Chapter 16

After a moment, I turned to the others. Nicodemus stood a short distance away, his demeanor as relaxed as it had been since I met him. If he cared one way or the other about Ortega's brutal end, he didn't let it show.

Neither did the Archive, although there was no telling with the blank mask she'd let slide over her face. Kincaid was a little less stoic, his jaw tight and his brow furrowed. He didn't seem to regret the vampire's death, but perhaps he thought the thing had deserved better.

Or maybe he was just worried about all of the cleanup that someone was going to have to do.

My eyes drifted to the last person still breathing, the vampire that had thrown herself to the ground as the fight had erupted around her. She was just rising, her eyes fixed on what was left of her superior. When she felt my stare, Susan turned to me, her face mostly blank, if a little pale.

"You kept your head down," I observed neutrally.

Susan's eyebrow quirked up, sensing a challenge in my tone. "It seemed like the best course of action." She glanced around at the remnants of the vampires all around us, their bodies littering the devastated floor. "Looks like I was right."

"Yeah. Wouldn't want to get mistaken for the enemy or anything," I muttered as I tossed the empty water bottle into the wreckage of the basketball court.

Susan's eyes narrowed. "No, I wouldn't. Especially considering that I'm not the enemy."

"Well, you weren't an ally," I replied, my voice rough. "So what does that make you?"

The vampire tensed, but the reply came from an unlikely source. "Ms. Rodriguez did in fact aid us," the Archive said, surprising me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked the diminutive girl, who was looking at her shoes with some minor dismay. It seemed her boots had stepped in the bloody remnants of a vampire at some point. Crimson footprints marked the path she'd taken as she'd approached, and she gave off an annoyed sigh as she realized she'd have to dispose of the shoes.

"It was Ms. Rodriguez's warning that alerted us to Duke Ortega's intentions," the Archive replied while studying the gory tread of her boot. She finally looked up, giving a slight nod to the vampire. "Thank you for that."

"Sure. No problem," Susan replied, her tone still offended as she shot a look at me.

"What warning?" I asked, looking between them.

"This one," Kincaid said, tossing something my way. He did so blindly, his eyes not leaving Nicodemus.

I snatched the object out of the air and glanced at it. It was just a balled up note on a scrap of paper. I read what was written out in all-too-familiar handwriting, and then glanced up at Susan. "You warned them?"

The woman shrugged, her shoulders stiff with irritation. "It seemed like the best course of action," she repeated, although she sounded like she might be regretting that decision already.

"Most likely Ms. Rodriguez's effort was to ensure no blame was cast upon the Red Court for Duke Ortega's actions," the Archive stated softly.

"That's not what it was about," Susan replied, her tone curt.

"Regardless of intent, your actions were admirable," the Archive replied, neither giving nor taking offense in the exchange. "I will have to report the Duke's violation to the proper authorities, but given the Red Court's assistance in mitigating the impact of his betrayal, I do not believe any further recompense will be required."

If I understood all of that, it sounded as if Bianca was going to get off the hook. The Archive was ruling that Ortega had acted alone, despite the fact that he'd had a cadre of vampires assisting him in his attack. Since I doubted he traveled with several dozen vampires, my guess was that Bianca had lost some more people that day.

But with Susan's warning, she'd freed her liege from any reprisals. Which must have been her reason for slipping the note to Kincaid, no doubt when she was fondling him before the duel. And in turn, the man had warned the Archive before things got started, so that she'd be ready. No wonder their reactions had been so quick.

"I will inform the Margravine of your judgment," Susan said, inclining her head toward the Archive. "It was never her intention to violate the Accords."

"Like hell," I muttered. But it didn't seem my opinion was in the majority, so I shut up.

"It seems that Mr. Dresden was proven innocent," the Archive continued, turning to me. "I rule in favor of your defense. Margravine St. Claire's claims against you are dismissed." The girl turned back to Susan, a dangerous spark in her eye as her gaze hardened. "As such, there will be no reprisals against Mr. Dresden, official or otherwise. If evidence of such transgressions were to be presented, by the law of the Accords, Margravine St. Claire would be found in violation. And the issue of recompense would have to be re-examined."

Susan's nervous swallow was easy to spot as she nodded. "Understood."

And just like that, I was free and clear of Bianca's quest for vengeance.

I had no doubt the woman would still want me dead. But with the Archive ruling in my favor, she no longer had even the illusion of just cause to have me killed. No more contracts on my life, no more assassins striking when I least expected it. Her efforts had waned ever since I'd become the Winter Knight, but they'd never ceased. Not entirely.

