Skin Game (25 page)

Michael’s eyes widened and went to Nicodemus as he stretched out his right hand, without looking, without
needing
to look, and withdrew from the canvas package a Sword, a shining length of straight steel with a cruciform hilt. As Michael’s fingers closed on it,
Amoracchius
exploded into white light, and for the second time in an evening, the quiet, ominous power of one of the Swords filled the air.

Nicodemus’s eyes widened. “You cheat!” he snarled.

“I said I would come out to you,” Michael said.

Then he lifted a work-booted foot and kicked the white picket gate off its hinges. It struck Nicodemus across the torso, driving him back into the street, and Michael Carpenter, Knight of the Cross, strode out of the open gate onto the icy sidewalk while the archangel looked on, silver-green eyes blazing in answer to the light of the Sword in Michael’s hands.

“I’m out,” Michael said. “
In nomine Dei
, Nicodemus, I have come to face you.”

In the street, Nicodemus bared his teeth.

I was terrified for Michael.

And my heart soared.

“Hah-hah,” I said, like the bully on
The Simpsons
, pointing at him. Then I walked out of the gate to stand beside my friend. I pointed my finger at my quarterstaff, fallen on the ground where the Genoskwa had held me, exerted my will, and called,
“Ventas servitas
.
”

A burst of wind rose and flung the staff into the air. I caught it, and called power into it, summoning green-white light and silvery soulfire into the channels of power that ran through its runes.

Uriel smiled tightly, his eyes hard, and the sleet began to fall once more. It burst into little drops of steam when it hit the runes on my staff.

“Two of you,” I said to Nicodemus. “Two of us. What do you think, Nick?”

Michael faced him squarely, both hands on the hilt of
Amoracchius
. The Sword’s light filled the air—and Nicodemus’s shadow quailed before it.

Nicodemus finally stood back. He lowered his blade and said, “Dresden. I expect you back at our headquarters by four a.m.” He turned to go.

“Not so fast, smart guy,” I said.

Nicodemus paused.

“If I have to play by these stupid rules, so do you. I still get someone to watch my back during this job.”

“Miss Murphy is more than welcome to do so.”

“You put her out of commission,” I said. “You didn’t have to do that. You’d already beaten her.”

“Then choose another,” Nicodemus snapped.

I put a hand on Michael’s shoulder and said, “I already have. And you’re going to put up with it, or I’ll consider it a release of obligation—and so will Mab.”

Nicodemus simply stood, soaked by the sleet and unmoved by the cold. He stared at me in chilly silence for several seconds. Then he said, “So be it.”

Shadows gathered around him, and vanished up into the stormy night, taking him with them. I looked left and right, and realized that the Genoskwa was already gone.

Michael was looking at me very oddly as he lowered the Sword.

“What?” I asked him.

“Charity,” he predicted, “is not going to be pleased.”

O
nce Nick and Big Shaggy were gone, I hurried to Karrin. She was on her back, shuddering, her eyes focused on nothing.

I turned to Uriel, pointed a finger at Karrin, and said, “Fix her.”

Uriel grimaced. “I cannot.” After a moment, he added, “I’m sorry.”

“I am badly disappointed in you, Mr. Sunshine,” I said. “Butters.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Butters said, already on his way to Karrin. “Jesus,” he said after a moment. “Come on, we have to get her out of the cold and wet. Like, right now. She could be going into shock.”

“I’ve got a fire going,” Michael said. “We’ll pull the couch up next to it.”

I stripped out of my coat and put it on the ground next to her. We lifted her onto it. “Hey, Mr. Sunshine,” I said, maybe a little more harshly than I could have. “Some cosmic limitation that keeps you from picking up your corner of the coat?”

Uriel blinked, but then hurried over to us and took one side of the coat willingly. We all picked up the coat with Karrin on it, trying to support her evenly. She made an incoherent sound of pain as we did. We carried her into the house together, with Butters opening doors for us.

Michael watched my face closely as we carried her.

“What?” I asked.

“You aren’t angry,” he said. “That she’s hurt.”

“Like hell I’m not,” I said. “It’s coming. After we take care of her. When it’s time.”

Michael grunted. “You aren’t
more
angry than you would be if it was me. Or Butters, here.”

