Shows Up for Molly

He regarded me as he replaced his spectacles, bright blue eyes steady. "I do. I know that you don't much hold with religion, Dresden. But I've come to know you over the years. I think you're a decent man. And that God knows his own."
"Meaning what?" I asked.
He smiled and shook his head. "Meaning, mostly, that I have faith that all things work together for the good of those who love the Lord. I meant what I said about you."
I snorted gently and shook my head. "Harry Dresden. I'm on a mission from God."
"Seems an awfully unlikely coincidence, does it not? That the one person Michael knows on the Council should be the one in the position to best help his daughter, just when he was called away?"
I shrugged. "Coincidences happen," I said. "And I don't think God's got me warming up in the bullpen to be one of his champions."
"Perhaps not," Forthill said. "But I think that you are being prepared, nonetheless."
"Prepared?" I asked. "For what? By whom?"
Forthill shook his head. "It's an old man's hunch, that's all. That the things you're facing now are there to prepare you for something greater. Something more."
"God," I said. "I hope not. I've got problems enough without working up to bigger ones."
He chuckled and nodded. "Perhaps you're right."
I frowned over a thought. "Padre. Tell me something. Why in the world would the Almighty send Michael off on a mission just when his family most needed him to protect them?"
Forthill arched an eyebrow. "My son," he said, "God knows all things at all times. By His very nature, his omniscience enables Him to know what has happened, is happening, and will happen. Though we might not be able to see His reasons, or to agree with them from our perspectives, they are yet there."
"So what you're saying is that the Almighty knows best, and we just have to trust Him."
Forthill blinked. "Well. Yes."
"Is there any reason that the Almighty couldn't do something blatantly obvious?"
Poor Forthill. He'd been preparing himself for years for a theological duel with the shadowy wizard Dresden, and when the moment came, I wasn't even giving him a real fight. "Well. No. What do you mean?"
"Like maybe the Almighty didn't send Michael away right when he was needed to protect his daughter. Maybe He sent Michael away because that's exactly what He wanted him to do." I let out a short laugh. "If I'm wrong, it would be one hell of a coincidence..." I frowned for a moment, then said, "Do me a favor. Go get Molly for me. Council procedure says that I can't leave her alone. I've got to keep her with me until it's done."
He rose and nodded, agreeable if still slightly baffled. "Very well."
"And I need to know something, Father. Do you know where Michael is right now?"
Forthill shook his head.
"Could you get word to him?" I asked. "I mean, if you really had to?"
He tilted his head, frowning, and asked, "Why?"
"Because I've had an idea," I said. "Can you get in touch with him?"
Forthill smiled.

Proven Guilty, Chapter 43, Page 356-358


The Gatekeeper ignored him and pushed open the door. One of the Wardens on guard outside stood in front of it, one hand raised as if to knock. He blinked at the Gatekeeper, and then looked over his shoulder and said, "It's open, sir."
"Get clear of the door, fool," barked Ebenezar's voice. "Get them inside. Hurry, man! They're right behind us!"
Outside there was an eerie howl and a sudden detonation of thunder that shook the concrete floor. Young people in roomy brown robes began to hurry through the doorway, most of them around Molly's age or a bit younger. They were led by a young woman with short, curly hair and cheeks that had a dimple even when she wasn't smiling-Luccio, the commander of the Wardens, in the young body a necromancer had trapped her in. The kids must have been her trainees.
She was followed by more children and a tall, brawny woman with dark skin and short, iron grey hair, helping a lanky young man with a wounded leg. Martha Liberty helped the young man settle to the ground and barked out a command for a medical kit. An old man with braided hair and Native American features brought up the rear, shepherding the last few young wizards ahead of him. "Injun Joe" Listens-to-Wind made sure they were all inside, and then turned and shouted, "I'm closing the way now!"
There were several more howls, and a bell-like chime of steel. Something hit the wall of the warehouse hard enough to shake dust from the rafters. Then there was a rushing sound of wind that abruptly ended in heavy silence. Listens-to-Wind sagged and leaned against the doorway, panting. Then he rose and stood aside as Ebenezar McCoy came in.
My old mentor was wearing his usual overalls and T-shirt. His bald pate shone with sweat, and he looked tired, but he was smiling over the pugnacious set of his lower jaw. The air around him fairly crackled with intensity, a mantle of power that hung around him in a subtle haze. Ebenezar reached behind him to hold the door open.
Michael came in.
He wore his white cloak, his mail and breastplate, and he bore Amoracchius in his hands, stained with dark fluids. He glanced around the room, a smile firm on his face.
"Papa!" Molly shrieked, and threw herself at him.
Michael blinked and managed to get the sword out of the way before Molly hit him with a hug that nearly knocked him from his feet. He got an arm around her, smiling. "Ooof! Careful, girl, the old man needs his ribs right where they are."
"Who the hell is this?" Ramirez demanded, frowning at Michael. He looked like he didn't know whether to be upset or disturbed that an armed and armored stranger had just waltzed in and was now standing inside all of his security measures.
"He's a bloody hero is what he is," Ebenezar told him. "If he hadn't come along when he did, not a one of us would have gotten out of there alive." He offered Michael his hand. "I've only heard of you by reputation, Sir Knight. But I've got to say that I'm damned glad to meet you. Thank you."
Michael grinned and juggled his sword and his daughter so he'd have a hand free to shake Ebenezar's. "I'm only a servant," he said. "Any thanks are rightly owed to Him, not to me."
"Aye," Ebenezar said. "And thank God you came, Sir Knight."
"Secure the building," said the Merlin in a quiet voice. He walked forward to see what was happening, and stopped beside me. Michael nodded and moved out, tapping Ramirez and another Warden, and the three of them went to make sure the bad guys weren't still coming.
“Vote isn't over," I said in a very quiet voice. "Which means that the three of them will need to cast their votes as well."
"Obviously," the Merlin said in a neutral murmur.
"That's Michael. Knight of the Cross."
"Which Sword?" the Merlin asked idly.
"Amoracchius," I said.
The Merlin lifted a brow and nodded, never looking at me.
"Looks like he just saved... about forty of our young people?"
"So it would seem," the Merlin said.
"Seems like the least we can do is save one of his."
The Merlin's eyes narrowed, and he did not speak.
"Look at it this way," I said quietly. "There's no downside to this for you. If you're wrong about Molly, the Council gets another wizard. Fairly talented one, too."
"And if I'm right?" he asked quietly.
"If you're right," I said, "you still get to kill the girl."
The Merlin glanced at me. "True," he said. "And you with her."

Proven Guilty, Chapter 46, Page 375-377


After a second, much less lengthy round of questions and answers, the Senior Council voted, and Molly was officially declared my apprentice, to be granted clemency under the Doom of Damocles. "Doom of Damocles" was wizard-speak for probation. If Molly abused her magic or came anywhere near violating any of the Laws of Magic, she'd be executed at once-and I'd join her.
But I'd lived with that before. I could do it again.
It was full dark by the time the conclave ended and everyone filed out. As the wizard who had called the conclave, it was my job to make sure everyone departed safely and to take care of any last-minute details.

Proven Guilty, Chapter 46, Page 379