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I didn’t look like much, but Mab was looming right over one of my shoulders, and Demonreach over the other, so they took me seriously—even the rawhead. They all moved away, breaking into two groups as they went.
Miss Carpenter will have difficulty enough learning to cope with the Lady’s mantle without you handing her mine as well. Don’t you think?” Right. I hadn’t thought about that part. But I wasn’t feeling terribly rational. “Why?” I demanded. “Why did you do it to her?” “It was not my intention for her to replace Maeve,” Mab said. “Frankly, I would have considered her a better candidate for Summer.” “You still haven’t told me why,” I said. “I meant Sarissa to take Maeve’s place,” Mab said.
“You don’t get it, do you?” I said. “I do not,” she said. “I do not see how what I have done is substantially different from what you have been doing for many years.” “What?” I asked. “I gave her power,” she said, as if explaining something simple to a child. “That is not what I have been doing,” I spat. “Is it not?” Mab asked.
I stood there with my mouth open for a second. “That . . . that isn’t . . . what I did.” Mab leaned closer to me and said, “That is precisely what you did,” she said.
“Consider,” Mab said, “that I have done something for her that you never could have.” “What’s that, exactly?” “I have put her beyond the reach of the White Council and their Wardens,” Mab said, again as if explaining something to an idiot.
“You trusted her with your mind and your life,” Mab said. “I took that as a statement of confidence in her abilities. You will be working frequently with the Winter Lady. It seems to me that this would be a most appropriate match.”
“I,” Mab said coolly, “am not your servant, Dresden. You are mine.” “Demonreach,” I said. “If our guest pulls that trigger, take her below and keep her there.” The guardian spirit’s vast shadow fell over us even though there was nothing actually casting it, and Mab’s eyes widened.
“Servant,” I said. “I don’t like that word. I suggest that you consider where you stand and choose a different term. My Queen. And you will be gentle with that girl, or so help me I will make you regret it.” Mab’s mouth quirked very slightly—her eyes more so. She looked up at me almost fondly, exhaled, and said, “Finally, a Knight worth the trouble.”
“A few years back, you got angry. So angry that when you spoke it made people bleed from the ears. That was why. Because you figured out that the adversary had taken Maeve. And it hurt. To know that the adversary had gotten to her.” “It was the knife,” Mab said. “Knife?” “Morgana’s athame,” Mab said in a neutral tone—but her eyes were far away. “The one given her by the Red Court at Bianca’s masquerade. That was how the Leanansidhe was tainted—and your godmother spread it to Maeve before I could set it right.” “Oh,” I said. I’d been at that party.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I said. She stopped, her back straight. “Was it hard for you to kill Maeve?” Mab did not turn around. When she spoke, her voice had something in it I had never heard there before and never heard again—uncertainty. Vulnerability. “I was mortal once, you know,” she said, very quietly.
His expression sobered. “I’ve a message for you.” “Ah?” I asked. “Mab has taken the new Ladies with her,” he said. “She said to tell you that the new Winter Lady would be returned safely to her apartment in a few days, after some brief and gentle instruction. Mab is on excellent terms with the svartalves, and anticipates no problems with your apprentice’s . . . new position.”
He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. “Never let her make you cringe—but never challenge her pride, wizard. I don’t know exactly what passed between you, but I suspect that if it had been witnessed by another, she would break you to pieces. I’ve seen it before. Terrible pride in that creature. She’ll never bend it.”
“It was Halloween, Dresden. You put on a mask for a time. That’s all.” He looked directly at me and said, “Many, many mantles are worn—or discarded—on Halloween night, wizard.” “You mean masks?” I asked, frowning. “Masks, mantles,” Kringle said. “What’s the difference?” He winked at me.
His face seemed leaner, and for that instant I saw Vadderung’s wolfish features lurking inside Kringle’s. I sat straight up, staring.
The heat gurgled into my belly along with the food and the coffee, and I started feeling human for the first time in . . . a while. I ached everywhere. It wasn’t at all pleasant, but it felt like something I’d come by honestly.
“What’s the story with Mac?” I asked. Karrin looked over at the sleeping man. “Mab,” she said. “She just came in here a few minutes ago and looked at him. Then before anyone could react, she ripped off the bandage, stuck her fingers into the wound, and pulled out the bullet. Dropped it right on his chest.” “No wound now,” I noted. “Yeah. Started closing up the minute she was done. But you remember the time he got beaten so badly in his bar? Why didn’t his injuries regenerate then?”
Karrin murmured. “What is he?” I shrugged. “Ask him.” “I did,” she said, “right before he passed out.” “What’d he say?” “He said, ‘I’m out.’” I grunted. “What do you think it means?” she asked. I thought about it. “Maybe it means he’s out.”
Mouse looked back and forth between us and started wagging his tail hopefully. “Quiet, you,” I said, and rubbed his ears.
She took my hands. “I’ve seen things in you over the past day that . . . concern me.” “Concern you.” “They scare the holy loving fuck out of me,” she said calmly, by way of clarification.
“So am I too much of a monster or are you?” I asked. “I’m getting confused.” “Join the club,” she said. “You’re saying that the problem is, you think I could go bad,” I said. “I know you could,” she said.
“Harry, we’re . . . We went past that a long time ago. I don’t know if we can . . . if we should be lovers. But I’m your friend. Your ally. I’ve seen what you want, and what you’re willing to sacrifice to make it happen.” She took one of my hands between hers, pressing hard. “I feel lost since they fired me. I don’t know what I’m meant to do or who I ought to be. But what I do know is that I’ve got your back. Always.” Tears fell from her blue eyes. “So goddammit, don’t you start taking the highway to Hell. Because I’m going to be right there with you. All the way.”
“Okay,” I said. “One condition.” “What?” “That’s not the end of the story,” I said. “I mean, maybe neither one of us is ready. But we could be, one day. And maybe we will be.” “Optimistic idiot,” she said, but I could hear the smile. “And if we get to that place,” I said, “you don’t chicken out. You don’t run away, no matter how it looks to you. We set course for the fucking iceberg, full speed ahead.” She started shaking. She was weeping. “And the sex,” I said. “It will be frequent. Possibly violent. You’ll be screaming. Neighbors will make phone calls.” She started shaking harder. She was
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“Heard from Lara on the radio.” “And?” “Both her team and Marcone’s found rituals in progress at the two sites. They broke them up. Someone really wanted this place to get screwed up.” “Or something,” I said with a melodramatic waggle of my eyebrows.
“Still,” Thomas said. “Out here, alone?” “I think it’s important,” I said. “I’ve got to know more about this place and what it can do. The only way to do that is to invest the time.” “And it’s got nothing to do with facing Molly’s parents,” he said.
“She’s with Michael because he’s got an NFL lineup of angels protecting his house and family,” I said. “And Supermutt, too. Am I going to be able to provide a real home for her, man? An education? A real life? What’s her college application going to look like: ‘Raised on Spooky Island by wizard with GED, please help’?” I shook my head. “And when the fallout from the White Council about Molly and about this place starts hitting, it’s going to be a nightmare. I might as well have a target tattooed on her forehead as keep her near me.”
“I had sex with her mother,” I said. “That’s not the same as being her father.”
Thunder rumbled over Lake Michigan, unusual in November. I settled the new black leather duster over my shoulders, picked up the long, rough branch I’d cut from the island’s oldest oak tree a few hours before, and started back up the hill, toward the former lighthouse and future cottage. I had preparations to make. There was a storm coming in.
