When I managed to drag myself into consciousness again, it felt like the Jolly Green Giant was clanging cymbals over my ears.

"Can someone turn down the music?" I groaned. "My head is killing me."

Someone let out a shuddering breath that ruffled my hair and something wet dripped onto my cheek.

"There's no music, Harry," Karrin said thickly.

I frowned. When had Karrin gotten here? Just a few seconds ago I'd been with Nicodemus negotiating for-

Memory walloped me harder than a Gruff hoof. I shot up so fast that my head collided with Murph's, and we both went down cursing. I didn't have far to go, fortunately. Someone had laid me flat on a couch. A cursory examination revealed it to be Michael's, which probably shouldn't have surprised me. It had become our unofficial base camp while we sorted out the Denarian situation.

"Christ, Harry," Karrin said, voice nasal as she pinched the bridge of her nose. I hoped I hadn't broken it. We'd all taken enough damage as it was without hurting each other as well. "What was that for?"

"Nicodemus. Where is he? What happened? We were talking and then-"

"Molly knocked you out." This in a thickly accented voice just off to my right. I didn't have to crane my neck far to see Sanya hovering above an armchair. "Just before they sprung the trap for the Archive."

Michael sat in the chair, shoulders hunched, a thousand-mile stare boring through the walls of his living room. He was completely checked out, not seeming to see any of us. It took me a few seconds to really register what Sanya had said and then put it together with Michael's reaction.

All the pieces slotted together and composed one of the most appalling pictures I'd ever had the misfortune to see.

The whole thing had been a ploy. A means to get Nic's true target in range. Ivy. The son of a bitch had been after the Archive this whole time. He'd staged Marcone's kidnapping as a combination of taunt and test drive. He'd never intended to negotiate with us. He'd been waving a red flag at a bull, daring me to charge.

And more than that, he'd sent in someone who'd completely derail us. Someone we'd be too happy to see to suspect treachery from.

Every face in the room was grim, already stewing in the conclusion I was just now coming to. Luccio must have explained the finer points while I was drooling on Michael's couch.

"Molly," I breathed. I sat up more carefully this time and suffered no unexpected collisions. "Oh God, Micheal, is she-"

Michael said nothing. His expression twitched once. His eyes filled with tears. But he couldn't seem to form words. It scared the crap out of me. I hadn't seen this reaction from him in...ever. I'd known him for years, and I'd never seen him react like this, no matter how badly things went. I'd seen it happen to some of the baby Wardens who faced the Red Court. Too much, too fast, and your mind just snaps under the strain.

"With them," Sanya finished. "After the circle was released, we caught several during the retreat. Five fell to Kincaid before we could get in. Luccio killed one as they fled, as did I. Michael put down four trying to retrieve her. And those are the ones whose coins we were able to capture. We think the Archive may have killed more. But Nicodemus escaped carrying Molly."

I blinked. Four? That was...well it was damn impressive. The Denarians tended to be in a weight class all their own. And if Nic had brought all he had to bear and still lost so many...that was good news. Or might have been, on any other day. Because it was clear that the one Denarian we needed to know the fate of was MIA. Again.

I swung my legs over the side of the couch, noting as I did that the motion was more fluid than it had been in a long time. I didn't feel whole, exactly, but a lot of the chronic pain I'd lived with since Corpsetaker was gone. I tested my limbs one by one, experimenting. My response time was faster. Much, much faster than it had been. I wasn't going to be running a 5K anytime soon, but it was more of a recovery than I'd ever expected to make.

It was something that Listens-To-Wind hadn't been able to give me. Beyond mortal magic. But perhaps not beyond the abilities of a Fallen Angel, exerted through the will of a mortal.

Had Molly tried to heal me?

The thought gave me just a sliver of hope. Granted, that silver was as thin as silk thread, but it was something to grasp. She wasn't gone. I couldn't accept that until I had no other options.

"Where'd they go?"

