Sometimes new shades show up claiming theyâve had a run-in with him, and that he brought them back from the hereafter. And you know that he is no deluded fool.â
Mort didnât meet Sir Stuartâs eyes. He grunted, a sound that wasnât exactly agreement.
âOr maybe Jack Murphyâs shade is simply more deluded than most, and has a talent for nurturing the delusions of other new shades.â
âHellâs bells, Morty,â I said. âNext youâll be telling me that I didnât even meet his shade. That I deluded myself into deluding myself into deluding him into deluding me that I made the whole thing up.â
Sir Stuart snorted through his nose. âA fair point.â
âIt doesnât matter,â Mort said. âThereâs no real way to know.â
âIncorrect,â Sir Stuart interrupted. âSummon him. That shouldnât be difficultâif he is just one more deluded shade.â
Mort didnât look up. But he said, very quietly, âI wonât do that to Jack.â He looked up and seemed to recover some of his composure. âBut even if Captain Murphy is genuine, that doesnât mean Dresdenâs shade is legit. Or sane.â
âConsider the possibility,â Sir Stuart said. âThere is something unusual about this one.â
Mort perked up his metaphorical ears. âUnusual?â
âAn energy. A vitality.â Sir Stuart shrugged. âIt might be nothing. But even if it is . . .â
Mort let out a long sigh and eyed the shade. âYou wonât let this rest, will you?â
âI have no plans for the next fifty or sixty years,â Sir Stuart said affably. âIt would give me something to do. Every half an hour or so.â
Mort pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. âOh, God.â
Sir Stuart grinned. âThereâs another aspect to consider, too.â
âOh?â
âThe attack was larger tonight. It cost us more defenders. And the creature behind it revealed itself.â He gestured at his still-translucent midsection. âI canât keep holding them off forever, Mortimer. And the presence of a mortal pawn tells us two things.â
I nodded. âOne. The Grey Ghost is bad enough to have its way with mortals.â
âTwo,â Sir Stuart said. âThe creature is after you . Personally.â
Mort swallowed.
I rose and shuffled over to look down at the still-unconscious intruder. The man let out a low groan.
âIt is a good time to make friends,â Stuart said, his expression serious. âDresdenâs one reason youâll live the night. And he had allies in this cityâpeople who could help you, if they had a reason to.â
âYouâre fine,â Mort said, his tone uncertain. âYouâve survived worse.â Sir Stuart sighed. âPerhaps. But the enemy isnât going to give me time to recover before he attacks again. You need Dresdenâs help. Heâs asking for yours.â His expression hardened. âAnd so am I.â
The intruder groaned again and stirred.
Mortâs forehead broke out in a sudden sweat. He looked at the fallen man and then, rather hurriedly, heaved himself to his feet. He bowed his head. Then he turned to me and said, âFine, Dresden. Iâll help. And in return, I expect you to get your allies to look out for me.â
âDeal,â I said. I looked at Sir Stuart. âThank you.â
âOne hour,â Mort said. âYou get one hour.â
âOkay,â I said.
âOkay,â Mort echoed, evidently speaking mostly to himself. âI mean, itâs not like Iâm trying to join the Council or anything. Itâs one hour. Just one little hour. What could happen in one hour?â
And thatâs how I knew that Mort was telling the whole truth when he said he wasnât a hero.
Heroes know better than to hand the universe lines like
Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni