Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files #8) - Page 27

Chapter Forty-six

"Morgan," the Merlin said quietly.

Morgan stared at Molly. Then at the Merlin. He drew in a sharp breath and took a grip on the sword, lifting it vertically before him.

I looked frantically around the room. Ramirez, like most of the rest of the wizards there, had a stunned look on his face. He looked back at me with a blank expression, and gave me a little twitch of his shoulders. Lily looked remote and troubled. Fix's expression was blank, but his jaws were clenched hard, muscles standing out and creating shadows on his face.

"Harry?" Molly whispered, shaking so hard she could hardly speak. "Harry?"

I turned back to the Merlin. His eyes were hard, his face as unyielding as stone. Morgan looked as if he might be about to throw up-but it didn't stop him from moving toward Molly with a steady, dreamlike slowness, sword in hand.

"Harry," Molly sobbed.

I promised Charity.

I took my staff in both hands and stepped forward, putting myself between Morgan and the girl. "Morgan," I said. "Stars and stones, man. Please don't do this. She's a child. We should be helping her."

My words slowed him, and he froze in place for a terrible heartbeat. Then he closed his eyes and swallowed, his face twisting with nausea. He opened his eyes again and whispered, "Stand aside, Dresden. Please."

I looked wildly around the room for someone, anyone to help, for some way to stop this madness. I felt a sudden pressure against my spine, and I looked over my shoulder.

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My eyes fell on the Gatekeeper.

I whirled back to Morgan and lifted my hands. "Point of order!" I cried. "Point of order! The Senior Council has not yet made its decision."

Morgan paused, head tilting, and frowned at me. He lowered the sword and glanced back at the Merlin.

"The Senior Council has decided the issue," the Merlin snarled.

"No," I said. "The Senior Council must decide any capital crime in an open vote." I pointed my finger at the Gatekeeper. "He has not cast his vote."

The Merlin spoke through clenched teeth. "I hold six of seven votes. However the honored Gatekeeper decides, it will not change the outcome."

"True," I said. "But that doesn't change the fact that he gets a damned vote."

"Why are you doing this?" the Merlin demanded. "It is over. You only torment the prisoner with this unnecessary charade."

"He gets a vote," I repeated, and folded my arms on my chest.

The Merlin stared at me hard, and I could actually sense the pressure of his rage, like the end of a baseball bat poking steadily at my chest.

Morgan said, very, very quietly, "He's right, honored Merlin."

The Merlin narrowed his eyes. Then he turned his head to the Gatekeeper. "As you wish. We shall play this farce to its conclusion. Gatekeeper, how find you in this matter?"

And the Gatekeeper said… nothing.

He just stood there, face almost invisible beneath his cowl.

"Gatekeeper!" the Merlin called. "How find you?"

"I find the need for deliberation," the Gatekeeper responded. "I beg the Council's indulgence while I ponder this matter."

"Ridiculous," the Merlin said.

The Gatekeeper tilted his head. "Death is rather final, honored Merlin. I must consider carefully before I consign a soul, any soul, no matter how guilty, to that end."

"This is nonsense. It will make no difference how you vote."

"True," the Gatekeeper replied, very gently, the faintest shade of rebuke in his voice. "But that does not change my moral obligation to make this decision with care."

The Merlin took a deep breath and then said, forced calm in his voice, "I suppose a few moments for thought are not unreasonable."

"Thank you," the Gatekeeper said gravely.

Five minutes went by like five thousand years. Molly sagged against me, so frightened she could barely stand.

"Enough," the Merlin said, finally. "This travesty needs to end."

"On that point," the Gatekeeper said, "we agree." And then he stepped forward to the circle marked on the floor, and smudged it with his boot, breaking the circle. He flicked a gloved hand, and the lock on the chained door sprang open and fell away, followed closely by the chains.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Merlin demanded.

The Gatekeeper ignored him and pushed open the door. One of the Wardens on guard outside stood in front of it, one hand raised as if to knock. He blinked at the Gatekeeper, and then looked over his shoulder and said, "It's open, sir."

"Get clear of the door, fool," barked Ebenezar's voice. "Get them inside. Hurry, man! They're right behind us!"