"Unknown," Luccio said with a scowl. She had her arms crossed over her rather nice new chest and looked about ready to spit nails. I just bet she was doing exactly what I was-wishing she'd have seen any of this coming. "Gard is upstairs tending to Kincaid, but we confirmed she couldn't provide details. The Knights have consulted with their higher authority, and nothing seems forthcoming from that avenue, either."

Fury swelled in my chest and my mouth ran away with it, spitting out a bitter, "Seems pretty fucking unfair, if you ask me. Seeing as the Big Guy has let Nic keep Molly for two years. The least God could do is draw us a road map to where Nic's keeping her."

Michael made a protracted sound of pain, and Sanya crouched over him, rubbing circles into his back as he doubled over.

"Two years," he groaned. "He's had my daughter for two years, Harry. What she must have endured...what he must have inflicted on her to force her hand..."

My mind flitted unwillingly to Shiro's final moments. The savagery inflicted on his body. The torture they'd managed to accomplish over the course of a day, and reduce him to only so much meat. Nicodemus had over a millennium of experience tormenting people. Unspooling them and constructing them in new and abominable shapes, so they barely resembled the people they'd once been.

And he'd had Molly for two years.

Suddenly I wanted to join Michael in his contemplation of the wall. Hell, Molly wasn't even my kid, but the thought of him doing anything in the realm of that barbarism to a then fourteen-year-old girl...

"I'm going to kill him," I growled. "I'm going to rip out his intestines and use them for jump rope."

"Get in line, Dresden," Karrin snapped. "I think that Michael has a more pressing grievance with Nicodemus than you do."

She was right, of course. If anyone deserved to plug Nicodemus, it was Michael. But I wasn't sure he was in any shape to do it.

I pushed heavily off the couch. The brass band in my head was beating me so hard that I wanted to crumple to the floor. Or throw up. But I kept my body moving, not only out of necessity but for the pure (and somewhat nauseating) joy of being able to do it so easily. I didn't stop until I was kneeling beside Michael's chair.

Then I slapped him.

Not hard, mind you. Just a brief, open-palmed tap that would sting but wouldn't really hurt. It had the desired effect of startling him, and those pale eyes fixed on me at last.

"Get a grip," I said slowly, so the words would penetrate. "You've told me that the Knights' purpose is to redeem the hosts of the Fallen. She's still out there, Michael. In desperate need of redemption. This is exactly the sort of reaction Nicodemus wants. He wants you defeated. He wants you scared. He wants you to falter. I don't understand why your boss let this drag on for so long, but now it's game time. If I recall, during our last hunt for Molly you quoted a Proverb at me. How's it go again?"

"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."

He said it dully this time, without any of the thrumming conviction I normally heard when he quoted scripture at me. That scared me too.

"So, in other words, buck up buttercup. Now's the time to have some fucking faith."

"We don't know where she is," Michael said hollowly.

"We'll find her. We have something that Nicodemus wants. We'll use the coins to barter for Molly and the Archive." I darted a glance at Luccio. "Any way that we can get in contact with him through official channels?"

Luccio smiled, though it wasn't a happy one. It still showed her dimples. I might have found it cute any other day.

"Already done. Now we have to wait."

Wait. God, that sounded like a dirty word. Sit and wait for Nicodemus to come a calling.

Just freaking peachy.

Nicodemus arrived during the witching hour. Because of course, he did. The man seemed to enjoy his melodrama.

I could tell it was Nic on the other end of the phone because when Michael pressed the receiver to his ear, he turned approximately the same shade as the snow swirling to earth outside. His hands clamped down on the phone so tightly that I thought he'd send plastic shrapnel all over his kitchen in seconds.

His hands trembled. His voice did not.

"Where is my daughter?" His voice was low. Clipped. Deadly.

I would not have wanted to be the one on the other end of the thermonuclear detonation that was impending. Apparently it didn't concern Nicodemus unduly, because I heard a quiet response and then a rich, rolling laugh on the other end before the line clicked.

"He's here?"

