The faeries gave my dad a very wide and respectful berth. It probably had something to do with the angelic guard always present around a retired Knight of the Cross. If my dad's security detail made me twitchy, I could only imagine that the Wee Folk regarded the angels as economy-sized bug zappers. Then again, it could have had everything to do with the spread of fast food that he'd laid out for them in Larry's tool shed. Dealer's choice, really.

I'd insisted that Dad set up away from prying eyes. Hendricks already knew more than I was comfortable with, and I didn't want him spilling the secrets to swaying faerie allegiance to the Baron of Chicago. The last I'd checked in, Dad had set himself up as a sort of Union Rep and was deep in negotiations with each division. He'd bring their demands to me when they were through. If he wasn't done in a few hours, I'd drag him out, but for now, I was content to eat the Whopper with cheese dad had picked up for me. Apparently eating the pizza was too much like embezzling funds. Hendricks had already finished his burger and was staring at the shiny foil with a frown.

"Why?" he asked. breaking the silence for the first time in an hour. It made me jump.

"Why what?"

"Why'd you let it get this far? I'm not sure what your terms with these guys are, but you needed cash to get the job done. Why didn't you come to one of us and ask for help?"

I raised an eyebrow. "That should be obvious. I told Marcone how it would be when I signed on. I work for him but we're not on the same team. I don't like him and I don't trust him, especially not with a case this sensitive."

"You didn't need to strike a deal with an outside power to begin with," he argued. "You have a veritable arsenal at your fingertips already. Ask Marcone for resources. You really think he'd say no?"

"You ever hear the phrase, 'the devil you know' Hendricks?" I flicked a finger toward the window that looked out over the postage stamp yard. "I know these guys. They may be fickle, but they're not complicated. I know exactly what they want from me, and they do their jobs as long as I hold up my end of the bargain. I don't know Marcone. I don't know what he wants from me, other than the obvious. I take his help and before you know it, I'm hogtied by all the strings attached. I've been down this road before. The last time I buddied up with a guy like Marcone, I barely made it out alive."

Hendrick's face hardened. "He's not Nicodemus."

"Give him a coin and a thousand years and he'll be close."

Hendricks closed off without warning, locking his emotions down before I had a chance to catch his reaction. Which was a reaction in and of itself. Yeesh. Someone really had a thing for his boss. If I hadn't seen him around Sigrun in the ring, I would have wondered if he had more than just platonic feelings for Marcone.

"Fine," he said after a long silence. "But I thought you were less petty than that, Carpenter. Guess I was wrong."

I bristled. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He fixed me with a hard stare. "You know what the job is and what's at stake. While you cling to the moral high ground, the rest of us are drowning. If you don't use every tool at your disposal, the lives lost are on you."

"Hendricks-" I began but was forced to swallow the words as he leaned into me. We were close enough that I could have counted his eyelashes. I looked away before a soulgaze could begin.

"You're not one of them," he said quietly. "You know it, I know it, and they know it. You're not a white hat. You're like us. A bad guy that stops worse guys. Like it or not, you burned bridges a long time ago, and now this is the price of doing business. If you wanted to sit on your hands and angst about your morals, you should have gone back to Faerie. But since you're here, you can do me a favor. Next time you're in a bind, call me since you don't have the balls to ask Marcone yourself."

He pushed away from the table without warning, sending the ball of shiny wrapping paper rolling across Larry's blue plaid tablecloth. I stared at a speckle of mustard it left in its path as he stalked away, burger curdling in my gut, his words worming their way past my careful control.

There was an element of truth to what he'd said. I kept banging my head against a brick wall where Karrin and the others were concerned, and only Abby appreciated the effort. I was contorting myself into knots trying to be something I wasn't, and it hadn't fooled anyone. Karrin regarded me with all the wary suspicion of a recently released convict, convinced I was about to re-offend.

"He's wrong, you know."

Dad's voice was so close and unexpected that I startled, sliding halfway off my chair before he could catch me. He settled into Hendrick's empty seat when I was steady, offering me a sad smile.

"He's really not," I sighed. "I'm not like you or Karrin."

"True," he acknowledged. "But that doesn't equate to evil, Molly. Sometimes a gray hat is more useful than a white one."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I think one of the failings of the modern church is the idea that only the perfect can enter God's house. They forget that Jesus scandalized the Pharisees by ministering to tax collectors, prostitutes, lepers, and Gentiles. We have to meet people where they are, not where we'd like them to be. You can do that more effectively than Karrin or me because you have been there. It makes you credible, opens a dialogue."

"So you want me to minister to John Marcone?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed. "I'd start smaller, but if you feel so led."

I sighed and leaned my head against his shoulder. "How do you always know how to do the right thing? I feel like every step I make is the wrong one."

His fingers flexed almost painfully around mine. "I don't. I trust in the plan the Lord has for me and I use my best judgment. You will too. I have faith that good will come from whatever you choose. I believe in you, Molly."

Well, that made one of us.

"What's the damage on the pizza front?"

His grin widened. "I'll draw up a schedule and let you know tomorrow morning over breakfast. You're coming home with me tonight. No buts."

"That's fair."

"Your mother is making pancakes."

My stomach made an audible sound of enthusiasm, undercutting the unhappy look on my face. Dad laughed and got a hand under my elbow, and together we limped to the front door, two sides of a slow and ungainly three-legged race. I had a feeling I'd be staying an extra day so Mom could look at my injuries and hack the gum from my hair.

"Well, in that case, I guess I can stick around."

"I thought you might say that. Your mother prepped the sewing room after you called. Maggie has the run of your old room these days. You should get to know her. You might be the only one in the area with enough power and skill to teach her if she takes after Harry."

Maggie Dresden. Harry's little girl. I hadn't spared her much of a thought since taking up the mantle of the Black Knight. My stomach performed an odd little pirouette at the thought. Harry's kid was only eight or nine at the moment, but she'd be a teenager soon enough and she'd need a mentor. I wasn't sure I'd be the best one to teach her. There should be someone better, someone more sane than me to impart lessons to an impressionable young wizard. But he was right. I was the only one around with any significant magic, and my gray hat spoke louder than his white one when it came to dealing with her power. When I said not to do something, I could back it with damn good reasons why.

"I'd like that."