Dresden 11 - funkplanet

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I’d come back for them later.
“Wait,” Binder said. He grunted and took off his belt, and I nearly kicked him in the head, thinking he
was going for a weapon. Instead, he just offered the belt to me. It had a fairly normal-looking black fanny
pack on it.
“What’s that?” I asked him.
“Two more concussion grenades,” he said.
I put two and two together. My brain was back on the job. “You’d rather not be holding the matches to
the one that got Lara, eh?”
“Too right,” he said. I started to turn away and he touched my leg. He leaned toward me a bit and said,
very quietly, “Waterproof pocket inside has a phone in it. Boss lady had me hold it for her. It’s powered
off. Maybe the lady cop would find it interesting.”
I stared hard at him for a second, and an understanding passed between us. “If this pans out,” I said,
“maybe I’ll forget to mention to the Wardens that you survived.”
He nodded and sank back onto the ground. “Never want to see you again, mate. Too right I don’t.”
I snapped the belt closed and hung it across one shoulder, where I could get to the larger pouch in a
hurry if I needed to. Then I got on to the next point of business—finding Will and Georgia.
They were both lying on the ground maybe sixty yards from where I’d last seen them. It looked like
they’d been circling around the site of the battle with Madeline, planning on coming back in from the far
side. I moved easily and soundlessly through the woods and found them on the ground, back in human
form.
“Will,” I hissed quietly.
He lifted his head and looked around vaguely. “Uh. What?”
“It’s Harry,” I said, kneeling down next to him. I took off my pentacle amulet and willed a gentle light
from it. “Are you hurt?”
Georgiamurmured in discomfort at the light. The two of them were twined together rather intimately,
actually, and I suddenly felt extremely, um, inappropriate. I shut off the light.
“Sorry,” he slurred. “We were gonna come back, but it was . . . really nice out here. And confusing.”
“I lost track,”Georgia said. “And fell over.”
Their pupils were dilated to the size of quarters, and I suddenly understood what had happened to them:
Madeline’s blood. They’d been inadvertently drugged while ripping at a succubus with their fangs. I’d
heard stories about the blood of theWhite Court , but I hadn’t been able to find any hard evidence, and it
wasn’t the sort of thing Thomas would ever talk about.
“Hell’s bells,” I muttered, frustrated. Madeline seemed to have a habit of inflicting far more damage by
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