Trust
I walked around the full-length mirror examining the snarling version of myself on the other side of the glass. Oh, she looked similar, but her teeth were always bared. And, of course, she had fangs ready to eat any man's or woman's heart out. She was pissy because I didn't feed on who she wanted me to.
"You're that upset?" I asked, looking at the red cocktail dress laid out on my bed. It was a little longer than I normally preferred at the knee, but I'd agreed to be a little less promiscuous tonight. Maggie would be present, which meant this demon had to be tame.
My eyes trailed back to the mirror where the demon moved its mouth, and whispers built in my head. Gain his trust, and then bring him under our power, it said. Smiling and shaking my head, I replied, "You need to be patient and satisfied with the food you're given. Between last night and today, I've fed you four people. And you even killed one. Tonight, you'll be fine for a few hours."
There was a soft hiss in my mind, and before the demon's voice faded, it said, "Don't go soft like your brother."
At that point, I flew across the room and kicked the full body mirror with everything I had. The glass shattered and sliced up my legs, but the old wooden piece of furniture smashed into the wall of my bedroom, breaking into four or five pieces.
Somedays I want to tear that demon out and strangle it for a few minutes, I thought, taking a deep breath.
A voice spoke up behind me and said, "I'd hate to see the Raith household furniture budget."
As the cuts on my legs started to close, I felt frigid air seep into my personal living space. Cold was nothing new to me, but this was a magical cold driven by an ancient mantle, even older than I was.
I turned to see the Winter Lady sprawled on my bed, enjoying the three pillows I had hand stitched by a skilled seamstress in Paris over a century ago. The Lady's long white hair was sprawled over my pillows. I looked upon an outfit only Molly Carpenter would have chosen, torn jeans, black Dr. Martens boots, and a white tank top under a black leather jacket. The girl was still trying to find her balance, but I knew from personal experience humanity had a shelf life when it shared a body with supernatural qualities. And the Winter Mantle would eventually consume her, as it did her predecessor.
"Winter Lady, to what do I owe the pleasure? And—for the record, my front door works just fine," I said, walking over to where I'd poured a glass of Riesling wine before the demon started speaking.
The Lady didn't seem to care about invasions of privacy. The two times I'd seen her since the War for Chicago, she'd been considerably colder than I'd witnessed Molly behave before. A piece of her feral nature seemed to have resurfaced, not fey entirely, but more like she'd become after my fiance died.
Does she think she's losing Harry? Is that what's causing this? I thought, considering our dynamic for a moment.
"Can I offer you a glass of wine? I can have one of my staff bring up another one. I've got them trained to be pretty quick, you know," I said, sipping my own.
She hopped off the bed and produced a brown folder with some papers inside.
"That won't be necessary. I'm just here to deliver the final list from Queen Mab," she said, holding it out toward me. Straight to business. She certainly didn't let her pissy attitude get in the way, at least.
"Queen Mab? My my, you certainly hold a little more respect for your boss than Harry does. I'll have my staff start drawing up birth certificates and social security cards for them first thing tomorrow," I said, taking the cold documents from her grasp.
At the mention of Harry's name, the Winter Lady grew just a few degrees cooler, and I swear I saw frost start to form on the broken mirror glass scattered along my wood-paneled floor.
To her credit, all Molly said was, "You know how he is."
I took another drink of wine and said, "Indeed, I do. And speaking of Harry, I'm actually having dinner with him tonight. He's introducing me to Maggie."
That brought Molly Carpenter forward. I could see the change in her eyes as she pushed through the mantle. Maybe she'll yet keep a shred of humanity from Winter's grasp, I thought, given her lineage.
Molly took a deep breath, and I couldn't tell if she wanted to kill me or just hurt me to a point. But this wasn't the rail-thin teen girl running around Chicago with her friends, dyeing her hair neon colors, and being a punk. She'd been forced to grow up over the last few years. And I respected her for that much, even if she didn't hold the same considerations toward me at the moment.
When Molly spoke, it wasn't quite as cold. In fact, there may have been a little trace of fire on her tongue, Harry's pupil in every way.
"Maggie is practically my little sister. Not that you'll have any opportunity to harm her with the large black bear of a dog following her every move, but if I do find out you hurt Maggie in even the slightest way, I'll kill you, Lara Raith," Molly said, eyes blazing with a fierce power of protectiveness she inherited from her father.
I was careful in how I responded, not out of fear, but almost out of a sense of reassurance. That other voice was speaking in my head now. Just. . .calm her down a little bit. Don't be the monster she's seen you as.
"Molly Carpenter, I can assure you, I'd never lay a finger on Harry's daughter. In fact, seeing as we're due to become one big happy family, I suppose the law makes me a stepmother of sorts," I said. "And besides, wouldn't your Queen's plans be ruined if you killed me? I can't imagine you'd escape her wrath for that one, not after we've just solidified a new alliance between House Raith and the Winter Court."