Now it was over. I had no intention of growing lax, as there were still plenty of things out there that wanted me dead. But somehow it felt better knowing that I was out from beneath that particular worry.

The ruling would do nothing to help my standing with the Council, of course. All the duel had proven was that I was innocent of violating Guest Law. It'd do nothing to prove that I hadn't killed with magic, which was the offense that the Council had seized upon in declaring me a warlock.

But perhaps it was a beginning. A start, to righting all the wrongs that been done as a result of that night. Perhaps I could finally put that cursed evening behind me.

"I believe that concludes matters," the Archive said, nodding to me and then to Susan. She didn't even look at Nicodemus, who was keeping well clear of the little girl. Instead, she turned to Kincaid, who was watching the man with the grim necktie. "We may depart now. I will need a new pair of boots."

"I'm sure we'll find some along the way," he said, his eyes still on Nicodemus. The two started making their way across the remains of the basketball court, the girl taking his hand as they navigated the broken floor together.

"Hey, wait," I said, looking around as I realized they were about to just leave the mess they'd helped make. There were dozens of bodies that looked nothing like human. Especially the frozen kibble. "What about all of this?"

"You're the local, Dresden," Kincaid said over his shoulder. "Take care of it."

I looked to Susan, who had started making her way toward the door as well. "Really?"

"I think I helped enough already," she replied, sounding like she still hadn't forgiven me for my unspoken accusations earlier. "I'll be outside."

At last I turned to Nicodemus, who's wide-eyed shrug proceeded his slow turn to head out. "I'll be waiting as well."

"Are you kidding?" I shouted after all of them, my tone disbelieving. "You're going to leave this all to me?" No-one turned around. "What am I supposed to do with all these bodies?"

"You'll think of something," Kincaid shouted.

"He'll probably just start a fire," Susan replied. "It's kind of his thing."

"Don't think I won't!" I called after them, hoping their civic duty might prevent them from allowing such a thing at a public venue. "Seriously. Guys?"

No reply came from any of the retreating forms.

Kicking a loose board, I put my hands on my hips and looked around at the carnage. Resigned to my fate, I got to working, muttering to myself. "I could set the building on fire. I could… I could shut this whole place down. I could have this place condemned." I tossed some of the boards into a pile. "There was salt on the glass. BIG grains of salt."


Despite the temptation, I did not, in fact, burn the building down.

I only burned a little bit of it. Not even enough to set off the fire alarms.

A few dozen wind spells helped me pile the bodies together, along with the wreckage from the floor. Once I'd accounted for most of the deceased, I set fire to the mound of blubbery flesh and waxed wood.

My shield bracelet helped me contain the fire and the smoke within a firm bubble of air. The bonfire didn't last long. Despite my efforts to contain the conflagration, the heat still rolled under the floor slats, where it melted more of the ice from the rink below. That resulted in a slow flooding of the area, which ended up extinguishing the flames before they burned through all the oxygen within the bubble.

Still, enough damage had been done to the bodies that they shouldn't be that distinguishable from human. So as the flames petered out, I channeled cold air into the bubble, freezing everything inside. Smoke, ash, and char all settled across the floor, thick with frost, before I released the shield spell from around it.

See? Who's to say an old dog can't learn new tricks?

With that having taken just short of forever, I made my toward the door. The effort was likely a waste, as there was no telling how many bodies were strewn about the upper bleachers where Nicodemus had gotten to them. But I wasn't going to burn the entire building down, nor was I going to waste the entire night cleaning up the mess.

Instead, I hoped I'd gotten all of them, and went to join the others outside.

Kincaid and the Archive were long gone by then. I found Susan and Nicodemus waiting, the former keeping her distance while the two chatted. She seemed a bit unnerved by the relaxed manner of the man, while he seemed at ease.

The two turned to me, with Susan looking back at the building in surprise. "I don't see the smoke yet."

"Hah hah," I dead-panned. "I don't leave every place a smoking ruin, you know."

"No?" she asked, one eyebrow rising. "So that fire at the docks yesterday—"

"Whatever," I said, cutting her off. I looked to Nicodemus. "Could you give us a minute?"

The man gave a slight inclination of his head, his smile as thin as ever. "Take your time. So long as you deliver."

"You'll get what's coming," I replied, which only seemed to amuse the man.

Irritated by his lack of irritation, I took Susan by the arm and led her away. The look she gave me was a combination of annoyance and confusion, the latter winning out and allowing me to pull her far enough to get some privacy. "What?" she asked.

"I…" I started, only to fumble over the words. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said."

"You mean what you implied," she corrected me, frowning as she crossed her arms.

