Battle Ground (The Dresden Files #17) - Jim Butcher Page 0,33
said. “No people, no knowledge. Nothing to record and preserve, and no reason to record or preserve it. Her existential purpose requires . . . us.”
“Wouldn’t get my hopes up too far about that one,” Ebenezar said. “But you might be onto something.”
The Redcap must have vanished from the rooftop for a while, because I saw him come back up from below with a big black nylon equipment bag. He took it over to Molly, who looked up, waved away several of the Little Folk playing messenger around her, and rose to her feet. She took the bag from him, carried it over to us, and tossed it down at my feet.
“There,” she said. She eyed me. “I’m just not feeling the suit for this kind of work. Go change.”
I arched an eyebrow at her. Then I leaned down and opened the bag.
It had my stuff in it, from the apartment. A pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and my ensorcelled leather duster. My gun belt was in there, too, with my big old monster-shooting revolver, as well as a short-barreled coach gun in a scabbard on a bandolier loaded with various-colored shells.
“Suit up, Sir Knight,” Molly said, and winked at me.
“Hell’s bells,” I muttered. “I’m just a great big Ken doll for you people to dress up, aren’t I?”
“You’re lucky the Leanansidhe is commanding the outer defenses,” Molly said. “Auntie Lea would have insisted you be properly attired.” Her smile faded. Her eyes searched for words for a moment, and when she spoke, she was choosing them carefully. “Harry. I won’t be here for you tonight.”
I paused and stared at her. “What? Why?”
“I can’t tell you.” She grimaced, frustration in her eyes for a moment. “But it’s necessary. And it’s got to be me.”
I drew a deep breath. I’d been counting on having the grasshopper to back me up. The now-immortal grasshopper, for crying out loud.
On the other hand, this was Molly.
I stared at her eyes for a while. She and I had taken each other’s measure already. And what I had seen in her was a dark and terrible potential, power that could be used for weal or woe, based upon her choices. I guess the real question was whether it was really Molly making the choices any longer. If it was still the young woman I’d known.
I knew where I stood on that one.
If my Molly said she had to leave, she had a damned good reason.
“Okay,” I said. I winked at her. “I mean, dammit, but okay.”
She lifted both her eyebrows in surprise for a moment. Then she clasped my hands and gave me a brief luminous smile. She nodded to Ebenezar and turned away, beckoning with a finger and collecting the Redcap like a well-trained hound. The pair of them hurried from the command center and vanished below, presumably to leave the castle.
And I felt a little more alone than I had a moment before.
My stomach wasn’t quite cramping, but . . . the tension was getting higher. The quivering unrest inside me would not cease. We stood there waiting and doing nothing while a war began around us.
Another car went up, this time farther to the south. An assassin squid made it all the way to the roof before Lacuna rammed her spear through it and pinned it to the map table six inches from Vadderung’s hand. The one-eyed man grunted without looking up from the map, unstuck the spear absently, flicked the squid over the side of the building, and offered the weapon back to the small fae.
Wizard Cristos came over, looking dignified and severe in his suit and robes, and spoke quietly in Ebenezar’s ear. The old man nodded, thumped my shoulder with his fist, and walked off to one corner of the rooftop, speaking quietly to the other Senior Councilman.
I couldn’t stand there doing nothing all by myself. I grabbed the nylon bag and took it down to the locker room next to the gym. Then I started doing what you do in locker rooms, and changed clothes. It was a busy place; the Einherjaren who were still coming in from the blacked-out city surrounding the castle would rush in to suit up and arm themselves from the weapons locker.
I was down to my underwear when a man the size of a small polar bear slammed his locker and departed, still buckling a vambrace onto one arm, and abruptly left me alone in the locker bay with Gentleman John Marcone.