Uriel, meanwhile, had paced over to stand at Michael's right hand. I took up station on my friend's left.
"The bargain was made," Nicodemus purred, to Uriel, "his word freely given. You cannot stop him from fulfilling it."
"Correct," Uriel said, "but I can help him do so."
Nicodemus's smile slipped.
Calmly, Uriel turned to Michael. He put a hand on Michael's shoulder and gently took his cane away.
Michael blinked at Uriel, his arms going out for balance, his body tightening as if he expected to pitch over without the cane's support. And then he abruptly relaxed. He put some of his weight on his bad leg, and then a little more. And then he let out a little laugh and hopped on it a few times.
Just then, Butters came running back around from behind the house. There was a twig with a soggy brown oak leaf still attached to it in his hair, his knees were scuffed and marked with sap, and he was carrying a slender package wrapped in canvas and duct tape, almost as long as he was tall. Butters was tearing at the package as he ran over and then offered it to Michael.
Michael's eyes widened and went to Nicodemus as he stretched out his right hand, without looking, without needing to look, and withdrew from the canvas package a Sword, a shining length of straight steel with a cruciform hilt. As Michael's fingers closed on it, Amoracchius exploded into white light, and for the second time in an evening, the quiet, ominous power of one of the Swords filled the air.
Nicodemus's eyes widened. "You cheat!" he snarled.
"I said I would come out to you," Michael said.
Then he lifted a work-booted foot and kicked the white picket gate off its hinges. It struck Nicodemus across the torso, driving him back into the street, and Michael Carpenter, Knight of the Cross, strode out of the open gate onto the icy sidewalk while the archangel looked on, silver-green eyes blazing in answer to the light of the Sword in Michael's hands.
"I'm out," Michael said. "In nomine Dei, Nicodemus, I have come to face you."
In the street, Nicodemus bared his teeth.
I was terrified for Michael.
And my heart soared.
- "Skin Game" by Jim Butcher
(aka HE'S BAAAACK )
