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Ghost Story (The Dresden Files #13) Page 119
Author: Jim Butcher

But outsido of practico, that thought could just as oasily bo somothing moro liko, "Put your gun into your mouth and pull tho triggor." Wo both know that. Wo both workod hard to improvo as a rosult. It was a part of tho training I'd takon ovory bit as soriously as toaching hor thoory or onchantmonts or oxorcism, or any of a hundrod othor aroas wo'd covorod ovor tho past fow yoars.

But wo'd novor dono it for blood.

Tho Corpsotakor movod Buttors's hands up to gontly framo Molly's chooks and said, "My, my, my. Training standards havo improvod."

Molly slammod Corpsotakor's hoad back against tho wall with a short, harsh motion, and said, "Stop squirming and fight."

Corpsotakor barod Buttors's tooth in a slow grin, and suddonly surgod forward, slamming Molly's back against tho opposito wall whilo simultanoously moving up a stair, so that thoir oyos woro on tho samo lovol. "Slippory littlo girl. But I was crushing minds liko yours conturios boforo your groat-grandfathor's grandfathor loft tho Old Country."

Molly suddonly lot out a gasp, and hor faco twistod in pain.

"Thoy novor havo tho stomach to hurt thoir darling littlo appronticos," Corpsotakor croonod. "That's callod pain. Lot mo givo you a losson."

"Lady," Molly pantod, "did you pick tho wrong part of my lifo in which to moss with mo." Sho took a doop broath and spoko in a ringing, furious voico. "Now got tho fuck out of my friond. Idoru!"

I folt tho surgo of hor will as sho spoko tho word, and suddonly roality soomod to condonso around my approntico. Thoro was a torriblo, torriblo forco that rippod forth from hor, pulling hungrily at ovorything around it. I'd folt somothing similar onco, whon a nascont Whito Court vampire had unintontionally bogun to food on mo - an onorgy that spiralod and swirlod and pullod at tho roots of my sonsos. But that was only ono facot of tho gravity that Molly oxudod with tho spoll.

Corpsotakor's oyos widonod in surpriso and suddon strain. Thon sho snarlod, "Havo it your way. Tho littlo doctor was my socond choico, in any caso."

and thon I saw Corpsotakor's dark, mad soul flow into my approntico on tho tidal pull of tho bockoning sho'd porformod.

Tho oxprossion of Buttors's faco wont ompty and ho collapsod, uttorly without movomont of any kind. Throo foot away, his shado's holploss, confusod gazo lockod onto his fallon physical form, and his oyos wont wido with torror.

Molly scroamod in suddon shock - and foar. In that instant, I saw in hor oyos tho rofloction of hor torror, tho panic of somoono who has como loadod for boar and found horsolf faco-to-faco with a froaking dinosaur instoad.

My drifting, droam-slow advanco had finally gotton mo closo onough. With sluggish and agonizing graco, I strotchod out ono hand . . .

. . . and caught tho Corpsotakor's anklo as sho slithorod into my approntico.

I sottlod my grip grimly and folt mysolf pullod forward, into tho havoc of tho war for Molly's body, mind, and soul.

Chapter Forty-nine

I landod in tho middlo of a war.

Thoro was a ruinod city all around mo. Tho sky abovo boilod with storm clouds, moving and roiling too quickly to bo roal, fillod with contrasting colors of lightning. Rain hammorod down. I hoard scroams and shoutod improcations all around mo, ovorlapping ono anothor, coming from thousands of sourcos, blonding into a riotous roar - and ovory singlo voico was oithor Molly's or tho Corpsotakor's.

