White Night (The Dresden Files #9) - Jim Butcher Page 0,83

anything was wrong. He would have stayed with any members of the Ordo that he could, and I had taken to planning ahead a little more than I used to do. I could use my shield bracelet to target the single small shield charm I'd hung from his collar for just such an emergency. Me and Foghorn Leghorn.

"Can you find the dog?" Elaine asked.

"Yeah. But we should try calling their homes before we go."

Elaine frowned. "You told them to stay here, or somewhere public."

"Odds are pretty good that they're scared. And when you're scared…"

"… you want to go home," Elaine finished.

"If they're there, it'll be the quickest way to get in touch. If not, it hasn't cost us more than a minute or two."

Elaine nodded. "Anna had all the numbers in a notebook in her purse." We turned up the purse after a brief search, but the notebook wasn't in it.

There wasn't anything for it but to make sure that Anna hadn't slipped it into a pocket before she died. I checked, and tried not to leave any prints almost as hard as I tried not to look at her dead, purpling face or glazed eyes. It hadn't been a clean death, and even though Anna hadn't been gone long enough to start decomposition, the smell was formidable. I tried to ignore it.

It was harder to ignore her face. The skin had the stiff, waxy look that dead bodies get. Worse, there was a distinct and unquantifiable quality of… absence. Anna Ash had been very much alive—fierce of will, protective, determined. I know plenty of wizards without the force of personality she had. She'd been the one thinking and acting when all of those around her were frightened. That takes a rare kind of courage.

None of which meant anything, since, despite my efforts, the killer had taken her anyway.

I shook my head and stepped away from the corpse, having turned up no notebook. Her willingness to face danger on behalf of her friends couldn't be allowed to vanish silently into the past. If some of those she sought to protect were still alive, then her own sacrifice and death could still mean something. I could be bitter about her death later. I would be doing a grave disservice to the woman if I let it do anything but make me more motivated to stop the killers before they had finished their work.

I came face-to-face with Elaine, who stood in the doorway, staring at Anna's body. There was no expression on her face, absolutely none. Tears, though, had reddened her eyes and streaked over her cheeks and down her nose. Some women are pretty when they cry. Elaine gets all blotchy and runny-nosed, and it brought out the dark, tired circles beneath her eyes.

It didn't look pretty. It just looked like pain.

She spoke, and her voice came out rough and quavering. "I told her I would protect her."

"Sometimes you try," I said quietly. "Sometimes that's all you do, Try. That's how the game works."

"Game," she said. The single word was caustic enough to melt holes in the floor. "Has it ever happened to you? Someone who came to you for help was killed?"

I nodded. "Couple of times. First time was Kim Delaney. A girl I had trained to keep her talent under control. Maybe a little stronger than the women in the Ordo, but not much. She got involved in bad business. Over her head. I thought I could warn her off, that she would listen to me. I should have known better."

"What happened?"

I tilted my head back at the body behind me, without actually looking. "Something ate her. I go to her grave sometimes."

"Why?"

"To bring her some flowers and sweep off the leaves. To remind me of the stakes I play for. To remind me that nobody wins them all."

"And after?" Elaine asked me quietly. She hadn't looked away from the corpse. Not for a second. "What did you do to the thing that killed her?"

It was a complicated answer, but it wasn't what Elaine needed to hear right then. "I killed it."

She nodded again. "When we catch up to the Skavis, I want it."

I put a hand on her shoulder and said, very gently, "It won't make you feel any better."

She shook her head. "That's not why I want to do it. It was my job. I've got to finish my job. I owe her that much."

I didn't think Elaine herself thought the statement was untrue, but I'd gone