When I emerged from the Waypoint nearest to Shedd Aquarium, the wind that blasted me was so cold I almost screamed. It cut through the padded coat, two scarves, and gloves that I'd donned in preparation for the journey. I happily embraced Lasciel's ability to alter my perceptions. But even with the summer-like heat that she managed to convince me of, she couldn't stop the chafing effect. I had to squint into the wind in order to trudge up the footpath that had been kicked to the employee entrance.
Nicodemus was waiting for me, holding the door ajar. He held out a garment bag to me and I took it, unzipping it with haste, pulling out my battle gear. He held my sword loosely in one hand ready to pass it to me when I was dressed.
Nicodemus blinked once when I began stripping off layers, dropping them to the floor.
"What are you doing?"
"My father and the rest are going to be here soon. No time for modesty. Besides, you haven't glanced at the black lace bra once, you jerk."
A smirk traced the side of his mouth I could see. And then, like I'd given him tacit permission, he looked. And kept looking, with an expression that toed the line between hunger and hearty amusement. It was a very male expression, like the ones I'd gotten when I started developing in middle school. Getting it from Nicodemus was just...wrong. My skin did its level best to crawl off of me to find a nice place to shower, far, far away from him. I should have kept my damn mouth shut.
"I was under the impression you disliked me."
"Oh, I'd pretty much rather contract every venereal disease in the universe than sleep with you, Nic. But I'm a girl. We get persnickety when people don't notice."
"Hm. And by your presence here, I take it you failed in your objective?" he asked mildly, thankfully changing the subject.
"Not quite. Dresden is taken care of."
Nicodemus raised a brow. "Oh?"
"Caught him while he was asleep. Got into his head a little. Say the trigger words and he goes down like a sack of rocks."
I didn't mention the reconstruction efforts I'd begun or the deal that'd been struck. Better he believe Harry was less capable than I'd made him.
Nicodemus inclined his head with a pleased smile. "A preemptive strike. You're learning, Miss Carpenter."
"I don't like being threatened," I said coolly. "You'd do well to remember that."
Something ugly crossed his face. Oily dislike slid over my skin, even through my almost ironclad shielding. The truth stood between us, for a moment just as bare as I was. I didn't like him. He wasn't overly fond of me either. One of these days that schism was going to result in violence. Then we'd see which of us would come out the victor.
But that day was not today. Nicodemus composed his expression into something neutral after a moment.
"And what shall I say?"
"'I find your lack of faith disturbing.' Oh, and you have to use the voice and sound effects and everything."
His eyes went flat, and his words came out dry.
"Of course. Because otherwise it sounds silly."
"Exactly. See? You get me, man," I said with forced cheer.
Internally, my guts were climbing over themselves like a nest of agitated snakes. I was not looking forward to the coming confrontation. Things were about to hit the fan, and it was up to me to keep the blades from scissoring my friends and family in two.
"Vader?"
"Palpatine would have made more sense," I acknowledged, pulling my arms through the sleeves of my jacket, snapping the latches closed quickly once it settled. "That makes me Darth Molly."
That brought the smile back, traced with hard-edged satisfaction this time.
"I suppose. Under a veil now. Can't give the game away just yet."
I almost stuck my tongue out at him, fear making me more contrary than usual. But I followed orders and shimmered out of sight, following in his wake.
The aquarium looked different than I remembered. The few times I'd been with family or on field trips, it had been well-lit, bustling with activity. Now, with only Nicodemus and the other hidden Denarians in attendance, the place took on a sinister ambiance. The light diffused through the water and gave the illumination an eerie, rippling quality.
Nicodemus stopped in front of-what else?-the shark tank and stood near as he could to the illumination of one of the underwater lamps that stood just to the other side of the tank. It left his profile outlined red-orange light, his shadow cast long and lean against the far wall, where I stood hidden in yet more blackness. Anduriel swayed in time with the motion of one of the passing sharks.
"You look like you're about to jump on a hickory stump and propose a wager," I grumbled.
Nicodemus' mouth curved up into a, well...devilish grin.
"A fiddle of gold against your soul, Miss Carpenter," he said quietly.
The twisting shadow made an almost serpentine sound, and I didn't need Lasciel's presence to tell me that they were enjoying the private joke. It pissed me the hell off, but there was little I could do about it, because, with Lasciel heightening every sense, I could hear the footsteps coming our way.
"Go. Find Namshiel. I will waylay Dresden."
I'd never been more grateful to flee in my life. I had to pause halfway down the corridor, pressing my back against a wall, because there were three shapes moving toward us. The tallest was obviously Mr. Dresden. The second was a man I'd never met, but who was so obviously a mercenary that it should have been tattooed across his forehead. This had to be the infamous Hellhound that I'd been warned about. But it was the third shape that made my stomach bottom out.
Tall and strong despite the fact he was getting on in years. The silver in his hair showed prominently in the flickering light available. His surcoat was pristine white, but for the scarlet cross pattée on its front. The hilt of a broadsword glinted at his waist.
No, no, no! He was supposed to remain behind! He wasn't supposed to be inside when the sign went up. The only people designed to be inside were the Hellhound, the Archive, and Harry. The rest would be trapped outside of the greater circle and unable to interfere when the Archive and the Hellhound put up their fight.
So of course, fate had decided to flip me the middle finger yet again.
Shit. I had to do something. But what? If I took him down here and now the Hellhound would use a fraction of that fearsome skill he was known for and take me apart piece by piece. I edged along as silently as I could, back toward Nicodemus this time. Namshiel would just have to do the spell all on his lonesome. The terse sounds of their conversation covered my retreat.
"He's with them," I hissed to Nicodemus the second I reached his side. "My father came along."
Nicodemus rolled his shoulder once in an easy shrug. "Will you deal with him when the time comes, or shall I?"
I just stared at him. I was sure that he could feel my invisible glare boring a hole into his forehead. I lobbed his own words from a week ago back at him in an angry hiss.
"Don't ask questions you know the answers to, Nic."
A flash of white teeth in the darkness and a low, jubilant laugh.
"Ah, but I do enjoy your defiance, Carpenter."
Harry emerged around the corner a few seconds after I'd settled into the shadows. He was barely limping and didn't seem to need the quarterstaff for support quite as much. It was a little gratifying to see him recovering so quickly. Maybe in the next year or two, he'd be up to throttling Nicodemus for me.
The Hellhound entered after them both and fixed both with hostile stares while my father took up a position in the hall adjacent. Near enough to listen and step inside to face Nicodemus should something nefarious go down.
It was hard to hear what the Hellhound said to the pair because my pulse was drumming so thick and fast in my ears it drowned almost everything else. I was absolutely shocked no one could hear it. Lasciel was keeping track of the conversation, and she'd alert me if there was anything incredibly important going on. So I just concentrated on trying to keep my breathing even and my heartbeat down to a dull roar.
I came into the conversation a minute or two later, judging by the count Lasciel had kept of my heartbeats. Four hundred and two of them, to be exact.
I may have been a little stressed.
"You know Dresden," he paused, frowned a little in consternation, and then affected the proper tone, inflection, and, yes, sound effects. "I find your lack of faith disturbing."
It wasn't half as funny as it should have been.
Harry's face began to curl into a somewhat incredulous look of amusement, then froze in place. His mouth opened and a low, guttural sound of protest squeezed out before his body bucked and his eyes showed white, rolling into the back of his head. His knees folded and he went down, his head making a sound like an egg clunked hard against a bowl. I really hoped he hadn't just cracked his skull open.
Nicodemus smiled and edged just a little nearer, but he didn't lean over Harry, just in case it was a double-cross. He beckoned me forward.
"You may check his vitals if you wish. I do recall you requested his safety when you spoke with Anduriel last if possible."
"Have Anduriel cover me. Do you want me to get caught with my pants down?"
Nicodemus didn't answer, but Anduriel did move as I did, sheltering me from view. I swore I could feel heat leaking off of him, and the intensity of it made every hair on my body stand on end. It wasn't the only thing. I could feel the power building, the magic crackling along every nerve ending I possessed. The trap was about to spring.
I dropped the veil, ready to direct my energies elsewhere if it became necessary to defend myself.
I crept nearer, a little wary of approaching Harry myself. I was ninety percent confident the work I'd done would hold, but Harry had surprised better wizards than me before. I knelt over his body and gingerly pressed my fingers to his neck. It took me a few seconds, but eventually, I got it. Slow and steady. He was still alive. I turned him onto his side so I could get a good look at the side of his head. There was a large red spot and some swelling, but a cursory examination and gentle probe didn't reveal anything worse.
"He's okay. Let's get going."
But of course, that was the exact moment my father decided to lean around the corner. The sound couldn't have been terribly loud from his position, but he'd come to do his due diligence anyway. His eyes swept the hall and appeared to find no one but Nicodemus in residence.
He reached for the hilt of Amoracchius, eyes narrowing.
"What have you done, Nicodemus?"
The power pulled taut, and I knew that even someone without magic had to be able to sense the shift in the air. He drew Amoracchius from its scabbard and shifted into a more ready stance. Light exploded, banishing all shadows but Anduriel, and even he shrank a little in the face of the blade's power.
Nicodemus only smiled.
"Lasciel, you may act in accordance with our agreement."
My father scanned the area again, seeking out the threat he couldn't spy, fingers tightening infinitesimally around the hilt of Amoracchius.
And then Anduriel's presence swept away from me like a freaking curtain, leaving me crouched over Harry's body like a stone gargoyle. My heart stuttered, and I just sort of stared at my father in mute horror. He stared back, incomprehension clear on his face.
Then Lasciel's presence loomed, pressing hard against me as she'd only done a few times before. I was too stunned by the little reveal Nicodemus had arranged to resist her for long. When I straightened, it was in a sinuous rolling motion I'd really only seen from Catwoman or Bond Girls. A strange pressure built in my forehead and suddenly I was seeing double. The world seen through my eyes and from Lasciel's. It was like having my sight open, and in it, Amoracchius blazed like a miniature sun, it's power immense and terrifying.
My lips moved, but the voice that came out was the same drugging contralto I heard in my head. Lasciel's voice issued from my lips.
"Go," she said. "Join the others. I will deal with the Knight."
Sudden horror pulsed across my father's face. I saw, reflected in his eyes, the phosphorus green of Lasciel's sigil and glowing eyes right above my own. I saw him struggle to reject the reality in front of him and, when he failed, the despair that curled his shoulders, deepened every line in his face until I looked far older than his middle-age.
A tremor ran through the hands holding Amoracchius, but he didn't drop it. I wasn't sure he could, at this point. I was pretty sure that his grip on the sword was the only thing tethering him to earth. One solitary tear slid down a weathered cheek.
This had to be the look Caesar had given Brutus before the knife slid in.
"Molly."
I somehow heard the whisper even over the hum of the sword, over the beat of my heart, over the increased rate of Nic's breathing, and the slithering sound of Anduriel's indecipherable vocalizations. That one word was packed with so much raw pain that it physically hurt to listen to. I was pretty sure that he'd have sounded less agonized if I'd stabbed him.
Nicodemus didn't leave. Of course he didn't. He'd orchestrated this drama, so he was going to stick around to watch it, damn it.
Lasciel reached slowly and deliberately for the katana at my waist and when she drew it with a flourish, hellfire flashed through the many sigils carved into the blade. The silver sword let out a discordant sound, unused to channeling the destructive force. It flashed sullen red-orange light back at my father, like a horrific parody of Fidelacchius.
Behind us, the shadow that was Anduriel actually shuddered in apparent ecstasy.
Lasciel drove my body forward with astonishing strength and speed. My father barely had time to get his guard up in time. Our blades clashed, made a terrible sound upon impact, and then we danced apart.
The motions were familiar. I'd done this a thousand times against Lasciel's constructs, had practiced it in the evenings with Nicodemus to exhaust myself. But this was different. This was my father. And he was barely keeping up. Not because he couldn't. I knew he was capable, knew that he'd held Nicodemus at bay before. He'd slain dragons with that sword.
He held back because it was me. Because the demon he fought wore my face.
"Stop this," I begged. "Lasciel, stop. Please."
"I made no promises about the Knight, my host," she replied.
She could see it now, could see the end play out in glorious technicolor. She wanted to drive her claws deep into his throat, tear it open in exactly the same manner that La Llorona had demonstrated so long ago. Killing the Knight would give us power. So much power. Power that I could use-
"Enough!" I shouted, shocked when my voice echoed back to me. "This stops now!"
Lasciel wanted to fight me. She wanted blood. For a second she dangled on the precipice, trying to decide if subjugating me would be worth it.
That was when Nic's hand closed implacably around my waist and jerked me back into his chest. I heard it then. The signal. Tessa's group had accomplished its goal.
And then, seemingly for my father's benefit, Nicodemus freaking groped me, fingers sliding along the portion where the corset met the swell of one breast. Anduriel's shadow slid along my body as well, in that sensation that was too pleasant for words. My eyes threatened to roll back into my head. Nicodemus pressed his face into my hair, mouth tracing the hollow beneath my ear in a manner that was far too intimate.
"Time to take our leave, Margaret." Nicodemus' voice dripped like poisoned honey into my ear. Then I was being yanked backward. We were flying, leaving my father and the glow of Amoracchius far behind.
The only thing I heard over the whipping wind in my ears was my father's furious, anguished bellow of;
"Molly!"
And then we were gone.