Changes by Jim Butcher Page A

screaming about terrorists. The whole situation is gaining more attention from higher up in the government than anything else I’ve ever seen. You say that most of the White Council has been effectively placed under the control of this Cristos person. Now the upper ranks of the Red Court are getting involved, too, and from what you tell me everyone is reaching for their guns.” She spread her hands. “It’s . . . it’s like the Cuban missile crisis. Everyone’s at the edge.”
    Hell’s bells. Murphy was right. The supernatural world was standing at the edge—and it was one hell of a long way down to the war of annihilation at the bottom.
    I took a slow breath, thinking. Then I said, “I don’t care about that.”
    Murphy’s golden eyebrows went up.
    “I’m not responsible for everyone else in the world, Murph. I’m going to find a little girl and take her somewhere safe. That’s all. The rest of the world can manage without me.”
    “What if that’s the last straw, Harry? The little girl. What will you do then?”
    I growled as a column of pure rage rose up my spine and made my voice rough. “I will make Maggie safe. If the world burns because of that, then so be it. Me and the kid will roast some marshmallows.”
    Murphy watched me thoughtfully for several empty seconds. Then she said, very gently, “You’re a good man, Harry.”
    I swallowed and bowed my head, made humble by the tone of her voice and the expression on her face, more than the words themselves.
    “Not always rational,” she said, smiling. “But you’re the best kind of crazy.”
    “Thank you, Karrin.”
    She reached out and squeezed my arm once. “I should go. Call me.”
    “I will.”
    She left a moment later and I began sanitizing my apartment for government scrutiny. It would take me a little precious time, but being locked in a cage would take even more. I was still tucking away the last of my contraband when there was a knock at the door. I froze. After a moment, the knock was repeated.
    “Harry Dresden!” called a man’s voice. “This is Special Agent Tilly of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I have a warrant to search this property and detain its occupants for questioning regarding last night’s explosion. If you do not open this door, we will be forced to break it down.”
    Crap.

11
    I tore the rug from the trapdoor again. I’d packed almost all of my questionable materials into a large nylon gym bag. I slung it over my shoulder, grabbed my duster, staff, and blasting rod, and nearly killed myself trying to go down the ladder too quickly. I stopped a couple of steps from the bottom and reached up to close the trapdoor again. There was a pair of simple bolts on the lower side of the door, so that I or the grasshopper could signal the other that something delicate was in progress, and distractions might be dangerous. I locked the door firmly.
    “What’s going on?” blurted Bob from his shelf.
    “Bob, I need the wards down now .”
    “Why don’t you just—”
    “Because they’ll come back up five minutes after I’ve used the disarming spell. I need them down . Get off your bony ass and do it!”
    “But that will knock them out for at least a week—”
    “I know . Go do it, and hurry! You have my permission to leave the skull for that purpose.”
    “Aye-aye, O captain, my captain,” Bob said sourly. A small cloud of orange sparkling light flowed out of the skull’s eye sockets and rushed upstairs through the cracks at the edge of the trapdoor.
    I immediately started dumping things into my bag. I was making a mess doing it, too, but there was no help for that.
    Less than half a minute later, Bob returned and flowed back into the skull again. “There’re a bunch of guys in suits and uniforms knocking on the door, Harry.”
    “I know.”
    “Why?” he asked. “What’s going on?”
    “Trouble,” I said. “What do I have in here that’s illegal?”
    “Do I look like an attorney? These ain’t law