"That was foolish," Lasciel berated me for the third time in as many minutes as we made our way down the sidewalk.

I was walking slow, courtesy of last night's...energetic pursuits. I didn't hurt, exactly. The vampire had been too thorough for that. But I felt different. Older. A little more worldly. It should probably have upset me that the vampire was able to feed on me. It meant the delusion of care I had for Jordan wasn't half so potent as I thought it had been. I did not love and was not loved in return. Yet another kick in the pants.

It was hard to concentrate on. A thick, honeyed languor had settled into my bones, cushioning me against anxiety, anger, and depression. The keen edge had been sanded off of my emotions, making them easier to handle as I approached home.

I'd woken up alone in an apartment I didn't recognize. Thomas had left me a number to call for help. I'd trashed it. There wasn't any help to be had for me, unfortunately. Thomas had done all he could. I was grateful he hadn't tried to stick around for the morning after.

"He could have killed you, Molly," she seethed.

"You wouldn't have let him. Stop clutching your pearls."

She fell silent, still angry with me and I was left looking back at the long road that had carried me here. All the good intentions that had amounted to nothing in the end. The line between right and wrong that had gotten hazy somewhere along the way.

Life hinges on the choices we make. The good ones, the bad ones, and especially the foolish ones. I thought I'd once heard Harry say something to that effect. He was full of philosophical tidbits like that. Or maybe I was thinking of Confucius and just misattributing it to Harry. They were both wise and venerable and said shit that went way above my head. I doubted Harry would look as good in a Hanfu. I think that's what it's called.

The little tiff was the most we'd spoken since leaving Thomas' apartment. I think she was offended. I couldn't really bring myself to care. Certainly not to ask her about the proper terminology for my abstract thoughts.

Walking down the street toward home reminds me of my last day here. All the choices that I'd made. All the things I could have done differently.

So many choices. Mine. Harry's, my parents'. I should have argued with mom when she asked me to take out the trash. If I'd been a normal teenager and complained about my chores, maybe it wouldn't have played out the way it did. If I hadn't been so enamored of Harry Dresden, terrified of being embarrassed in front of him, I might have put up more resistance. If I hadn't humored little Harry and brought him outside with me, maybe I wouldn't have done it.

Choices, choices, choices. Lasciel would have me believe that this was all predestined and that our meeting was fated. I didn't believe that. How could I go on, thinking that God intended me to be damned? That it wasn't my choices that led me to the miserable spot I found myself in now?

I'd had choices. I could have gone into the house and told my father exactly what had happened. I could have dropped her coin the second I'd taken it up. I could have listened to Anna. I could have stayed the hell away from Nicodemus. I could have exiled myself to a monastery somewhere after the San Ignacio incident and tried for some inner peace. Instead, I'd peeled out on a vengeance quest. I still wanted vengeance. I was still so goddamn angry.

Nicodemus had what I wanted. He was giving me a chance to keep the ones I loved safe and out of the way. Lasciel was right. It was a mercy. But to them, it was a betrayal, plain and simple. When this was over, forgiveness was forever out of my reach. I'd have thrown in on Nic's side for good. They'd know. And my father would be forced to come after me.

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my newly acquired winter coat. I'd left my gear with another Denarian who'd made it into town. If I failed, I could don it before the battle. I felt naked without it.

Damn Nicodemus. Damn him straight to hell. I wanted to be working on the damn circle right now.

I turned the corner and there it was. Home.

It looked just the same as when I'd left, with the exception of a small army of snowmen in the front. A large snowman and snow woman, one wearing dad's work gloves and the other mom's knit cap, stood in front of the procession, followed by seven other snowpeople. My throat closed off.

Seven. One for each kid. Even me. The next biggest snow woman wore one of my old scarves. Time had marched on, but I hadn't been forgotten.

I dared to touch the white tips of the picket fence, feeling like it might evaporate at any second. The shady trees and shrubs that surrounded the yard were glazed with snow. If I strained, I could hear laughter and squeals from the backyard. Everyone was home for the holidays, just like Nicodemus had said.

The gate opened with nary a sound. No angel dove down to smite me. No alarms sounded. It was just a fence and I was just a girl stepping through it, to anyone who might be watching. I crunched through the snow in the yard. Approached the door, took in a shaking breath and knocked.

There was sound on the other side. A television playing a game. Music. Laughter. And then the door swung open.

Mom stood on the other side, her golden hair swept up into a messy bun, smiling faintly at something before she turned fully to face the door. She was beautiful. I hadn't truly appreciated just how beautiful before leaving her for two long years. Her eyes focused on me and then filled with tears. The smile dropped from her face and all color fled her cheeks. She let out a choked sound and then simply keeled over, great wracking sobs seizing her at once.

I just stared at her, a little stunned for a second before peering helplessly into the room beyond.

"May I come in?"