The Dresden Files - 10 - Small Favor by Jim Butcher

Author:Jim Butcher
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Fantasy
ISBN: 9780451462008
Publisher: ROC
Published: 2009-03-02T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-six

M ichael stopped in his tracks when he saw the gaping hole Tiny the gruff had left in the east wall of Union Station. “Merciful God,” he breathed. “Harry, what happened?”

“Little problem,” I said.

“You didn’t say anything to me.”

“You looked busy,” I told him, “and you already had a couple of hundred bad guys to handle.” I nodded at the hole. “I only had the one.”

Michael shook his head bemusedly, and I saw Luccio look at the hole with something like mild alarm.

“Did you get it?” Michael asked.

Luccio cocked her head at Michael when he spoke, and then looked sharply at me.

I gave Michael a level look and said, “Obviously.” Then I turned on my heel and whistled sharply. “Mouse!”

My dog, soggy but still enthusiastic, came bounding toward us over the water-coated marble floors. He slid to a stop, throwing up a little wave that splashed over my feet as he did. The Archive peered intently at Mouse as he arrived, and took a step toward him—but was prevented from going farther by Kincaid’s hand, which came to rest on her slender shoulder.

Michael frowned at the girl and then at the dog. “This,” he said, “brings up a problem.”

There was only so much room in the cab of Michael’s truck.

All of us were soaking wet, and there was no time to get dry before the authorities arrived. I didn’t think it completely fair that I got a number of less than friendly looks on the walk to the garage, after I explained that it had been me who set off the sprinkler system, but at least no one could claim that I hadn’t been willing to suffer the consequences right along with them.

The Archive might have been a creepy Billy Mumy–in–The Twilight Zone kind of child, but she was still a child. By general acclamation she was in the cab. Michael had to drive.

“I’m not letting her sit in there alone,” Kincaid stated.

“Oh, come on,” I said. “He’s a Knight of the freaking Cross. He isn’t going to hurt her.”

“Irrelevant,” Kincaid said. “What about when someone starts shooting at her on the way there? Is he going to throw his body in front of her to keep her from harm?”

“I—” Michael began.

“You’re damned right he will,” I growled.

“Harry,” Michael said, his tone placating, “I’d be glad to protect the child. But it would be somewhat problematic to do that and drive at the same time.”

Mouse let out a low, distressed sound, which drew my attention to the fact that the Archive had fallen uncharacteristically silent. She was standing beside Kincaid, shuddering, her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Dammit,” I said. “Get her into the truck. Go, Kincaid, Michael.”

Kincaid scooped her up at once, and he and Michael got into the cab of the truck.

“I-is y-your h-house far from here, Warden?” Luccio asked me.

She didn’t look good. Well, she looked good given the circumstances. But she also looked soaked and half-frozen already, kneeling to hug Mouse, ostensibly rubbing his fur to help dry it and fluff it out.

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