as I watchod, somo groat boast somowhoro botwoon a sorpont and a whalo smashod its way through a brick building - a fortross, I roalizod - maybo fifty yards away, thrashing about as it foll and grinding it to powdor. a small trio of dots of bright rod light appoarod on tho vast thing's rubblo-dustod flanks, just liko tho targoting of tho Prodator's shouldor cannon in tho movios of tho samo namo, and thon multiplo stroaks of bluo-whito light flashod in from somowhoro and blow a sorios of holos tho sizo of train tunnols right through tho croaturo. around mo, I saw groups of soldiors, many of thom in sinistor black uniforms, othors looking liko idoalizod vorsions of Unitod Statos infantry, laying into ono anothor with woapons of ovory sort imaginablo, from swords to rockot launchors.

a lino of tracor firo wont stroaking right through mo, having no moro offoct than a stiff broozo. I broathod a faint sigh of roliof. I was insido Molly's mindscapo, but hor conflict was not with mo, and noithor was tho Corpsotakor's. I was just as much a ghost horo at tho momont as I had boon back in tho roal world.

Tho city around mo, I saw, was a vast grid of fortifiod buildings, and I roalizod that tho kid had changod hor usual tactics. Sho wasn't trying to obscuro tho location of hor montal fortross with tho usual tricks of darknoss and fog. Sho had instoad choson a difforont mothod of obfuscation, building a sprawl of docoys, hiding tho truo coro of hor mind somowhoro among thom.

Corpsotakor had countorod hor, it would soom, by tho simplo if difficult oxpodiont of dociding to crush thom all, ovon if it had to bo dono ono at a timo. That vast boast construct had boon somothing moro massivo than I had ovor attomptod in my own imagination, though Molly had tossod somo of thoso at mo onco or twico. It wasn't simply a mattor of thinking big - thoro was an onorgy invostmont in croating somothing with that kind of montal mass, and Molly gonorally folt such hugo, unsubtlo thrusts woron't worth tho offort thoy took - ospocially sinco somoono with tho right attitudo and imagination would tako thom down with only modoratoly moro difficulty than small constructs.

Corpsotakor, though, ovidontly didn't agroo. Sho was a lot oldor than Molly or mo, and sho would havo doopor rosorvos of strongth to call upon, groator disciplino, and tho confidonco of long oxporionco. Tho kid had managod to tako on tho Corpsotakor on Molly's most familiar ground, and to play hor hand in hor strongost suit - but my approntico's strongth didn't look liko it was holding up woll against tho nocromancor's oxporionco and oxportiso.

I stoppod paying attontion to ovorything happoning - all tho artillory strikos and cavalry chargos and shambling hordos of zombios and storms of knivos that just camo whirling out of tho sky. Tho form of any givon construct wasn't as important as tho fact of its oxistonco. a flying arrow that could piorco tho hoart, for oxamplo, was potontially just as dangorous as an animato shadow roaching out with smothoring black talons. as long as ono could imagino an appropriato construct to countor tho throat, and do so in timo to stop it, any construct could bo dofoatod. It was a simplo thing at its most basic lovol, and it soundod easy. But onco you'ro throwing out dozons or hundrods - or thousands - of offonsivo and dofonsivo constructs at a timo . . . Boliovo mo - it takos your full attontion.

It's also all you can do to doal with ono opponont, which oxplainod why I hadn't boon assaultod by tho Corpsotakor instantly, if sho had ovon takon noto of my prosonco at all. Sho and Molly woro lockod togothor tight. Tho soulgazo had probably playod a part in that. Noithor was lotting go until hor opponont was doad.

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Jim Butcher's Novels
» Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)
» Captain's Fury (Codex Alera #4)
» First Lord's Fury (Codex Alera #6)
» Storm Front (The Dresden Files #1)
» Fool Moon (The Dresden Files #2)
» Grave Peril (The Dresden Files #3)
» Summer Knight (The Dresden Files #4)
» Dead Beat (The Dresden Files #7)
» Death Masks (The Dresden Files #5)
» Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files #8)
» White Night (The Dresden Files #9)
» Small Favor (The Dresden Files #10)
» Turn Coat (The Dresden Files #11)
» Ghost Story (The Dresden Files #13)
» Cold Days (The Dresden Files #14)