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In the week since I’d helped Lara regain her crown, I’d taken two cases Will found for me. The first was a simple matter of teaching a twelve-year-old girl how to avoid tossing silverware and dishes around like something out of Poltergeist when she became angry. Her parents originally hired me to remove a ghost from their house, but it quickly became apparent their daughter Lilah was the cause.
She looked nothing like Maggie, tall with dark skin, black hair cropped close to her head, but she’d been so lost and frightened I couldn’t help my parental instinct kicking in. Lilah’s own parents looked on with trepidation when I hugged her and told her everything was going to be all right, and that magic wasn’t something to be afraid of, but rather something to cherish.
After working with her for a few hours on the finer points of anger management, I put her in touch with several folks through the Paranet who’d be able to help her further, and provide a support group for both her and her parents.
It’s not every day you find out your daughter is a practitioner of magic.
The second case took me the rest of the week.
Looting had been rampant in parts of the city after the Titan’s destruction. Some took out of desperation, some out of greed, and some just because they could.
Tom Meier’s great-grandfather fought in World War I. When he returned from the Great War, he brought home a gun as a souvenir and was awarded a medal, both kept in a wooden box in Tom’s closet. The box had been stolen, and he and his wife spent months trying to find it. As they had nothing I could use to creat a link to either gun or medal, or even the box, I had to resort to good old-fashioned detective work.
Hey, I am a P.I., after all.
The most likely place to sell a stolen antique pistol and medal would be a pawn shop, and over the course of my career I’d come to know over a dozen around the city. I stopped by Pawn King, only to find the building that’d once housed it destroyed; all that remained was a vacant lot surrounded by chain-link fencing.
I tried Gold Crown Pawnbrokers next. That store had been looted and since abandoned, if the broken glass and destruction inside were any judge. The surrounding stores hadn’t fared much better, and this far from downtown’s gleaming skyscrapers, it wasn’t likely the area would be cleaned up any time soon.
My third stop, Robbie’s Exchange, was more fruitful.
“Paul,” I said as I walked in, causing the radio blaring music to start blaring static instead. The proprietor, Paul Edgerton (he’d bought the store from Robbie and kept the name), set down the newspaper he was reading and peered at me over his glasses.
“Dresden,” he replied in a gravelly voice. “Don’t have any magical doodads. Council’s already been by this year to check.” He had a slight gift, enough to sense items imbued with magic; while I’d been a Warden, it had been my job to stop in and verify he wasn’t trafficking in black magic trinkets.
I leaned over the counter, eyeing the guns he had locked in the case below. “Not here about that. Looking for an antique pistol and World War I medal. Might’ve come in a wooden box. Not interested in getting the police involved if you have them, just want to return them to the family they were stolen from.”
In fact, I had already spotted the gun and medal, still sitting in their wooden case with a hefty price tag attached. The Luger was distinctive, and the medal matched the pictures Tom showed me.
Paul frowned as he mulled over my request.
“I’d consider it a personal favor,” I added as the silence stretched. He and I both knew I could blow apart his store and take what I wanted, should I choose to do so. I wouldn’t, but sometimes knowing it’s a possibility is enough.
The older man sighed. “Knew it had to be stolen. Kid was too eager to take the money I offered.” He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, then leaned down to unlock the case. He deposited the closed wooden box on the counter a moment later, and I lifted the lid to verify its contents.
“Thanks, Paul. You know how to get in touch with me.”
He chuckled, a low rumble straight from his gut. “Not sure I’d ever want you owing me a favor. I heard what you did. Not too many Bulls-sized wizards around, you know.” I shot him a glare, and perhaps it was more hostile than I intended, because he immediately threw up his hands. “Look, I’m not judging.”
I sighed and gathered up the box. “War makes monsters of us all,” I said, turning to leave.
“Ain’t that the truth.”
*
Tom was more than grateful, paying double my fee. I decided to treat myself, and stopped at McAnally’s to grab a steak sandwich and a six-pack of ale to go.
I’d always garnered attention when I walked into the practitioner-friendly bar, but this time when the door banged shut behind me, all talk ceased. Most avoided looking at me, and those that were brave enough did so only with furtive glances I caught out of the corner of my eye.
