Chapter 29
I woke up in the afternoon to the sound of people rushing around downstairs, and someone— a girl— crying hysterically.
Buffy wasn't in the room with me— no one was, for the first time since I'd been injured at the warehouse. That worried me, and I sat up, swung my legs over the side of the bed— and Sanya came charging into my room, eyes filled with a mixture of anger and concern.
He saw me sitting up, and said, "Good, you are awake. Can you get downstairs if I help you? You— your expertise is needed, Harry. Molly is not here, nor Carlos— they are at the White Council headquarters, checking on some things. Lash… she could help, but Amanda knows you best, and she is terrified."
"Let's go. Fast. Tell me what's happened."
Sanya got me up, my arm across his shoulders, and practically carried me down to the living room— but he didn't tell me what had happened.
We got to the living room to find it full of people, Michael, his mother, a bunch of kids, Buffy, Dawn, Xander and Lash. All were gathered around Amanda Carpenter, a freshman in high school, now, and little Harry, who was in the sixth grade, both of whom were crying, though Harry was beginning to taper off under the attention of his sister Alicia, the oldest girl home at the time, with Molly off in Edinburgh.
Amanda, almost fifteen, pretty, and already showing signs of being built like Molly and her mother, was sobbing on her father, and trying hard to gather herself.
Something wasn't right— there weren't enough kids here, not enough at all. I did a head count, and my guts turned to thermite-laced ice as I realized who was missing.
"Where are Maggie and Hope?" I asked, my voice much louder and more scared than I'd meant it to be.
"They were taken," Michael said grimly. "Harry, someone tried to get all the children— but Amanda…. Amanda fought off those who came for her, Alicia and Daniel, and—Maggie and Hope were taken. Young Harry wasn't only because he was talking to his teacher about an assignment, and wasn't outside yet."
"Maggie—!" I stopped myself, but only by literally biting my lip. My daughter, in danger again. Kidnapped again— and again, while this might have been aimed at Michael and his family, it felt like it was because of me. "Sanya, I need to sit, please."
Buffy got under my other arm and took over for Sanya, led me to a chair and helped me collapse into it slowly enough that I didn't do myself any damage.
I closed my eyes, composed myself as much as I could— it helped that Buffy sat on the arm of my chair and held my hand— and said, "Amanda. How did you fight off the ones who came for you and your brother and sister?"
"I…." Amanda swallowed, fought tears for a moment, and shook her head violently. "I think— Uncle Harry, I think it was magic!"
Crap. I'd been kind of afraid of this, as strong as Molly was, afraid of it popping up in another of her siblings— and of Michael having questions. The reason for that fear was, in part, gone now— but I still didn't really want to discuss why his kids kept manifesting magic with him, didn't want to let him know that his wife had been keeping secrets from him.
I took a long, slow, deep breath, closed my eyes— and opened them with my Wizard's Sight active. I looked at Amanda Carpenter, almost fifteen, still just a little gawky, but well on her way to being a heartbreaker, and I saw that she was right. She had power, had magic. While it's not easy to judge power levels through the Sight, I was pretty sure she was going to be White Council material, was going to be strong, magically.
"What did you do, Princess?" I asked after I banished my Sight, and I got a watery smile for calling her that. When I'd first met her after she was old enough to be walking around, she'd informed me that she was a princess, and I'd used the title a few times over the years— it always got a smile out of her.
"I— they came up the walk as we were going to Grandma in the van, four of them, and… one… the one in front, he had a taser in his hands, and I saw it. He… saw me notice it, and they all started towards us, not running, but going faster." She gulped tears, looked sideways at her older siblings, and shuddered. "I was in front. I tried to say something, but— I just froze up, and I felt— I felt ashamed about not even being able to shout, and I wanted so badly to keep anything bad from happening to Matthew or Alicia, and I couldn't do anything but freeze in place.
"Then… it was like something snapped in my head, like— like a big old searchlight came on, and I could feel it, could feel it in me and all around me, and I knew, I just— I knew it was magic, and that I could save us.
"I remembered… after things almost went so bad with Molly, Mom made us all learn the Laws of Magic, so that if we got it, we wouldn't do something illegal or dangerous out of not knowing."
Michael's eyebrows shot up at that, and I knew that I was going to have to have a talk with him about this, and never mind that I didn't really want to.