The young woman scoffed but did not look away.
"I would happily endure Queen Mab's wrath over your death if harm came to Maggie. She's worth it," Molly said, and I could see all the determination in her eyes to back up that claim.
Finishing my wine, I thought for a moment at the terrible things I'd seen Queen Mab do while we were building our alliance. And to know Molly was willing to go through all that and more just for a shot at my death should harm come to Maggie. . .it wasn't threatening. It was respectable. I'd do the same for Thomas.
So, I lowered my voice just a tad and said, "Tonight is simply an exercise of trust, Molly. I'm. . .trying something new with your Knight."
And she seemed to sense a genuine intention in my voice. Molly unclenched her fists, but the warmth remained. And she squinted for measure, a little confused by my tact.
"Having Harry's trust isn't the same thing as having mine. Queen Mab wants those processed by the end of the week," Molly said. It was remarkable the transition before me as I witnessed her humanity recede back into the mantle.
"It'll be done," I said, and she was gone.
Could she kill me? With all the power of Winter at her disposal, I wasn't arrogant enough to think myself immune from death. I'd have died in that damn cave if Harry helped me get us out of there.
I thought back to that kiss, the heat that moment brought, and pure animalistic need from me. Maybe my inner demon was dissatisfied because it felt like it never got to finish what it started, like only having a nibble of a cupcake and leaving the whole thing sitting in plain view.
But for me, things were growing progressively more complicated. Why was I really doing this trust exercise? I honestly didn't anticipate making moves against my fiance, so why bother gaining his complete trust?
Because you both need it, the newer voice whispered in my head.
"I am Lara Raith. The only thing I need are the heads of all the remaining fomor swimming in the sea," I muttered, a familiar rage tearing through me. I was still furious a week after the War for Chicago at what those bastards and their titan had done. The endless financial regulatory meetings alone were a nightmare for even my most trusted Raith-paid attorneys to participate in.
So far, the aid into Chicago since the war had been slow. But the mortal authorities were fast to schedule meetings, endless meetings on what happened, who to blame, where money should be spent. It was maddening.
But that was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, Harry and Maggie, along with a dog the size of a small motorcycle, required my attention.
So I put on my red cocktail dress, a pair of matching red heels, and found a little black purse with a thin string that looped over my shoulder. And I went downstairs. One of my housestaff heard me coming and was waiting by the back door, to see if I needed anything. His name was Emil, and I was beginning to think he might be earning a pay raise soon.
He held up a Lafite Rothschild 1900 wine bottle with a white ribbon tied around it, and a small wrapped package. The gift paper surrounding the present was covered in a design that featured caucasian ovcharka dogs sleeping on different colored couches. I took both and went outside where a silver 2022 Jaguar XF was waiting, freshly polished, no doubt by Emil.
Okay, I'll definitely make sure to increase his pay, I thought, making a mental note. I could certainly respect dedication to work, even in a plain mortal such as himself. Maybe I'd even add him to the "do not feed on" list for my sisters.
I drove for a while until coming into a residential neighborhood I'd surveilled many times. Pulling up to the address Harry had given me, I saw a house radiating warmth from a whole family that called it home. My fiance would say there's a magic generated by the wholesome feelings of a family comfortable and loving each other in their home. I wasn't sure I believed in any such nonsense. A green minivan waited in the driveway, and as I got out with my gifts, I caught sight of an angry woman sitting behind the wheel, gripping it tightly, one Charity Carpenter.
Nodding at her with a smile, I went over to the front door where a man with a cane was leaning against the wall waiting for me. He'd healed up some since I last laid eyes on him, but I could tell his body wasn't what it once was and may never be again.
I could sense the man heard me coming before he saw me, and he looked up at me with a smile I was sure Harry considered warm.
"Ah, Ms. Raith. Welcome to my home," he said.
"Sir Knight, thanks for lending it to us for dinner," I said.
He eyed the gifts and then said, "Well, I am quite fond of the house, but I'm even more fond of the man, girl, and dog inside. So I'd like your word that they'll all be safe and happy upon my return."
I smiled, a warmer expression than I'd given this man's wife. And I reassured him, "Sir Knight, I can promise you I'm just here to eat dinner with Harry and meet his lovely daughter. There will be no violence or shenanigans while I'm here. Though Harry being happy when you get home is a promise I won't make. He tends to be quite a moody wizard, as you well know. I can't influence his mood. . . well, not in a way I'd use your house for, anyway."
Michael's smile grew wider, and he even let a little raspy chuckle out.
"You can drop the 'Sir Knight' stuff. That's behind me now," he said, pointing to the cane.
I squinted a little and said, "And yet. . . not long ago this was not the case. You may not consider yourself 'Sir Knight' anymore, but every member of the supernatural community you've done battle with will consider you a Knight until you're in the ground."
Michael shrugged as if to say, "I won't argue with you there."
