“They were,” she said. There was something absolutely rigid in her blue eyes. “Not anymore.”

The room suddenly felt too hot. “Suppose I disagree.”

“Suppose you do,” she said. “What would you do if you were in my position?”

I don’t remember moving. I just remember slamming the heel of my hand into the door six inches from the side of Karrin’s head. It sounded like a gunshot, and left me standing over her, breathing harder, and the difference in our sizes was damned near comical. If I wanted to, I could wrap my fingers almost all the way around her throat. Her neck would break if I squeezed.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t move. She looked up at me and waited.

It hit me, what I was thinking, what my instincts were screaming at me to do, and I suddenly sagged, bowing my head. My breath came out in uneven jerks. I closed my eyes, tried to get it under control.

And then she touched me.

She rested her hand lightly on my battered forearm. Moving carefully, as if I were made of glass, her fingers slid down my arm to my hand. She took it gently and lowered it, not trying to force anything. Then she took my right hand in her left. We stood that way for a moment, our hands clasped, our heads bowed. She seemed to understand what I was going through. She didn’t push me. She just held my hands and waited until my breathing had steadied again.

“Harry,” she said quietly then. “Do you want my trust?”

I nodded tightly, not trusting myself to speak.

“Then you’re going to have to give me some. I’m on your side. I’m trying to help you. Let it go.”

I shuddered.

“Okay,” I said.

Her hands felt small and warm in mine.

“I . . . we’ve been friends a long time,” I said. “Since that troll on the bridge.”

“Yes.”

My eyes blurred up, stupid things, and I closed them. “I know I’ve screwed up,” I said. “I’m going to have to live with that. But I don’t want to lose you.”

In answer, Murphy lifted my right hand and pressed it against her cheek. I didn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t hear it in her voice or her breathing, but I felt a slight dampness touch my hand.

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” she said. “That scares me.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak for a long time.

She lowered my hands slowly, and very gently let me go. Then she turned to the door.

“Karrin,” I said. “What if you’re right? What if I change? I mean . . . go really bad.”

She looked back enough for me to see her profile, and a quiet, sad smile.

“I work with a lot of monsters these days.”

Chapter

Twenty-eight

Ipicked up another jacket hanging in the closet, an old surplus military garment with an eighties-style camouflage pattern—not because I thought I would get cold as much as because I figured maybe the extra pockets would be handy if I found anything for which they would be needed. I didn’t have any money or ID. I didn’t have a credit card. Hell, I didn’t have a business card.

What would it say? “Harry Dresden, Winter Knight, Targets Slain, No Barbecues, Waterslides, or Fireworks Displays.”

I could joke around with myself all I wanted, but I would be doing it only because I didn’t want to face a larger question, a really hard one: How the hell did I put my life back together?

Assuming I could do it at all.

Fortunately, I had dire evil to fight at the moment, which meant that I could think about the life thing later. Thank God for imminent doomsday. I’d hate to have to face up to the really tough stuff so soon after getting back into the game.

I heard the front door of the apartment open and close, and some quiet talk. I came out of the bedroom to find that Molly had returned. Toot-toot was riding along on one of her shoulders, hanging on to the top rim of her ear to keep his balance. He looked none the worse for wear.

“Harry,” Molly said, smiling. “You look better. How do you feel?”

“I’ll do,” I said. “Major General, I see you’re back on your feet. The last time I saw you, I figured you’d be down for weeks.”

Toot stiffened to attention and threw me a salute. “No, my lord! The Little Folk don’t have enough time to waste weeks and weeks healing like you big people.”

That probably shouldn’t have surprised me. I’d seen Toot literally eat half his weight in pizza. And his wings were powerful enough to lift him off the ground into flight. Anything that can put food away that quickly and produce such a prodigious amount of physical power relative to its size must have a ridiculously high-burning metabolism. And with the day I’d been having, it did my heart good to see him upright again.

“Where are we on our scouts?” I asked Molly.

“They’re in a food coma,” she said. “I ordered twenty pizzas. Must have been five hundred of them in the parking lot. They’ll be ready to go as soon as you tell me where you want them to look.”

“I need a map,” I said.

Molly reached into her back pocket and produced a folded map. “Way ahead of you, boss.”

“Soon as they’re done, lay it out on the table,” I said.

“Got it.”

“Major General, I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “I need you to stay close.”

Toot saluted again, and his wings blurred into motion, lifting him up off Molly’s shoulder. “Yes, my lord! What is the mission?”

“To prevent a prisoner from attempting escape,” I said. “I captured Captain Hook.”

“Sort of,” Karrin chimed in, her voice amused. She’d returned to her seat by the fireplace.

I gave her a look. “We have him; he’s captured; that’s the main thing.”

Toot put his hand on his sword. “Shall I dispatch him for you, my lord?” he asked eagerly. “Because I totally can.”

“If it needs to be done,” I said soberly, “I’ll make sure it’s your hand that does it. But we’ll give him a chance to talk first.”

“You are a man of mercy and grace, my lord,” Toot-toot said, clearly disappointed.

“You bet your ass,” I said. “Make sure you’re in a good spot to stop our guest from leaving.”

“Aye!” Toot said, saluting, and darted across the apartment.

Molly shook her head. “You’re always so careful to make him feel involved.”

“He is involved,” I said, and started back toward Butters’s makeshift examination table.

“Of course it hurts,” Thomas was saying. Butters was stitching up a small, puckered hole in his lower abdomen. “But not as much as it did before you got the bullet out.”

“And you’re sure you can handle care this crude?” Butters asked. “Because if you were a regular human being, I could pretty much guarantee you that this thing would go septic in a couple of days and kill you.”

“Microorganisms aren’t a problem to my kind,” Thomas said. “As long as I don’t bleed out, I’ll be fine.”

My brother’s tone was calm, but the color of his eyes had changed, growing lighter, a shade of fine grey with almost no blue at all in it. A vampire of the White Court had superhuman strength and speed and resilience, but not an infinite supply. Thomas’s eyes changed as his personal demon, his Hunger, gained more influence over his actions. At some point, he would need to feed to replenish himself.

“You about done?” I asked him. “I need the table.”

“What is it with you people?” Butters groused. “For God’s sake, these are real injuries here.”

“There will be more of them than a thousand reluctant physicians could patch up if we don’t get moving,” I said. “Today’s serious business, man.”

“How serious?”

“Can’t think when it’s been grimmer,” I said. “Freaking waste-of-space vampires, lying around on tables you need to use.”

“Useless wizards,” Thomas said, “jumping on enemy guns and accidentally shooting their allies with them.”