"Yes. No," I said. "Not just inside. Before the fight, out here."

Susan's posture loosened somewhat with the apology. "Okay," she said simply.

"Thanks for lying to me. Before."

She blinked at that, before letting a rueful smile slip over her lips. "Was it that obvious?"

"Not at the time, no," I said with a shake of my head. "Three families? Twelve people? I should have realized that was too much."

"You didn't look like you were ready for a fight," she said softly.

"I wasn't," I admitted.

"Then I'm glad I helped."

Looking in her eyes, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was Susan. The real Susan. I knew it wasn't, that convention and lore insisted otherwise. But she was so much like the woman I'd known.

And she'd helped me survive. First, by lying about Ortega's victims. I had no doubt he'd killed someone, maybe even a few people, to heal after the previous night's injuries. The number didn't really matter, as those deaths were on me.

But Susan's bold lie had cut through me, helped remind me what I should have been fighting for all along.

And then she'd helped again, by warning the others of Ortega's plans. This woman, this vampire, had quite possibly saved my life twice over, and maybe even some of the others.

How could I believe that everything good in her was gone?

I shot a glance back at Nicodemus, who was leaning against the limo he'd arrived in. The back window was rolled down, and it looked like he was talking with someone inside. His eyes were still on us, so I turned my back on him. "I have the Shroud," I told her, keeping my voice low.

"I figured," she replied, her eyes flitting back towards Nicodemus before returning to mine. "We heard the deal he forced you into."

"Right," I said with a nod. "I'm going to have to give it up shortly. But I thought, first…"

As I failed to continue, Susan tilted her head forward, curious. "You what?"

My heart fluttered in my chest. "I thought… maybe…" I steeled myself. "You'd want to try it."

Susan stared blankly at me. "Try what?"

"The Shroud," I whispered. "To see if it would… you know…"

The woman took a step back. "No. I don't know."

I clenched my jaw nervously. "I've felt this thing, Susan. I spent the afternoon studying it." I pitched my voice lower. "It's got real power. Serious power."

And it did. Boy did it ever. It wasn't the most powerful thing I'd seen; I'd seen too much for that. I wasn't even sure it was as powerful as the Swords of the Cross. But it was definitely on their 'frequency', as Bob described it. A source of pure, clean, beautiful power that was meant for good things.

"I don't understand, Harry," Susan replied with a frown. "What would I do with it?"

"It could…" My voice got thick. "It might heal you."

The wind blew between us, a cold wind that chilled me as I waited for her reply. It was a long time coming, as she just stared at me blankly for a full minute.

When she finally spoke, her words weren't what I was expecting. "Heal what, exactly?"

I stared at her. "You. Your condition. Your…" I nodded in her general direction. "Maybe it could make you human."

Susan took an unconscious step back, a war of emotions playing across her face. I pushed on. "I had my hands on something last year. Something that could undo any magical enchantment. Something that might have had enough power to undo what's been done to you.

"But I lost it. And I've been trying to figure out something else ever since," I whispered to her urgently. "This could be it. It's not like the other thing; I'm not even sure if it's as powerful as that was. They're too different to compare, but there's a chance. There's lore about the Shroud, that it might heal—"

"Stop," Susan said, cutting me off. Her tone chilled me further, as did the flat look she was giving me.

"I can't guarantee anything," I told her quickly. "I didn't want to say anything, but I don't have time to test it. I—"

"Harry, stop," she repeated, her tone growing more firm. I trailed off, looking at what was left of the woman I'd loved as she took another step away. "I don't want that."

"You… you what?" I asked, stunned.

"I don't want that," she repeated. "I don't want what you're offering."

I stared at her, her words not making sense in my addled mind. "What are you talking about?"

Susan's face twisted into a sad, almost regretful expression. "Harry, I don't want to go back to what I was before. I like what I am."

I don't think I could have closed my mouth if I'd tried.

"Harry," she said, seeing my look. "What I am… it's different, yes. But it's not bad. Not in the way you think." She shook her head, her long gorgeous hair moving carelessly around her beautiful face. "I'm not a monster."

"But you're a vampire, Susan," I replied, my tone growing terse. "You feed off people—"

"Willing people," she said, cutting me. Her dark eyes danced back and forth as they stared into mine. "You'd be surprised just how many people want to be fed upon. Who want to feel what I can make them feel."

"But—" I sputtered.

"Harry, think about it," Susan continued. "Think about just how fucked up this world is," she said, gesturing around us. "How many people are miserable. Going to work, paying their bills. Stuck in an endless grind that they know will never end. Not until they're nothing more than a dried out husk. A lifetime spent suffering under the yoke of society, never getting anything more than a taste of real happiness."

