Valerie

“Charity," he said. "She's gone."

I held up the note. "She went to the store for pizza and ice cream. Pregnancy cravings, I guess."

Michael came down the stairs and brushed past me. Then he reached into the entry hall closet and pulled out a blue Levi's jacket and Amoracchius in its black scabbard.

"What are you waiting for, Harry? Let's go find her."

"But your kids--"

Michael rolled his eyes, took a step to the door, and jerked it open without looking away from me. Father Forthill stood on the other side, his thinning hair windblown, his bright blue eyes surprised behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. "Oh. Michael. I didn't mean to stop by so late, but my car stalled only a block away from here on the way back from taking Mrs. Hamish home, and I thought I might borrow--" He paused, looking from me to Michael and then back to me again. "You need a baby-sitter again, don't you."

Michael shrugged into his jacket and slung the sword belt over his shoulder. "They're already asleep. Do you mind?"

Father Forthill stepped in. "Never." He made the Cross over each of us again and murmured, "God go with you."

We started out of the house and to Michael's truck. "You see, Harry?"

I scowled. "Handy fringe benefit.”
― Jim Butcher, Grave Peril