"So I knew that I couldn't do anything that might kill them," Amanda continued, and she shuddered. "I didn't want to kill them, even, but— but I know Molly didn't want to hurt her friends, so I was careful.
"There was a fire hydrant right there, and I remembered Molly telling us about the fight with the warlock and how one of them hurt you with a fire hydrant cap that he forced off by making the water force it off so that it flew and hit you.
"I could feel the water, then— all of it, down under the street. I called it all to come up and press on the cap-thing the guy was about to pass… and it came, Uncle Harry, it came and— and the cap shot off just as he got next to it, and it hit his leg, broke his leg and he screamed, and the other three started to come at us and I… I made the water spray turn on them. It pushed them back, hard, and… and one grabbed the one I hurt, and they all ran. I tried to stop them with the water, but… but my head hurt, and I was all of the sudden so tired… I couldn't stop them, I'm sorry!"
"Don't be sorry, Amanda," I said, even before Michael could say it. "You saved yourself, you saved your brother and sister, and you did it with your very first use of magic— and without breaking any of the Laws, to boot.
"You did a wonderful job, young lady, and you should be proud of yourself.
"But Amanda, I need you to listen to me very carefully for a minute."
The girl gathered herself visibly, took a deep breath, and looked me in the eyes.
"That was amazing," I said, and smiled as much as I could. "And I know, the temptation to play with the magic, to see what you can do with it, is going to be really huge. But right now, Amanda, that would be dangerous for you. The reason your head hurt is because you don't know the safe ways to think about magic yet, the ways to use it safely, to get around the things about it that can hurt you."
"But… hurt me, really?" Amanda frowned. "It was just a headache, Uncle Harry, it's gone already."
"Just a headache, yes," I agreed, and sighed. "Okay, look— have you ever helped your dad out when he was doing something like wiring the addition, or even just repairing an electrical outlet?"
"Yes, I think we all have, even Maggie. Why?"
"There are rules of safety, right?" I asked. "Things your dad told you not to do, even if you think the power's off, right?"
"Of course, you have to be careful with that sort of thing, it can kill you if you— oh." Amanda blinked. "It can kill me if I'm careless. Magic is power, like electricity is power, and you have to be careful with power.
"All right, I'll not do anything until… when can I start learning?"
This time, Michael was faster. "Amanda, I think you need to think about that. It might be better if you were to put aside the power, let it go. We should ta—"
"No, Daddy." Amanda turned to meet her father's gaze, her expression set and determined. "Daddy, you can't ask me to do that. Magic saved me and Matt and 'Licia today. Magic let Molly save how many lives? Lets Uncle Harry help how many people?
"Daddy, you fought the way you knew how to fight for a long time, and you… you're still so strong, and if whoever did this wants you to trade yourself for Hope and Maggie, everyone here knows you're going to do it.
"I'm going to be like you. I'm going to be like Uncle Harry. I'm going to be like Molly. I'm going to use the magic to help people. I won't give it up. I won't let a gift that God gave me just wither and die, not when I can help people with it.
"Maybe I won't be a Warden, like Molly and Uncle Harry. Maybe I'll just… be able to make things grow, or… or bring rain where it's needed. Maybe I'll learn to heal people with it. Or put out fires. Or… maybe, someday, I'll save someone's life with magic.
"But I'm going to do what you'd do if it was your magic, Daddy.
"I'm going to use it. I'm going to try to do what's right with it."
By the time she finished speaking, Amanda Carpenter was sitting ramrod straight, her shoulders back, her jade green eyes locked on her father's, her chin lifted a little defiantly— and everyone in the room was looking at her with respect or amazement. Or both.
Michael opened his mouth, and his mother said, very quietly, "Michael… hush. Amanda's right. Anything you say against it right now will be said from fear for her sisters' safety— and it will be wrong."
Michael's mouth closed, then his eyes, and his features… settled, slowly. The fear drained out of them, and something that looked like acceptance settled onto his face. He opened his eyes, looked at his daughter… and sighed.
"Then you listen to Harry," Michael said firmly. "You don't do anything with it until you've had lessons in how to use it safely."
"Yes, Daddy," Amanda said quietly— then threw herself in his arms and hugged him ferociously.
After a moment, Michael looked up at me. "All right, Amanda— now we need to see about getting Hope and Maggie back. Harry— young Harry— show Uncle Harry the note, tell him how you got it.
