Ghost Story (The Dresden Files #13) - Jim Butcher Page 0,197

that turned the tide . . .” He shook his head sadly. “Things might be different now.”

And, as if on cue, Mortimer Lindquist, ectomancer, limped out of the lower hallway and into the electrical-junction room, with Sir Stuart’s shade at his right hand.

Mort took a look around, his dark eyes intent, and then his gaze locked onto Molly.

“Hey,” he croaked. “You. Arrogant bitch ghost.”

Molly’s eyes snapped fully open and flicked to Mort. They were filled with more bitter, venomous hate than my apprentice could ever have put into them.

“I’m not really into this whole hero thing,” Mort said. “Don’t have the temperament for it. Don’t know a lot about the villain side of the equation, either.” He planted his feet, facing the Corpsetaker squarely, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “But it seems to me, you half-wit, that you probably shouldn’t have left a freaking ectomancer a pit full of wraiths to play with.”

And with a howl, more than a thousand wraiths came boiling around the corner in a cloud of clawing hands, gnashing teeth, and screaming hunger. They rode on a wave of Mort’s power and no longer drifted with lazy, disconnected grace. Now they came forth like rushing storm clouds, like racing wolves, like hungry sharks, a tide of mindless destruction.

I saw Molly’s eyes widen and the pulsing spiritual mass that was the Corpsetaker began to pull away from the young woman.

My apprentice didn’t let her.

Molly let out a wheezing cackle and both hands formed into claws that clutched at the air. I saw the energy of her own magic surround her fingers so that she grasped onto the Corpsetaker’s essence as if it had been a nearly physical thing. The necromancer’s spirit began to ooze through Molly’s grip. The exhausted girl could only slow the Corpsetaker down.

But it was enough.

The tide of wraiths slammed into the Corpsetaker like a freight train, their wails blending into a sound that I had heard before, in the train tunnel where Carmichael saved me. The Corpsetaker had begun to resume her usual form the instant she disengaged from Molly, and I could see the sudden shock and horror in her beautiful eyes as that spiritual tide overwhelmed her. I saw her struggle uselessly as the wraith train carried her up the stairs and out into the night. The train swept her straight up into the air—and then reversed itself and slammed her down, into the earth.

I saw her try to scream.

But all I heard was the blaring howl of the horn of a southbound train.

And then she was gone.

“You’re right,” Uriel said, his tone filled with a chill satisfaction. “Someone needed to do something.” He glanced aside at me, gave me a slight bow of his head, and said, “Well-done.”

Mort limped up the stairs to check on Molly. “You’re the one who called to me, eh?”

Molly looked up at him, obviously too exhausted to move more than her head. “Harry . . . Well, it’s sort of complicated to explain what was going on. But he told me you could help.”

“Guess he was right,” Mort said.

“Where is he?” Molly asked. “I mean . . . his ghost.”

Mort glanced around and looked right at me—right through me. He shook his head. “Not here.”

Molly closed her eyes and began to cry quietly.

“I got her, boss,” Molly said quietly. “We got her. And I’m still here. Still me. Thank you.”

“She’s thanking me,” I said quietly. “For that.”

“And much more,” Uriel said. “She still has her life. Her future. Her freedom. You did save her, you know. The idea to have her call to Mortimer in the closing moments of the psychic battle was inspired.”

“I’ve cost her too much,” I said quietly.

“I believe that when you went after your daughter, you said something about letting the world burn. That you and your daughter would roast marshmallows.”

I nodded bleakly.

“It is one thing for you to say, ‘Let the world burn.’ It is another to say, ‘Let Molly burn.’ The difference is all in the name.”

“Yeah,” I croaked. “I’m starting to realize that. Too late to do any good. But I get it.”

Uriel gave me a steady look and said nothing.

I shook my head. “Get some rest, kid,” I called, though I knew she wouldn’t hear me. “You’ve earned it.”

The scene unfolded. Murphy and the wolves woke up less than a minute after the Corpsetaker was shown to the door. Will and company changed back to their human forms, while Mort, after a whispered tip