They all knew what I’d done during the Battle of Chicago. I had led an army, incinerated dozens of humans in violation of the First Law of Magic, and bound a Titan to my will. And they were afraid of me, with good reason. Still, it hurt more than I expected it to. I’d defended the city and its inhabitants from total annihilation, lost the woman I loved, gave up fragments of my soul and my humanity just so they could live, and for what?
To be shunned. Feared. Reviled. Threatened and thrown out of the White Council.
Sometimes it was really, really hard not to be bitter. Or to lash out in anger, when not a single person here deserved it.
I tried to shrug it off and made my way carefully under the lazily spinning ceiling fans to the bar, where several customers quickly vacated their seats at my approach. I inwardly sighed and sat on one of the empty stools. Mac hadn’t bothered to turn around, busy tending his grill.
“Steak sandwich and a six-pack, to go,” I told him.
Mac grunted, retrieved the beer from under the counter and set it in front of me. Then he studied my face a moment.
“Good to see you, Harry.” A longer sentence from him than I usually warranted. His expression hadn’t changed, and he still sounded as gruff as ever, but there was warmth underneath.
It helped ease the tightness in my chest. “Same, Mac.”
He grunted again and turned back to the grill.
Not ten minutes later, steak sandwich and ale in hand, I headed back to my car. My good mood from the unexpected bonus had soured, and I muttered to myself the entire way home.
That probably wasn’t a good sign.
*
I sat on the couch, notebook in front of me, sandwich in one hand and pen in the other. Bonnie’s eyelights moved as she scanned through what I’d written.
“You’re using the wrong verb conjugation again,” she finally said with a sigh.
“This is nothing like Latin,” I muttered, taking a large bite and chewing.
She blinked at me. “It predates Latin, though it did influence it.”
For the past month, Bonnie had been tutoring me in Ancient Etruscan. As I was still bound to marry Lara Raith, and by extension become part of the White Court, I thought it prudent to understand the language of that court. While they could and did speak English, Ancient Etruscan was used much as Latin was used in the White Council: for meetings and other formal occasions.
Unlike Latin, there were no correspondence courses to teach Ancient Etruscan. I did, however, have Bonnie; her knowledge descended from a Fallen who’d once translated for me. Knowledge she still had, but that I had difficulty absorbing when it wasn’t plugged directly into my brain. Yet I continued to struggle with it. Lara had heard me speak the language flawlessly, and there was no way I’d ever tell her I’d accomplished it with the help of an almost-but-not-quite imaginary demon in my head.
“Listen.” Bonnie went on to recite three phrases, then their English equivalents. I wrote each down phonetically and repeated after her. It felt distinctly odd, the sibilant words on my tongue like a half-remembered dream, but without Lash’s fluency or impeccable pronunciation.
“Better,” she told me.
I finished up the sandwich and washed it down with the remaining ale, then sat back. “This is hopeless.”
Her wooden skull rotated to face me. “You still have seven months to practice. You won’t be fluent, but you’ll be able to understand enough. If you dedicate the time to it.”
“Right,” I sighed, then leaned over the table and studied my notebook. “Let’s go over it again.” We’d only managed another ten minutes when the phone rang. When I got up to answer, Clementine jumped down from the couch and trotted into the kitchen after me.
“Dresden.”
“I require your help,” Lara said.
I gave it a few seconds before I responded. “Require?” Petty, but demanding rather than asking propelled my barely-simmering irritation into a steady boil.
Her pause was even longer. “I… am asking for your help.”
“With what?”
“My sister, Natalia. She has proven… resistant. I believe there may be more behind her betrayal than I assumed.”
Clementine rubbed against my ankles, and I set her on the counter to scratch her head even as I frowned at the phone. It sounded like an internal White Court matter, and I wanted to stay out of their family drama. “What do you mean?”
“I fear she may be under the influence of something… other.”
My stomach twisted into a hard knot. She meant Natalia was corrupted, much as Leanansidhe had once been. Or worse, taken over by a Walker.
When I didn’t respond, Lara continued. “It would explain much of her recent behavior. I do not want to lose my sister, but I cannot let her live as she is. She is too great a liability.” Her voice turned soft, almost pleading. “Will you help me, Harry?”
I would’ve helped her regardless, but the way she said my name threw my heart into a rapid rhythm as a whirlwind of emotions hit me. Not ‘wizard’ or ‘Dresden’ as she so often did when she wanted something from me, but my given name. For her, that was a rarity, hinting at how distressed she truly was.
