Small Favor (The Dresden Files 10) - Page 78

Murphy hissed and went to him, her voice raw. "Jared."

Jared. Huh.

"Dresden." Kincaid gasped. "Dresden."

They laid him down, and I shambled over. I managed not to fall down on him as I knelt beside him. I'd seen him wounded before, but it hadn't been as bad as this. He'd used the tape the same way, though. I checked. Sure enough, there was a roll of tape hanging from a loop on Kincaid's equipment harness.

"Just like the vampire lair," I said quietly.

"No claymores here," Kincaid said. "Should have had claymores." He shook his head and blinked his eyes a couple of times, trying to focus them. "Dresden, not much time. The girl. They got out with her. She's alive."

I grimaced and looked away.

His bloody hand shot out and seized the front of my coat. "Look at me."

I did.

I expected rage, hate, and blame. All I got was a look of...just, desperate, desperate fear.

"Go after them. Bring her back. Save her."

"Kincaid..." I said softly.

"Swear it," he said. His eyes went out of focus for a second, then glittered coldly. "Swear it. Or I'm coming for you. Swear it to me, Dresden."

"I'm too damned tired to be scared of you," I said.

Kincaid closed his eyes. "She doesn't have anybody else. No one."

Murphy knelt down by Kincaid across from me. She stared at me for a moment, then said quietly, "Jared, rest. He's going to help her."

I traded a faint, tired smile with Murphy. She knows me.

"But-" Kincaid began.

She leaned down and kissed his forehead, blood and all. "Hush. I promise."

Kincaid subsided. Or passed out. One of the two.

"Dresden, get out of the way," Gard said in a patient voice.

"Don't tell me you're a doctor," I said.

"I've seen more battlefield injuries than any bone-saw-flourishing mortal hack," Gard said. "Move."

"Harry," Murph said, her voice tight. "Please."

I creaked to my feet and shambled over to Michael and Sanya, who stood looking out at the dolphins and the little whales in the big pool. The water level had dropped seven or eight feet, and the residents were giving the newly inundated area of the pool a wide berth. If the presence of the rotting thing behind me made the water feel anything like the air was starting to smell, I couldn't blame them.

"He looks pretty bad," I told them.

Michael shook his head, his eyes distant. "It isn't his time yet."

I spocked an eyebrow and gave him a look. Sanya gave him one very nearly as dubious as mine.

Michael glanced at me and then back out at the water. "I asked."

"Uh-huh," I said quietly.

Sanya smiled faintly and shook his head.

I glanced at him. "Still agnostic, huh?"

"Some things I am willing to take on faith," Sanya said with a shrug.

"Luccio took down two," I told Michael. "What's the count?" I didn't need to be any more specific than that.

Sanya's grin broadened. "That is the good news."

I turned to face Sanya. "Those assholes just carried off a child that they plan to torture into accepting a Fallen angel," I said quietly. "There isn't any good news."

The big Russian's expression sobered. "Good is where you find it," he seriously.

"Eleven," Michael said quietly.

I blinked at him. "What?"

"Eleven," he repeated. "Eleven of them fell here today. Judging from the wounds, Kincaid killed five of them. Captain Luccio killed two more. Sanya and I caught a pair on the way out. One of them was carrying a bag with the coins of those who had already fallen."

"We found the coin of Urumviel, which we knew to be in possession of a victim," Sanya said, "but we were short by one body."

"That one was mine," I said. "He's tiny pieces of soot and ash now. And that only brings us to ten."

"One more drowned when that tank collapsed," Michael said. "They're floating down there. Eleven of them, Harry." He shook his head. "Eleven. Do you realize what this means?"

"That if we whack one more, we get the complimentary steak knives?"

He turned to me, his eyes intent and bright. "Tessa escaped with only four other members of her retinue, and Nicodemus was nowhere to be found. We have recovered thirteen coins already-and eleven more today, assuming we can find them all."

"Only six coins remain free to do harm," Sanya said. "Only six. Those six are the last. And they are all here in Chicago. Together."

"The Fallen in the coins have been waging a war for the minds and lives of mankind for two thousand years, Harry," Michael said. "And we have fought them. That war could end. It could all be over." He turned back to the pool and shook his head, his expression that of a man baffled. "I could go to Alicia's softball games. Teach little Harry to ride a bicycle. I could build houses, Harry."

The longing in his voice was so thick, I could practically feel it brushing against my face.

"Let's round up the coins and get out of here before the flashing lights show up," I said quietly. "Michael, open up the bundle."

He frowned at me but did, revealing disks of tarnished silver. I drew the pair of coins I'd found from my pocket with my gloved hand and added them to the pile. "Thanks," I said. "Let's get moving."

I turned and walked away as Michael folded the cloth closed around the coins again, his eyes distant, presumably focused on some dream of shoving those coins down a deep, dark hole and living a boring, simple, normal life with his wife and kids.

I let him have it while he could.

I was going to have to take that dream away from him, dammit.

Whether he wanted to go along with the idea or not.

Chapter Thirty-five

I slept in the cab of Michael's truck all the way back to his place, leaning against the passenger-side window. Sanya had the middle seat. I was dimly aware that they were speaking quietly to each other on the way home, but their voices were just low rumbles, especially Sanya's, and I tuned them out until the truck crunched to a halt.

"It doesn't matter," Michael was saying in a patient voice. "Sanya, we don't recruit members. We're not a chapter of the Masons. It's got to be a calling."

"We act in the interests of God on a daily basis," Sanya said in a reasonable voice. "If He is being slow to call a new wielder for Fidelacchius, perhaps it is a subtle hint that He wishes us to take on the responsibility for ourselves."

Tags: Jim Butcher The Dresden Files Suspense
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