I woke up with Murphy’s black work boot perched on my ass, her pint-sized blue-eyed blondness eyeing me, I imagined, like a beefeater’s pet parrot.
She’d been camping with Maggie on the other side of the camping grounds, in a pink pup tent.
“Don’t move, Harry,” she muttered, heel-kicking my exhausted butt over and turning me onto my side with the leftover force. Then she levered her P-90 at my nose and finished the sentence. “Don’t. Move.”
I sniffed a trickle of blood back into my nose at the sudden intrusion, looked at the new shiny gun and said, “Is that the old one? Where’d you find it?”
Murphy snorted and looked down at me, then knelt down next to my face.
“None of your bees. Just making sure you’re awake, Dresden,” she murmured, brushing at some of the older blood on my face. “Michael asked me to come over and take a look at you, because he’s busy helping the campers get out of your brand new firebreak, but he’ll be back soon to help me with you. In the meantime...”
The mouth of Murphy’s P-90 found my face again and nuzzled my upper lip.
“Don’t move. That adrenaline surge from the Winter Mantle almost killed you. I checked your pulse- it’s racing, Harry. What’s going on?”
I pointed my one clean hand to the picture of the Grinch on my once black tee shirt.
“Our hero’s big heart is two sizes too lol? It’s probably fine, ‘Murph,” I reasoned, managing a slightly stronger grin, “I must have drained my battery using the ley line. Forget about it.”
I tried to roll over, but the P-90 nudged against my upturned cheek.