JIM BUTCHER - SMALL FAVOR

Things could get really messy, really fast.

I was trying to think of a way of getting out of this without getting anyone killed when Murphy put her gun on the table and said in a very clear, loud, challenging tone, “I don’t think so.”

The gruff turned to stare at her in surprise.

So did Mac.

So did everyone else there.

Heck, so did I.

Murphy stood straight up and turned to face the enormous gruff with her feet spread. “I will not let this challenge to my authority pass.”

The gruff tilted its head to one side. Its horns dug furrows in the wooden ceiling.

Mac winced.

“Lady?” it rumbled.

“Do you know who I am?” Murphy asked.

“A lady knight, a shield bearer of this mortal demesne,” the gruff replied. “An…officer of the law, or so I believe it is called.”

“That’s right,” she said calmly.

“I make no challenge to your authority, Dame…”

“Murphy,” she said.

“Dame Murphy,” rumbled the gruff.

“But you do,” Murphy said. “You have threatened one I am sworn to protect.”

The gruff blinked-a considerable gesture on his scale-and glanced at me. “This wizard?”

“Yes,” Murphy said. “He is a citizen of Chicago, and I am sworn to protect and defend him against those who would harm him.”

“Dame Murphy,” the gruff said stiffly, “this matter is not one of mortal concern.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Murphy said. “This man lives in Chicago. He pays taxes to the city. He is beholden to its laws.” She glanced aside at me, and her mouth quirked wryly. “If he is to suffer the headaches of citizenry, as he must, then it is fair and lawful that he should enjoy the protections offered to every citizen. He is therefore under my protection, and any quarrel you have with him, you also have with me.”

The gruff stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought. “Art thou quite certain of thy position, Dame Murphy?”

“Quite certain,” she replied.

“Even knowing that the duty solemnly charged unto me and my kin might require us to kill thee?”

“Master Gruff,” Murphy replied, laying a hand on her gun for the first time, “consider for a moment what a steel-jacketed round would feel like as it entered your flesh.”

The gruff flicked its ears in surprise. A number of napkins were blown from the surface of a nearby table. “Thou wouldst aim such weapons of the bane at a lawful champion of the Seelie Court?”

“In your case, Master Gruff,” Murphy said, “I would hardly need to aim.” Then she picked up the gun and aimed it at the gruff ’s eyes.

I started to panic. Then I saw where I thought Murph was going with this one, and I had to work to keep myself from letting out a cheer.

The gruff ’s knuckles popped again. “This,” it growled, “is neutral ground.”

“Chicago,” she replied, “has never signed any Accords. I will fulfill my duty.”

“Attack me here,” the gruff said, “and I will crush you.”

“Crush me here,” Murphy said, “and you will have broken the Accords while acting on behalf of your Queen. Was that your intention in coming here?”

The gruff ground its teeth, a sound like creaking millstones. “My quarrel is not with you.”

“If you attempt to take the life of a citizen of Chicago, whom I am sworn to protect, you have made it my quarrel, Master Gruff. Does your Queen wish to declare war upon the mortal authorities of Chicago? Would she wish you to decide such a thing?”

The gruff stared at her, evidently pondering.

“Lady has a point, Tiny,” I drawled. “There’s nothing to be gained here but trouble, and nothing to be lost but a little time. Walk away. You’ll find me again soon enough.”

The gruff stared at Murphy, and then at me. If I’d been less intrepid and fearless, I would have held my breath, hoping I’d avoided a fight. As it was, I held my breath mostly to cut down on the smell.

Finally the gruff bowed its head toward Murphy, with more scraping of ceilings and wincing of bartenders. “Courage,” he rumbled, “should be honored. Though thou art less a man than I thought, wizard, hiding behind a mortal, however valiant she may be.”

I let out a long breath as silently as I could and said, “Gosh. Somehow I’ll try to live with myself.”

“It will not o’erburden you long. This I promise.” The gruff nodded once to Murphy, then turned and scuttled out the way he’d squeezed in. He even shut the door behind him.

Murphy let out her breath and put her gun away in its shoulder holster. It took her two or three tries.

I sank into my chair on weak legs. “You,” I said to Murphy, “are so hot right now.”

She gave me a weak smile. “Oh, now you notice.” She glanced at the door. “Is he really gone?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I figure he is. The Summer Court aren’t exactly sweetness and light, but they do have a concept of honor, and if any faerie gives his word, he’s good for it.”

Mac did something I’d rarely seen him do.

He got three black bottles out from beneath the bar and brought them over to the table. He twisted the tops off and put one down in front of me, and another in front of Murphy, then kept the third for himself.

I took up the bottle and sniffed at it. I wasn’t familiar with the brew, but it had a rich, earthy aroma that made my mouth water.

Without a word Mac held up his bottle in a salute to Murphy.

I joined him. Murphy shook her head tiredly and returned the salute.

We drank together, and my tongue decided that any other brew it ever had would probably be a bitter disappointment from this day forward. Too many flavors to count blended together into something I couldn’t describe if I’d had a week to talk about it. I’d never had anything like it. It was God’s beer.

Mac drained the bottle in a single pull, with his eyes closed. When he lowered it, he looked at Murphy and said, “Bravely done.”

Murphy’s face was flushed with relief and with a reaction to her beer that was at least as favorable as mine. I doubt Mac could have seen it, but I’d known Murph long enough to see that she started blushing, too.

Mac went back to the bar, leaving Murphy and me to finish our bottled ambrosia.

“Okay,” Murphy said in a weak voice. “Where were we?”

“You were about to tell me how you thought I was wrong and that the Chicago PD needed to intervene.”

“Oh,” Murph said. “Right.” She stared after the departed gruff for a moment. “You said that that thing was from the nicer of the two groups causing us grief?”

“Yep,” I said.

“We’ve gone up against the supernatural three times,” she said quietly. “It’s ended badly twice.”

We meaning the cops, of course. I nodded. One of those occasions had killed her partner, Ron Carmichael. He hadn’t been an angel or anything, but he had been a good man and a solid cop.

“All right,” she said quietly. “I’m willing to hold off for now. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“I’m in from here on out. You obviously need someone to protect you from the big, bad billy goats.”

I snorted. “Yeah, obviously.”

She held up the last of her beer. I held up mine.

We clinked them, finished them, and went back out into the winter cold together.

“A ll right,” I said. “I hearby call this war council to order.”

We were all sitting around my tiny living room, eating Burger King. Thomas and Molly had voted for McDonald’s, but since I was paying, I sternly informed them that this was not a democracy, and Burger King it was.

Hail to the King, baby.