Outside there was an eerie howl and a sudden detonation of thunder that shook the concrete floor. Young people in roomy brown robes began to hurry through the doorway, most of them around Molly's age or a bit younger. They were led by a young woman with short, curly hair and cheeks that had a dimple even when she wasn't smiling-Luccio, the commander of the Wardens, in the young body a necromancer had trapped her in. The kids must have been her trainees.

She was followed by more children and a tall, brawny woman with dark skin and short, iron grey hair, helping a lanky young man with a wounded leg. Martha Liberty helped the young man settle to the ground and barked out a command for a medical kit. An old man with braided hair and Native American features brought up the rear, shepherding the last few young wizards ahead of him. "Injun Joe" Listens-to-Wind made sure they were all inside, and then turned and shouted, "I'm closing the way now!"

There were several more howls, and a bell-like chime of steel. Something hit the wall of the warehouse hard enough to shake dust from the rafters. Then there was a rushing sound of wind that abruptly ended in heavy silence. Listens-to-Wind sagged and leaned against the doorway, panting. Then he rose and stood aside as Ebenezar McCoy came in.

My old mentor was wearing his usual overalls and T-shirt. His bald pate shone with sweat, and he looked tired, but he was smiling over the pugnacious set of his lower jaw. The air around him fairly crackled with intensity, a mantle of power that hung around him in a subtle haze. Ebenezar reached behind him to hold the door open.

Michael came in.

He wore his white cloak, his mail and breastplate, and he bore Amoracchius in his hands, stained with dark fluids. He glanced around the room, a smile firm on his face.

"Papa!" Molly shrieked, and threw herself at him.

Michael blinked and managed to get the sword out of the way before Molly hit him with a hug that nearly knocked him from his feet. He got an arm around her, smiling. "Ooof! Careful, girl, the old man needs his ribs right where they are."

"Who the hell is this?" Ramirez demanded, frowning at Michael. He looked like he didn't know whether to be upset or disturbed that an armed and armored stranger had just waltzed in and was now standing inside all of his security measures.

"He's a bloody hero is what he is," Ebenezar told him. "If he hadn't come along when he did, not a one of us would have gotten out of there alive." He offered Michael his hand. "I've only heard of you by reputation, Sir Knight. But I've got to say that I'm damned glad to meet you. Thank you."

Michael grinned and juggled his sword and his daughter so he'd have a hand free to shake Ebenezar's. "I'm only a servant," he said. "Any thanks are rightly owed to Him, not to me."

"Aye," Ebenezar said. "And thank God you came, Sir Knight."

"Secure the building," said the Merlin in a quiet voice. He walked forward to see what was happening, and stopped beside me. Michael nodded and moved out, tapping Ramirez and another Warden, and the three of them went to make sure the bad guys weren't still coming.

"Vote isn't over," I said in a very quiet voice. "Which means that the three of them will need to cast their votes as well."

"Obviously," the Merlin said in a neutral murmur.

"That's Michael. Knight of the Cross."

"Which Sword?" the Merlin asked idly.

"Amoracchius," I said.

The Merlin lifted a brow and nodded, never looking at me.

"Looks like he just saved… about forty of our young people?"

"So it would seem," the Merlin said.

"Seems like the least we can do is save one of his."

The Merlin's eyes narrowed, and he did not speak.

"Look at it this way," I said quietly. "There's no downside to this for you. If you're wrong about Molly, the Council gets another wizard. Fairly talented one, too."

"And if I'm right?" he asked quietly.

"If you're right," I said, "you still get to kill the girl."

The Merlin glanced at me. "True," he said. "And you with her."

Chapter Forty-seven

After a second, much less lengthy round of questions and answers, the Senior Council voted, and Molly was officially declared my apprentice, to be granted clemency under the Doom of Damocles. "Doom of Damocles" was wizard-speak for probation. If Molly abused her magic or came anywhere near violating any of the Laws of Magic, she'd be executed at once-and I'd join her.

But I'd lived with that before. I could do it again.

It was full dark by the time the conclave ended and everyone filed out. As the wizard who had called the conclave, it was my job to make sure everyone departed safely and to take care of any last-minute details.