"He's here," Michael confirmed. "Let's go to meet him."

I hesitated, hand flexed around the door jamb.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Michael."

Michael's eyes blazed blue-gray fire in my direction. I knew what he'd say before he even opened his mouth. I could no more argue with a wave about to hit the shore, or a stone already slung. He was already focused on this course, flying forward with unassailable certainty.

"I'm going."

"Michael-"

"Molly put a sleeper command into your head, Harry. Luccio is almost certain of it. And it's unlikely to be a one-and-done. Nicodemus knows that command. What's to say he won't activate the command the second you step outside and abscond with you as well?"

I...uh...hadn't thought of that, actually. The details of the conversation with Nicodemus were still a bit muddled, and I couldn't recall what he'd said to get me on the ground. Maybe Michael had a point.

"Hang back, then," I said after a moment. "And we'll be taking Mouse along, just in case. Neither of you gets involved unless I'm in danger, okay? If we want them back, we have to play nice."

Michael nodded. Nice was definitely not a descriptor I'd apply to the look of acrimony playing out all over his face. My stomach did an uneasy roll and tried to bring back some of the Thanksgiving leftovers that I'd hastily consumed during our wait.

"Okay," I said with a sigh, pushing up from my chair. I was wearing a hideous borrowed ensemble that looked like it might have started its career in Michael or Sanya's gym bag. "Let's go."

I gripped my staff and headed for the front step. Michael got a good grip on Amoracchius. Mouse had nothing to grip, and so just held his head a little higher to acknowledge the gravity of the situation. Together we trooped out the front door and onto the Carpenter's drive.

It had been a while since someone had cleared the pathways to the house, so there was at least six inches of snow to bar our way. We stood no chance of making a stealthy approach. We stopped at the end of the driveway, a few feet from him. Close enough that Michael could step in if Nic decided to drop me.

Nicodemus stood beneath the only working streetlamp on the block, conveniently located before the Carpenter's house, for his posturing pleasure. His shadow was barely visible against the night, pooling beneath his feet, almost obliterated by the light. He wore a green silk shirt, unbuttoned at the collar and at the wrists, affecting a sort of disheveled air. There was something...off about him. But I couldn't put my finger on precisely what it was.

The lit end of a cigarette glowed a dull orange between his fingertips.

"I'm normally a pipe man. But after that little scene in the aquarium?" Nicodemus blew a stream of smoke into the air and a full-body shiver of delight seized him. "Oh after that I needed a cigarette."

Nicodemus kissed his fingers with his free hand and spread them in a wholly appreciative gesture. "A virtuoso performance by our dear Margaret. Cosa bellísima. The only thing that could have made it better is if you'd died with that insipid look on your face."

"Shut your mouth, Nick," I snarled. "Before I come over there and wire it shut for you."

And there went my attempt at diplomacy. Michael looked ready to back me, his hand clenched tight around Amoracchius' hilt, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Probably hoping for that other shoe to drop, so he could carve the answers out of Nicodemus. I would have been, in his position.

Mouse growled, and the vibration made individual snowflakes dance off the ground around him. It did successfully draw Nicodemus' attention, and he regarded my dog with singular dislike.

"What is that Dresden?"

"Borrowed him from Baskerville Hall. He's here to munch your ass if you double-cross us."

Mouse punctuated the statement with another growl, lips pulling back to bare all of his glistening white teeth.

Nicodemus made a soft sound of amusement and took another drag off his cigarette.

"She's much like you, Dresden. Always retreating into insouciance when frightened. Lasciel's coin was a perfect choice, no matter which of your hands it fell into. I was aiming for you, originally." He contemplated the night sky with a fiendish smile. "Though truly? I'm quite pleased with the outcome. She's come quite a long way."