She’s just using it to play on your emotions, said a cynical part of me.
Maybe, but it doesn’t matter.
“Is she at the manor?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
A soft indrawn breath, then, “Thank you.” So much relief in those two little words. Then she disconnected.
I glanced at Bob, sitting on the counter in his skull guise. Clementine was batting him gently with her paws, and while Mister’s antics always had him running for his life, he didn’t seem to mind the kitten’s attention. “You’re a sucker for a great ass, Harry.”
My eyebrows shot up. “And you’re not?”
“Well, that goes without saying,” he huffed, then sobered. “You think it’s another Walker?”
“It’s possible, but I don’t think so. It’s more likely Justine infected Natalia while she was working with Lara. She certainly had the access. I have it on good authority there are only three Walkers, and to have two in the same household doesn’t make sense. You’d only need one to accomplish your goal.” I scratched my chin thoughtfully. “It’s probably whatever Lea and Maeve were infected with. Which means it is curable, but won’t be pleasant for Natalia. Though she is a vampire, so I doubt she’ll die from the attempt.”
But I had no idea how Mab had cured my godmother, or how long it had taken. And Maeve hadn’t been cured at all; she’d been shot by Murphy, on the one night of the year that made the killing of an immortal by a mortal possible. Not good odds for Lara’s sister, but I’d do what I could.
“Bob, keep an eye on Clementine while I’m gone. I don’t want her to get stuck inside a cabinet again.” You’d think if a kitten could get into a cabinet, she’d be able to push her way out. Yet I found Clementine repeatedly pawing at the door, opening it an inch or so before it closed by itself and trapped her.
He rolled his eyelights. “I’m not a babysitter.”
“You are today. I’ll bring you back a magazine for your trouble.” I figured the White Court had to have at least one lying around they could part with.
Bob blinked. “A magazine? With pictures?”
I nodded. “Long as you agree to keep it hidden on your shelf in the lab. I don’t need Maggie seeing any of that. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
“Pictures!” he gleefully exclaimed. “They’re even better than video! Higher resolution, attention to detail, superior lighting -“
“All right, all right,” I interrupted. “I don’t need an explanation. Just watch her, okay?”
Bob grinned, then sank into the counter. “You got it, boss.”
*
Natalia was bound and gagged, secured to the same chair that Lara had used for Lord Raith. She struggled when she saw me, eyes wide with fear, moaning into the cloth.
“What’s with the gag?” I asked.
“I could no longer stand the filth spewing from her mouth,” Lara spat, gray eyes flashing silver. “It was either gag her, or rip out her tongue. This seemed the more prudent option.”
I walked around her, extending my wizard senses as I did. As before, with Maeve, with Justine, I could sense nothing, not a trace of Outsider influence. It was maddening, not being able to tell who had fallen to their corruption. How many moles were out there, biding their time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?
“Hold this for me.” I tossed my staff to a nearby guard, who barely caught it while juggling his semi-automatic. Then I brought out my chalk, drew a large circle around Natalia’s chair, and sat on the concrete next to her. I willed the circle closed, touching my finger to the chalk, and felt the slight pop of magic in response.
I looked up at Lara and held her eyes. “I will do what I can, but I can’t promise it’ll work. In fact, I can’t even promise she’ll survive it. I want your word, no matter what happens, you will not retaliate against me or anyone I care about.” She’d tried to kill me when she thought I’d killed Thomas. I did not want a repeat, especially when this time she held the advantage.
She lifted a brow. “Do you think me a monster, Dresden?”
“When it suits you.”
“You did not require such assurances regarding my father.”
I flicked a glance at Natalia, then back to her. “I believe you care far more for your sister than you ever did your father. I want no misunderstandings between us.”
She, too, spared a glance for Natalia, sputtering unintelligibly and twisting in the chair, trying to free herself. “Very well. You have my word, wizard, no harm will befall you or yours regardless of what happens here today.”
Her words held the ring of truth.
Harry Dresden, patron saint of lost causes. I nodded, once, in acknowledgment. “Don’t break the circle.” Then I closed my eyes, slipped into a light meditation, and opened my senses a crack, placing my hand atop Natalia’s. Instantly my mouth was filled with something foul and rotting and wriggling down my throat.
Well, that’s one way to out a mole.
