Ghost Story (The Dresden Files 13)

mortals were few and far between. Famous snipers in the World Wars hadn’t accumulated more than a few hundred kills. Serial killers working for decades hadn’t done any better. But supernatural predators, especially the long-lived ones, could add up that kind of count in a particularly active century or two.

Oh, and I had done my best to shut down pretty much every one of them I actually knew. The suspect pool was rapidly growing smaller.

“The final truth,” Lea said. She suddenly looked very tired. “Your killer was but the proxy of another being, and one mightier and more dangerous than he.”

He. Male. The pool dwindled by half, give or take.

So. . .

So, aside from the dick who killed me, I also had his boss to worry about.

Super.

“I can say no more, Godson,” Lea said.

YOU HAVE ALREADY SAID TOO MUCH.

Lea lifted her hand as if to shield her face from a sudden wind and scowled in Eternal Silence’s direction. “Your knowledge of mortals is relatively scarce. It is done. Desist your howling.” Lea paused to look to one side again, stiffened her back a little, and added a belated and unenthusiastic, “If you please.”

The silent figure looked from my godmother to me, and though it didn’t have lungs with which to draw breath, I somehow sensed that it was about to speak.

“I know,” I said hurriedly. “I know. Know my path. No need to blow my brains out repeating yourself.”

Eternal Silence seemed faintly, vaguely annoyed. There came a purely psychic sensation, something that . . . that really reminded me of an unsatisfied grunt. Then the statue turned away and vanished from my sight.

“Huh,” I said, after the figure had gone. “What the hell was that about?”

“Proxies,” the Leanansidhe muttered, barely audible. “Always proxies. And respect.”

“What?”

She gave me a direct look, and I had the impression that she was saying something with particular meaning. “Proxies, child. Those who appear to speak on behalf of another who cannot be present. Much as I have served as a proxy for my queen over the years, or she for me.” Lea shook her head and said, “I must go, child.”

“Wait,” I said, reaching up to touch her foot with my hand.

My ectoplasmic flesh did not sink through hers. My hand felt nothing, yet met an odd resistance to its motion. I didn’t pass into her as I had Mort or Molly. I blinked a little at that.

“I am of two worlds,” she said, her tone slightly impatient. As she often did, she had evidently guessed at my thoughts. “Of course I don’t feel the same as mortal flesh.”

“Oh,” I said. “Uh. Listen. I just want . . . I need to know that you’re going to take care of Molly.”

She tilted her head and studied me for a moment. “But . . . child. It was never your responsibility to care for the young woman.”

“Yes, it was,” I said. “She was my apprentice.”

“Indeed. Someone whom you had pledged to teach—not to care for. Child, did you miss the entire point of the exercise?”

I opened my mouth and then closed it again. “Maybe I did. What was supposed to happen?”

“You were supposed to teach her to care for herself,” Lea replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “Your failure to do so . . .” She frowned. “I confess that I have only a limited understanding of the concepts of good and evil. The differences seem largely semantic to me when applied to empiric situations. Yet it seems to me that you did her no great kindness by being gentle.”

I met the Sidhe’s impassive gaze for a moment before I looked away. “You might be right.”

“I am very old, child. It is a safe assumption in most circumstances.” She sniffed and leaned down to pat my hand in a rather peremptory gesture. “Now, then. Listen to the nice statue. And do try to destroy anyone who seeks to do you harm. Death should be a learning experience, after all, or what’s the point?”

Something in my godmother’s words managed to land on the ghost of a functioning brain cell somewhere, and a flash of inspiration hit me. “That’s it!” I blurted. “That’s how to handle the Corpsetaker.”

Lea tilted her head, her eyes intent, and then smiled a knowing smile. “Ahhh. If you can do it.”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Interesting,” she murmured. “If you can control them. They are a power potentially deadly even to the one who wields it. Explosive. Dangerous. And very typical of you. Excellent.” Then she moved