“I am badly disappointed in you, Mr. Sunshine,” I said. “Butters.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Butters said, already on his way to Karrin. “Jesus,” he said after a moment. “Come on, we have to get her out of the cold and wet. Like, right now. She could be going into shock.”

“I’ve got a fire going,” Michael said. “We’ll pull the couch up next to it.”

I stripped out of my coat and put it on the ground next to her. We lifted her onto it. “Hey, Mr. Sunshine,” I said, maybe a little more harshly than I could have. “Some cosmic limitation that keeps you from picking up your corner of the coat?”

Uriel blinked, but then hurried over to us and took one side of the coat willingly. We all picked up the coat with Karrin on it, trying to support her evenly. She made an incoherent sound of pain as we did. We carried her into the house together, with Butters opening doors for us.

Michael watched my face closely as we carried her.

“What?” I asked.

“You aren’t angry,” he said. “That she’s hurt.”

“Like hell I’m not,” I said. “It’s coming. After we take care of her. When it’s time.”

Michael grunted. “You aren’t more angry than you would be if it was me. Or Butters, here.”

I grunted. “She’s not a delicate princess,” I said. “She’s a warrior. Warriors have enemies. Sometimes warriors get hurt.” I felt my jaws clench. “And then their friends even things up.”

“Damned right they do,” Butters said.

Michael’s eyes were steady. “Harry.”

We had gotten Karrin into Michael’s living room by then, and settled her slowly onto the couch. Good to his word, there was a fire burning in a neat stone fireplace inside. Once she was on the couch, I picked up one end, Uriel picked up the other, and we set the whole thing down in front of the fireplace where the heat of it would surround her.

“Towels,” Butters said. “Blankets. Hurry.”

“I’ll get them,” Uriel volunteered. He turned, paused, and then asked Michael, “Where are they?”

Michael directed him to the linen closet. He hurried off and returned a moment later, arms loaded with cloth.

“Good,” Butters said, and seized them. He started taking them to Karrin, drying her off. The heat and the chafing of the towels seemed to rouse her slightly, and she blinked her eyes several times.

“Michael,” she said. “Michael?”

“I’m here,” Michael said.

Karrin looked up, her face drawn, her eyes full of tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I lost the Sword.”

“Easy,” Michael said gently. “We’lldeal with it. You don’t have to worry about it right now.”

“We’ve got to get the wet clothes off,” Butters said. “Do you have safety scissors?”

“In my kit,” Michael said. “In the kitchen.”

Uriel said, “I’ll get it.” He walked out and in, and passed the same red plastic toolbox Michael had used on me earlier to Butters.

“Sorry, Karrin,” Butters said. “About your jacket.” He went to work with the safety scissors, cutting Karrin out of her coat while trying not to move her arm and shoulder. She grunted with pain anyway.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Karrin said. “If I’d turned from him, he’d have come at my b-back. If I didn’t go to Harry, he was g-going to die.” Her eyes widened. “Harry, is he . . . ?”

“Here,” I said. I found her right hand with mine. Her eyes rolled to me, and her fingers suddenly squeezed down tight on mine. Her hand was icy cold, and she was shivering harder.

“Harry,” she said. “Thank God.”

“Holy crap,” Butters said. “There are bullet holes in her shirt.”

“I blew it, Harry,” she said. “Dammit, I blew it.” She was weeping openly now. “They’re always too strong. There’s always more of them, and they’re always too strong.”

“Karrin,” I said. I took her face in my hands and made her look at me as Butters cut away at her shirt. “Shut up. You screwed up excellently. Okay? We all made it out. We’re all going to be fine. Right, Butters?”

Butters gave me a tight look.

“But the Sword,” Karrin said.

Michael leaned down and said, “Have faith, Ms. Murphy,” he said, his voice serious. “Things are not always as bad as they seem. Sometimes, the darkness only makes it easier to see the light.”

I looked up at Uriel, who compressed his lips into a grim line.

“Oh, thank God,” Butters breathed. “She was wearing a vest.”

“Of course I was wearing a vest,” Karrin said, her voice for a second perfectly clear and slightly annoyed. She was shivering harder now. “Oh, God, cold.”

Butters plucked at several small, bright bits of metal, passing them to Michael. “Four, five. How many shots did she take?”

“Five,” Uriel supplied instantly.

“Twenty-twos,” Michael said. “Maybe twenty-fives.”

“No blood,” Butters reported. “I think the vest stopped them all.” He kept cutting her shirt away until he could see her injured shoulder. It was already swelling. “We’ve got to get the vest off of her.”