I fought off the nausea and disgust and delved deeper, ignoring the sensation of choking on hundreds of squirming maggots. Now Natalia struggled in earnest, trying frantically to break contact with me. And then I found it, whatever it was, looming over me, trying to force me out.
I pushed back against the lurking presence. It wasn’t a Walker, of that I was certain. This had no cohesion, no separate self, but was scattered throughout Natalia’s body. Yet it still held weight, and something connected it to a larger consciousness outside of our world.
A pulsing, glowing cloud appeared in the darkness behind my eyelids as I concentrated on the separate pieces inside her. And there, a silken thread heavy with purpose, tethered to the back of her skull, spearing into the disappearing darkness.
I gave myself a moment to study both it and whatever occupied Natalia’s body. Corruption wasn’t a bad name for it, but infection would be more accurate. It was similar to a virus that had infiltrated every organ, every muscle, every cell. I plucked one such particle from the larger whole, and with that touch knew it was a copy of the original. An exact copy. The entire infection had a single source, and that provided me an advantage I could use.
But first, I had to cut it off from the Adversary.
A silver knife gleamed in my hand. I had no specific knowledge that Outsiders feared silver, but at that moment, I believed it to be true. And in that moment, my belief was all I needed. I gathered power, shaping the spell in preparation, and slid the knife through the bond.
Natalia screamed as it broke, the end spewing blood too pale to be human. She’d be dead in a matter of seconds if I couldn’t stop the hemorrhaging. I reshaped my spell in panicked haste as I hadn’t planned for this outcome. I heated the silver knife with a snarled word and pressed it to the thread, cauterizing the end with a putrid stench and wisp of acrid smoke. The bleeding ceased, but it was a temporary measure at best.
I gathered power once more, shaping it this time into a spell I’d had recent practice with. Similatius, similitus, similis, I thought, releasing my will. A few particles, identical to the one I held, loosened their grip from Natalia and flew to my palm as if being drawn by a magnet. Soon it was a steady stream, then a torrent. I dropped the knife to free up my other hand, holding the increasingly large mass between them. Similatius, similitus, similis, I repeated, pushing more will and power into Natalia’s body, reaching for every scrap of the infection, no matter how obscure the corner or how deep it tried to hide.
As the last of it tugged free, my hands began to burn; not from heat, but from tiny needles piercing my skin. The pain quickly grew intense, causing me to sweat and shake.
Now.
I pulled the corruption out of Natalia and into existence with a sharp yank and incoherent yell, then opened my eyes. It struggled like a living thing between my hands, trying to escape, to ooze away and return to Natalia, or to find another victim. I lurched to my feet, fighting to contain it within a bubble of power, and broke the circle.
“Move!” Guards scattered away from the corner I was stumbling towards. A string of words and a burst of kinetic energy ripped the nebulous mass from my hands, followed by a blast of fire. Without my staff or rod for a focus, it was raw power that flew out of me, an intense wall of flame that incinerated the blob in a matter of seconds, leaving a swath of blackened concrete behind.
As soon as I released the spell, I fell on my ass, exhausted and shivering.
“Out!” Lara commanded. “All of you, out!”
Seriously? I shot her a glare, but her attention was on her sister, now hanging limp against the restraints. Natalia’s face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and she appeared to be unconscious. Or possibly dead. But no, I saw her chest shallowly rise and fall.
At least I didn’t kill her. I rolled to my knees, which made it easier to stand, and wobbled over to pick up my staff; after catching it, the guard had left it leaning in a corner. As I followed the last of the guards to the door, I heard - just barely - Lara’s next words.
“Harry, stay. Please.”
I turned around. Lara, with Elisa’s help, was unlocking the manacles that held Natalia in the chair. I cautiously lowered myself to the ground, too unsteady to stand, and watched them. Once Natalia was free, they moved her from chair to floor, where Lara untied the gag and pulled her sister into an embrace.
She brushed strands of hair from Natalia’s forehead, placed a gentle kiss on it with a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I cannot express how much saving her life means to me.” Though she didn’t look at me, I saw the tear that escaped from the corner of her eye as Lara stroked her fingers along Natalia’s cheek.
I’d seen Lara in any number of ways. But I’d never seen her like this: unguarded, tender, almost… human. When she’d fed her own life force to Thomas in a desperate attempt to save him, many words came to mind to describe the scene I’d walked in on, but tender wasn’t one of them.
