In general, Harry hated meetings with the High Council. He only had bad memories. But meeting with them while nursing a concussion was a whole new hateful experience.
Panic at having Bob stolen had prompted the wizard to call on Morgan for help with little weighing of the pros and cons of bringing the High Council into this. The Head Enforcer and his small army of wardens had done an admirable job of locating Adam Ewing via the skull he'd taken with him. At first, Harry couldn't believe someone so powerful hadn't even bothered to put protective wards in his home. But an inventory of Ewing's place explained a lot.
The iron boxes they'd found on the shelves were mostly stuffed with sins he'd removed from other people. But there were a few empty ones. Further exploration revealed a drawer of vials wrapped in heavily marked cloth. The glasses were filled with what looked like blood. Harry noticed one of the vials had Simon's name on it. Apart from those items, there were old texts. Some were grimmoires that Harry recognized. But others were documents, scrolls, old parchments that were unfamiliar. But it was obvious that all of Ewing's research had been centered in the nature of sin eating…and conjuring spirits for when he finally got the answer and could free his father's soul. Ewing had known nothing about the greater circle of wizards out there, other than the fact that a few sorcerers might exist. He certainly had no clue of the High Council and their very rigid judicial systems. And he probably hadn't cared. He'd just wanted to find a way to eat his father's sins.
Ewing had attempted an escape. But considering his only skill was in sin eating, he was no match against Morgan. He'd been quickly subdued and readied for trial. Or so Morgan told him.
Harry's current meeting, standing in Adam's former residence, had less to do with Adam's fate and more about how much the sin eater had shared with Bob before his capture. And more so, the meeting with the Council had less to do with Harry and more about the spirit currently in his possession.
"Order the ghost to answer truthfully to all questions posed to him," commanded Ancient Mai.
The wizard thought to argue as to why Bob would lie. But as it was obvious the ghost's testimony would mean nothing to the Council unless he'd been commanded by his owner to speak the truth, an order the spirit could not refuse as dictated by the limits of his cursed state.
Harry looked over at Bob, whose expression was impressively unreadable when it came to matters with the Council. "Bob, when they ask you questions, don't lie," he said. There was the barest hint of a smile on the spectral face at the flippant tone of Harry's command. Ancient Mai, however, was not amused.
"Dresden," she said, warningly.
"Fine, fine. Bob-"
"Dresden." Morgan, who stood by the diminutive woman added to the warning.
Sighing, Harry gave in. The sooner they did this, the sooner they could all go home. "Hrothbert of Bainbridge, answer all questions posed to you truthfully," he recited, formally. "Happy?" he asked Mai.
"That all depends on what he tells me," replied the Asian woman. "Why did Ewing take the skull?" she asked.
"He felt my curse would be helpful in finding a way to release his father from his sins," Bob answered, his expression back to business.
"And was he correct?"
"He felt he was," the ghost responded.
"Tell me how he planned on releasing his father."
"He hoped to bind his father's ghost to his bones, copying the spell put on my skull," Bob replied. "From there, he planned on eating his father's sin and then once the ghost was free, bind the sin back to the bones."
Mai's eyes narrowed. "His reasoning means he knew how your curse worked." There was something faintly accusatory in her tone.
"He has the ability to see sins," Bob explained, patiently. "He saw that my soul was tethered to the skull by my transgressions. He constructed a spell that would allow him to remove the sins of those already dead."
"Explain how the spell works."
"I do not know how the spell works," said Bob. "He has sigils tattooed on his hands, but I did not recognize them."
"But you believe he was successful?"
"He believed he was," said the ghost.
"I am not asking you if he believed," Mai said, tersely. "I am asking you what you believe."
Bob paused before answering, thinking on his response. As he did so, Harry noticed something close to melancholy drift quickly by the pale face. "I believe so," the spirit finally answered. "But I cannot be sure. He did not have a chance to test his spell."
"Did he offer to release you?" asked Mai.
"Yes."
"Did you accept?"
"I had not given an answer before Mr. Ewing was captured," Bob replied, ignoring the look Harry was giving him.
Considering the answer, the Head Councilwoman regarded her spectral witness. "You say you didn't recognize the symbols on Ewing's hands, but you remember them? Their construct?"
"Mai, where are you going with this?" Harry interrupted, getting another one of those warning glares from Morgan.
"Answer my question," said Mai, ignoring the wizard.
"Yes," the ghost answered, shortly.
"Well enough to reconstruct them?"
Bob gave the woman a cold look. "How would I reconstruct them?"
"You couldn't," she agreed. "But you could always tell Dresden or your next owner how," she pointed out, her tones casual. "You were that close to freedom. Would you really let it go so easily?"
"I only saw the sigils on Mr. Ewing's fingers and left palm. Not all of which I can completely recall, nor did I see the symbols carved into his right hand," Bob answered, keeping his voice flat to deride the councilwoman's insinuations.
