Small Favour (The Dresden Files, #10)

by Jim Butcher

‘We got lucky,’ I said. Michael arched an eyebrow at me. I scowled at him. ‘Not every good thing that happens is divine intervention, Michael.’ ‘True,’ Michael said, ‘but I prefer to give Him the credit unless I have a good reason to believe otherwise. It seems more polite than the other way around.’

‘A pentacle is a symbol of order,’ I said quietly. ‘Five points, five sides. It represents the forces of air, earth, water, fire, and spirit. It’s contained within a circle, the points touching the outer ring. It represents the forces of magic bound within human control. Power balanced with restraint.’

I could have . . . almost anything. All it would cost me was my soul. And no, I’m not talking about anything magical or metaphysical. I’m talking about the core of my identity, about what makes Harry Dresden who and what he is. If I lost those things, the things that define me, then what would be left? Just a heap of bodily processes - and regret.

‘There are a lot of things I can’t control. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next few days. I don’t know what I’m going to face, what kind of choices I’m going to have to make. I can’t predict it. I can’t control it. It’s too big.’ I nodded at my shovel. ‘But that, I can predict. I know that if I pick up that shovel and clear the snow from the walkways, it’s going to make my neighbors safer and happier.’ I glanced at him and shrugged. ‘It’s worthwhile to me.

There were too many scary things moving around, and if I stopped long enough to think about how far in over my head I was getting, I might just crawl into a hole and pull it in after me. Don’t think, Harry. You know too much about what you’re up against. Analyze, decide, and act.

We’re always disappointed when we find out someone else has human limits, the same as we do. It’s stupid for us to feel that way, and we really ought to know better, but that doesn’t seem to slow us down.

Every time you break a promise, there’s a kind of backlash of spiritual energies. A broken promise can inflict horrible pain on supernatural entities, such as the Sidhe. When a wizard breaks a promise, particularly when sworn by his own power, the backlash is different: a diminishing of that magical talent. It isn’t a crippling effect by any means - but break enough promises and sooner or later you’d have nothing left.

The white fire of the holy sword painted the tear streaks on her face silver as her mouth dropped open in an expression of shock and stunned joy. She looked down at her crucifix, and back up at him again. Michael took a quick glance around the room, smiled at the woman, and said, ‘Of course He’s there. Of course He listens.’ He paused, then admitted, ‘Granted, He doesn’t always answer quite this quickly.’

I guess even among all the nightmares, sooner or later you’ll get lucky enough to catch a glimpse of a beautiful dream.

He saw me blinking my eyes open and hurriedly said, ‘Dresden. How are you feeling?’ ‘Nothing a few days in a hospital, a new set of lungs, a keg of Mac’s dark, and a pair of feisty redheads couldn’t cure,’ I mumbled. I tried for cavalier, but it came out a little flatter and darker than I’d meant it to. ‘I’ll live.’

The one thing I didn’t want or need was pity. I’d made my own choices, lived my own life, and even if they hadn’t all been smart choices, there weren’t many of them that I regretted.

‘Father,’ he murmured, humbly and with no drama whatsoever. ‘Father, please help my friend. Father of light, banish the darkness that he may see. Father of truth, expose the lies. Father of mercy, ease his pain. Father of love, honor this good man’s heart. Amen.’

‘Caring about someone isn’t complicated,’ I said. ‘It isn’t easy. But it isn’t complicated, either. Kinda like lifting the engine block out of a car.’ She gave me an oblique glance. ‘Leave it to a man to describe intimate relationships in terms of automotive mechanics.’

Michael nodded to me and then glanced down at his watch. ‘You’re cutting it a little fine, aren’t you?’ ‘Punctuality is for people with nothing better to do,’ I said.

Body or mind, heart or soul, we’re all human, and we’re supposed to feel pain. You cut yourself off from it at your own risk.

‘I want you,’ I said, ‘to get me a doughnut. A real, genuine, Chicago doughnut. Not some glamoured doughnut. An actual one. Freshly made.’ The gruff’s teeth began to show as he smiled again. ‘Of course,’ I said, ‘you could deny me the boon I rightfully earned in blood and fire and kill me instead, thus ensuring that Summer would renege on a debt and never be able to make good on it. But I don’t think that would be very good for Summer and its honor. Do you?’ ‘Indeed not, wizard,’ the gruff said. ‘Indeed it would not be.’ He bowed his head to me. ‘Likest thou jelly within thy doughnut?’ ‘Nay, but prithee, with sprinkles ’pon it instead,’ I said solemnly, ‘and frosting of white.’ ‘It could take some time to locate such a pastry,’ the gruff said seriously. I bowed my head to him. ‘I trust in the honor of Summer’s champions that it will arrive in good time.’

Seems to me that He is supposed to be everywhere, know everything.’ He put the lid back on the trash can. ‘Think about that. He knows what you’re feeling, how you’re hurting. Feels my pain, your pain, like it was His own.’ Jake shook his head. ‘Hell, son. Question isn’t how could God care about just one person. Question is, how could He not.’

“The burned hand teaches best,”

The reward for work well-done is more work. ‘Ain’t that the truth,’ I muttered. I stuffed the book back in my pocket and hit the road again.