep breath. Word was on its way to the Wardens, and now I was committed.
There was a knock, and then Forthill opened the door. “Finished?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Of course. Is there anything else I might do?”
I shook my head. “You’ve done more than enough already.”
He smiled a little. “Arguable,” he said. “Though, may I ask you something?”
I nodded.
“The young man,” he said. “Nelson. Is he truly pursued?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. No reason for him to be. Molly worked a spell on him that forced him to feel fear of drug use.”
He frowned. “And you think it brought on a sense of paranoia?”
“She didn’t know how badly her own feelings for him would disrupt the spell. She didn’t mean to do it, but she laid a world of hurt on the boy.” I shook my head. “Paranoia. Nightmares. Phobias. And he’s feeling the physical withdrawal from the drugs, to boot. He could be permanently damaged.”
“Poor lad,” Forthill said.
“I don’t know how to begin helping him, Father,” I said. I paused for a moment, then said,
“He’s an orphan.”
Forthill smiled and took off his spectacles. He polished them with a handkerchief. “You may not know where to begin to help. I do. Don’t worry, Dresden. The boy won’t be left alone.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“I don’t do it for you,” he said, “but for the boy. And from obedience to our Lord. But you’re welcome.”
I put the notebook away and stood up, but Forthill remained in the doorway, his expression direct.
“Tell me,” Forthill said. He squinted at his glasses, making sure they were clean. “Do you believe that you’ll be able to protect the girl?”
“I think so,” I said quietly. I didn’t have many friends on the Council. But the ones I did have were on the Senior Council-it’s an executive body, especially in wartime. They’d support me. It wouldn’t clear the kid completely, but at least she could be placed on a kind of zero-tolerance probation rather than executed.
Forthill watched me with patient, bright blue eyes. “You sound familiar with this situation.”
I smiled a little. “Intimately.”
“I begin to see,” he said.
“Tell me,” I said. “Do you really believe what you told Charity about me? That God arranged for me to be there for Molly?”
He regarded me as he replaced his spectacles, bright blue eyes steady. “I do. I know that you don’t much hold with religion, Dresden. But I’ve come to know you over the years. I think you’re a decent man. And that God knows his own.”
“Meaning what?” I asked.
He smiled and shook his head. “Meaning, mostly, that I have faith that all things work together for the good of those who love the Lord. I meant what I said about you.”
I snorted gently and shook my head. “Harry Dresden. I’m on a mission from God.”
“Seems an awfully unlikely coincidence, does it not? That the one person Michael knows on the Council should be the one in the position to best help his daughter, just when he was called away?”
I shrugged. “Coincidences happen,” I said. “And I don’t think God’s got me warming up in the bullpen to be one of his champions.”
“Perhaps not,” Forthill said. “But I think that you are being prepared, nonetheless.”
“Prepared?” I asked. “For what? By whom?”
Forthill shook his head. “It’s an old man’s hunch, that’s all. That the things you’re facing now are there to prepare you for something greater. Something more.”
“God,” I said. “I hope not. I’ve got problems enough without working up to bigger ones.”
He chuckled and nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.”
I frowned over a thought. “Padre. Tell me something. Why in the world would the Almighty send Michael off on a mission just when his family most needed him to protect them?”
Forthill arched an eyebrow. “My son,” he said, “God knows all things at all times. By His very nature, his omniscience enables Him to know what has happened, is happening, and will happen. Though we might not be able to see His reasons, or to agree with them from our perspectives, they are yet there.”
“So what you’re saying is that the Almighty knows best, and we just have to trust Him.”
Forthill blinked. “Well. Yes.”
“Is there any reason that the Almighty couldn’t do something blatantly obvious?”
Poor Forthill. He’d been preparing himself for years for a theological duel with the shadowy wizard Dresden, and when the moment came, I wasn’t even giving him a real fight. “Well. No. What do you mean?”
“Like maybe the Almighty didn’t send Michael away right when he was needed to protect his daughter. Maybe He sent Michael away because that’s exactly what He wanted him to do.” I let out a short laugh. “If I’m wrong, it would be one hell of a coincidence…” I frowned for a moment, then said, “Do me a favor. Go get Molly for me. Council procedure says that I can’t leave her alone. I’ve got to keep her with me until it’s done.”
He rose and nodded, agreeable if still slightly baffled. “Very well.”
“And I need to know something, Father. Do you know where Michael is right now?”
Forthill shook his head.
“Could you get word to him?” I asked. “I mean, if you really had to?”
He tilted his head, frowning, and asked, “Why?”
“Because I’ve had an idea,” I said. “Can you get in touch with him?”
Forthill smiled.
