Battle Ground (The Dresden Files #17) - Jim Butcher Page 0,12
though he kept his head down and didn’t look at me, since he’d kicked me out of his store for good several years ago.
God, that seemed so petty and unimportant now.
I walked by him to get to the center of the room and put a hand on his shoulder encouragingly on the way by.
“Hello, everyone,” I said. “I guess you know me. But if you don’t, I’m Harry Dresden, wizard of the White Council.”
For the moment, anyway.
I took a deep breath. “There’s not a lot of time here. So I’m going to give it to you straight. We’re looking at an apocalypse.”
That got me dead silence and stares. Murphy elbowed me in the ribs.
“Little A,” I said in protest, then clarified. “The Fomor, those kidnapping bastards, are coming with an army. And they mean to kill everyone in the city.”
That got me dead silence. You could have heard half of a pin drop.
“What do we do?” Georgia asked into that void. “What can we do?”
Nervous whispers began to spread.
“You’re not alone,” I said instantly. “There’s considerable power getting ready to argue with them about it. Names out of storybooks are getting ready to fight the Fomor. But that means it’s going to be big-league bad out there,” I said. I blew out a breath and pushed my fingers back through my hair. “Here’s how it is, people. The wolf is at the door. So if you’ve been meaning to take a martial arts class, or you thought maybe you should learn to shoot a gun, it’s too late. You’ve only got three choices now.”
I held up a finger. “You can run, and they’ll chase you.” I held up another. “You can hide, and they’ll hunt you.” I clenched my hand into a fist. “Or you can fight. Because they are coming to kill you.”
I pointed at Will and the Alphas. “These guys have made themselves ready and can maybe survive. But we don’t need theoretical warriors out there. If you don’t think you could win a scrap with Will and his people, the only business you have out there tonight is dying. The safe houses, like this place, will probably be the last to fall. But if the enemy takes the city, they will fall.
“So make your choice. Run. Hide. Or fight. Any of them could get you killed.”
“Jesus,” someone whispered.
Someone’s baby made a fussing noise and was shushed.
“What about the army?” Bock asked quietly.
I shook my head. “They’ll be all over the place. In the morning. The leading elements of the enemy’s forces are already here.”
That went over with a round of whispers.
“I’m sorry, guys,” I said into the sotto voce aura of fear. “But that’s how it is. Choose now and stick with it. The more you dither, the more dangerous changing your mind gets.” I gestured toward Murph. “You all know who Karrin Murphy is,” I said. “She’s going to be coordinating defense here. Will, that all right with you and your people?”
Will didn’t need to check in with the Alphas. He simply nodded and said, “It is.”
“Thank you,” I told him, and meant it.
Georgia was studying Murphy’s expression intently, and the two of them traded a look I couldn’t read. “Of course, Harry. Whatever we can do to help.”
“Mac, that all right with you?”
Mac didn’t look up from the mug he was polishing with a spotless white cloth. He let his silence be taken as assent.
“Right,” I said. “Gotta move. Saw a bike chained up outside. Whose is it?”
There was a profound silence in the room.
“Oh, come on, guys,” I said plaintively. “It’s not a violation of the Laws of Magic. I just really need wheels to go save the city and whatnot.”
In the back corner of the room, a hand went up, and a skinny kid in sunglasses and a raised, tied hoodie spoke in some kind of Eastern European accent. “It is my bike.”
I squinted at him and said, “Gary?”
Crazy-but-Not-Wrong Gary, the Paranet guy, hunched down so hard that he looked like a cartoon buzzard, and his narrow shoulders nearly knocked off his own sunglasses. “Christ, Dresden,” he said, in a plain midwestern accent, “just out me to everyone.”
I eyed him for a second.
Then I said, “Guys, who knew this was Gary?”
Approximately eighty percent of the people in the room put up a hand, Murphy’s and Mac’s among them.
Gary looked sullen.
“You’re among friends, man,” I said. “Of course they know who you are.”
Gary eyed me suspiciously over the rims of the sunglasses.