Murphy stared at the sword for a second more. Then she looked at me, and her bloody face went tight with concern. “Jesus, Harry.” She moved to the side of my wounded leg and helped support my weight as I hobbled into the ship’s cabin. “Come on. Let’s get you warmed up.”

“Well?” I asked her as she helped me. “How ’bout it? I got this sword that needs somebody to use it.”

She sat me down on one of the bench seats in the ship’s cabin. She looked at the sword for a moment, seriously. Then she shook her head and said quietly, “I’ve got a job.”

I smiled faintly and closed my eyes. “I thought you’d say that.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

“Okay,” I said.

And I did. For hours. It was glorious.

Chapter Forty-six

I woke up covered in a couple of heavy down comforters and innumerable blankets, and it was morning. The bench seat on the Water Beetle had been folded out into a reasonably comfortable cot. A kerosene heater was burning on the other side of the cabin. It wasn’t exactly toasty, but it made the cabin warm enough to steam up the windows.

I came to slowly, aching in every joint, muscle and limb. The after-action hangover was every bit as bad as I had anticipated. I tried to remind myself that this was a deliriously joyous problem to deal with, all things considered. I wasn’t being a very good sport about it, though. I growled and complained bitterly, and eventually worked up enough nerve to sit up and get out from under the covers. I went to the tiny bathroom—though on a boat, I guess it’s called a “head” for some stupid reason—and by the time I zombie-shuffled out, Thomas had come down from the deck and slipped inside. He was putting a cell phone back into his jacket pocket, and his expression was serious.

“Harry,” he said. “How you doing?”

I suggested what he could do with his reproductive organs.

He arched an eyebrow at me. “Better than I’d expected.”

I grunted. Then I added, “Thank you.”

He snorted. That was all. “Come on. I’ve got coffee for you in the car.”

“I’m leaving everything to you in my will,” I said.

“Cool. Next time I’ll leave you in the water.”

I pulled my coat on with a groan. “Almost wish you had. Coin? Sword?”

“Safe, stowed below. You want them?”

I shook my head. “Keep them here for now.”

I followed him out to the truck, gimping on my bad knee. I noted that someone had, at some point in the evening, cleaned me up a bit and put new bandages on my leg, and on a number of scrapes and contusions I didn’t even remember getting. I was wearing fresh clothing, too. Thomas. He didn’t say anything about it, and neither did I. It’s a brother thing.

We got into the battered Hummer, and I seized a paper cup of coffee waiting for me next to a brown paper bag. I grabbed the coffee, dumped in a lot of sugar and creamer, stirred it for about a quarter turn of the stick, and started sipping. Then I checked out the bag. Doughnut. I assaulted it.