If Butters could have floated up off the floor, Karrin’s words would have made him do so. “Yeah, I . . . Thanks, Murph.”
Murph.
Well, look at you, Butters. One of the boys.
“Well deserved,” she said. “But . . .” Her face turned grim. “You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to, you know.”
Butters frowned and moved to return the handle to his coat. The blade vanished seemingly of its own accord. “Why wouldn’t I keep it?”
“Lot of responsibility, bearing one of those,” Karrin said.
“Lot of travel, too,” I said, just as seriously.
“Bad guys,” Karrin noted.
“Hopeless situations you’ll be expected to overcome,” I said.
“Monsters, ghosts, ghouls, vampires,” Karrin said.
“And all the Knights of the Blackened Denarius will want to stuff you and mount you on the wall,” I said, my voice harder. “Butters, you took Nicodemus by surprise on what was probably the worst day he’s had in a couple of thousand years, when his only backup was a woman twisty enough to marry him, who had spent the past two days trying to derail his plans. He retreated because he was facing a new and unknown threat and it was the smart thing to do. Next time you see him, he won’t be running away. He’ll be planning to kill you.”
Butters looked at me uncertainly. “Do . . . do you guys not think I can do it?”
I stared at him, expression suitably grave. Karrin too.
“Michael and Charity said they’d train me,” he said seriously. “And Michael said he’d show me how to work out and eat right and help me figure out what the Sword can do. I mean . . . I know I’m just a little guy but”—he took a deep breath—“I can do something. Make a difference. Help people. That’s a chance a lot of people never get. I want it.”
Karrin glanced at me and asked, “What do you think?”
I winked at her, and we both grinned as I said, “He’ll do. I mean, he routed Nicodemus Archleone and all. I guess that’s something.”
“Yeah,” Karrin said. “That’s something.”
Butters grinned in relief. “Oh,” he said. “There is one thing I . . . I sort of have an issue with.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
He spread his hands and said, “A Jewish Knight of the Cross?”
Karrin burst out into something suspiciously like giggles. Later, she would swear that it had been the drugs.
*
Butters left Karrin and me alone a little while later. We had a few minutes until some polite nurse would be along to kick me out.
“You’re going to have to take care of yourself,” Karrin said quietly. “Over the next few weeks. Rest. Give yourself a chance to heal. Keep the wound on your leg clean. Get to a doctor and get that arm into a proper cast. I know you can’t feel it, but it’s important that—”
I stood, leaned over the bed, and kissed her on the mouth.
Her words dissolved into a soft sound that vibrated against my lips. Then her good arm slid around my neck, and there wasn’t any sound at all. It was a long kiss. A slow one. A good one. I didn’t draw away until it came to its end. I didn’t open my eyes for a moment after.
“. . . oh . . . ,” she said in a small voice. Her hand slid down my arm to lie upon mine.
“We do crazy things for love,” I said quietly, and turned my hand over, fingers curling around hers.
She swallowed. Her cheeks were flushed with color. She lowered her eyes.
“I want you to rest and get better, too,” I said. “We have some things to do.”
“Like what?” she asked.
I felt myself smile. There might have been something merrily wolfish in it. “Things I’ve only dreamed about.”
“Oh,” she breathed. Her blue eyes glittered. “That.” She tilted her head. “That was . . . was me?”
“That was you,” I said. “Seems fair. It was your bed.”
Her hand tightened on mine and her face broke into an open grin. I lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, one at a time.
“I am on so many drugs right now,” she said.
I grinned. She wasn’t really talking about her IV.
The nurse came in while we were kissing again. She cleared her throat pointedly. Two or three times. I let her. The kiss wasn’t finished yet. The nurse went out in the hallway to complain to Rawlins, who appeared to listen politely.
Karrin ended the kiss with another little laugh.
And she didn’t even know I’d slipped her half of my diamonds in a couple of knotted-off socks when she wasn’t looking.
*
By about ten that night, I was back at the Carpenters’ house. The evening had turned unseasonably gentle, even if it was a little muggy. I was sitting on the porch with Michael, in one of a pair of rocking chairs that he had made himself. Both of us had a bottle of Mac’s Pale Ale in hand, having already emptied the pair of bottles at our feet.
Maggie was sitting with her legs across my lap. She’d fallen asleep with her head against my chest half an hour before, and I wouldn’t have disturbed her for the world. Or a third beer. Mouse dozed at my feet, delighted to be able to take up a station close to both of the people he most wanted to slobber on.
“So Karrin’s surgery was successful? She’s going to recover?” Michael asked.
“Probably not ever to where she was,” I said. “But the doctors told her she could get to ninety percent.”
“That’s wonderful,” Michael said. I saw him glance down at his bad leg, propped up on a kitchen chair Molly had brought out for the purpose. I could practically hear him wondering what it would have been like to get back to fifty percent. At least Nicodemus had stabbed him in the leg that was already messed up.
“What was it like?” I asked him. “Getting out into the fight again?”
“Terrifying,” he said, smiling. “And for a little while . . . like being young again. Full of energy and expectation. It was amazing.”
“Any regrets?” I asked.
“None,” he said. Then he frowned. “One.”