Peace Talks (The Dresden Files, #16)(26)

“I can’t explain it right now,” I said. I slid past her into her room and snagged the bowling bag that held Bonea’s wooden skull, then secured the rest of my own limited gear, along with a bugout bag of my own. “We’re going to drive Hobbit home, and you can stay with the Carpenters for a few days. How does that sound?”

Maggie looked at me with very serious young eyes for a moment. “Are you in trouble?”

“I don’t get in trouble,” I said, and winked at her. “I get bad guys in trouble.”

“It’ll be fine, munchkin,” Hope said, and slid a sisterly arm around my daughter’s shoulders. “I totally know this drill. You can sleep in my room. I’ve got a laptop. We can Netflix some fun stuff until as late as we want.”

Maggie leaned against Hope a little, but her eyes never left me. “Dad, why are the svartalves mad at us?”

“They aren’t mad, but something gave them a scare,” I said. “They’re going to be edgy for a while. Hope, could you get some tuna out of the fridge and put it at the back of Mister’s carrier so he’ll jump in? I don’t want to leave him here alone.”

“Sure, Harry,” Hope said, and set about it.

“They’re edgy? And that’s why you’re sending me back?” Maggie asked.

I’d been all ready to march out, efficiently and quickly, because I had a hundred things to do and sleep had just become a non-possibility for the foreseeable future—and while I’d prepared to do so, I’d forgotten that my daughter was still, in some ways, very small. So I paused. I put everything else out of my head, and I turned to drop to a knee in front of her and give her a hug. She hugged me back tightly, her thin little arms around my neck. Mouse ceased his pacing and came over to settle down at Maggie’s back and lean a shoulder against her.

“Oh, punkin,” I said. “I’m not sending you away. I just need someone to look out for you until I get back.”

“Because there’s monsters?”

“It’s looking that way,” I said.

“And you fight the monsters?” she asked.

“When they need fighting,” I said. Though sometimes that was a much harder thing to determine than I had always assumed it would be.

Her hug grew a little tighter and more desperate. “What if you don’t come back?”

This was the part where, in the movies, a quasi-hero dad is supposed to promise his little girl that he will be just fine and not to worry about him. In the movies, they have a lot to do, and they have to get the plot moving or the audience will get bored and start texting.

I hadn’t been a dad very long. But Maggie deserved better than a quick sound bite and a four-second hug while I looked tormented for the camera.

So I leaned back from her and kept my hands on her shoulders. They felt very thin and fragile, though I objectively knew that she was as sturdy as any child. Her eyes were very big and very brown and her expression was very uncertain.

“First, you should know that your dad is one tough son of a bitch,” I said quietly.

Her eyes widened. “Dad!”

“I have to tell the truth,” I said. “And I will fight to come home to you safe and sound. Always. I’m strong, and I’m sort of smart, and I have a lot of tough, smart allies to help me. But second, you should know that I’ve made arrangements to take care of you. If something happens to me, Michael and Charity have already agreed that they will watch over you. We signed the official papers and everything. And you’ll have Mouse with you, always. You will always be loved. Always.”

“Woof,” said Mouse, quietly but firmly.

“And even if I die,” I said gently, “there will be a part of me here. Even if you can’t see me or hear me, I’ll be near you. Death can’t take you out of my sight, punkin. I’ll just be watching over you from the next room.”

I wasn’t kidding. I’d collaborated with an ectomancer and everything. If someone managed to take me out, my daughter would still have one extremely ferocious shade watching over her sleep, protecting her from spiritual predation, and guarding her dreams—and a consulting archangel to monitor that shade’s mental and emotional function.

Not only that, but she would have teachers waiting for her, should she ever develop talents that ran toward the weird side of the street. People I knew and trusted who were not psychotic Winter fae. I’d made my wishes known to Mab, who regarded devotion to her duties as a liege lord as a force considerably more constant than gravity. She had agreed to make the arrangements on my behalf, should I die as a loyal henchman—and on promises such as that, I trusted Mab more than almost anyone else I had ever met.

Every dad who loves his little girl would take out that kind of insurance policy if he could.

I can.

Maggie nodded to me several times and then said, very seriously, “You’re a little scary sometimes. You should know that. Regular dads don’t say things like this.”

I tried to smile at her, but my eyes got all blurry.

She hugged me tight again and said, “I’d rather have you. Making me pancakes.”

“Me, too,” I said, and kissed her hair.

“Don’t let them get you,” she said. “Make things right and kick their … their butts.”