Battle Ground (The Dresden Files 17)

There were plenty of wounded to work with. They were piling them up around the base of the Bean.

“Harry!” boomed Sanya as I approached. He waved an arm from where he’d been stretched out on the concrete with what was obviously a pair of broken legs to go with his other injuries. “There, you see? Next time, we know better! Make better plan!”

I slogged over to him with my furry escort. Butters was lying next to Sanya, carefully flat on his back, his arms folded in a funeral pose. There were two more wolves lying on either side of him, and both looked as though they’d tear to pieces anything that tried to harm him.

“Sir Butters,” I said gravely.

“Nngh,” Butters said. “My jaw. My back.”

“Is fine,” Sanya boomed cheerfully. “If it was really bad, you feel nothing at all. Is good, all this pain!”

Butters squinted at me without moving his head and spoke without taking his teeth apart. “So you got her?”

“It’s done,” I said.

“Sweet,” Butters said, and closed his eyes. “I’m going to sleep for a week.”

“Good, good, you rest until we can find some food,” Sanya told him. “I am starving.”

“Cheerful for a man in your condition,” I noted, peering at him.

“We are too alive to not be cheerful, eh, wizard?” He reached up and clapped my forearm. The burned one. Cheerfully.

I winced. And laughed a little.

Lara’s people were doing a lot of the work, I realized. The members of the House itself were gathered together over to one side, a good fifty yards from anyone, and the pale glitter of hungry vampire eyes told me why. But her hired help, led by Riley, was assisting with the wounded, sharing out water and sorting those in need of immediate care from those who could wait by the Archive—who sported what looked like a broken nose and radiated a sense of . . . not command, but the tangible, absolute authority wielded by those with sure and certain knowledge in an emergency.

Well. The living repository of the accumulated knowledge of mankind probably had a real good idea of the most appropriate measures to take in any given emergency. If she told me what to do in this situation, I’d probably listen and pitch in as well.

I lost track for a bit after that, and found myself seated in the shadow of the Bean, a cup of water in my hands, my staff at my side, the Eye heavy in my pocket. Molly, now wearing what looked like a fireman’s coat, put her fingers under my hands and lifted, nudging the water toward my lips. I drank.

I looked up at her, coughed out some smoke, and then croaked, “Where’d you hide them? Our family?”

She glanced at me and then smiled faintly. “Right across the street. Where they could watch the whole thing. Like in Fellowship.”

“Clever girl,” I said.

She showed me a vulpine smile.

“They’re calling you the Eye-Killer,” she said. “Rumors are spreading about how you defeated a Titan.”

“She had gone through a few sparring partners before she got to me,” I said. “I was just batting cleanup.” I looked around us and said, “Look what we’ve brought upon them, Molls.”

She looked. There were a lot of hurt people. Most of them bore their pain quietly. A few couldn’t. And a lot of them would never make another sound, except during decomposition.

“We have to answer for this,” I said quietly. “We have to help. The wounded.” I didn’t look back at the dark opening in the base of the Bean. “The dead. We owe them. You know I’m right.”

“That could be a tough sell,” she said in quiet answer.

“I’m not asking,” I said. “My fealty is a two-way street. I have gone above and beyond my duty to Winter, right in front of God and everybody, by doing what no one else could. Now Winter will respond in kind, by helping as no one else can. You will help them. Every one of them. Do it in secret, no connections. We’ve interfered in their lives enough. This will happen.”

The Winter Lady gave me a very long, very intent stare.

And then she shivered and bowed her head.

“Already you have bound a Titan. And now a Queen. Sometimes,” Molly whispered, “I’m very proud to be your friend, Harry. And sometimes you frighten me.”

Sometimes I frightened the Winter Lady.

I shook my head. Molly was soon called away to her royal matters. She had plenty of wounded of her own who needed tending to.

I looked over at a slight rise in the ground where Mab and Titania stood, their respective unicorns standing nearby. The Winter unicorn was mostly coated in thick mud. The rain was washing it slowly clean. The two Queens simply faced each other, silent.

I propped my chin in my hand and watched, fascinated.

“The rain was a kind touch,” Mab said finally. “There were a number of fires it checked.”

“You understand what has happened,” Titania replied quietly. “What it means.”

“I expect you to do your duty,” Mab said.

Titania’s expression flickered in pain. “When have I not?”

Mab nodded. Titania matched the gesture. Then a warm southern wind blew a curtain of gentle rain around her and the Summer unicorn, and when it faded they were gone.

Mab walked over to me, moving as if her bones were made of fragile porcelain. She stood staring down at me for a moment.

“And so. The man who has bound a Titan. What will you do with her, I wonder.”

I squinted up at Mab. Then snorted. “Leave her buried. Bury her deeper if I can.”

Mab stared at me. “The creature is bound to you, Warden. Your will can compel her now. The power of a Titan, at your beck and call.”

Which was true enough, in its way. Ethniu was my prisoner. I could . . . extract service from her. It would be tricky and treacherous as hell, but wizards had done it before, with beings of tremendous supernatural power. It was possible.

Just . . . massively, massively unwise.

“My will causes enough trouble,” I said wearily. “Until I get the sense to use it wisely, why don’t we just let sleeping gods lie.”

I shoved myself to my feet as sturdily as I could.

“Easy, my Knight,” Mab said quietly, glancing around. “You show weakness.”

“National Guard is going to be here soon,” I said. “I don’t want to leave Murphy here for them.”

Mab lifted a hand and physically stopped me from taking a step. “The honored dead will be cared for,” she said. “You have my word on that.”