Between providing food and further medical supplies for the unexpected arrivals, and coordinating with Ramirez to make sure our comings and goings weren't being observed, I didn't get the chance to speak to anyone about personal matters. With Lily's help, we'd given the vampires a stiff kick in the balls, but the fight was far from over. The combat-hardened wizards and the talents of the Senior Council were needed elsewhere, and they departed with hardly a pause for food and drink.

Once it was done, I left the warehouse and sank down against the wall, just letting the cool summer evening wash over me.

I'd saved the girl from the bad guys. And more importantly, from the good guys. Which seemed the sort of thing that should pay my Warden's salary overtime, but for the moment I was simply glad it was over.

I'd gambled horribly in my attempt to play the collective will of the Council against the Merlin. I shouldn't have done it that way. The Merlin was a politician. If I'd been willing to eat a little crow, he probably would have come to some sort of compromise with me. A humiliating and disadvantageous compromise, from my perspective, but he might have worked something out.

Instead, I'd gained the moral support of the Council present there tonight, and I'd wielded it against him like a sword, chopping off his options and maneuvering him into bending to my will. I had exercised power over him in a way that no one had yet dared. I had struck a blow against his authority, declared myself an enemy of his administration. There was no way he could ignore that kind of challenge from a morally suspect young punk like me. He would have to bring me down. If I wanted to avoid that, I'd have to keep my eyes open, my wits sharp, and I'd have to continue to do whatever I could to secure myself against him.

In short: I'd become a politician.

But instead of moaning about it, I found myself laughing. Given all that had happened, matters could have been much, much worse. Molly was coming home safe. The murderous fetches had been dispatched. The vampires had been handed their first significant defeat since the cold war combusted.

After the events of the day, tomorrow surely held nothing for me to fear, and I trusted that it would take care of itself until I could rest, eat, and put an end to the last details of the business at hand.

Molly and Michael had waited with me: When Michael covered Luccio's retreat through the nearer regions of the Nevernever, he had gotten back to Chicago without paying for the gas, but his truck was still back in the middle of nowhere, Oregon. He'd need to have it shipped back, or else make a long drive with a partner. He needed a ride home, and I was it.

The Beetle's floorboards settled almost all the way to the ground by the time everyone was on board, and I drove carefully away from the warehouse. Molly chattered on about a confusing blur of things for maybe two minutes and then went abruptly silent.

Michael checked over his shoulder. "Asleep," he reported quietly.

"She's had a busy day," I said.

He sighed. "Tell me what happened?"

I told him everything. Except the parts with Lasciel in them. And I didn't mention Charity's neglected talent for magic. I thought for a second that I could hear a ghostly, amused laugh from somewhere nearby. Optimistically, I wrote it off to my fatigued imagination.

Michael shook his head. "How did you know that I would return as I did?"

"Oh, I didn't," I said. "I just figured that you must have been sent off to do something to help your kid, so I asked Forthill to get word to you that you needed to be back here pronto, and that if you were with any Council members they should come with you. You got the message?"

He nodded. "It found me at Luccio's camp in Colorado. We'd beaten off a vampire attack and were preparing to move. If I hadn't gotten the message, I wouldn't have followed them on their path through the Nevernever."

"What happened?"

"Demons," Michael said. "Quite a few of them, actually."

"What kind?"

"Oh. Fangs. Tentacles. You know, the usual."

I snorted. "No. I mean, were they Outsiders?"

"Ebenezar said something about Outsiders, yes, now that you mention it. Apparently his magic had difficulty dealing with them."

I shook my head. "I'm glad you were with them."

"Under the circumstances, so am I." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You assumed I had been sent to help the White Council so that they would show mercy to my daughter."

I shrugged. "It was either that or else I was the one meant to look out for her, which would mean that it was possible for me to do so. So I decided to lean on the Merlin."

Michael blinked and stared at me. "If I do not mistake your meaning, you just told me that you took a leap of faith."

"No. I took your leap of faith, by proxy." I shook my head. "Look, Michael. I try to stay out of God's way as much as I possibly can. I don't expect Him to send a rescue party for me if I'm in trouble."