This was.
I was intruding on a private moment, seeing the Lara as she might have been, had she been human. And in that moment, my heart swelled with something dangerously close to affection, with a large helping of sympathy thrown in for good measure.
“I was nearly one hundred when Natalia was born. There was a brother between us, but she was the second daughter. I of course knew what my father was by then, what he was capable of, the lengths he would go to to secure his throne and keep his subjects compliant. I watched him poison my brother at dinner one night, and I did nothing. I could do nothing.
“But Natalia… I tried my best to protect her. Father’s will… it was too strong for me, in the end. I wanted her first feeding to be different from mine. I wanted to tell her what we were. I wanted to her to run, escape Father as I had been unable to do. I wanted so much…” she trailed off, voice breaking, then cleared her throat.
“I wanted so much for her life to be different. And in the end, she turned out exactly as I had.” Lara looked at me then, and I was surprised at how red her eyes were. “Why her and not me?”
“I don’t know, Lara,” I replied gently. “Their thoughts, their desires… are alien and impossible to understand. Perhaps the Walker thought Natalia was the larger threat, or perhaps it thought you would be harder to control. Or that as your father’s right hand, he would sense what happened to you and execute you on the spot.”
She turned back to Natalia. “I know you thought me cold and callous to Inari’s plight. You were not wrong. By the time she was born, I’d long since been cowed into submission by my father.” Lara stroked Natalia’s cheek. “I tried, once. For Natalia’s sake, I tried. I wanted you to know that.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so silently studied her profile. She was still the vampire I knew, but she held a vulnerability in her expression I’d never seen before. I blinked and it was gone, and had to wonder if I’d imagined it.
“You may go, wizard,” she said. Her brusque dismissal didn’t bother me, not after everything. I unfolded myself from the cold concrete, using my staff to help with limbs gone stiff, and shuffled away. I paused at the door and looked back over my shoulder. The scene hadn’t changed, Lara still holding her sister, Elisa sitting silently by her side.
Lara, you are full of surprises.
*
I stopped by the convenience store on the way home to pick up the magazine I promised Bob.
I didn’t see him for two days.
*
The week before Christmas, I had my sixth date with Lara. It was a black-tie affair, held at the ritzy Drake Hotel downtown. Some kind of charity ball or auction or something that brought out the politicians and big donors in droves.
Parties were not my thing. This specific type of party even less, and I snarled angrily as I pulled apart the tie for the third time and slammed the drawer holding a tiny shaving mirror shut. I needed the bigger mirror, the one I kept in my lab covered and turned facing the wall.
As my only tuxedo had met a tragic end at the hands (and likely nails) of a vampire, Lara Raith sent a courier over that afternoon with a replacement. A card came with it, elegant handwriting on cream-colored stock, confirming she would pick me up in her Wraith at six-thirty. It said something, that Lara spent the extra minutes it took to leave a hand-written note, rather than one typed or printed. We were both old school; her by birth, me by necessity, and I appreciated it in our modern world of instant communication.
I grumbled all the way down to my lab, bringing the mirror (still covered) up one floor and propping it up on a convenient table. Bob hovered nearby as I removed the sheet, revealing my reflection along with part of the basement behind me. Mirrors could be used in any number of ways, and I always exercised caution when unveiling this one; unlike the other in my bathroom, this was large enough to pose a serious threat. I made sure I never used it in the lab itself, and kept the background bland and boring.
My stitches were gone, thanks to a visit to Butters’ apartment. I could’ve removed them myself, but leaving that sort of thing to a professional was easier. He’d recovered (for the most part) from the fight at my house; his own stitches were gone, leaving a bright pink scar over a large section of his chest. Andi declared it sexy; Marci merely rolled her eyes.
I’d also paid a visit to Will and Georgia’s, finding the latter fully recovered and helping their daughter decorate a freshly-bought Christmas tree in the living room, right next to their front window. The door Lara demolished had been replaced (I’d asked for Michael’s help and provided the funds) and its vivid red suited the house even better than the sterile white from before.
Georgia, after seeing the state of my hair, had it expertly trimmed in a matter of minutes. She carefully gathered up the clippings in a ratty old towel, tying the ends closed before handing it to me.
My friends, caring for me when I didn’t remember to take care of myself.
At least, I thought, studying myself in the mirror, your hair is presentable.