I grunted. “She’s not a delicate princess,” I said. “She’s a warrior. Warriors have enemies. Sometimes warriors get hurt.” I felt my jaws clench. “And then their friends even things up.”

“Damned right they do,” Butters said.

Michael’s eyes were steady. “Harry.”

We had gotten Karrin into Michael’s living room by then, and settled her slowly onto the couch. Good to his word, there was a fire burning in a neat stone fireplace inside. Once she was on the couch, I picked up one end, Uriel picked up the other, and we set the whole thing down in front of the fireplace where the heat of it would surround her.

“Towels,” Butters said. “Blankets. Hurry.”

“I’ll get them,” Uriel volunteered. He turned, paused, and then asked Michael, “Where are they?”

Michael directed him to the linen closet. He hurried off and returned a moment later, arms loaded with cloth.

“Good,” Butters said, and seized them. He started taking them to Karrin, drying her off. The heat and the chafing of the towels seemed to rouse her slightly, and she blinked her eyes several times.

“Michael,” she said. “Michael?”

“I’m here,” Michael said.

Karrin looked up, her face drawn, her eyes full of tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I lost the Sword.”

“Easy,” Michael said gently. “We’ll deal with it. You don’t have to worry about it right now.”

“We’ve got to get the wet clothes off,” Butters said. “Do you have safety scissors?”

“In my kit,” Michael said. “In the kitchen.”

Uriel said, “I’ll get it.” He walked out and in, and passed the same red plastic toolbox Michael had used on me earlier to Butters.

“Sorry, Karrin,” Butters said. “About your jacket.” He went to work with the safety scissors, cutting Karrin out of her coat while trying not to move her arm and shoulder. She grunted with pain anyway.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Karrin said. “If I’d turned from him, he’d
have come at my b-back. If I didn’t go to Harry, he was g-going to die.” Her eyes widened. “Harry, is he . . . ?”

“Here,” I said. I found her right hand with mine. Her eyes rolled to me, and her fingers suddenly squeezed down tight on mine. Her hand was icy cold, and she was shivering harder.

“Harry,” she said. “Thank God.”

“Holy crap,” Butters said. “There are bullet holes in her shirt.”

“I blew it, Harry,” she said. “Dammit, I blew it.” She was weeping openly now. “They’re always too strong. There’s always more of them, and they’re always too strong.”

“Karrin,” I said. I took her face in my hands and made her look at me as Butters cut away at her shirt. “Shut up. You screwed up excellently. Okay? We all made it out. We’re all going to be fine. Right, Butters?”

Butters gave me a tight look.

“But the Sword,” Karrin said.

Michael leaned down and said, “Have faith, Ms. Murphy,” he said, his voice serious. “Things are not always as bad as they seem. Sometimes, the darkness only makes it easier to see the light.”

I looked up at Uriel, who compressed his lips into a grim line.

“Oh, thank God,” Butters breathed. “She was wearing a vest.”

“Of course I was wearing a vest,” Karrin said, her voice for a second perfectly clear and slightly annoyed. She was shivering harder now. “Oh, God, cold.”

Butters plucked at several small, bright bits of metal, passing them to Michael. “Four, five. How many shots did she take?”

“Five,” Uriel supplied instantly.

“Twenty-twos,” Michael said. “Maybe twenty-fives.”

“No blood,” Butters reported. “I think the vest stopped them all.” He kept cutting her shirt away until he could see her injured shoulder. It was already swelling. “We’ve got to get the vest off of her.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because Kevlar doesn’t stretch and she’s going to keep swelling, and because this needs a hospital. I’d rather she didn’t have to answer any questions about a damaged bulletproof vest once we get there.”

“It might not be safe,” I said. “Why can’t you take care of her here?”

“Because I don’t have the tools I need to help her here, and I don’t have the expertise to use them even if I did,” Butters said, his voice hard. “Look, Harry, not everyone has got your ability to handle injury. Her shoulder is dislocated and there’s probably additional damage. I haven’t seen her knee yet, but from the shape of it I think he took her ACL. This isn’t something she can just walk off, and if she doesn’t get proper care, fast, it could cripple her for life. So as soon as I’m sure she isn’t going into hypothermia, we’re going to the hospital.” He looked up at me, his eyes steady, his expression resolute. “And if you argue with me, I’m going to call her friends on the force and tell them that she needs help.”

