Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files 8)

"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.