Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files #8) - Jim Butcher Page 0,54
went outside to go to the other building. Bright morning sunlight made my head hurt even more, and the sidewalk began revolving. I stopped to wait for my eyes to adjust to the light.
You all right? Murphy asked.
Its hard. Seeing someone like that, I said quietly. And shes probably the least mangled of the three.
She frowned. What did you see?
I tried to tell her what Rosie had looked like. It sounded surreal and garbled, even to me. I didnt think I had conveyed it very well.
You look terrible, she said when I finished.
Itll pass. Just got this damned headache. I shook my head and focused on taking steady breaths until I could force the pain to recede. Okay. Im good.
Did you learn what you were hoping for? Murphy asked.
Not yet, I said. Ill need to look at the others, too. See if the injuries on them give me some kind of pattern.
Theyre in ICU.
Yeah. I need to find a way to them without getting too close to someone on life support. I cant stay around to talk. Ill need maybe a minute, ninety seconds to look at them both. Then Ill get out. Let you talk.
Murphy took a deep breath and said, You sure you should do this?
No, I told her. But I cant help you if I dont get to look at them. I cant do that any other way. If I can stay calm and relaxed, it shouldnt hurt anything for me to be there for a minute or two.
But you cant be sure.
When can I?
She frowned at me, but nodded. Let me go ahead of you, she said. Wait here.
I found a chair, and took it down the hall and sat down with Mouse and Rawlins. We shared a companionable silence. I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.
My headache finally began to fade away just as Murphy returned. All right, she said quietly. We need to go down a floor and then use the back stairs. A nurse is going to let us in. You wont have to walk past any of the other rooms before you get to our witnesses.
Okay, I said, and stood up. Lets get this over with.
* * *
Chapter Seventeen
» ^ «
I wasted no time. We went up the stairs, and I was already preparing my Sight. A nurse opened the door to the stairway, and I simply stepped into the first door on my leftthe catatonic girls, Miss Bectons. I stepped into the doorway and raised my Sight.
She was a young girl, still in her late teens, nervously thin, her hair a shocking color of red that for some reason did not strike me as a dye job. She lay on her front, her head turned to the side, muddy brown eyes open and blank. Her back had been covered in bandages.
As my Sight focused on her, I saw more. The girls psyche had been savagely mauled, and as I watched her, phantom bruises darkened a few patches of skin that remained, and blood and watery fluids oozed from the rest of her torn flesh. Her mouth was set in a continual, silent wail, and beneath the real-world glaze, her eyes were wide with terror. If thered been enough left of her behind those eyes, Miss Becton would have been screaming.
My stomach rolled and I barely spotted a trash can in time to throw up into it.
Murphy crouched down at my side, her hand on my back. Harry? Are you okay?
Anger and empathy and grief warred for first place in my thoughts. Across the room, I was dimly conscious of a clock radio warbling to life and dying in a puff of smoke. The rooms fluorescent lights began to flicker as the violent emotions played hell with the aura of magic around me.
No, I said in a vicious, half-strangled growl. Im not okay.
Murphy stared at me for a second, and then looked at the girl. Is shehellip;
She isnt coming back, I said.
I spat a few times into the trash can and stood up. My headache started to return. The girls terrified eyes stayed bright and clear in my imagination. Shed been out for a fun time. A favorite movie. Maybe coffee or dinner with friends afterward. She sure as hell hadnt woken up yesterday morning and wondered if today would be the day some kind of nightmarish thing would rip away her sanity.
Harry, Murphy said again, her voice very gentle. You didnt do this to her.