Wordlessly, young Harry, face drawn and eyes red from crying, turned to me and handed me a plain white piece of paper with computer-or-printer-made words on it. It had been tightly folded once, and I knew the folds from my own childhood— it had been folded into a paper airplane, a tight, nose-heavy one that would fly a long way.
It said only, "I have your children. No police. Wait by the phone. After dark, you will be given instructions. If you call the police, you will never see them again."
It was signed simply "N."
"I came out after talking to Miss Williams about my English project, and… and Maggie and Hope weren't outside. A van drove by, and a man called my name— my full name. When I looked up, he threw that at me and said, 'give that to your old man.'
"I… I was scared, and I thought it was just paper, it couldn't be a bomb or nothing, so I opened it. I read it, and I— I ran to the corner, I tried to see the license plate, but I c-c-couldn't catch up t-to them, and… and…."
"Ssh, it's okay," I said, and squeezed the kid's shoulder gently. "You tried, Harry— that means something, says something good about you. It's not your fault, kid. Not even your Dad or I can outrun a speeding van."
At that point, Mouse shoved his head under my hand and made a soft, distressed sound.
"All right, maybe you could have, furball— but we didn't know we'd need to have you there." I scratched his head and thought for a moment. "Okay. The question becomes 'what will he ask for.' Michael, any thoughts?"
"Getting the swords this way would do him no good at all," Michael said immediately. "They would only find their way back to their wielders, and very likely quickly.
"I don't think he's going to be asking for me, Harry. He'll know that I'm protected, that I can't give up that protection even if I want to, and honestly… if this was about me, he could have some hired k—mercenary to come after me without needing to involve the children."
"Kind of what I figured," I said with a sigh. "That means… odds are this is about me.
"Lash, those meditations you taught me for ignoring pain… that implies you've dealt with injuries a lot. Know any healing spells?"
"Not that are safe," Lash replied immediately. "The few healing spells I know… all have a price, and usually, that price is on the black magic side of the equation.
"There are some techniques to speed healing, but at best, it would still be three days before I could expect to have you healthy enough to be thinking of fighting."
I opened my mouth, and Buffy put her hand over it, then said, "Lash, they have his little girl and one of Michael's kids. He's already going to fight, it's not even a case of thinking about it.
"Anything you can do to help him recover faster… please, start it pretty much now."
See why I love her? She knows me so well, and she wasn't trying to say that I couldn't or shouldn't be fighting. Joseph was right— if I let her get away, I wouldn't deserve any more help from him.
Lash sighed, looked at me sorrowfully and said, "It would be best done away from too many people, and I warn you— it won't be enough, Harry."
"I'll take whatever you can do," I told her. "Buffy's right. They have Maggie. I'm going to fight them."
"Michael, may I take Harry and Buffy into the family room for a while? And could we have some privacy? Quiet and concentration will be needed." Lash shook her head a little and shot me a look. "Stubborn man."
"He is, isn't he," Michael said with a wan smile. "Of course, Lash, you three go on in there— we'll leave you alone until supper, at least."
"Perfect, thank you," Lash said, standing. She shot me another look, a stern one. "And you will be eating supper, Harry— all the speed I can lend your recovery won't help at all without fueling the body's healing."
"Understood," I agreed. Buffy helped me get up, and we three started for the family room Michael had finished. "Lash… thank you."
"Thank me by living through what comes of this," she said simply.
I stopped at the door to the family room and looked over my shoulder at Michael, remembering the last time that Nicodemus— who was surely behind the kidnapping of Maggie and Hope— had been going to call to discuss terms, some three and a half years before. "Michael." He looked up at me and I said, "Before dark— right now, in fact— get all the blinds in the house closed."
He nodded, and I let myself be led into the family room.
Lash started pulling cushions off of the nearest couch, then went and got one more from a couch on the far side of the room. Laid end-to-end on the floor, the cushions were long enough even for me to lay down on comfortably, and I did so when Lash told me to, taking off my shirt first and leaving room above my head for her to sit as she instructed.
"All right," Lash said, sitting Indian-style on the cushions above my head. "Buffy, I'm going to be touching Harry an awful lot— I wanted you here because I… still feel a little unsure about… things, even after our talk about this."
"Oh, please." Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed exaggeratedly. "And here I thought you were going to draw some of my slayer oomph off into Harry.
"Lash. You love Harry, right? Not romantically, but you love him, right?"
