I eased into the driver’s seat and reached for the ignition key. But it was gone. I felt around for it. Rosanna had left it in the ignition. I specifically remembered that she had done so. The shadows rippled away from the passenger seat opposite the driver’s seat, revealing Nicodemus. He sat calmly in his black silk shirt and dark trousers, the grey noose worn like a tie around his throat, a naked sword across his lap, his left elbow resting on his left knee. In the fingertips of his left hand he held a key ring, dangling the grease-smeared ignition key of the boat. ‘Good evening, Dresden,’
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Does Harry ever catch a break?!
