His goddamned phone. As if anything there would do him any good. As if it would function and let him call for help. As if it would arrive in time to do him any good.
The phone fell from his fingers as he tried to gasp for breath.
I saw it on his face when he realized what was going to happen. When the panic took him, and the tears. When his hope faltered and died.
It made me feel something hot and sweet deep in my guts.
You killed her.
Feel what I feel, you bastard.
My teeth were bared. I felt sick, and hollow, and strong.
I pushed harder.
I heard a bone break. I didn’t care where it might have been. I just liked the sound and wanted to hear more of it.
“Bozhe moi,” came a sudden, startled voice from somewhere behind me. “Dresden. What is the meaning of this?”
“Fuck off, Sanya,” I snarled. “Won’t be a minute.”
Rudolph made a gurgling sound.
“Dresden,” Sanya said. His deep voice was troubled, which stood to reason. He didn’t have much clarity, like I did. “He is no threat to you. Stop this.”
“He killed Murphy,” I said. My voice sounded calm. “I’m going to balance those scales real quick. Then we’ll get to work.”
“No,” Sanya said. “That is not your place.”
I heard the steel in his voice.
I turned my head slowly and looked at him.
The Knight of Hope drew Esperacchius from his side. The saber gleamed with a harsh, threatening light in the dimness of the alleyway.
“Let him go,” Sanya said. “You are killing a man. If he has done wrong, he will face justice. But not like this.”
“Just a second,” I said, as if I was putting together a sandwich.
Sanya’s expression was strange. I couldn’t track what it was. But I knew it wasn’t appropriate to the situation. He stalked closer, moving well. Very well. He was a more worthy opponent. “Harry Dresden. I will not ask again.”
Something disturbed the purity of my hatred then. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it pissed me off.
What had been a profoundly pure experience had been disrupted. This creature, this Rudolph, didn’t deserve even the death I was about to give him. He couldn’t even die properly, forcing me to work for it. He was beyond contempt.
“Walk away, Sanya,” I said shortly. “This is happening.”
Sanya wouldn’t walk away. That wasn’t the Knight’s style. He wasn’t going to let me finish my business. I would have to reason with him.
Sanya closed his eyes for a second, as if in pain.
Which, come on. That was just stupid.
I dropped the shield, whipped toward him, and kicked him in the balls.
I was fast and strong. But Sanya had been fighting for his life against various bad guys for a while now and wasn’t going to be taken down by a sucker punch. He managed to move his hips at the last second, taking some of the impact out of the kick. So instead of dropping him to the ground, the blow knocked him back and staggered him, but he kept his feet.
I gave Sanya no time to recover. I followed up, inside the reach of Esperacchius, getting my left forearm across his right, driving his arm back and up and not letting it come back down. He was big and strong. I was bigger, stronger. I crowded him against a wall, drove my knee up into his belly, once, twice, hard enough to break boards.
Then the Russian’s head snapped forward into my face. There was a burst of static pain in the general area of my head, and then I was on my way back across the alley. My shoulders hit the wall, hard. There was a crackling noise, a flash of heat in my shoulder—and then I could move my right arm readily again.
Sanya had driven a fist like a sledgehammer twice into my belly by the time I caught his blow with my right forearm before a third could land. I stomped down as hard as I could on one of his feet, with mixed results—the Russian had worn steel-toed work boots. He staggered a little, then threw a knee at my groin. I blocked it with one thigh, the one I’d hurt earlier, and the world narrowed to a tunnel for a second before I twisted my head to one side, found his ear, and bit down as hard as I could.
Sanya screamed and his weight shifted back.
I used that change of weight, set my legs, and drove him across the