Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files 8)

Father Forthill had arrived at some point during the conversation, though none of us had noticed him in the doorway. His gentle voice was steady. "Your daughter is in the right, Charity," he said. "She's an adult now, in many ways. She's taken actions that demand that she accept the responsibilities that accompany them."

"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."