Changes (The Dresden Files #12) - Jim Butcher Page 0,1

fiction, but Susan had clued in to the supernatural world on her own, and we’d crossed trails and verbal swords several times before we’d gotten together. We hadn’t been together a terribly long time—a little less than two years. We were both young and we made each other happy.

Maybe I should have known better. If you don’t stand on the sidelines and ignore the world around you, sooner or later you make enemies. One of mine, a vampire named Bianca, had abducted Susan and infected her with the blood thirst of the Red Court. Susan hadn’t gone all the way over—but if she ever lost control of herself, ever took another’s lifeblood, she would.

She left me, afraid that if she didn’t, I’d be the kill that turned her into a monster, and set out into the world to find some way to cope.

I told myself that she had good reason to do so, but reason and heart-break don’t speak the same language. I’d never really forgiven myself for what had happened to her. I guess reason and guilt don’t speak the same language, either.

It was probably a damned good thing I had gone into shock, because I could feel emotions that were stirring somewhere deep inside me, gathering power like a storm far out to sea. I couldn’t see them. I could only feel their effects, but it was enough to know that whatever was rising inside me was potent. Violent. Dangerous. Mindless rage got people killed every day. But for me, it might be worse.

I’m a professional wizard.

I can make a lot more things happen than most people.

Magic and emotions are tied up inextricably. I’ve been in battle before, and felt the terror and rage of that kind of place, where it’s a fight just to think clearly through the simplest problems. I’d used my magic in those kinds of volatile circumstances—and a few times, I’d seen it run wild as a result. When most people lose control of their anger, someone gets hurt. Maybe someone even gets killed. When it happens to a wizard, insurance companies go broke and there’s reconstruction afterward.

What was stirring in me now made those previous feelings of battle rage seem like anemic kittens.

“I’ve got to talk to someone,” I heard myself say quietly. “Someone with some objectivity, perspective. I’ve got to get my head straight before things go to hell.”

Mac leaned on the bar and looked at me.

I cradled the glass in my hand and said quietly, “You remember Susan Rodriguez?”

He nodded.

“She says that someone took our daughter. She says she’ll be here late tonight.”

Mac inhaled and exhaled slowly. Then he picked up the bottle and poured himself a shot. He sipped at it.

“I loved her,” I said. “Maybe love her still. And she didn’t tell me.”

He nodded.

“She could be lying.”

He grunted.

“I’ve been used before. And I’m a sucker for a girl.”

“Yes,” he said.

I gave him an even look. He smiled slightly.

“She’d be . . . six? Seven?” I shook my head. “I can’t even do the math right now.”

Mac pursed his lips. “Hard thing.”

I finished the second glass. Some of the sharper edges had gotten softer. Mac touched a finger to the bottle, watching me. I shook my head.

“She could be lying to me,” I said quietly. “If she’s not . . . then . . .”

Mac closed his eyes briefly and nodded.

“Then there’s this little girl in trouble,” I said. I felt my jaw clench, and the storm inside me threatened to come boiling up. I pushed it down. “My little girl.”

He nodded again.

“Don’t know if I ever told you,” I said. “I was an orphan.”

Mac watched me silently.

“There were times when . . . when it was bad. When I wanted someone to come save me. I wished for it so hard. Dreaming of . . . of not being alone. And when someone finally did come, he turned out to be the biggest monster of all.” I shook my head. “I won’t let that happen to my child.”

Mac folded his arms on the bar and looked at me intently and said, in a resonant baritone, “You’ve got to be very careful, Harry.”

I looked at him, shocked. He’d . . . used grammar.

“Something like this will test you like nothing else,” Mac said. “You’re going to find out who you are, Harry. You’re going to find out which principles you’ll stand by to your death—and which lines you’ll cross.” He took my empty glass away and said, “You’re heading into