“You’re rushing,” Bob said, watching me on attempt number four. “That’s why it’s lopsided.”
I glared at him, picking apart the knot once more. “What are you, the fashion police?”
“Just trying to help, boss. You seem a little stressed.“
“Because going to a charity ball is high on my list of things I’d like to do this evening,” I snapped back. But this time my fingers moved slowly, and I was rewarded with a perfect bow.
He snorted. “Yeah, spending time with a drop-dead gorgeous bombshell on your arm and an open bar is a real hardship. You planning on staying out all night?” he asked, just a hint of slyness in his tone.
“Nope. I’ll be home before the clock strikes twelve.” Regardless of what Lara’s intentions might be, I thought taking a step back from sexual intimacy prudent for now. I covered the mirror and hauled it back downstairs, arranging it carefully before closing up the lab.
“Your ride’s here,” Bob said.
“Thanks, Bob.”
I double-checked the blasting rod secured under my jacket, the shield bracelet around my wrist, then went outside to join Lara in the Wraith.
“Good evening, Mr. Dresden,” she said as I settled in the seat next to her.
“Fancy meeting you here,” I quipped, earning a small smile.
Lara’s gown was a pale gray that darkened as it slid towards her ankles. Silver crystal beadwork formed looping, whirling patterns down its length, sparkling as we passed under streetlights. Her hair was up, the silken black mane studded with matching crystals, making it appear a velvet sky lit by stars. Her crossed legs revealed dark gray satin heels, with straps that twined up her ankles.
Other than her engagement ring, she wore no jewelry. She had no need of it.
“You look breathtaking,” I told her, lifting her hand to kiss the back of it. I’m still old-fashioned, after all, and she was gorgeous. I was getting more adept at ignoring the new sensations I picked up from touching supernaturals, even as her Hunger whispered its desires.
My hormones appreciated her in every way, stirring with further excitement as my lips brushed over her bare skin, the raw intensity of her regard pulling at my gut. Her smile was luminous as her eyes roamed over me. “I must confess, I have a new appreciation for you in a tux. And what lies underneath.”
My cheeks heated. I still didn’t remember that evening clearly. I most definitely did not remember her ripping off my tux, or whether I’d helped. Or hell, if I’d done it all on my own in some misplaced display of manhood. Other parts of that evening, though… let’s just say I had plenty of fantasies to occupy my sleepless nights.
“I always try to make a lasting impression,” I replied, my voice huskier than I intended. Lara’s eyes responded in kind, flashing silver for a brief moment.
“Oh, that you did.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered, or terrified. She saw something in my expression that caused her to smile, not in a sultry, sexy way, but with humor.
“Do not fear for your virtue tonight, wizard. I have other plans this evening. However…” Lara trailed off, her smile fading. “I feel I must warn you, for the sake of our - for lack of a better term - partnership. As you have stated, I want no misunderstandings between us. Tonight, I will be pursuing several political goals, as well as a few investors I can make use of.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You mean you’re planning on using your come-hither to force them to agree. And you’re what, going to have sex with them behind a conveniently-placed potted plant?” Not that the Mantle would’ve minded anything of the sort. In fact, the potential voyeurism pushed it into a lustful frenzy.
She waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing as crass as that, I assure you. But it will require me to feed. This is business, Dresden, nothing more.”
“If that’s your goal tonight, then why bother bringing me?”
“Because you and I must be seen together, in public. It is in the terms of our agreement. But I also enjoy your company. Do you find that so odd?”
I didn’t have a ready answer for her question, except to say yes. I was a wizard, sure, but other than hosting the Winter Knight’s Mantle, I was nothing special.
Lara laughed. “Harry, you are a fascination to me, a contradiction in many ways.” Then she leaned in closer. “You are also not a half-bad dancer, especially given your height. And your passion…” she placed a hand on my chest, right over my heart. “I have met few in my life with such fire inside. Such strength of will, such iron-clad control. Such heartfelt desire.”
“What you mean is I’m reckless, stubborn, and have so much pent-up anger that I don’t know where to put it all.”
“I meant what I said.” Lara sat back, distancing herself from me. “It is to their detriment if others choose only to see the superficial. I do not make such mistakes.” Then she gave me a long look, as if weighing her words, and said, “I believe your mother would be very proud of the man you have become.”
