Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files 8)

Instead, she stood there, uncertain and frightened and too naive (or maybe honest) to be anything but totally sincere-and vulnerable. She was afraid, uncertain, the lost princess helpless in a dark wood.

It was worse than if she'd vamped onto me like a trained courtesan. What I saw in her was honest and hopeful, trusting and terrified. She was real, and fragile and precious. My emotions got together with my glands and they ganged up on me, screaming that she needed acceptance and that the kindest thing I could possibly do would be to give her a hug and tell her everything was going to be all right-and that if something followed, who would blame me?

I would. So I just watched her with a straight face.

"I want to learn from you," she said. "I want to do everything I can to help you. To thank you. I want you to teach me things."

"What things?" I asked in a quiet, measured tone.

She licked her lips. "Everything. Show me everything."

"Are you sure?" I asked her.

She nodded, her eyes huge, pupils dilated until only a bare ring of blue remained around them.

"Teach me," she whispered.

I touched her face with the fingers of my right hand. "Kneel down," I told her. "Close your eyes."

Trembling, she did, her breathing becoming faster, more excited.

But that stopped once I picked up the pitcher of ice water from the mantel and dumped it over her head.

She let out a squeal and fell over backward. It took her maybe ten seconds to recover from the shock of the cold, and by then she was gasping and shivering, her eyes wide with surprise and confusion-and with some kind of deep, heavy pain.

I faced her and squatted down onto my haunches to meet her eyes. "Lesson one. This isn't going to happen, Molly," I said in exactly the same calm, gentle voice. "Get that through your head right now. It isn't ever going to happen."

Her lower lip trembled, and she bowed her head, shoulders shaking.

I gave myself a mental kick in the head and snagged a blanket from the couch. I went to her and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Get over by the fire and warm up."

It took her a moment to collect herself, but she did. She hunched her shoulders beneath the blanket, shivering and humiliated. "You knew," she said in a shaking voice. "That I would... do this."

"I was pretty sure," I agreed.

"Because of the soulgaze," she said.

"Nothing to do with that, really," I replied. "I figured there had to be a reason that you didn't come to me for help when you came into your powers. I figure you've been interested in me for a while. That you wouldn't want to come up to your favorite rock star and start fumbling around on a guitar so that the first thing he thinks about you is that you're incompetent."

She shivered and blushed even more. "No. It wasn't like that..."

Sure it was. But I'd hammered her hard enough for the time being. "If you say so," I answered. "Molly, you may fight with your mom like cats and dogs, but the two of you are more alike than you know."

"That's not true."

"It's trite but true that a lot of young women look for a man who reminds them of their dad. Your dad fights monsters. I fight monsters. Your dad rescued your mom from a dragon. I rescued you from Arctis Tor. Seeing the pattern here?"

She opened her mouth and then frowned at the fire-not an angry frown. A pensive one.

"Plus, you've just been scared real good. You don't have any place to stay. And I'm the guy who is trying to help you." I shook my head. "But even if there wasn't magic involved, it still wouldn't happen. I've done some things I'm not proud of. But I'm never going to take advantage of your trust.

"What we're going to have is not a relationship of equals. I teach. You learn. I tell you to do something, you damned well do it."

A touch of sullen teenager-ness gleamed in her eyes.

"Don't even think it," I said. "Molly, getting pierced and dyed and tattooed just because you want to break the rules is one thing. But what we're dealing with now isn't the same thing. A botched dye job affects you. You botch the use of magic and someone-maybe a lot of someones-gets hurt. So you do what I say, when I say it, and you do it because you don't want to kill someone. Or you can die. That was our deal, and you agreed to it."

She said nothing. Her anger had faded from her face, but that sullen trace of rebellion remained.

I narrowed my eyes, clenched my fist, and hissed a single word. The fireplace flared up in a sudden, fiery cyclone. Molly flinched back from it, one arm lifted to protect her eyes.

When she lowered it, I was hunkered down right in her face. "I'm not your parents, kid," I said. "And you don't have time to play teenage rebel anymore. This is the deal. You do what I say or you don't survive." I leaned closer and gave her the look I usually save for rampaging demons and those survey people at malls. "Molly. Is there any doubt in your mind-any doubt at all-that I can't damn well make you do it?"

She swallowed. The hard knot of defiance in her eyes suddenly shattered like a diamond struck at precisely the correct angle, and she shivered in the blanket. "No, sir," she said in a tiny voice.

I nodded at her. She sat there shivering and frightened, which had been the point of the exercise; to knock her off balance while she was still unsteady from recent events and drive home the notion of what she faced. It was absolutely necessary that she understand how things had to play out until she got her power under control. Anything less than willing cooperation would kill her.

But it was hard to remember that, staring down at her as she shivered and stared at the fire, its light turning tears to gold on her cheeks. Heartbreaking, really. She was still so damned young.

So I crouched down and gave her that hug. "It's all right to be scared, kid. But don't worry. Everything's going to be all right."

She leaned against me, shivering. I let her for a moment, and then got up and said, "Get dressed and get your things."

"Why?" she asked.

I arched an eyebrow at her. She flushed, took the robe, and hurried back into the bedroom. I had my coat on and was ready to go when she was. I led her out to the car and we took off.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"I hope so. It's going to take you a long time to learn if you can't."

She smiled a little. "Where are we going?"

"Your new digs," I said.

She frowned at me, but settled back in her seat. "Oh."

We pulled up to the Carpenter house, ablaze with lights despite the hour.