"Harry, I know you aren't a churchgoing man, but God does help people who aren't perfect."

"Sure," I said, and I couldn't keep all the sneer out of my voice. "That's why the world is such a happy, orderly place."

Michael sighed. "Harry, God does protect us from harm-it's part of what I and my brothers in arms are tasked to do. But he's a great deal less involved in protecting us from the consequences of our choices."

"I know the theory," I said. "That God mostly only steps in when there's supernatural evil afoot, yeah?"

"That's an oversimplification, really, and-"

"Spare me," I said. "Hell, Michael, I had one of those bastard Denarians here last year. Quintus Cassius. You remember him? While I was lying there watching him slice his way into my guts, I thought maybe it would be a good time for someone like you to show up. You know. One of those Denarian Knights. I thought to myself, hey, it would be a great time for one of the Knights of the Cross to show up, eh?" I shook my head. "It didn't work out that way."

"What is your point?" he asked quietly.

"Heaven ain't safeguarding me, Michael. But you're different than me. I figured God was going to look out for you and yours, out of professional courtesy if nothing else. And I've seen how He's arranged things for you in the past. So what I did wasn't about faith. It was just a matter of deducing probabilities."

He shook his head, not agreeing with me, but not pressing it, either. "Charity?"

"She's fine," I assured him. "Kids too. Should be back home by now."

"She and Molly?"

"Reconciled. Well. On polite speaking terms and hugging again, at least."

His eyebrows shot up, and then his mouth curved into a wide grin. "Glory to God, I wasn't sure it would ever happen."

I buffed my nails on my shirt. "Sometimes I amaze even myself."

Michael smiled at me, then looked over his shoulder again and frowned. "My Molly. Magic. Isn't that sort of thing passed through bloodlines?"

"Usually," I said. "But it doesn't have to be. Some people are just born with it. We don't really understand the how and why."

He shook his head. "But how could I not have realized what was happening to her?"

"I dunno. But if you find out, make sure to tell Charity. She asked me the same question."

"I suppose we're all blind to what is closest to us," he said.

"Human nature," I agreed.

"Is Molly in danger?" he asked me, his tone frank.

I frowned and thought about it. "Some. She's got real power. And she's abused it a little. She's going to be real tempted to use it again when she starts running into problems that look unsolvable. Not only that, but learning to harness the kind of strength she's got can be pretty tricky all by itself. But she's smart and she's got all kinds of guts. If her teacher keeps from making any stupid mistakes, I think she'll be all right."

"But if she isn't," Michael said. "If she abuses her power again…"

"Then clemency is revoked. They execute her."

"And you," Michael said softly.

I shrugged. "Isn't like I haven't lived with that over my head before. As far as the Council is concerned, I'm responsible for her now, until she either makes full wizard or sets her talents aside."

"Greater love hath no man," he said quietly. "Nothing I can say would be enough. She's my daughter, Harry. Thank you."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Yeah, yeah. Look, don't make a big deal out of this. No one will enjoy that."

He let out a rumbling chuckle. "And this apprenticeship. What will it entail?"

"Lessons. Every day, at first, until I'm sure she's got herself under control. We'll have to practice some of it away from anything combustible. Trees, houses, pets, that kind of thing."

"How long will you need to work with her?"

"Until we're finished," I said, waving a vague hand. "I don't know yet. I've never been on this side of an apprenticeship."

He nodded in acceptance. "Very well." We rode in silence for a moment. Then he said, "You remember the professional discussion I wanted to have?"

"Yeah," I said. "Shoot."

"Fidelacchius," Michael said. "I was wondering if you found any candidates for a new wielder."

"Zippo," I said, frowning. "You think I should be looking?"

"Hard to say. But with only two of us in the field, Sanya and I are getting a little overworked."

I scratched my chin. "Shiro told me that I would know the wielder. There hasn't been anything like that. At least, not yet."

"I'm concerned that it may take more than simply patience," Michael sighed. "I've consulted our records. This is not the first time one of the White Council has been asked to be the custodian of one of the Swords."

I arched my eyebrows and looked at him. "Seriously?"

He nodded.

"Me and who?"

"Merlin."