With my hearing, I detected Charity rolling down the window to the minivan, no doubt to make sure I wasn't feasting on her husband.
The Knight limped past me and said, "I grilled steaks and made a nice salad in the wooden bowl by the stove. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the fridge."
"How very generous of you. You have my thanks. I didn't want Harry trying to feed me Burger King two nights in a row," I said.
When he was within Charity's line of sight, the Knight turned back to me and said, "Ms. Raith, I don't know if you and my friend in there are really going to be married. I don't know what schemes you have for him. And I don't know what good my asking can do, but I've built my entire life on faith and more second chances than I can count."
The Knight had my full attention now. I could hear his heart beating a little faster, and his throat was straining with some words. He might have even been trying to fight back tears.
"Harry has always been a fighter with the odds stacked against him, but this last bout—it came with more considerable losses than he's faced before. And now that those wizard fools have turned their backs on Harry—well I'm one of his last human friends. Harry was bound to the shadow of a Denarian, he is bound to the Winter Queen of Faerie, and now it appears he will be bound to you," Michael continued.
"It certainly looks that way," I said, quietly, just trying to give the Knight time to ask whatever question was under all this human chatter. I watched Michael grit his teeth a few times and even hold back some words I could only guess at. He might have even started sweating more. It was proof the Knights always have been some of the most ordinary humans to wield extraordinary tools of power. Still, I waited for the question, figuring I had some idea what it might be.
A pickup truck with an American flag mounted in the bed drove by the house with a rattling diesel engine. Its noise gave Michael a chance to stop speaking for a moment and retool his approach. It looked like he was about to beg for his friend's life, something I know wasn't beneath his ego, because the man had none. He couldn't have wielded Amoracchius for this long with any amount of ego. What drove Michael was family, and without a doubt he considered Harry to be part of it."
"I guess what I'm trying to ask is this. If Harry is to be increasingly surrounded by monsters, if he is going to be bound to one more monster, if he's going to become a monster himself, don't let him be a bad one," Michael said, putting both hands on his cane, though even that might not have provided enough support for what he'd asked.
Was this Knight's head on straight? To ask a long-lived succubus with an extended history of bloodshed and political backstabbing if she'd keep his best friend on the straight and narrow? It was pure madness.
Or maybe it's faith, that quiet new voice whispered in my mind.
I was trying not to sneer, and Michael's eyes were watching me closely. Lara Raith was under his microscope, and I didn't care for it one bit, even if we were borrowing his house for the evening.
So I sighed and tried to practice what I was about to do with Harry, show some trust.
"Sir Knight, as I told your daughter earlier, I'm not here to harm the wizard, my betrothed. I didn't even ask for his hand in marriage. That was all Queen Mab's doing. But now that we are engaged to be married in one year, I'm trying something entirely new with Harry. It's why he's introducing me to his daughter tonight, perhaps the one person he cares for more than you," I said.
Michael raised an eyebrow and asked, "And what new thing are you trying with Harry?"
"Trust," I half whispered, as though the Carpenter house itself might start laughing at me. I could still barely take myself seriously when discussing trust. And yet. . . here I was, bearing gifts for a girl and her father.
To my surprise, the Knight's warm smile returned. He even nodded slightly and said, "Ms. Raith, I know there are good monsters in Harry's life. He has a pack of werewolves that patrol Chicago's streets looking for others to help. The Little Folk follow him with undying devotion and have helped save many lives. Harry Dresden inspires good in people, and I'm asking you to help keep that goodness alive in him when he can no longer do it himself."
"Are you saying you're placing your faith in a White Court vampire, Sir Knight?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Michael's smile only grew, and he looked over at Charity. That damned noisy pickup truck drove by again, heading the opposite direction.
"Maybe I'm trusting you, Lara," he said before turning to walk to the minivan. Before he was out of earshot, I called out, "Is the implication that should I break this trust you'll once again take up a sword and come for my head?"
"No, Lara. That's not trust. That'd be a threat, and I don't work under that system. Trust means I'll grill you a steak, let you sit at my table without my supervision, and have faith you'll do what you can to help my friend—my brother find the light in dark days to come," he said, getting in the minivan.
Before she rolled up the window, Charity shot me a glare and said, "Load and start the dishwasher before you go, vampire."
Then they pulled out of the driveway, off to a dinner of their own, I suspected.
The demon inside of me hissed, The unarmed Knight doesn't get to make demands of us. Kill him when he returns. He is frail now.
And the quiet new voice said nothing. It didn't have to because I knew no violence would be permitted in this house while I was present. Monster or not, I always kept my word.
So I turned back to the door and pictured Harry and his daughter sitting at the dinner table with that massive black dog resting at their feet, waiting for me to give him one reason to try and bite my throat open.
Molly Carpenter could kill me. What of the shaggy dog under the dinner table? I didn't have any particular interest in finding out, so I knocked on the door three times, took a deep breath, and entered for dinner.
