Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files #8) - Jim Butcher Page 0,2
quietly. Because it was necessary.
That was different, I said.
Indeed. Your action required far deeper commitment. It was dark, cold, and you were alone. The suspect was a great deal stronger than you. Had you struck and missed, you would have died. Yet you did what had to be done.
Necessary isnt the same as right I said.
Perhaps not, he said. But the Laws of Magic are all that prevent wizards from abusing their power over mortals. There is no room for compromise. You are a Warden now, Dresden. You must focus on your duty to both mortals and the Council.
Which sometimes means killing children? This time I didnt hide the contempt, but there wasnt much life to it.
Which means always enforcing the Laws, the Merlin said, and his eyes bored into mine, flickering with sparks of rigid anger. It is your duty. Now more than ever.
I broke the stare first, looking away before anything bad could happen. Ebenezar stood a couple of steps from me, studying my expression.
Granted that youve seen much for a man your age, the Merlin said, and there was a slight softening in his tone. But you havent seen how horrible such things can become. Not nearly. The Laws exist for a reason. They must stand as written.
I turned my head and stared at the small pool of scarlet on the warehouse floor beside the kids corpse. I hadnt been told his name before theyd ended his life.
Right, I said tiredly, and wiped a clean corner of the grey cloak over my blood-sprinkled face. I can see what theyre written in.
* * *
Chapter Two
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I turned my back on them and walked out of the warehouse into Chicagos best impression of Miami. July in the Midwest is rarely less than sultry, but this year had been especially intense when it came to summer heat, and it had rained frequently. The warehouse was a part of the wharves down at the lakeside, and even the chill waters of Lake Michigan were warmer than usual. They filled the air with more than the average water-scent of mud and mildew and eau de dead fishy.
I passed the two grey-cloaked Wardens standing watch outside and exchanged nods with them. Both of them were younger than me, some of the most recent additions to the White Councils military-slash-police organization. As I passed them, I felt the tingling presence of a veil, a spell they were maintaining to conceal the warehouse from any prying eyes. It wasnt much of a veil, by Warden standards, but it was probably better than I could do, and there werent a whole hell of a lot of Wardens to choose from since the Red Courts successful offensive the previous autumn. Beggars cant be choosers.
I tugged off my robe and my cloak. I was wearing sneakers, khaki shorts, and a red tank top underneath. It didnt make me any cooler to remove the heavy clothesjust marginally less miserable. I walked hurriedly back to my car, a battered old Volkswagen Beetle, its windows rolled down to keep the sun from turning the interior into an oven. Its a jumble of different colors, as my mechanic has replaced damaged portions of the body with parts from junked Bugs, but it started off as a shade of powder blue, and that had earned it the sobriquet of the Blue Beetle.
I heard quick, solid footsteps behind me. Harry, Ebenezar called.
I threw the robe and cloak into the Beetles backseat without a word.
The cars interior had been stripped to its metal bones a couple of years back, and I had made hurried repairs with cheap lumber and a lot of duct tape. Since then, Id had a friend redo the inside of the car. It wasnt standard, and it still didnt look pretty, but the comfortable bucket seats were a lot nicer than the wooden crates Id been using. And I had decent seat belts again.
Harry, Ebenezar said again. Damnation, boy, stop.
I though about getting into the car and leaving, but instead stopped until the old wizard approached and shucked off his own formal robes and stole. He wore a white T-shirt beneath denim Levis overalls, and heavy leather hiking boots. Theres something I need to speak to you about.
I paused and took a second to get some of my emotions under control. Those and my stomach. I didnt want the embarrassment of a repeat performance.
What is it?
He stopped a few feet behind me. The war isnt going well.