Jim Butcher - Proven Guilty

“Hard to do,” I said quietly. “You were a kid. No real training. Exposed to some nasty uses of power.”

“Yes,” she said. “Without Michael, I would never have been able to leave it behind me. He never knew. He still doesn’t know. He remained near me, in my life. Making sure that I was all right. And… he was such a good soul. When he smiled at me, it was like all the light in the world was shining out at me. I wanted to be worthy of that smile.

“My husband saved my life, Mister Dresden, and not only from the dragon. He saved me from myself.” She shook her head. “I never touched my power again after the night I met Michael. We married soon after. And in time, the power withered. And good riddance to it.”

“So when Molly’s talent began to manifest,” I said quietly, “you tried to get her to abandon it as well.”

“I was well aware of how dangerous it could be,” she said. “How innocent it could seem.” She shook her head. “I did not want her exposed to the things that had nearly destroyed my life.”

“But she did it anyway,” I guessed. “That’s what really came between the two of you. That’s why she ran away from home.”

Charity’s voice turned raw. “Yes. I couldn’t get through to her how dangerous it was. What she might be sacrificing.” She made no effort to stem or hide her tears. “And you were there. A hero who fought beside her father. Used his power to help people.” She let out a tired laugh. “For the love of God, you saved my life. We named our child for you. Once she realized she had the talent, nothing could keep her from it.”

Christ. No wonder Charity hadn’t much liked me. Not only was I dragging her husband off to who knew where to fight who knew what, I was also setting an example to Molly of everything Charity wanted her to avoid.

“I didn’t know,” I told her.

She shook her head. Then she said, “I have been honest with you. No one else knows what you do now. Not Michael. Not my daughter. No one.” She drew a Kleenex from her pocket and wiped at her eyes. “What has happened to my daughter?”

I exhaled. “What I’ve got right now is still mostly guesswork,” I said. “But my gut tells me it all fits together.”

“I understand,” she said.

I nodded, and told Charity about the attacks at the convention, and about how Molly had gotten me involved. “I examined the victims of the first two attacks,” I said quietly. “One of them, a girl named Rosie, showed evidence of a land of psychic trauma. At the time, I attributed it to the phage’s attack on her.”

Charity frowned. “It wasn’t?”

I shook my head. “I found an identical trauma on Nelson.” I took a deep breath and said, “Molly is the link between them. They’re both her friends. I think she was the one who hurt them. I think she used magic to invade their minds.”

Charity stared at me, her expression sickened. “What? No…” She shook her head. “No, Molly wouldn’t…” Her face grew even more pale. “Oh, God. She’s broken one of the Council’s Laws.” She shook her head more violently. “No, no, no. She would not do such a thing.”

I grimaced and said, “I think I know what she did. And why she did it.”

“Tell me.”

I took a deep breath. “Rosie is pregnant. And she showed physical evidence of drug addiction, but none of the psychological evidence of withdrawal. I think Molly took steps when she found out her friend was pregnant-to force her away from the drugs. I think she did it to protect the baby. And then I think she did the same thing to Nelson. But something went wrong. I think what she did to him broke something.” I shook my head. “He got paranoid, erratic.”

Charity stared down at the altar below, shaking her head. “Is it the Council then, that took her?”

“No,” I said. “No. What she did to Rosie and Nelson left a kind of mark on her. A stain. I think she forced Rosie and Nelson to feel fear whenever they came near their drugs. Fear is a powerful motivator and it’s easy to exploit. She wanted them to be afraid of the drugs. She had good intentions, but she wanted her friends to be frightened.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Whoever called up these phages,” I said, “needed a way to guide them from the Nevernever to the physical world. They needed a beacon, someone who would resonate with a sympathetic vibe. Someone who, like the phages, wanted to make people feel fear.”

“And they used my Molly,” Charity whispered. Then she stared at me for a moment. “You did it,” she said quietly. “You tried to turn the phages back upon their summoner. You sent them after my daughter.”

“I didn’t know,” I told her. “My God, Charity. I swear to you that I didn’t know. People were dead, and I didn’t want anyone else to be hurt.”

The wooden pew creaked even more sharply in her grip.

“Who did this thing?” she said, and her voice was deadly quiet. “Who is responsible for the harm to my children? Who is the one who called the things that invaded my home?”

“I don’t think anyone called them,” I told her quietly. “I think they were sent.”

She looked up at me, and her eyes narrowed. “Sent?”

I nodded. “I hadn’t considered that possibility, until I realized what all of the attacks had in common. Mirrors.”

“Mirrors?” Charity asked. “I don’t understand.”

“That was the common element,” I said. “Mirrors. The bathroom. Rosie’s makeup mirror in the conference room. Plenty of reflective steel surfaces in a commercial kitchen. And Madrigal’s rental van’s windshield was reflecting images very clearly.”

She shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”

“There are plenty of things that can use mirrors as windows or doorways from the spirit world,” I said. “But there’s only one thing that feeds on fear and uses mirrors as pathways back and forth from the Nevernever. It’s called a fetch.”

“Fetch.” Charity tilted her head, her eyes vague, as though searching through old memories. “I’ve heard of them. They’re… aren’t they creatures of Faerie?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Specifically, they’re creatures of deepest, darkest Winter.” I swallowed. “Even more specifically, they’re Queen Mab’s elite spies and assassins. Shapeshifters with a lot of power.”

“Mab?” she whispered. “ The Mab?”

I nodded slowly.

“And they’ve taken my daughter,” she said. “Carried her away to Faerie.”

I nodded again. “She’ll be a rich resource for them. A magically talented young mortal. Compatible energy. Not enough experience to defend herself. They can feed on her and her magic for hours. Maybe days. That’s why they didn’t just kill her and have done.”

Charity swallowed. “What can we do?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “It would be nice to have your husband along, though.”

She bit her lip and sent what might have been a hateful look down at the altar. “He’s out of reach. Messages have been left, but…”

“We’re on our own,” I said.

“We must do something,” she said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “The problem is that we don’t know where to do it.”

“I thought you just said that they had taken her back to Faerie.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But just because I tell you Ayer’s Rock is in Australia doesn’t mean you’re going to be able to find the damned thing. Australia’s big. And Faerie makes it look like Rhode Island.”

Charity clenched her jaw. “There must be something.”

“I’m working on it,” I said.

“What will…” She paused and cleared her throat. “How long does she have?”

“Hard to say,” I told her. “Time can go by at different rates between here and there. A day here, but an hour there. Or vice versa.”