I used to think it was just me. That I was special, the only person who would stand up for him.
Well I was wrong. I’m not one of a kind, I’m part of a group. Not an especially large group, but size doesn’t matter. Anyone near Harry becomes a target. Every one of his friends, good friends, all ten of us, are at risk, all ten of us get a hard time of it. Roughed up politically, case-wise, and I don’t want to talk about what’s become of my social life.
Kirmani’s lucky he avoided all this; Harry wonders why I don’t sit him and Sid down for a chat - this is why. In any of the two-month spans since I met Harry Dresden, I’ve been called before the Chief more times than any truculent and misbehaving rookie, and I’ve gotten thoroughly chewed out - sometimes the Mayor pitches in a bit of shouting and demands-making; and because I can’t answer all their questions, I get the short end of the stick. My career’s dead in the water because I’m one of Dresden’s defenders; I won’t be fired, but I know better than to expect any promotions up or sideways.
My life’s tough, but it was always that way, long before I met Harry. Dad, school, work, husband, pregnancy; I went through one thing after another. Some days I thought the universe has it out for Murphys; the rest of the time, I did the best I could with the hand life dealt me.
But I wouldn’t trade my friendship with Harry, not for anything. Not for gold or a bigger house or a whopper of a promotion. Not even for sole custody of my daughter. That said, anyone who would make me chose between them, is no good.
With Harry, everything’s a surprise. Not always a good one, but the sort of thing we hoped for when we were kids. Granted we don’t all agree on what it is about Harry that convinces us to stick around and see what happens next; some of us like his wisecracks, some prefer his problem-solving and keen analytical skills.
Actually, no, we do agree: he’s Harry.