My chest squeezed and I found it hard to breathe. It was so easy to forget that Lara had known my mother, had lived with her for years. I touched the pentacle, safely tucked under my shirt, tracing the silver design with my fingers.
“Some day, when you wish it, I will tell you of her.”
I fought down the tears, swallowed the pain, and forced my lungs to work. “I’d like that,” I whispered, not trusting my voice.
We rode the rest of the way in silence.
*
The Drake was an older hotel, built in the 1930s and stood a modest twenty floors. Unlike The Madison, so far it had avoided the developers and remained a downtown icon that catered to the wealthy elite. Located on the north side of the Chicago River not far from the Wrigley Building, it had also managed to avoid most of the destruction a few months back, and only needed minor repairs before reopening.
We were dropped off at a side entrance reserved for guests of the party; it led directly into the lavishly decorated two-floor ballroom, because we were too important to be traipsing through the lobby with mere commoners.
“Give me a moment to check my coat,” Lara told me when I stopped to gawk; she disappeared before I could respond.
Christmas was everywhere, from the white lights spiraling up every available pillar to the poinsettias gracing the center of every table. The band was positioned between two stairways curving up to the second floor, making the musicians visible from the balconies. They, too, had caught the Christmas spirit, playing instrumental versions of classic songs.
I forced myself to look away from the bling and focus on matters that could have a more immediate impact on my survival. Things like the number and location of exits from the room. Nearby fire extinguishers. The height of the ceiling (close to thirty feet), and whether it contained any skylights (it didn’t).
I spotted John Marcone, Baron of Chicago, on the floor above holding court with several others. All were flanked by bodyguards.
I snorted. Coward. Don’t see me needing the protection of a Valkyrie or two hired thugs to attend a party. Though I had to admit, Sigrun Gard in her gown of arctic white secured over one bare shoulder did make quite the impression as Marcone’s “date.”
Sensing my attention, Marcone glanced down and upon seeing me, sketched a salute with a faint smile. Gard, following her employer’s gaze, narrowed her eyes. I saluted them both in kind, surreptitiously felt under my jacket for the blasting rod, then went to find the bar.
*
We spent the next two hours mingling, dancing, drinking, and sampling from a large buffet arranged along one entire wall. We’d taken our plates to a nearby table to eat; I was starving, and scarfed down the pile of miscellaneous items I couldn’t identify, much to Lara’s amusement.
“What?” I asked, mouth full of something shrimp-related.
Lara lifted her martini glass, filled with a bright blue liquid, and gestured with it. “Did you not eat today?”
“Um…” I trailed off, thinking. I’d spent most of the day in my lab testing out several spells with Bob and Bonea while Clementine prowled around the worktables. I didn’t recall leaving the lab, not until the tuxedo arrived. “I guess not.” I popped two of the steak-on-a-cracker-things in my mouth, the horseradish strong enough to make my eyes water.
She sighed, the “I have no choice but to put up with this idiot” sigh I’d heard Ebenezar often use in my presence, and felt the need to defend myself.
“Hey, the food’s right there. It’s meant to be eaten. By hungry people like me.”
Lara rolled her eyes and sipped from her glass, but let me finish in silence. Then, when I’d swallowed enough beer to wash everything down, she leaned in close. The hand she slid over my thigh received my undivided attention, as did the kiss on my cheek (which then divided my attention, but I’m an exceptional multitasker). “If you wish to leave, my driver will take you home. I will make up an excuse to explain your absence, if need be,” she whispered, breath tickling my ear.
I wasn’t about to miss the show. I didn’t think the Mantle would even let me leave, as it’d been promised an evening’s voyeuristic entertainment; giving in to it was easier than fighting. Plus, I had free alcohol.
And some tiny part of me, the part some might call chauvinistic which I preferred to think of as chivalrous, wanted to be here to protect Lara from harm if need be. Despite the fact she was a vampire, and not only knew how to take care of herself, but had been doing it long before I was born.
I lifted my half-full glass of beer. “I’m good. You do you.” A delightful phrase I’d picked up from my daughter that I had yet to tire of.
Lara raised an eyebrow. “If you are sure.”
Taking a small swallow, I repeated, “I’m good.”
One corner of her lips curved up. “You are an unusual man, Harry Dresden.” As she walked away, I had an incredible view of her… everything. And not all of my reaction was from the come-hither she turned on. She made her way over to a man I knew to be one of Illinois’ senators - home from Washington for the holidays - effortlessly gliding through the throng of people.