Chapter Forty-four
My mechanic’s skills bordered on the supernatural. He left word with me that the Beetle was ready to resume active duty, and that while it didn’t look like much, the car would roll when I pushed the pedals-which was all I really needed it to do. So Molly and I rolled up to the lakeside warehouse where I’d met with the Council at the start of this mess.
When I shut down the engine, the Beetle rattled and shuddered hard enough to click my teeth together before it died. It continued wheezing and clicking for several seconds afterward.
Molly stared out ahead of her, her face pale. “Is this the place?”
The rundown old warehouse looked different in the orange evening light than it had at high noon. Shadows were longer and darker, and emphasized the flaws and dents in the building, giving the place a much more rundown, abandoned appearance than I had remembered. There were fewer cars there, as well, and it gave the place an even more abandoned atmosphere.
“That’s the place,” I said quietly. “You ready?”
She swallowed. “Sure,” she said, but she looked frightened and very, very young. “What comes next?”
I got out of the car as an answer, and Molly followed suit. I squinted around, but no one was in sight until the air shimmered about twenty feet away and Ramirez stepped out of the veil that had hidden him.
Carlos Ramirez was the youngest wizard ever given the post of regional commander in the Wardens. He was average height, his skin glowing with bronze health, and he wore both the grey cloak of the Wardens and one of their-or rather, our, except that I don’t have one-silver swords at his left hip. At his right he wore a heavy semiautomatic in a holster, and his military-style web belt also bore several hand grenades.
“Good veil,” I said. “Way better than the other day.”
“I wasn’t here the other day,” he assured me with bland confidence.
“Your work?” I asked.
“I make it look easy,” he said without a trace of modesty. “It’s a curse to be so damned talented when I’m already obscenely good-looking, but I try to soldier on as best I can.”
I laughed and offered him my hand. He shook it. “Dresden,” he said.
“Ramirez.” I nodded to my right. “This is Molly Carpenter.”
He glanced at the girl, looking her up and down. “Miss,” he said, without a polite bow of his head. He glanced at me, indicated a direction with his hand, and said, “They’re ready for you. But walk with me for a minute? I need to talk with you.” He glanced at Molly. “Privately.”
I arched a brow at him. “Molly, I’ll be right back.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “O-okay.”
“Miss,” Ramirez said with a somewhat apologetic smile. “I need you to remain exactly where you’re standing now. All right?”
“Hell’s bells,” I muttered. “You think she’s that dangerous?”
“I think it’s security protocol,” Ramirez said. “If you didn’t want me doing it, you shouldn’t have asked me.”
I started to snarl an answer, but I choked it down and said, “Fine. Molly, just stand there for now. I won’t go out of sight of you.”
She nodded, and I turned with Ramirez. We walked several paces away over the gravel before he asked, “That the kid?”
Ramirez wasn’t old enough to get good car insurance rates himself, much less to refer to someone as “kid,” though he’d had to grow up awfully swiftly. He’d been an apprentice when the war with the Red Court erupted, and he’d done good se
rvice for the Council upon attaining status as a full wizard, fighting in several nasty engagements with the vampires. It was the kind of thing that made a man age in a hurry.
“That’s her,” I confirmed. “Did you get a chance to examine the victims?”
“Yeah.” He frowned and watched me for a moment before he said, “She’s someone you know.”
I nodded.
He glanced back at her. “Crud.”
I frowned at him. “Why?”
“I don’t think today is going to go well for her,” Ramirez said.
My stomach suddenly felt cold. “Why not?”
“Because of how the battle in Oregon played out,” he said. “Once the forces from Summer attacked their rear, we gave the vamps one hell of a beating. Morgan got within about twenty feet of the Red King himself.”
“Morgan killed him?”
“No. But it wasn’t for a lack of trying. He cut down a Duke and a pair of Counts before the Red King got away.”
“Damn,” I said, impressed. “But what does that have to do with Molly?”
“We had the Reds by the balls,” Ramirez said. “Sunrise was coming in the real world, and when they tried to retreat into the Nevernever the faeries were on them like a school of piranha. The Reds had to find a way to draw off some of our heavies and they found it. Luccio’s boot camp.”
I drew in a breath. “They attacked Luccio and the newbies?”
“Yeah. McCoy, Listens-to-Wind, and Martha Liberty led a force from the battle to relieve the camp.”
“They did, huh? How’d it go?”
He took a deep breath and said, “They haven’t reported in yet. And that means…”
“It means that my support in the Senior Council isn’t here to help me.”
Ramirez nodded.
“Who has their proxies?”
“We didn’t hear from you until after they had left, so they didn’t entrust their proxies to anyone.”
