Jim Butcher - Cold Days

“Molly,” I said. “Would you ask Sarissa to join us, please?”

She went off to her room, and returned a moment later with Sarissa. The slender, beautiful woman came into the room silently, and didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Hers were focused in the middle distance, as she tried to keep track of everyone in the room through peripheral vision.

“All right,” I said. “Things are about to hit the fan. They’re confusing as hell and I’m getting tired of feeling like I have no idea what’s going on. There are some unknown quantities here, and some of you aren’t telling me everything, but there isn’t enough time to pry it all out of each of you.” I pointed a finger at Sarissa. “Maybe you really are everything you say you are. Maybe not. But I figure there’re about two chances in three that you’re playing me somehow, and I think you’re way too good at backstabbing to leave you standing around behind me.”

“Everything I’ve told you—” Sarissa began.

I slashed a hand at the air. “Don’t talk. This isn’t an interrogation. It’s a public service announcement. I’m telling you how it’s going to be.”

She pressed her lips together and looked away.

“Mac,” I said. “Much as it pains me to level suspicion at the mastercraftsman of the best beer in town . . . you’re hiding something. That Outsider talked to you as if it knew you. And I don’t think it was an aficionado of your ale. Do you want to tell me who you really are?”

Mac was silent for a moment. Then he said, “No. That’s mine.”

I grunted. “Didn’t think so. I figure it’s more likely that you are an ally, or at least neutral, than it is that you’re a plant for somebody. But I’m not completely sure about you, either.”

I looked at them both and said, “I’m not sure if you’re my friends or my enemies, but I heard something once about keeping them close and closer. So until things have shaken out, you’re both staying where I can keep track of you. And you both should be aware that I’m going to be ready to smack you down if I pick up on the least little hint of treachery.”

“I am not—” Sarissa began.

I stared at her.

She bit her lip and looked away.

I turned my eyes to Mac. He didn’t look thrilled about it, but he nodded.

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll be on the lake. There are a couple more coats in the guest bedroom closet. Better grab one.”

Mac nodded and beckoned Sarissa with a tilt of his head. “Miss.”

They went to the guest bedroom, and that left me facing Murphy with the grasshopper hovering in the background. I made a little kissing noise with my puckered lips, and Mouse lifted his head from the ground.

“You pick up anything weird about either of them?” I asked.

Mouse sneezed, shaking his head, and laid it back down again.

I grunted. “Guess not.” I took a deep breath. “Grasshopper, maybe it’s good time to take Mouse for a W-A-L-K?”

Mouse’s head snapped up.

Molly looked back and forth between Karrin and me and sighed. “Yeah, okay.”

“Maybe take those two with you when you go? And have security bring the car around, too. We’ll leave shortly.”

“Right,” Molly said. She collected Mac and Sarissa, now clad in badly fitting secondhand coats, and they left.

It was just me and Karrin.

The fire crackled.

Karrin said, “You picked up Mouse. Did you get to see Maggie?”

“Christ, everyone wants to know about . . .” I shook my head. “She was out.”

She nodded. “Did you get out of the car? Or just wait at the curb?”

I gave her a flat stare. She looked back at me with her cop face. I failed to terrify her off the subject.

“Curb,” I said.

She smiled faintly. “I’ve seen you walk into places that should have killed you seven, eight times? You didn’t flinch. But now you’re petrified with fear?”

“Not fear,” I said, so quickly and with such vehemence that it became immediately clear to me that fear was exactly what I was feeling when I thought of approaching Maggie.

“Sure it isn’t,” Karrin said.

“Look,” I said, “we don’t have time for—”

“My dad said that a lot,” Karrin said. “‘I can’t right now. We’ll do that later.’ He was busy, too. Then he was gone.”

“I am not going to deal with this right now.”

Karrin nodded. “Right. Not right now. Later.”

“Christ,” I said.

Karrin looked down at the floor and smiled briefly, then looked back up at me. “I never liked being shrunk. Had to a couple of times. After I shot Denton. Stuff like that.”

“So?” I said.

“Some things can’t just sit inside you,” she said. “Not when . . .” She spread her hands. “Harry, you’re dealing with serious pressures here. With something that could . . . change who you are. I don’t blame you for being afraid.”

“I’ve got the Winter Knight thing under control,” I said.

“Winter Knight, Mab, whatever,” she said, as if it were an everyday annoyance. “Magic stuff, you’ll deal with it fine. I’m talking about something real. I’m talking about Maggie.”

“Oh,” I said.

“I figure it’ll take Thomas at least ten minutes to fuel the boat,” she said. “It’s been about five since he left. Which gives you five minutes with no city to save, no evil queens, and no monsters. No one to protect right in front of you, no apprentices to look strong for.”

I looked at her blankly and felt my shoulders sag. I hadn’t slept in too long. I wanted to find a nice bed somewhere and pull the covers over my head. “I don’t . . . What are you looking for, here? What do you expect from me?”

She stepped closer and took my hand. “Talk to me. Why didn’t you go see Maggie?”

I bowed my head and let my fingers stay limp. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Why not?”

I tried to speak and couldn’t. I shook my head.

Karrin stepped closer to me and took my other hand in hers, too.

“I’m right here,” she said.

“What if . . .” I whispered. “What if . . . she remembers?”

“Remembers what?”

“She was there,” I said. “She was there when I cut her mother’s throat. I don’t know if she was conscious, if she saw . . . but what if she did? In my head, I’ve run this scenario about a thousand times, and if she saw me and started screaming or crying . . .” I shrugged. “That would be . . . hard.”

“You know what’s going to be harder?” Karrin asked quietly.

“What.”

“Not knowing.” She shook my hands gently. “Leaving a hole in that little girl’s life. She’s your daughter, Harry. You’re the only dad she’s ever going to have.”

“Yeah, but if I show up and she remembers me, I’m not her father. I’m her father the monstrous villain. I’m Darth Dresden.”

“She’ll learn better,” Murphy said. “Eventually. If you try.”

“You don’t understand,” I said. “I can’t . . . I can’t do anything that might hurt her. I just can’t. I barely know that little girl—but she’s mine. And I’d rather double-kneecap myself with a frying pan than bring her an ounce of pain.”

“Pain passes,” Karrin said. “If you think about it—”

“You don’t get it,” I half snarled. “She’s blood, Karrin. She’s mine. Thinking has no place in this. She’s my little girl. I can’t see her get hurt again—”

I stopped suddenly with my mouth hanging open.

Hell’s bells, how could I have missed what the Mothers were trying to tell me?

I couldn’t bear to see my child in pain.

And maybe I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t.

“Stars and stones,” I breathed. “That’s what’s happening here.”