Blood Rites (The Dresden Files #6) - Jim Butcher Page 0,125
off as soon as she could get away with it. Started taking up with bad sorts out of sheer rebellion. She made a couple of bad decisions, and… and then it was too late for her to go back."
He sighed. "You're so much like her. I knew it when they sent you to me. I knew it the minute I saw you. I didn't want to repeat my mistakes with you. I wanted you to have breathing space. To make up your own mind about what kind of person you would be." He shook his head. "The hardest lesson a wizard has to learn is that even with so much power, there are some things you can't control. No matter how much you want to."
I just stared at him. "You're an assassin. A murderer. You knew about what happened to my mother. You knew her and you never told me. Good God, Ebenezar. How could you do that to me? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I'm only human, Hoss. I did what I thought was best for you at the time."
"I trusted you," I said. "Do you know how much that means to me?"
"Yes," he said. "I never did it with the intention of hurting you. But it's done. And I wouldn't choose to do it any differently if it happened again."
He moved, got the sack, and hunkered down by me so that he could rest my forearm over one knee and examine the burned hand. Then he reached into the bag and drew out a long strand of string hung with some kind of white stone. "Let's see to your hand. I think I can get the circulation restored, at least a little. Maybe enough to save the hand. And I can stop the pain for a day or two. You'll still have to get to a doctor, but this should tide you over if you're expecting trouble tonight."
It didn't take him long, and I tried to sort through my thoughts. They were buried under a storm of raw emotions, all of them ugly. I lost track of time again for a minute. When I looked up, my hand didn't hurt and it seemed a little less withered beneath the white bandages. A string of white stones had been tied around my wrist. Even as I watched, one of them yellowed and began to slowly darken.
"The stones will absorb the pain for a while. They'll crumble one at a time, so you'll know when they stop working." He looked up to my face. "Do you want my help tonight?"
An hour ago it wouldn't even have been a question. I'd have been more than glad to have Ebenezar next to me in a fight. But the old man had been right. The truth hurt. The truth burned. My thoughts and feelings boiled in a blistering, dangerous tumult in my chest. I didn't want to admit what was at the core of that turmoil, but denying it wouldn't make it any less true.
Ebenezar had lied to me. From day one.
And if he'd been lying to me, what else had he lied about?
I'd built my whole stupid life on a few simple beliefs. That I had a responsibility to use my power to help people. That it was worth risking my own life and safety to defend others. Beliefs I'd taken as my own primarily because of the old man's influence.
But he hadn't been what I thought he was. Ebenezar wasn't a paragon of wizardly virtue. If anything he was a precautionary tale. He had seemed to talk a good game, but underneath that surface, he'd been as cold and as vicious as any of the cowardly bastards in the Council whom I despised.
Maybe he'd never claimed to be a shining example. Maybe I'd just needed someone to admire. To believe in. Maybe I'd been the stupid one, putting my faith in the wrong place.
But none of that changed the fact that Ebenezar had hidden things from me. That he'd lied.
That made it simple.
"No," I whispered. "I don't want you there. I don't know you. I never did."
"But you'd fight beside someone like the Hellhound."
"Kincaid's a killer for hire. He never pretended he was anything else."
The old man exhaled slowly and said, "I reckon that ain't unfair."
"Thank you for your help. But I've got things to do. You should go."
He rose, picked up the paper bag, and said, "I'm still there for you, Hoss, if you change your—"