Battle Ground (The Dresden Files 17)

I put her down on the shield, as gently as I could. I composed her as best I could. The grey, somehow shrunken remains weren’t Murph. But they deserved more respect, more grace, than I could offer.

I put my hand on her head one more time. Touched her hair one more time.

Then I said, “Okay.”

The Sidhe carried Murphy’s body. I went with them, enough to make sure they behaved.

They did. Could be it was the bloodied, bruised, angry Winter Knight standing over them that inspired it. Could be that it was real respect. The Winter Court and death are distant relatives. The only times I’d seen Winter volunteer something like humanity was when someone had died.

Maybe it was all they had left.

My left arm throbbed and burned as they laid Murphy down atop a bier made of the cases the weapons had been stored in.

The warrior Sidhe saluted the body. Then they filed out.

It was only then I noticed that they were all female.

I looked at Murphy’s body lying on the crates. Except for all the blood, and the grey skin, she might have been asleep.

But she wasn’t asleep.

“I gotta go,” I said quietly. I wasn’t sure whom I was talking to. I suppose her death could have left a shade of some kind, but that wasn’t it. It took a little time for a shade to condense. After I had briefly participated in it, the whole afterlife thing had become even more confusing to me, not less. “Ethniu is almost here. Mab’s ready to make her play. I have to be there.”

One of her curls had fallen over her eye. I moved the curl back. It promptly fell over her eye again.

I smiled, through tears.

Even dead, I couldn’t make her do a damned thing.

I leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“I already miss you so much,” I said quietly. “Goodbye, Murph.”

I rose to leave and almost bumped into Mab, she was standing so close behind me.

I wavered and didn’t. One does not bump into the Queen of Air and Darkness. It simply isn’t done.

Mab stared silently at the body for a breath, her eyes unreadable. Then she looked searchingly up at me. She was at her human-disguise height, a little less than a foot shorter than me. The starlight in her hair was truly beautiful.

Silently, she reached out and took my left arm. She pushed the sleeve of my duster up, despite my discomfort, and studied the burn for a moment. Then she said, with a slow, quiet, ever so slightly jealous tone, “That must hurt.”

“It does,” I said.

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath.

When she opened them, it was all business again. “Can you fight?”

“Watch me.”

“I shall,” she said. “And you shall see something the world has not seen in many a year.”

“What’s that?”

“Mab at war,” she said simply. She glanced to one side. “Your little ones have found King Corb. He has come ashore upon the beach east of here and joined Ethniu. It is time.” She looked up at me. “When the moment is right, it must be you who calls out her name.”

I knew whom she was talking about. There was no need for explanation. “Why me?”

“She will answer you,” Mab said. “She has before.”

I exhaled. “Oh. Got it.”

“Good.” Mab touched my burned arm again and then withdrew her hand. “It is possible that I shall fall this night.”

“You’re immortal,” I said.

“Immortal. Not eternal. There is power here of the truly ancient world. It is enough to ensure the deed.” She narrowed her eyes. “Should I fall, I have one last command you would be wise to fulfill.”

I tilted my head.

“Kill Molly Carpenter,” she said calmly. “As quickly as possible.”

“Funny,” I said.

Mab stared at me.

Of course. She hadn’t been joking.

On a normal day, I would have been more upset. Today already hurt so much that I hardly noticed. Mab wanted me to kill someone. She usually did. It was sort of my job description.

I frowned dully at her. “Why?”

“As Winter Lady, she shows promise,” Mab said. “But she is not ready to become Mab. The consequences would be . . . unsettling. For both of you. Perhaps for all of Winter.”

I tried to think of the kind of situation that would unsettle Mab. My mind shied away from it.

“That’s not going to be an issue,” I said. “Because you aren’t going to get killed tonight. When I bury Murph, she’s going to be holding the shattered key to that Titanic bitch’s cell on Demonreach in her hands.”

Mab’s face blossomed into a carnivore’s sharp grin. “Not the Eye?”

“Fuck the Eye,” I said.

She actually lifted her hand to cover her mouth. But I saw her eyes . . . smile. It was damned eerie. “All upon the field tonight want that weapon. Your own White Council included. It is the primary reason they fight.”

I blinked.

I looked out at the ruddy haze outside and spat a curse.

Of course. That’s why everyone was fighting beside Mab. Not to honor the treaty, at least not for all of them. But to secure a weapon that would give them an enormous advantage over any of the other Accorded nations. One that could be a threat even to immortals like Mab. I could imagine what the Senior Council would be saying about it if I accused them, too. Too dangerous, could cause havoc, can’t let those monsters have it, we’ll be able to lock it away and keep it safe, harrumph, harrumph.

“Should we be victorious, that will be the real fight, you know,” Mab said. Her gaze, always penetrating, made me squirm. “Who shall possess the Eye?”

Outside, said Eye filled the night with light and destruction again. I heard the building fall this time, clearly. Hell. It was only a couple of blocks to the north. It might have been the one with Bradley’s day care in it.

“I can wreck buildings just fine all by myself,” I said, and tapped the center of my forehead. “And I got three eyes already. What the hell do I want with another big ugly one?”

“What indeed,” Mab said, as if I hadn’t spoken. She closed her eyes and said, “I confess, it has been long since I have taken the field in earnest, my Knight.” She showed me her teeth. “I think this shall be . . . fun.”

I blinked. “Fun?”

Mab opened her eyes, and they twinkled. Just twinkled.