I snorted. "You sure? Because the Merlin is kind of a jerk. Even you would think so, trust me."

"No, Harry," Michael said, his tone patient. "Not the Merlin of the Council. Merlin. The original."

I sat there with my jaw suavely flapping in the breeze for a minute.

Then said, "Wow." I shook my head. "You think maybe I should find a big rock or something? Stick the sword in and leave it on the White House lawn?"

Michael crossed himself. "Heaven forbid. No. I just have an…" He scrunched up his nose. "An instinct."

"You mean like when you get sent out on a mission from God?"

"No. I mean a regular old human hunch. I think that perhaps you should investigate the history around how Amoracchius was passed on, back then."

Said sword now rested at a slant across Michael's chest, safely in its scabbard, point between the knight's boots.

"Wow. You mean… that sword right there. Your sword is…" I left it unsaid.

"Probably," he said, nodding. "Though the Church's records are fragmented, we've managed to establish that the other two Swords have been reworked from time to time, through the years. This one hasn't."

"That's interesting," I mused quietly. "That's interesting as he-uh, as heck."

Michael gave me a faint smile and nodded. "It's an intriguing mystery, isn't it?"

"You know what?" I said. "I can do mystery." I chewed my lip for a minute and said, "But I hope you're not in a hurry. You may have noticed that the Council is having a busy year. I'll have time sooner or later, but for now…" I shrugged.

"I know." He was quiet for a moment, and then said, "But knowing the sword's history could become important. Sooner is better than later."

Something odd in his tone made me look at him. "Why?"

His hand moved unconsciously to Amoraccbius's hilt. "I don't think I'll have the sword for much longer." His voice was very soft.

When the Knights of the Sword retired, they did it feetfirst from the inside of a box.

"Michael?" I asked. "Did the, uh, office send you a memo?" I carefully didn't say Like they did with Shiro.

"No. Instinct," he said, and smiled at me. "But I suppose I could be beginning my midlife crisis. But I'm not planning to change the way I live my life, and I certainly have no intention of an early retirement."

"Good," I said, though it came out more somber than I'd intended.

"Do you mind if I ask you something personal?" Michael said.

"I'm way too busy to answer rhetorical questions."

He grinned for a second and nodded. Then he pursed his lips and took his time about choosing his words. "Harry, you've avoided me for some time. And you seem… well, somewhat more dour than I've seen you before."

"I wasn't avoiding you, exactly," I said.

He regarded me with calm, steady eyes.

"All right," I said. "Yeah. But I've been avoiding most everybody. Don't take it personally."

"Is it something I've done? Or perhaps someone in my family?"

"Enough with the rhetoric. You know it isn't."

He nodded. "Then maybe it's something you've done. Maybe something you should talk about with a friend."

The fallen angel's sigil on my left palm throbbed. I started to say "no," but stopped myself. I drove for another block or two. I should tell him. I really should. Michael was my friend. He deserved my trust and respect. He deserved to know.

But I couldn't.

Then my mouth started moving, and I realized that what was bothering me the most had nothing to do with coins or fallen angels. "Last Halloween," I said quietly, "I killed two people."

He drew in a slow breath and nodded, listening.

"One of them was Cassius. Once he was beaten, I had Mouse break his neck. Another was a necromancer called Corpsetaker. I shot her in the back of the head." I swallowed. "I murdered them. I've never killed, man… not like that. Cold." I drove a while more. "I have nightmares."

I heard him sigh. For a moment, his voice was bleak. Pained. "I've been in this business longer than you have. I know some of what you're feeling."

I didn't answer him.

"You feel like nothing is ever going to be right again," he said. "You remember it perfectly, and it won't leave you alone. You feel like you're walking around with a sharp rock in your shoe. You feel stained."

Stupid damned streetlights, getting all blurry like that. I blinked a lot and stayed quiet. My throat was too tight to speak, anyway.

"I know what it's like," he said. "There isn't any way to make it disappear. But it gets better with time and distance." He studied me for a moment. "If you had it to do again, would you?"

"Twice as hard," I said at once.

"Then what you did was a necessity, Harry. It might be painful. It might haunt you. But at the end of the day, so long as you did what you believed right, you'll be able to live with yourself."