"After you tortured her," I hissed, attempting to take a step toward him. Michael held me back, though he looked like he might go for Nicodemus himself if he kept running his mouth. "After you did this to her! And then you sent her here with some bullshit story about the Fellowship-"

Nicodemus cocked his head. "I did no such thing, Dresden. I tossed the coin into Carpenter's backyard, nothing more. If my understanding is correct, Margaret contended with Lasciel for a year or more before we ever encountered one another."

"That's complete and utter crap."

"It is the truth. Deidre and I sought to contract a group of mercenaries through the Fellowship. She was among them. Already budding into something of a dark flower, by then. Called herself Catherine Lenhardt."

Every muscle in my body clamped down, going rigid with sudden dread. I'd seen that name on wanted posters a hundred times before. Michael didn't fail to notice.

"Harry?"

I didn't want to turn to him. I didn't want to purloin that last shred of hope he possessed. But if I didn't, Nicodemus would. He'd relish putting a stranglehold on Michael's morale.

"Catherine Lenhardt is a warlock," I said, and my voice sounded hollow, even to my own ears. "Guilty of breaking the first, third, and fourth laws of magic."

I'd known Molly had broken at least the third and fourth, given that she'd mucked about inside my head sometime during her return. I'd hoped that was a one-off, done under extreme duress and could be hand-waved away by the council.

Michael flinched. After Daniel's trial, he knew what that meant. Knew how unlikely it was that we'd get a favorable outcome a second time. Even if we did get her back, she was still facing a death sentence. The grim reality was that she was actually safer with Nicodemus for the time being. As a member of an accorded nation, she couldn't be touched without a formal challenge.

Nicodemus smiled. His cigarette smoldered. He blew smoke into the air.

"She sought me out, in the end. Not the other way around."

A muscle worked in Michael's jaw. "Liar."

Nick's teeth actually showed.

"She went to the trouble of retrieving three coins to keep up her ruse. I would have taken her into the fold regardless. Too talented and willful to leave as an independent actor. But she was a gift that just kept on giving. Wizard-level talent, even without the coin. Staggering arrogance. Unslakable thirst for vengeance. And a strong desire to prove herself. Lasciel barely had to push at all. She was useful, no matter how willing her participation. But she does seem to enjoy Lasciel, more often than not."

Michael was practically vibrating with rage, doing a passable impression of Mouse's game-face. If he'd had fangs to bare, they'd have been on display. Instead, he just got a tighter grip on Amoracchius, drawing the blade just a fraction from its scabbard. White light showed at the seam, and just a trickle of sound spilled into the air.

Nicodemus continued, unperturbed.

"It's been amusing, acting in loco parentis, you know. So many things to teach her. So many things she was eager to learn."

"What?" I demanded. "What the hell are you saying?"

Nicodemus didn't look at me, just smirked at Michael.

"I made your little girl my little girl, Carpenter. And she loved every second of it."

Michael's breath was coming faster. He slid Amoracchius a little further from the sheath, waiting for the strike. Waiting for that shoe to drop. Because the last time that Nicodemus had baited us like this, there'd been an attack. He wanted that provocation. Needed it.

"One warlock in your family could be considered a coincidence. Two? A pattern, I think. Bad seed, Carpenter. Bad seed. I'll take them from you if you like. The budding necromancer would not go amiss in my plans. I still have three coins left to distribute. Perhaps four, when the night is over. Sidriel was badly injured. His coin could be spared for another of your brood. Still not enough for all six. But give me time. I'll keep the two smallest in a cage."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully and his smirk grew sinister.

"I wonder just how many of your other girls I can make call me daddy?"

Several things happened at once.

Michael drew Amoracchius fully from the scabbard and the light of the sword filled the night. The ringing of the blade sounded. And...Nicodemus' smile didn't falter.

And I put my finger on just what had been bothering me this whole time. He didn't move out of the way. Anduriel didn't lash toward Michael in an attempt to defend him as the knight lunged. Because he couldn't. Because the coin wasn't on his person. I darted a look away from his face and found it a few feet behind him, mostly hidden in the shadows, barely touched by the circle of light. Another glance showed the glaring absence of a noose at Nic's neck.