Rage made my vision pulse, and I snarled and clenched my hand into a fist, but Butters didn’t back down.

“Harry,” Michael said. He stepped in between us, and put a hand on my chest. “She can’t stay here. She’s in agony.”

I blinked several times, and did math, pushing the Winter aggression further from my thoughts. The rage receded, leaving weariness behind, and my head started to hurt. “Right,” I said. “Right . . . Sorry, Butters. Hey, Mr. Sunshine. You can put a protective detail on her, can’t you?”

“I cannot,” Uriel said.

“So useless,” I muttered. The throbbing got worse, despite Mab’s earring. “God, my head.”

Michael’s restraining hand became a steadying one, his voice sharpening with concern. “Harry? Are you all right?”

“Will be. Just . . . need a minute to rest.”

“Uriel,” Michael said, his voice softly urgent.

The room tilted to one side unexpectedly, and I flailed my arms to try to catch my balance. Michael caught my right arm. Uriel’s nose caught my left, right in the aluminum brace, but the archangel managed to support me. Between the three of us, I found a chair and sat there in it for a minute while my head spun, briefly.

Uriel had a shocked, even startled look on his face.

And his nose was bleeding.

I was pretty sure that wasn’t possible.

Uriel touched his fingers to his face and drew them away, bright with scarlet blood. He blinked at them, the expression almost childlike in its
confusion. Tears welled in his eyes, and he blinked them several times, as if he wasn’t sure what was happening.

Michael caught the direction of my stare, and his clear grey eyes widened. He straightened, staring at Uriel in shock.

“What have you done?” he asked.

“It was not within our power to heal what was done to you,” Uriel said. “I’m sorry. It was not chance that brought you to harm, but choice.”

Michael looked from the angel down to his leg and back. “What have you done?” he repeated.

Uriel looked from his shaking, bloodied fingers to Michael and said, “I have loaned you my Grace.”

Michael’s eyes became completely round.

“Wow,” I said. “Uh . . . Isn’t that . . . that kind of important?”

“It is what makes me an angel,” Uriel said.

“Merciful Mother of God,” Michael said, his voice awed.

“Uh,” I said. “Isn’t that . . . kind of overkill? I mean . . . Uriel, you’ve got the power to unmake solar systems.”

“Galaxies,” Uriel said absently.

“Harry,” Michael said, “what are you saying?”

“Why?” I asked Uriel.

“I had to do something,” he said. “I couldn’t just . . . stand there. But my options are limited.”

“Oh,” I said. “I get it. I think.”

“Harry,” Michael said. “What are you talking about?”

“Um,” I said, and rubbed at my aching head. “Uriel wanted to help you, but he couldn’t exert his will over the situation to change it. Right?”

“Correct,” Uriel said.

“But he could act in accordance with your will, Michael. Which was to go out and meet Nicodemus.”

“Yes,” Michael said.

“So he couldn’t change you,” I said. “And he couldn’t change the world around you, at least not of his own will. But he could change himself. So he gave you his power in order to make your body function the way it used to. That way it isn’t his will that’s using the power. It’s yours.” The throbbing had begun to recede, slowly, and I looked up. “It’s way
more than you needed, but it’s the only unit he had to work with. It’s as if . . . he loaned you his giant passenger jet because you needed a reading light.” I eyed the angel. “Right?”

Uriel nodded and said, “Close enough.”

Michael opened his mouth in understanding. “Loaned,” he said. “It won’t last.”

Uriel shook his head. “But this task is an important one. You need it. Use it.”

Michael titled his head. “But . . . Uriel, if I were to misuse it . . .”

“I would Fall,” Uriel said quietly.

I choked on the air.

Holy crap.

The last time an archangel Fell, I’m pretty sure there were extended consequences.

Uriel smiled faintly at Michael. “I’m confident that you won’t.” His smile turned a little green. “I would, however, appreciate it if you . . . did not push any buttons or pull any of the levers in my giant passenger jet.”

“How could you do this?” Michael breathed.

“You need the reading light,” Uriel said. “You have more than earned whatever help I can give. And you are a friend, Michael.”

“What happens to you, while I . . . borrow your jet?” Michael asked.

“Transubstantiation,” Uriel said. He gestured with his bloodied fingers.

Butters finally chimed in. “Holy. Crap. He’s mortal?”

“And he can die,” I said quietly.