"Well, I— yes. Yes, I do." Lash blushed, and I tried not to grin. "He's my best friend, my big brother… I love him."
"Harry, you love Lash, right?" Buffy kept right on going, as direct as she almost always was, when the feelings in question weren't her own.
"Yes, I love her," I agreed, and I don't think I blushed even. "I guess this makes three best friends and one little sister for me. The little sister bit is funny, because she's way older and way smarter than me."
"Okay." Buffy looked back at Lash. "I love him, too. He loves me. We're a couple, you're our friend, Lash— and you're doing your damnedest to help, so I love you, too. I can always stand another sister— if you turn out half as well as the last one, it's all aces.
"So can we please just hang the insecurity blanket on the back of a door and get on with what has to be done to give us the best chance at saving the girls without losing anyone from our side?
"Lash, touch him all you need to. Harry, don't get tense about it, even if it feels good, which, hey— healing! It probably will feel good.
"Now— go to work, Lash, and if you blush too much, I'm gonna hang an embarrassing nickname on you for it. Like 'Cherry.' Or even— ooo, 'Raspberry,' that'd be embarrassing!"
Lash stared at Buffy for a moment, then sighed and said, "You're right. But it takes a lot of getting used to, being human. This is the hardest part, I think."
"Nah," Buffy said, taking my hand. "That's later, when you start dating. Or a least when you finally manage to look Dawn in the eye for more than two seconds without smiling and blushing."
Lash sputtered in helpless indignation for a moment, then laughed. "All right, all right— you win, I blush too much and too easily.
"Harry, close your eyes, relax as best you can. Buffy will have to let go of your hand, briefly, later in the working, but not for long.
"Personally, I'm glad your injury is where it is— much lower and I'd have had to ask you to take off your pants as well, and Buffy would probably call me 'Raspberry' for the rest of my life."
"With my history?" Buffy sounded smug, and she squeezed my hand as she said "Probably longer than that."
Lash laughed again, and then went to work.
What she did was a lot like acupressure— but her hands felt slightly cooler than normal, and with every touch, I could feel a low, gentle current of magic working through me. It reminded me of the last time I'd worked with Elaine Mallory, my first love, and she'd used a technique she'd based on an old Japanese discipline called "reiki." There had been more massage than acupressure to Elaine's technique, but the general principles seemed the same— and were very relaxing.
Lash spoke while she worked, talked at first about nothing in particular, just rambling about the things she'd seen and felt and tasted since taking on a human body. Then Buffy asked an interesting question, and I sharpened my attention to listen to the answer.
"So can human-you remember everything that angel-you ever did or learned?"
"Oh, no." Lash sounded amused and embarrassed at the same time. "There's not enough room in a human memory for all the time I existed as a fallen angel, let alone the time before I fell. I had to… pick and choose what to bring with me. Mostly it was… well, easier than you might expect.
"I deliberately abandoned my memories of Heaven, for if I am to be mortal, I cannot know what to expect after I die. I gave up… much for that right, that… please don't laugh, but for that privilege."
"That's not something I'd laugh at," Buffy said softly, her voice very serious. "That you think of this as a privilege, after all you've done, known, experienced…? Lash, that's flattering. To me, to everyone human, that's the nicest thing you could've said." I squeezed Buffy's hand, not wanting to speak— I was drifting far above the pain, didn't want to break that charm by speaking— and she said, "Harry thinks so, too."
"I… am glad that you both understand."
"I don't think I do—" I squeezed again, and Buffy squeezed back. "—and neither does Harry. We probably can't actually understand… but we don't have to, to think that it's pretty damned cool."
There was a long moment of quiet, and in my head, I could see Lash blushing and smiling.
"So I chose very carefully what to remember." Lash sounded like she was smiling as she spoke, and her hands never slowed in their gentle motion and pressure. "I kept all my memories of magic and the things that can be done with it, because I knew that this would let me help Harry, and others. I kept… all of my memories of the time I was in Harry's head. I kept all of the things I had promised to tell him, and all of the nearest levels of contextual information related to that, so that I can explain it, when the time comes. After that… I kept my knowledge of languages, I speak all of the major languages on Earth, and some of the more used dialects.
"And… I kept some memories of the things I did as Lasciel. The… the hurts I caused, the damage I did, the… I made myself remember the… the amusement she took in manipulating, weaving webs that left those humans she dealt with thinking and feeling that the only choices they had left were those she presented them."