"Is that so?" she inquired, not bothering to hide her disliking for the spirit.
"Mai, you know he can't lie to you," Harry interjected, angrily.
"If you're so very concerned, throw my skull down to the bottom of the sea," Bob suggested, blithely.
"Bob, shut up! THAT is a command," Harry ordered, not putting it past the Council. "His skull's rightfully mine and it's staying on dry land."
"Calm down, Dresden," Morgan said.
But Mai looked unperturbed and only gave Bob an assessing look before proclaiming, lightly, "We're done." She moved to leave. "Go home, Dresden. And take your skull."
"What about Simon?" asked Harry. The councilwoman gave him a blank stare. "My client's fiance. His soul is still cursed."
"I have no care for your business," said Mai.
The wizard took a step forward. "But-"
"The Council will be taking possession of Ewing's items," said Morgan, moving in front of him. "Along with taking charge of the sins he has removed. Which we will rectify." When Harry didn't budge, the warden forcefully took him by the shoulder. "You are not needed. Leave, Dresden. Go home."
A few days after the meeting in Adam Ewing's apartment, there was a fire in the building. The fire department had chalked it up to faulty wiring. While no one was hurt in the ensuing inferno, the entire place had burnt to the ground. Nothing was salvaged.
No one saw Adam Ewing again. Not any new potential clients and not the club's owner, Mr. Witt, who had searched out for Adam after he'd woken up one day with a horrible sense of foreboding in his heart that he'd only had before the murder of a female dancer had been pulled out from him. The surviving Ayers never heard from him. Nor did they ever seek him out. Ewing was gone from the world and it seemed no one cared. Or cared enough to inquire.
The last to ask about the status of Adam Ewing was Ancient Mai herself. She'd posed the question to one of her wardens, who'd then presented her with a bag. She nodded at its contents, noting with satisfaction that the eyes had been removed from the severed head and destroyed separately and that the detached hands were burned, obliterating all traces of the sigils that had once been tattooed on them.
Harry had treated his concussion by not sleeping for the first eight hours and then sleeping for ten. During his waking moments, he chewed Tylenol to help with his lingering headache. Pauline Gordon dropped by soon afterwards. It seemed the two had switched places in last few days. The woman looked fresh and remarkably well-rested to Harry's disheveled appearance. She'd come to thank the wizard for a job well done as it seemed her headaches were gone.
When Harry held the crystal over Simon's rosary, it remained clear. It seemed Simon had moved on, the Council having been successful of breaking his curse.
While it was nice to see a satisfied client, the relief and ease with which Pauline seemed to move on with her life was something a little….depressing for the wizard. Pauline's eagerness to push forward reminded him too much of Adam Ewing's family who had been willing to leave him behind to embrace a new life.
"You didn't expect her to pine away forever, did you?" asked Bob. "It's healthier that she move on with her life."
Harry ignored the irony of Bob being the one giving him that piece of information. "Yeah, I know it." He eyed the ghost who was looking at nothing in particular, but whose expression suggested he was suddenly miles away from Harry. "Something on your mind?" he asked.
Bob shook himself slightly. "Thinking on Ewing, I suppose." Neither had any doubt Adam Ewing was now disposed of.
"You feeling sorry for him?" asked Harry. He hadn't meant for his voice to sound as harsh as it did.
But the ghost only shrugged at the acerbic tone. "Not quite how I would put it. But I suppose I do feel some sympathy for his blindness in his cause. And it's not every day you meet someone who can so clearly see you for what you are."
"That's crap. He could only see your sins. That's not all we are."
"Well, not all of you."
"Not you either," said Harry, sounding slightly pissed off. "Bob, don't do that."
"Sorry," the ghost apologized.
Harry knew that while Bob had shared with him the transgression that earned him eternal damnation, there were still things in his old teacher's past, perhaps horrifying things, that he'd not yet shared with him. Perhaps he never would. But in his short time with the spirit, Adam Ewing had seen each and every one of those offenses. And in that respect, Ewing was close to Bob in a way that Harry might never be.
And the wizard wouldn't say that made him jealous. But…well, jealous was a good a word as any.
"I'm sorry…about how it all turned out," Harry offered, awkwardly. "I mean…if Adam really did figure out a way to free you…"
"There's no guarantee that his spell would have even worked on me."
"Still," said Harry. "If we'd been a little slower then maybe…" he trailed off. As selfish as he felt, the idea that Bob might have been freed and moved on before the wizard would have had at least a chance to say goodbye struck a pang in him.
"Or if I'd been a little faster at answering, I suppose," Bob replied. "I'd paused to think it over."
"Paused?"
The ghost gave him a softened look that made Harry feel a lot younger all of a sudden. "Well, after all these years of working together, to simply leave you on your own felt a little rude," he said.
Over 500 years of damnation with the key to his liberty presented to him and Bob had stopped to consider what it would mean should he leave Harry behind.
And knowing that, Harry felt achingly grateful.
THE END