She stepped closer, her eyes firm and full of confidence. "Those people love what I give them, Harry. They love the feeling when I kiss them. When I feed from them. Giving them a bliss they could never have naturally. Short of doping themselves up with whatever Marcone is pushing these days."

"But you're killing them," I argued.

"No," she replied softly. "I don't have to. We don't have to. Not when there are so many willing to share what they have."

"Share their blood," I said numbly.

"Yes, you idiot," she replied, making me sound like I was a simpleton. "Just like people that are willing to donate their blood for medical causes. Only instead of a cookie, I give them bliss. And then I send them home to their families."

My head swam. "That's not…"

"Not what?" she replied sharply. "Not what they taught you? Not what you were told about us?" She crossed her arms in front of her again, holding herself tight. "I'm not going to defend the race, Harry. I'm not going to tell you that there aren't some fucked up monsters among my peers. But could you say the same about anyone? Humans? The Sidhe? Wizards?"

Seeing that I was at a loss for words, she continued. "Harry, there are so many people out there that are hurting, that are starving. Some for food, because of last summer." Stab. "Some for attention. For purpose. For companionship."

"And you give that to them?" I asked, unable to understand what she was saying.

"For a time, yes," she replied. "And no, it's not altruistic. I get something out of it, too. But doesn't everyone, when they're making an exchange for goods?"

"But… but you don't have to…" I insisted. "The Shroud—"

"May work. Or maybe it wouldn't," she said. "Either way, I don't want it. I like having the power I have, Harry," she said, her eyes alight with something I recalled from our time together. A sense of purpose, a sense of worth. "You have no idea what it was like living on the edge of the supernatural world, hearing about these incredible things, these horrible things, and being powerless against it." Her voice softened. "You have no idea how powerless I felt that night."

I swallowed. "I do, actually."

For all my vaunted strength, for all my power, I'd been helpless when Bianca's people had caught me. Poisoned by my own hand, my power diminished by breaking my own vow, I'd been at their mercy as they'd fallen on me. Tortured me. Tried to feed on me.

I hated them for that. For that night. For the things they'd done, to me, and to Susan. I did a lot of suppressing from that experience, but it was always there, a burning rage at the thought of Bianca and her people continuing to breath, taking joy in having brought a mighty wizard so low.

"I know," I assured her.

"Then please understand," she said softly. "Understand that I have power now. Strength. Speed. Authority." When I looked up, she gave me a soft smile. "You didn't really think I'd be content being Bianca's lap dog, did you?"

"No," I replied honestly. "I suppose not."

"I've been rising in their ranks, Harry," she said. "And you know what? There are others like me. Others that see there can be a balance between the hunger and the humanity. An equilibrium that can be met with the willing."

"You're making the same argument Marcone would," I said bitterly. "That you're simply providing what the consumer wants."

"Is that so wrong?" she asked. "But there's a difference. What he's selling will destroy his customers. What I'm giving them won't."

"If you think you aren't harming them, harming their minds and spirits—"

"Pieces, Harry," Susan said. "If we feed too deeply, yes, we can harm them. Permanently. But with the number of people we have coming to us, we don't have to do that. We don't have to kill."

I ran a hand over my face, trying to understand this world Susan was describing. A world unlike the one I'd always known. "But you've killed."

"Once," she said, very softly. "Only once. And not a day goes by that I don't mourn that."

"But if you regret it—"

"I can regret the necessity," she said. "But that doesn't mean that I'd change the past, even if I could. I've accepted what I am. And what I am is someone that's affecting change. Someone that's doing something."

"But they're not all like you," I said. "Most of them kill."

"Yes," she said, her eyes softening. "The elders of the Court didn't live in a society like ours. Their world was much harsher. And they brought that into their new lives."

"New life," I said, a bitter laugh escaping.

"In a way, yes," she replied. "And the younger vampires are like me. We grew up in modern society, and haven't forgotten what that's like."

"And you think you can change them," I said. "Change the Red Court."

"Maybe. Maybe not," she replied with a shrug. "But I can't fight what I am. If I did, it'd slowly drive me mad. Until one day I lost control, and then I'd become the monster you fear."

Her words chilled me more than the air ever could.

"I've accepted my fate, Harry," she said with tenderness. She took a step closer, rising up to her toes to lay a kiss on my cheek. "You have to do the same."

I wasn't sure if she was talking about me accepting her fate, or accepting mine. Either way, I watched her step back, before heading for the car she and Ortega had arrived in. I watched her go, the world seeming to shift beneath my feet as I did.