"Why would you keep those?" Buffy sounded a little shocked, and her hand tightened on mine for a moment. "Why hurt yourself like that?"
"Because I will not ever, ever be that person again." Lash's voice was flat and implacable. "I must remember those things, that I can avoid repeating them, that I can have some hope of atoning for them. I am sure to encounter Lasciel someday, Buffy, and I will not be trapped by her, or manipulated by her.
"To avoid that, I must remember… the pain. The delight in causing the pain. The… 'the long game,' as she called it. The way she'd pick up threads left by a previous host, one who'd been defeated, or given up her coin, pick them up and again start weaving them….
"That's why I kept those memories. To oppose what I was, I must remember it."
For a long, long moment, no one spoke. Nothing would have been adequate, I don't think.
"You know," Buffy said slowly after a long moment, "I realize that you haven't really known her for more than a couple of days, and I realize that you may not even know if you're actually attracted to women yet… but I'll tell you right now that if you are, and if you do end up dating my sister… don't worry about asking my permission to marry her, if it comes to that, and Illinois legalizes it.
"You're pre-approved to marry Dawn."
I could hear Lash blushing again, and I could hear the smile on her face when she said simply, "Thank you, Buffy."
"You're welcome, Lash.
"So, what other memories did you keep?" Buffy's smile was as plain in her voice as Lash's was.
They talked for a while, and I drifted in and out. I noticed when Buffy let go of my hand for a while, as Lash worked that hand, then took it again when Lash finished there.
Finally, Lash seemed to finish her treatment— or so I thought. Her hands left me, and she said, "Harry? Don't move, but I need you to… pay attention for a moment. And Buffy, you should let go of his hand."
Buffy released my hand, and I made myself focus, come away from the drifting peace I was experiencing. "Lash, that felt amazing, thank you."
"That was just the preparation, Harry," Lash said, sounding amused. "Now comes the actual treatment, now that your body is ready to receive the power I'm going to summon into it. That's what the acupressure and massage was all about— opening your body to the magic around you.
"Now… now I'm going to up the flow. It won't hurt, but you may feel a sensation like… a tingling, foot-was-asleep-now-it's-waking-up sort of thing. Only all over, all right?"
"Okey-doke," I agreed— and Lash said a single word.
Magic hit every single one of the acupressure spots that Lash had worked on, and apparently opened, as I felt the energy flowing in, gently, but undeniably, and it did tingle, like she said.
It also all moved, slowly but undeniably, to my injured side. At the same time, everywhere it passed felt… I hadn't really noticed the whole-body ache that was probably a remainder of the demonic poison that had gotten into my system, but I noticed it now, as it diminished a little— and kept on doing so, slowly but surely.
I lay there for quite some time, just luxuriating in the feeling of returning energy, the slow-but-steady reduction of pain, and the idea that I might be healing fast enough to let me help my child and Michael's.
After a long while, I heard a knock on the family room door, and Molly, returned from Edinburgh, stuck her head in and said, "Supper's ready, everyone. Boss, how do you feel?"
"Better," I said, and I sat up slowly, let Buffy help me do so. "Not a hundred percent or anything, but… better."
Buffy got me up and stayed under one shoulder, and Lash got under the other. I leaned on them as needed, not wanting to undo any of what Lash had done.
Murphy had arrived while Lash worked on me, and she gave me a long, careful hug when we came out— I was grateful, and glad that someone had thought to call her. I'd had too much on my mind to think of it.
Supper was amazing— apparently, Michael's mother had been the one to teach Charity much of what she knew about cooking. I ate hugely, partly to fuel the repairs that Lash's magical treatment were speeding up and partly just because the food was that good.
After supper, Lash and Buffy made me go lie down, and I ended up on the floor of the family room again, to avoid the stairs and to be as comfortable as possible.
Mouse came in and lay beside me, Buffy sat in a chair nearby, and Lash sat talking with Molly and Dawn (I wondered idly how much blushing was going on) in chairs around the fireplace.
Michael sat next to the one phone in the room, his lips moving constantly in uninterrupted prayer.
The call came after midnight, probably from sheer spite— Nicodemus could be an asshole that way. Michael was still awake, of course, as were most of us adults (Daniel, the oldest of Michael's boys, had fallen asleep in a recliner).
Michael answered it halfway through the first ring, and he did so by saying, "Hello, Nicodemus."