I do occasionally pay attention to politics.
Lara inserted herself into the conversation he was having, one hand guiding him away to a more intimate discussion. And then, she started to glow. It wasn’t visible, I didn’t think, except to those sensitive to magic. Even from this distance, I felt the sexual pull coming off her in waves, and was surprised she wasn’t garnering more of an audience. Unless I’d become more sensitive to that aspect of her as well.
It was a disconcerting thought. I downed the rest of my beer in a few gulps, then signaled to a waiter for another. I had no intention of getting drunk - that was just asking for a demon to pop out of an air duct and rip my face off - but a slight buzz would make the evening more palatable.
I was jealous. Disgusted. Fascinated. Impressed. And most of all, aroused by the sight of Lara using her inner succubus to coerce the politician into concessions he might not otherwise make.
I couldn’t watch. But I couldn’t look away.
It was a scene repeated over the next several hours.
And it wasn’t just repeated with men. Lara was an equal opportunity vampire.
By the time she finished, the party was winding down. I had lied to Bob, though I hadn’t meant to; the clock was well past midnight. She rejoined me at the table, wavering slightly as she walked, and I stood as she approached. Gone was the self-assured succubus, and in her place was a woman who by all appearances was slightly drunk. Lara’s Hunger was sated, quiescent, though its effects on her were still visible; her heavy-lidded eyes sheened with silver, her skin pale and luminous.
The Winter Mantle howled with lust; it took a great deal of willpower to merely offer my arm to her, rather than taking her right there against the wall. Or on the table. Or under the table.
“Shall we?”
It took a moment for her to focus, then she slipped her hand around my arm. “Please.” Then in a softer voice, “Forgive me, I am not myself. Feeding like this is intoxicating. It is… a great help to have a steady presence beside me. I appreciate you staying.”
“It was nothing,” I replied, steering us to the coat check. I helped Lara with her fur, then escorted her outside where the Wraith was already waiting for us.
Wish I knew how she did that. It would be useful to have a car appear in front of me any time I needed a ride. Probably called him. And then, as the Wraith spirited us towards my castle, my mind provided several interesting possibilities as to where Lara could have hidden that phone. Then my mind told me it was highly doubtful she had on any undergarments, and that turned into another struggle with the Mantle and its insatiable lust.
Lara sighed softly, resting her head on my shoulder. My arm went around her almost by instinct, pulling her close.
I thought she’d fallen asleep, but when we turned onto a street a few blocks away from my home, she said, “Freydis spoke to me, after you left the manor. I did not mean my choice of words to belittle you, Harry. ‘Claimed’ is a term we use much as you would use ‘dating.’”
I sat there, inhaling the faint scent of her perfume, and chuckled. “So basically you were telling your sister to get her grubby mitts off your man?”
“Crude, but in essence, yes.” And then softer, “I meant what I said. I do not think of you as food, but as an equal partner in this relationship.”
I snorted. “Lara, you think of everyone as food.” Thomas’ lesson on that count was never far from my thoughts.
She sighed. “True enough, wizard. I will amend it with, ‘I do not think of you only as food.’ I respect you. I even respect your morals, though many I find inconvenient. You saved my brother when it cost you to do so. You saved my sister when you had no reason to.”
“Because it was the right thing to do.”
“Here lies Harry Dresden,” Lara quoted. “He died doing the right thing. And yet you are still here, and the abomination that purchased the gravestone is not. I will continue to back you, Mr. Dresden, because I have seen what happens to those who stand in your way.”
“Um… thanks, I think?”
As the Wraith pulled up to my door, Lara raised her head, regarding me with gray eyes that contained not a hint of silver. Very human-looking eyes. She cupped my cheek and gave me a soft kiss, and it too was mostly human, absent the Hunger’s strength. It still managed to boil my blood and kickstart the desire I’d mostly subdued.
“Merry Christmas, Harry Dresden,” she said, running a thumb over my lips.
I wanted her. Every part of me wanted her, and yet I found the will to extract myself and open the door. The freezing air swirled around us, cooling my near-feverish skin a fraction. “Merry Christmas, Lara Raith.”
I waited until the Rolls Royce pulled away before going inside. Then I removed my jacket and tie, went up to the roof, and stayed to watch the sun rise.