Battle Ground (The Dresden Files #17) - Jim Butcher Page 0,90
me with that blazing Sword, between me and Rudolph’s curled, helpless form.
“I’m here, Harry,” Butters said, his voice thick with tears. “Harry, I’m here.”
The light dimmed and went out, and I felt him crouch in front of me, felt his arms go around me. “I’m here, man. I’m here.”
Oh, Hell’s bells. Oh God.
What had I done?
I had almost . . .
If not for Butters and Sanya . . .
Murph would have been so ashamed. So terrified for me.
Oh God, Murph.
I leaned against him, sobbing, unable to control myself. Though he was only a little guy, he was wiry and tough. He didn’t waver. Not even when my whole weight leaned against him.
“He took her,” I heard myself say, the words barely understandable. “He took her from me.”
Butters’s arms tightened on me. “He took her from all of us,” he said. “And he’ll answer for it before the law, Harry. But it can’t happen like this. You can’t let it happen like this.” He abruptly hauled me upright to face him, and his expression was intent, hard, though tears ran down his cheeks. “We need you. You, the good man. I can’t let you hurt that man. Too many of us need him. Your daughter needs him.”
It was that last phrase that did it. It hit me like a bucket of cold water.
Maggie.
Despite all the pain, despite the tears, my loss, I could see her there, in my mind’s eye. I could imagine her, awake in bed at Michael’s place, as safe as anywhere in this town, but too wise to believe that everything was all right, holding on to Mouse and waiting in silence to understand events that were well beyond her ability to change.
Oh God. What had I almost done to her?
Everything hurt.
But there was enough left of me to feel shame.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Butters, I’m sorry.”
His face twisted with empathy, and his tears fell harder.
“Sanya,” I choked.
“Am all right,” I heard a groggy voice say from down the alley. “Bozhe moi, you fight dirty.” I felt a large hand come down on my shoulder. “Like a Russian.”
“Sanya’s here, too. He’ll be okay,” Butters said.
I teetered forward abruptly, unable to stay upright.
And for a time, there was nothing else to be done.
I wept.
And the city burned.
Chapter
Twenty-four
Sanya and his people had gotten their act together pretty quick. They’d come in numbers, down three parallel streets, the one we’d been on and the street on either side of it. They’d gone with a simple tactic—advancing in a line and shooting anything that didn’t look human with lots and lots of slugs and buckshot.
Those largest Huntsmen were a big job—but many hands make light work. The way Sanya told it, the first one to come roaring out of the haze had been scary—but he and his appointed uniformed officer had managed to stand and shoot, and enough of the volunteers had stood with them to bring it down before it could complete its charge. And after that, after they saw with their own eyes that the enemy could bleed and die, things changed. The volunteers just stalked forward, killing Huntsmen, whose spears, while terrifying and destructive, really weren’t up to exchanging fire with pump-action guns while outnumbered five or six to one.
The enemy and creatures of Winter alike gave way before that kind of pressure, much to their mutual dismay. The humans that those beings would normally consider their prey had opened their eyes and armed themselves and were willing to fight. For now, the volunteers outnumbered the foe, and the Fomor fell back, ceding the area to the Scattergun Brigade.
I don’t know how long I was out of the fight. Butters told me later it had been only a few minutes. All I know is that after a time, the physical pain began to recede, and I felt the Winter mantle settle around me again.
Sanya had broken my nose for me, I realized. Not that I hadn’t earned considerably worse. Sobbing hysterically with a broken nose isn’t real dignified. Or practical, for activities like breathing. It took me half a minute of coughing and spitting to get things cleared up. By the time I had, and had swiped at my eyes with a cleanish portion of my coat’s sleeves, the burn of my broken nose and the aches and pains had once more faded beneath the staticky curtain of