For a long moment, Michael said nothing, just listened as Nicodemus spoke. Then he said, "It's not too late, you know. You can still give up the coin."
All of us in the room heard Nicodemus laugh out loud at that. Then he said something else to Michael, who said, "No. Not until I hear them, both of them, so that I know they're unharmed."
A moment later, Michael tilted the phone away from his ear, and we all heard, dimly, Hope Carpenter say, "We're okay, Daddy. They aren't hurting us, they're just… trying to be scary. But even Maggie isn't scared."
"These pendejos ain't nothin' to be scared of!" Maggie's voice, scornful and angry, and I sagged in sheer relief to hear it. "We're okay, Michael."
"Language, Maggie," Michael said, trying for stern and managing relieved.
"Now," said another voice a moment later, a voice I recognized as that of Nicodemus, the nominal leader of the Order of the Blackened Denarius. "You've heard them. Give me Dresden, I know he's there."
Michael brought me the phone— an old, cord-equipped phone that he'd brought in from somewhere else in the house, so that the wizards in the vicinity would be less likely to mess with it— and I took the receiver and said, "Well?"
"Dresden," Nicodemus snarled and his voice was loaded with as much hate as I'd ever heard. "You for the girls— but my way!"
"I'm listening," I said calmly.
Nicodemus talked briefly, outlining the conditions of the exchange, and I winced. This wasn't going to be easy to get around. In fact, I wasn't sure that I could get around his conditions. Once he'd told me the condition I was to be in, I asked, simply, "Where and when?"
I had hopes, but he dashed them, didn't specify the island where we'd met last, and that I'd since turned into a sanctum for me via spell.
He answered me, said, "Any violations and the girls die. I'll have my men shoot them in the stomach, too— it will be agonizing, Dresden."
I tried to hold it in, but I couldn't. It wasn't that it was Maggie and Hope, it really wasn't— it was that he'd threaten to do that to kids, to little girls, and never mind that they were girls I cared about.
"I'm going to kill you," I said, my voice flat and implacable. "I'll play it your way, Nicodemus— and I'll kill you anyway. This time, I won't leave the job half-done."
"If you can, with all the conditions I've set," Nicodemus said, his voice half snarl, "then I guarantee you that I will take you with me!"
"We'll find out, won't we?"
He hung up on me.
I unclenched my teeth and let out a breath that almost came out a growl.
"How bad is it?" Michael asked.
"He's thought it through." I dry scrubbed my face, inhaled slowly, and shook my head. "It's pretty bad."
"Tell us," Buffy said, taking my hand.
So I did.
I was to show up at an abandoned airfield south of Chicago at two o'clock the next afternoon. I was to be driven by someone with no magical powers, and we were to stop at the gate. There, I was to get out and show that I was dressed as Nicodemus demanded; running shorts and low-top sneakers. I was not to be wearing any thing else, especially not jewelry, and I wasn't to be carrying anything. I was to turn slowly, with my hands over my head, to demonstrate that I had no weapons behind my back. Only then would the gate be opened, and I be allowed in. The gates would be left open, and as I went in, the girls would be sent out. They were to reach the gate about the time I reached Nicodemus and his men, who would be waiting for me. The driver would be allowed to leave with the girls— and I'd be Nick's personal play-toy for a while, until I died.
For a long moment, there was silence, then Michael said, "He'll try to kill the girls and the driver."
"Yeah," I said, and shook my head. "This one's gonna be a pain to get out of with everyone okay."
"Why is he so determined to kill you, Harry?" Sanya asked, and I think he beat Michael to it by maybe a tenth of a second.
"Ah." I shifted a little, then gave it up and laid back down flat. "Well, the night Michael got hurt so badly… on the island?"
"I remember, yes," the big Russian said. "Did something happen that you didn't tell us about then?"
"Uh, yeah," I admitted. "Nicodemus sort of ambushed me at the boat. Tried to have Lasciel's shadow hold me so he could take me away. But of course—"
"I was no longer there!" Lash said with a laugh. "You bluffed him, didn't you?"
"I did." I took a deep breath and said, "I bluffed him— then I damn near killed him. Only failed because Deirdre— his daughter for any not in the know— showed up with about a bajillion of those mute guys they use for thugs, and I had to toss him overboard to distract them so I could get away."
"Almost— but how, the Barabbas Noose makes him invulnerable to harm!" Michael protested.
