Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files #8) - Jim Butcher Page 0,33

shook his head. A parents authority can only go so far. Molly has to start thinking and choosing for herself. At this point, twisting her arm until she cries uncle isnt going to help her do that.

Doesnt seem like Charity agrees with you, I said.

Michael nodded. She loves Molly very much. Shes terrified of the kinds of things that could happen to her little girl. He glanced at the house. Which brings me to a question for you.

Yeah?

Is there some kind of dangerous situation developing?

I chewed on my lip and then nodded. It seems probable, but I dont have anything specific yet.

Is my daughter involved in it?

Not to my knowledge, I told him. Her boyfriend got arrested tonight. She talked me into bailing him out.

Michaels eyes narrowed a little, but then he caught himself, and I saw him force the angry expression from his face. I see. How in the world did you get her to come here?

It was what I charged for my help, I said. She tried to back out, but I convinced her not to.

Michael grunted. You threatened her?

Politely, I said. Id never hurt her.

I know that, Michael said, his tone gently reproving. Behind us, the front door opened. Molly stepped out onto the porch, hugging herself with her arms. She stood that way for a moment, ignoring us. A few seconds later, a light on the second floor came on. Charity, presumably, had gone back upstairs.

Michael watched his daughter for a moment, pain in his eyes. Then he took a deep breath and said, May I ask a favor of you?

Yes.

Talk to her, Michael said. She likes you. Respects you. A few words from you might do more than anything I could tell her right now.

Whoa, I said. I dont know.

You dont have to negotiate a treaty, Michael said, smiling. Just ask her to talk to her mother. To be willing to give a little.

Compromise has to work both ways, I said. What about Charity?

Shell come around.

Am I the only one who has noticed that Charity really doesnt regard me with what most of the world thinks of as fairness? Or fondness? I am the last person in the world likely to get her to sit down for a reconciliation talk.

He smiled. Have a little faith.

Oh, please. I sighed, but there wasnt any real feeling behind it.

Will you try to help? Michael asked.

I scowled at him. Yes.

He smiled at me, mostly in his eyes. Thank you. Im sorry you walked into the cross fire tonight.

Molly told me there had been trouble at home. Bringing her here seemed like the right thing to do.

I appreciate it. Michael frowned, his eyes distant for a moment, then said, Ive got to get moving.

Sure, I said.

He met my eyes and said, If something arises, will you keep an eye on them for me? It would make me feel a lot better to know you were watching over them until I return.

I glanced back at his house. What happened to having faith?

He smiled. Seems a bit lazy to expect the Lord to do all the work, doesnt it? His expression grew serious again. Besides. I do have faith, Harry. In Himand in you.

Demon-infested me writhed in uncomfortable guilt on the inside. Ill keep an eye on them, of course.

Thank you, Michael said, and put the truck in gear. When I get back, I need to talk business with you, if you have the time.

I nodded. Sure. Good hunting.

God be with you, he replied with a deep nod, and then he pulled out and left. Have sword, will travel. Hi-yo, Silver, away.

Get Molly and Charity to sit down and talk things out. Right. I had about as much chance to do that as I did of backpacking my car to the top of Mount Rushmore. I was gloomily certain that even if I did manage to get them together, it would only make things go more spectacularly wrong once they were there. The whole house would probably go up in an explosion when mother met antimother.

No good could come of this one. Why in the world had I agreed to it?

Because Michael was my friend, and because I was in general too stupid to turn down people in need. And maybe because of something more. Michaels house had always been fulll of hectic life, but it had been a place, in general, of talk and warmth and laughter and good food. The ugly shouts and snarls of Molly and Charitys quarrel had