Battle Ground by Jim Butcher

Author:Jim Butcher [Butcher, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Fantasy, Mystery, Vampires, Adult, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780593199305
Google: vHlazQEACAAJ
Amazon: B0867ZMV2S
Goodreads: 23106013
Publisher: Ace
Published: 2020-09-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Twenty-four

Sanya and his people had gotten their act together pretty quick. They’d come in numbers, down three parallel streets, the one we’d been on and the street on either side of it. They’d gone with a simple tactic—advancing in a line and shooting anything that didn’t look human with lots and lots of slugs and buckshot.

Those largest Huntsmen were a big job—but many hands make light work. The way Sanya told it, the first one to come roaring out of the haze had been scary—but he and his appointed uniformed officer had managed to stand and shoot, and enough of the volunteers had stood with them to bring it down before it could complete its charge. And after that, after they saw with their own eyes that the enemy could bleed and die, things changed. The volunteers just stalked forward, killing Huntsmen, whose spears, while terrifying and destructive, really weren’t up to exchanging fire with pump-action guns while outnumbered five or six to one.

The enemy and creatures of Winter alike gave way before that kind of pressure, much to their mutual dismay. The humans that those beings would normally consider their prey had opened their eyes and armed themselves and were willing to fight. For now, the volunteers outnumbered the foe, and the Fomor fell back, ceding the area to the Scattergun Brigade.

I don’t know how long I was out of the fight. Butters told me later it had been only a few minutes. All I know is that after a time, the physical pain began to recede, and I felt the Winter mantle settle around me again.

Sanya had broken my nose for me, I realized. Not that I hadn’t earned considerably worse. Sobbing hysterically with a broken nose isn’t real dignified. Or practical, for activities like breathing. It took me half a minute of coughing and spitting to get things cleared up. By the time I had, and had swiped at my eyes with a cleanish portion of my coat’s sleeves, the burn of my broken nose and the aches and pains had once more faded beneath the staticky curtain of the Winter mantle.

Except for the burn on my arm.

That one hurt. Period.

I’d dealt with burns before. This one wasn’t the worst I’d ever gotten. Even so, it throbbed and pulsed and made me feel a little queasy and shaky.

And it made me feel . . . human.

I’m not saying pain is what defines us as human beings. But it is, in many ways, what unites us. We all recognize other people in pain. Damned near all of us are moved to do something about it when we see it. It’s our common enemy, though it isn’t, really, an enemy. Pain is, at least when our bodies are working properly, a teacher. A really tough, really strict, and perfectly fair teacher.

I didn’t enjoy the steady, throbbing pain coming from the burn the holy Sword had given me.

But I did find it immensely reassuring.

The pain on the inside of me was something else entirely.

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