"Michael, there's always a catch to things like these, a hole in the magic— has to be to let it function." I smiled a small, hard smile. "I figured out his.
"Nicodemus is invulnerable to harm— from anything but the noose itself."
For a moment, Michael simply stared at me. Then he licked his lips and said, "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You were out of the game," I said with a shrug. "Also, I figured that if he thought other people knew, Nicodemus would start killing them. By keeping it a secret, well… I was protecting people."
"So why tell us now?" Molly asked, her voice… full of something that I thought might be anger, though I wasn't sure why.
"Uh." I gulped and looked down at my feet, not wanting to look at any of my friends. "I don't think… I can't see a way out of this one. I'll try, I'll go down fighting, hit him with my death curse, but… I really don't see a way for me to come out of this one alive.
"I wanted to make sure you people know how to hurt him if I… don't come back this time."
For a long moment, there was silence— then Molly, Buffy, Michael, and Murphy all started talking.
Well, Michael started talking. The ladies were doing something more like shouting.
Finally, Molly managed to out-shout everyone else.
"LIKE HELL YOU'RE DYING!" That shut everyone up, and Molly took several steps closer, stood glaring down at me, and she looked so much like her mother at that moment that I actually cringed. "You're NOT dying— we're not letting it happen. You're not letting it happen! You've faced down fucking Outsiders, Harry, and walked away from it. So what the hell has this guy got that the one thing most wizards on the planet fear more than any other got that Outsiders don't?"
"Well, I—"
"He's got nothing!" Molly swung her arm out to point at several people as she continued.
Pointing at Buffy: "We've got the freaking slayer, who happens to be in love with you, and will probably fight like seventeen kinds of hell to keep you alive!"
Pointing at Lash: "We've got a wizard who knows spells for doing things that the Senior Council of the White Council of Wizards have never seen or heard of, things they thought couldn't be done!"
Pointing at Xander, then Sanya, then Lash: "We've got three, count them, THREE knights of the cross, which the world hasn't seen in almost ten years!"
Pointing at Dawn: "We've got the last pure Watcher, who's got a whole bunch of scary-useful stuff in her head, stuff that surprises even Buffy and Xander!"
Pointing at Carlos: "We've got the youngest ever Regional Commander of the Wardens of the White Council of Wizards, a wizard you've fought beside and know is deadly dangerous and who happens to be one of your best friends."
(She had a point. Make that four best friends and a little sister.)
Pointing at Murphy: "You've got the single most experienced pure mortal combatant against magical creatures in the world, one who's saved your life on more than one occasion!"
Pointing at Mouse: "We've got your magical super-dog, who, if what you told us after the last time you met Nicodemus is true, actually scares him!"
Pointing at her dad: "You've got a veteran in this kind of battle, one who can help you plan strategies, and maybe shoot down stuff that won't work, suggest things that will."
Finally, Molly pointed at herself. "And you've got me! The apprentice you trained, the one who impressed the Captain of the Wardens with her freaky approach to combat with magic that shouldn't be usable combatively. Your apprentice, who can veil things so well that a warlock using magic taught him by an Outsider, augmented by an Outsider, maybe even possessed by an Outsider, couldn't detect her!
"So don't you DARE lay there and say you can't get out of this alive, Harry Dresden, or so help me GOD, I will tell everyone here about the day of your first big date with Anastasia, and you do NOT want that!"
I lay there and gaped, and thought about using my wizard's Sight to see if Molly was maybe possessed by the ghost of her mother.
Then I heard Buffy chuckle. "You go, Molly."
"Damn straight," Murphy added. "Kid, that was priceless!"
"I'm jealous," Carlos said, grinning at her. "I could never get away with yelling at his dinosaur-ness like that. You rock, Molly."
The others chimed in— and I found myself grinning so widely that it made my cheeks burn.
"Okay." I sat up, took Buffy's hand when she offered it, let her pull me to my feet. "Okay, Molly. I'm sorry."
"You should be." She threw her head back with an imperious sniff, and glared at me. "So— what now?"
"Now," I said slowly, heading for the table normally used for games and sitting at its head, with Buffy next to me to help support me, "we start brainstorming.
"If I'm going to come out of this alive, we're going to have to be sneakier than a two-thousand year old man— and the fallen angel that lives in his head."
The others came over and sat down as Carlos snorted and said, "Okay, so what's the hard part?"
I laughed— and we started working on a way to save me as well as the girls.
