Changes (The Dresden Files, #12)

by Jim Butcher

“I know you must be angry.” “I burn things to ash and smash holes in buildings when I’m angry,” I said. “I’m a couple of steps past that point right now.”

“It is good that we cleared the air. Is there anything else you want to say?” I eyed the man and said, “You went blond. It makes you look sort of gay.”

The man once wrote: Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger. Tolkien had that one mostly right. I stepped forward, let the door bang closed, and snarled, “Fuck subtle.”

“I will make Maggie safe. If the world burns because of that, then so be it. Me and the kid will roast some marshmallows.”

“They’re a bunch of assholes.” “And you aren’t?” “I’m a different kind of asshole.”

“What do we have left?” “Persons,” I said quietly. “I don’t understand,” Susan said. “As a whole, people suck,” I replied. “But a person can be extraordinary.

I mean, maybe it isn’t all about you. Or at least, not only about you.” I stared at her blankly for a moment. “But for that to be true,” I said, “I would have to not be the center of the universe.”

“Oh, crap. You’re saying that it’s going to kill me, too.” “Yes, that is exactly what I’m freaking saying, you tool.” “Um,” Thomas said, “I’m against that.”

I lay still, hoping to fool my captor into thinking I was barely conscious and weak as a kitten. Which should be easy, since I was. I’ve never really had much ambition as a performer.

“There is, I think, humor here which does not translate well from English into sanity.”

I suddenly felt a bit more humble. It was probably good for me.

I took a slow breath and stepped past her, to face the king of the Red Court. He was kinda little.

Do you understand the rules as I have given them to you?” “Yep,” I said. “Yes,” said Arianna. “Have you anything else to say?” “Always,” I said. “But it can wait.”

And I . . . I used the knife. I saved a child. I won a war. God forgive me.

“He’s Black Council,” I said. “Or maybe stupid,” Ebenezar countered. I thought about it. “Not sure which is scarier.” Ebenezar blinked at me, then snorted. “Stupid, Hoss. Every time. Only so many blackhearted villains in the world, and they only get uppity on occasion. Stupid’s everywhere, every day.”

“I don’t know what to say.” His eyes wrinkled up even more heavily at the corners. “Hell, Hoss. Then don’t say anything.” He turned and called over his shoulder, “You get in less trouble that way!”

Even in Winter, the cold isn’t always bitter, and not every day is cruel.