Oh, God. He hadn't come to negotiate with us. He'd kept derailing the conversation for one reason and one reason only. To achieve this, the goal he'd been after since arriving.

He wanted to unmake Amoracchius. I wasn't even Molly's father and even I wanted to shove my foot so far up Nicodemus' ass he'd be tasting rubber for the next millennium. It had to hit Michael harder. Just as planned. And Michael was too far gone to see it. To see that Nicodemus was just a man, unprotected and about to be slain in a spirit of hatred by the Sword of Love. He was risking everything for the chance to do it.

I didn't shout the warning at him. It would come too late. I wasn't even sure it would penetrate Michael's skull at the moment. So I lunged as well, narrowly avoiding getting skewered as I threw my shoulder into Michael's gut. It drove him back a pace, knocked air from his lungs, but it wasn't enough to take him down. He was shorter than me by a little, yeah, but he also fed himself regularly and worked out. He was like a muscled, rage-fueled tank. He would have just kept coming if Mouse hadn't been willing to throw himself under the wheels, so to speak.

Mouse hit him at the knees and finally, with a furious sound, Michael tipped backward into the snow. At the same instant, the sword's light flickered and then died, leaving it mundane metal. He still tried to keep moving, tried to get at Nicodemus.

I seized his face in both of my hands and bounced his head off the ground like a basketball. Only then, when his head was ringing, did he snap out of it and seem to realize what he'd done.

Guilt and shame clouded his expression.

"Harry..."

"Go," I said tersely. "Go inside right the hell now, Michael. Do not give him that too."

He didn't argue with me after that. He retreated back toward the house, sheathing the sword, holding it gingerly as if he was unworthy to keep touching it. I wasn't entirely sure I'd done good with my saving throw. Amoracchius was intact, yes. But Michael was coming apart at the seams. This little stunt might be enough to retire the Sword of Love for now. Either way, Nicodemus may have gotten what he'd come for.

By the time I turned back to Nicodemus, he was arranging his tie around his neck, stuffing the coin in his pocket. He regarded me with a sour expression like I'd just stolen Christmas.

"We have eleven coins," I told him, trying to keep my voice level. I was only faring marginally better than Michael, which meant I was still almost too furious to form coherent sentences. "We'll hand them over for the girls."

Nicodemus shook his head with a small smile. He was disappointed yes, but this had all been a wager. He still came away from the game well-off, even if he'd lost this hand.

"I'm afraid not, Dresden. Once the Archive has been swayed, the rest is merely theatre. And as I've said, I do value Margaret Carpenter. I believe she will accomplish much with the aid of Lasciel. This diversion has been entertaining, but ultimately inconsequential. Good evening."

He turned to go. Had half disappeared into shadow before I called after him.

"Wait."

I was grasping at straws now, and I knew it. But there was really only one ace left in my hand and I played it.

"Eleven coins and Fidelacchius. You want to unmake a sword? I have one for you."

Nicodemus' steps crunched to a halt. His shadow twisted to face me before he did.

"You're its keeper? You?"

"Yeah. Shocked the pants off me too. But I've got the sword, Nicky-boy. And you've got the girls. I'm offering you a chance. Hell, you might unmake two swords tonight. Looks like you've pretty well got Michael on the ropes, doesn't it? Bet that would be an instant cure for indigestion, wouldn't it? Knowing there's only one Sword left to interfere with your plans? Heck, you might get that one too, if you play it right. And as for Molly...well you're sure that Lasciel's got her by the short and curlies, so she might refuse to come with us. Doesn't look like you have much to lose, from where I'm sitting."

Nicodemus' gaze was flat and unfriendly for the first time that night. His hands clenched and unclenched as he stared at me like he wanted to take up arms and cut me down right then and there. His shadow seethed. Serpentine whispers hissed into the dark.

I read the answer in his face. He didn't need to speak it out loud.

"So..." I drawled. "Where's this deal going down, Nick?"