Jim Butcher - Turn Coat

I blinked. I looked. “Uh. Blonde and brunette, too young for me, not bad to look at. I bet the blonde paid too much for those shoes.”

He nodded and pointed at an old couple sitting on a bench. “Them?”

“They’re fighting with each other over something and enjoying it. They’ve been together so long, it’s comfortable for them. Later, they’ll hold hands and laugh over the fight.”

He pursed his lips, and pointed at a mother chivvying a trio of small children of various sizes along the zoo. “Them?”

“She’s got an expensive ring, but she’s here at the zoo alone. Her kids all have matching outfits. Her husband works a lot, and she doesn’t look as good as she used to—look how the shoes are biting into her feet. She’s worried that she’s a trophy wife, or maybe an ex-wife in progress. She’s about to start crying.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Can I give you my first thoughts?”

I nodded, frowning at him.

Thomas pointed a finger at the young women. “Food.” He pointed a finger at the old couple. “Food.” He pointed a finger at the mother and her children. “Food.”

I just stared at him.

He rolled his head, inhaling deeply and then exhaling. “Maybe it was all those kills together like that. Maybe he drove me insane with the torment.” He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just know that things seem a lot simpler now.”

“What are you trying to tell me?” I asked. “That you’re happy, now?”

“Happy,” he said, scorn ringing lightly in his voice. “I’m . . . not wandering around blind anymore. Not trying desperately to be something that I’m not.” He looked back down at the tigers. “Something I can never be.”

I just stood there, shaking my head.

“Oh, empty night, Harry,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not some kind of ravaging monster. I’m not some kind of psychotic rampaging around the city devouring virgins.” He waved a hand in a casual gesture. “Killing when you feed feels fantastic, but it’s stupid. There are far too many advantages in ensuring that the kine survive. Not only survive, but grow and prosper.” He smiled a bit. “You know, I really think I might have something to offer the world. I never could have exerted any kind of influence on my kin as a moping exile, trying to be human. Maybe this way, I actually can accomplish something. Promote a more responsible standard of relations between humanity and my kind. Who knows?”

I stared at him and said, “Gosh, that’s noble.”

He eyed me.

I hit him with my heaviest sucker punch. “What does Justine think of it?”

He straightened and turned toward me, and there was imminent violence in the set of his body. “What?” he asked. “What did you say to me?”

“You heard me,” I said, without changing posture or rising to the threat.

His hands closed into fists, knuckles popping.

“Still stings, doesn’t it?” I said quietly. “Still burns you when you try to touch her?”

He said nothing.

“And you still remember what it was to hold her. Like you did the night you trashed Madeline at Zero.”

“Jesus Christ, Harry,” he said. He turned to face out, away from the tigers, and his voice was full of weariness. “I don’t know. I just know that it doesn’t hurt so bad all the time anymore.” He was quiet for a long time. Then he said, in a very quiet voice, “I have bad dreams.”

I wanted to put my hand on his shoulder, to give him some support. But some instinct warned me that it wouldn’t be welcomed.

“You took a beating,” I said quietly. “What that thing did to you . . . ? Thomas, it knew exactly how to get to you. How to torment you the most. But it won’t last. You survived. You’ll get past it.”

“And go back to that miserable half life I had?” he whispered.

“Maybe,” I said quietly. “I don’t know.”

He looked at me.

“You’re my brother,” I said. “Nothing will ever change that. I’m here for you.”

“You’re a damn fool,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“It would be easy to use you. Part of me thinks it’s a fantastic idea.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t an asshole. I said you were my brother.”

The bodyguards stirred. Nothing big. They just sort of animated and moved toward the exits.

Thomas grimaced. “Lara thinks I’ve made great progress. She’s . . .” He shrugged. “Proud of me.”

“I liked you better the other way,” I said. “So did Justine. Maybe that should tell you something.”

“I’ve got to go. She’s afraid you’ll think I’m all brainwashed. Didn’t want to risk you trying to deprogram me when I haven’t been programmed.”

“I confess. The idea occurred to me.”

“If someone had gotten into my head, I don’t think there’d be so many doubts,” he said. “This isn’t something you can help me with, Harry.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not. Either way, you’re still my brother.”

“Broken damn record,” he said.

I held up a fist.

He stared at it for a couple of silent beats before he made a fist of his own and rapped my knuckles against his.

“Don’t call me,” he said.

“I’ll be patient,” I said. “But not forever.”

He hesitated and then nodded once more. Then he thrust his hands into the hip pockets of his jeans and walked quickly away. The bodyguards fell in behind him. One of them said something while he had one hand pressed against his ear.

Purely from petty malice, I waved a hand and hexed his radio, or phone. Sparks flew out of his ear and he all but fell over trying to get the earbud out.

Thomas looked back.

He grinned. Not long but real.

After he was gone, I turned to regard the tigers. I wondered if I knew them for what they really were, or if all I could see were the stripes.

I’d missed Kirby’s funeral while I was in the infirmary in Edinburgh. A couple of weeks had gone by after that, and I’d talked to Will and Georgia by phone occasionally.

Gaming night came along, and as I had most weeks for the past several years, I showed up at Will and Georgia’s place. I had my Arcanos rule book with me, and a Crown Royal bag filled with dice. I was wearing a black T-shirt that had a monochrome image of several multisided dice and said, in block print, “COME TO THE DORK SIDE. DO NOT MAKE ME DESTROY YOU.”

Will answered the door and smiled at me. “Hey, Harry. Wow, your face is . . . manly.”

“Chicks dig scars,” I said.

“Who is it?” came Andi’s voice. It sounded limp, lifeless.

“It is I, Harry Dresden,” I said solemnly.

Georgia appeared behind Will, smiling. “Harry.” She looked at my shirt, and my gaming stuff. “Oh . . . we weren’t really going to . . .”

Kirby had been the one who ran the game for us.

I stepped aside, grabbed the geek standing behind me, and tugged him forward. “This is Waldo Butters,” I said. “And his geek penis is longer and harder than all of ours put together.”

Butters blinked, first at Georgia and Will, and then at me. “Oh,” he said. “Um. Thank you?”

Will looked from Butters to me, his eyes searching. “What is this?” he asked gently.

“Life,” I said. “It keeps going. Butters says he can handle an Arcanos game. Or he can run a bunch of other ones if we want to try something new.” I cleared my throat. “If you like, we can go over to my place. Change of view and so on.”

Georgia looked at me and gave me a small and grateful smile.

Will looked at me uncertainly. Then he turned back into the apartment. “Andi?”

She appeared beside Georgia. Andi looked absolutely withered. Multiple broken ribs and major surgery will do that to you. She was on her feet and moving, but it was clear that she’d been staying with Will and Georgia so that they could help care for her until she recovered.