"Yeah?" I asked, chewing on my lower lip.

"I promise," he said.

I darted a glance at him. "You don't… think less of me? Knowing that I'm a murderer?"

"It isn't my place to judge what you've done. I regret that those lives were lost. That their owners never found redemption. I worry for the pain you've inflicted on yourself in retrospect. But I don't for an instant think that you would choose to take a human life unless you absolutely had to."

"Seriously?"

"I trust you," Michael said, his voice calm. "I would never have left my family in your protection if I didn't. You're a decent man, Harry."

I exhaled slowly and my shoulders loosened. "Good." And then, before my brain could get in the way, I added, "I picked up one of the Blackened Denar¨¹, Michael. Lasciel."

My heart skipped several beats as I made the admission.

I expected shock, horror, outrage, maybe with a side order of contempt.

But instead, Michael nodded. "I know."

I blinked at him. "You what?"

"I know," he repeated.

"You know. You knew?"

"Yes. I was taking the trash around the house when Nicodemus's car went by. I saw the whole thing. I saw you protecting my youngest."

I chewed on my lip. "And… I mean, you aren't going to slug me and drag me off to a private suite in the Asylum for Wayward Denarians?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Michael said. "Remember that the Knights of the Cross were not founded to destroy the Denarians. We were founded to save them from the Fallen. It is therefore my duty to help you in whatever way I can. I can help you discard the coin if that is what you wish to do. It's best if you choose to do it yourself."

"I don't need to discard it, actually," I said. "I haven't really taken the coin up. I buried it. Never used it."

Michael looked surprised. "No? That is good news, then. Though it means that the Fallen's shadow is still attempting to persuade you, I take it?"

This time the mental chuckle was a little more clear. I thought Oh, shut up very hard and sent it in Lasciel's direction.

"Trying," I said.

"Keep in mind that Lasciel is a deceiver," he said quietly. "One with thousands of years of practice. It knows people. It knows how to tell you lies you want to believe are true. But it exists for a single purpose-to corrupt the will and beliefs of mankind. Don't ever forget that."

I shuddered. "Yeah."

"May I ask what it's told you?" He paused and narrowed his eyes. "No, wait. Let me guess. It's appeared to you as an attractive young woman. She offers you knowledge, yes? The benefit of her experience."

"Yeah." I paused and added, "And Hellfire. Makes my spells hit harder when I need them to. I try not to use it much."

Michael shook his head. "Lasciel isn't called the Temptress for nothing. She knows you. Knows what to offer you and how to offer it."

"Damn right she does." I paused a moment, then added, "It scares me sometimes."

"You've got to get rid of the coin," he said with gentle urgency.

"Love to," I said. "How?"

"Give up the coin of your own will. And set aside your power. If you do, Lasciel's shadow will dwindle with it and waste away."

"What do you mean, set aside my power?"

"Walk away from your magic," he said. "Forsake it. Forever."

"Fuck that."

He winced and looked away.

The rest of the trip to his home passed in silence. When we got there, I told Michael, "Molly's stuff is back at my place. I'd like to take her back there to get it. I need to have a talk with her, tonight, while everything is fresh. I'll have her back here in a couple of hours, tops."

Michael glanced at his sleeping daughter with a worried frown, but nodded. "Very well." He got out and shut the door, then leaned back in the window to speak to me. "May I ask you two things?"

"Shoot."

He glanced back at his house and said, "Have you ever considered the possibility that the Lord did not send me out on my most recent mission so that I could protect my daughter? That it was not His intention to use you to protect her?"

"What's your point?"

"Only that it is entirely possible, Harry Dresden, that this entire affair, beginning to end, is meant to protect you. That when I went to the aid of Luccio and her trainees, I did so not to free Molly, but to prevent you from coming to blows with the Council. That her position as your new apprentice had less to do with protecting her than it did protecting you?"

"Eh?" I said.

He glanced at his daughter. "Children have their own kind of power. When you're teaching them, protecting them, you are more than you thought you could be. More understanding, more patient, more capable, more wise. Perhaps this foster child of your power will do the same for you. Perhaps it's what she is meant to