I was awake less than five hours later, and still felt like I'd wasted time. Lash had once shown me a few ways to disguise my fatigue, but much like her methods for hiding pain, I'd just feel it all the worse later. So, I'd slept. When I woke, there was a tarp fitted over the remains of the front window, and the snow had stopped, but the sun was still hidden behind clouds.

Molly was still snoring lightly on the couch. There was no sign of Murphy, Mouse or Thomas. I padded into the kitchen and the blinking clock on the stove told me the power was still on. I checked the phone and got no tone at all. Well, one out of two ain't bad. I started making coffee. This was going to be a long day.

I stuck some bread in the toaster and was digging through the pantry for peanut butter when I heard, very close to my ear, "Coffee's bad for you, you know."

I didn't quite die, but it was a close thing. I did manage to hit my head on the shelf above me. "Ow! Dammit, Molly, you trying to kill me?" One hand on my chest and one hand on my head, I rolled over on the floor.

"Oh, sorry, Harry." To her credit, she really did sound sorry. And at least she was dressed.

"Molly, I can be quiet when I want to be. Very quiet. But you… you really are the Invisible Woman, now. Inaudible, too."

She smiled and offered me a hand. She pulled me up with no visible effort. "Why don't I take care of breakfast?" she offered.

I gave her the evil eye. "Oh, so you really are trying to kill me."

Her hands shot to her hips, her head tilted to one side, and her mouth became a thin line. I reeled back from her. "Wow! For a second there, you actually were your mother."

She deflated. "I have to call them today, don't I?"

"Nope, phone's are out."

She looked relieved.

"So, we're going in person."

Her relief evaporated. "I really don't know how to feel about this."

"It doesn't matter, kid. As long as you feel something. Means you're still alive."

She met my eyes, and half-smiled again. Then she nodded and headed over to the coffee maker. "So what are we doing today? Heading back downtown?"

"No, the National Guard doesn't need us tripping them up, and Undertown was quiet. I have to make a call."

"I thought you said the phones were out?"

"Not a phone call. A stone call."

Her eyes crinkled like she hadn't heard me correctly. "Say what?"

Once again, I was sitting in a dark room, staring at my teacher. "The Winter Knight?" he asked softly. "Hell's bells, boy, that is… quite the little development."

"You're telling me."

He shook his head, and his voice became even softer, almost whispery. "Wizards don't become the Knights very often, Hoss."

A soft voice draws in my attention. It's hard to argue with, with most people shout in an argument. There's a finality and weight to a soft voice. "Is it a problem?" I asked, suddenly worried.

"You haven't thought of the consequences? You know what she's capable of, Harry. And as young as she is, she'll only get stronger."

"She's not much for combat magic, Sir."

"Considering the power she has access to now, and the influences she's going to be under for the rest of her long life, and the patience of the Sidhe, you really think that matters at the moment?"

I swallowed. Molly's problems with the Council stemmed from her use of neuromancy – mind magic – to alter the thoughts and feelings of a pair of her friends, trying to help them. It had backfired, badly; one of them had recovered, for the most part, but the other was now severely agoraphobic and mildly schizophrenic. "No, I hadn't thought about that."

"So, you understand my concern?"

"I do."

"And you're okay with me passing this all on to the Wardens?"

"Are you kidding? I'm counting on it. It gets her diplomatic immunity, right?"

He chuckled. "I suppose it does."

I nodded. "Good. Now, I need to ask, because I've been having a strange feeling; does the Council have any take on the earthquake?"

"What do you mean, 'strange feeling?"

"Well, more like no feeling at all."

McCoy nodded to himself. "Rashid's been talking." I perked up. The Gatekeeper was the single most enigmatic person I'd ever met, but he was unusually well attuned to the strangest of the strange. "Officially, the Council has detected nothing supernatural about the quake. Off the record, Rashid is taking note of it."

"I find it's always a good bet to take note of him taking note."

"Damn right. Here's the thing, Hoss; he thinks it's big."

"That's… not terribly descriptive."

"No, Harry, I mean big. Life-altering big."

I shook my head. "Sir, like I said, I haven't felt a thing." I paused. "In fact, I really haven't felt a thing." I thought back. "For days, now. Maybe weeks. It's like there's a blanket over everything. My wards are working, I can draw in magic, but I can't feel any disturbances. Even after the quake, I should've got a read on Undertown, but there was nothing. Forget bumps, nothing even went 'Ow, my toe!' in the night."

Ebenezar looked down. "I was afraid it might have already gotten like that."

"Like what?"

"Harry, when I said 'big', I meant hurricane-sized. And frankly, you're in the eye of the storm. The calm centre. It might be too big for you to sense anything there, until it gets underway."

My mouth hung open. "But… I didn't even feel it coming." No, that wasn't entirely true. "Wait. A sensitive I know told me she felt something about three weeks ago, but hasn't said anything since."

"If Rashid is right, it's been building for a long time. At least weeks, maybe months. That friend of yours was right."

I'll be sure to let Elaine know. She loves being right. "How am I supposed to handle this, Sir? Earth magic isn't my forte, but I've got a feeling it's going to get worse." I hesitated a second before asking, "I don't suppose you've been hearing horns blowing?"

That got his attention. McCoy sat up straight, staring at me. "Hunting horns?"

"Yeah. Just blowing randomly. Molly and I were the only ones who heard it that I know of, but I've got the word out. None of the normals seem to have heard anything."

"I haven't… but I don't like that you have. I'll mention it at the meeting."

"What meeting?"

He drew in a deep breath. "There's going to be a debate, Hoss. An open one, at dawn, here in Scotland. Can you make it?"

I thought of Molly. And my city, in ruins. "My place is here, Sir."

He nodded, like he expected nothing else. "Good man. A few others can't make it, either. I'll rig something up with the stones so you can see and hear what's going on. Dawn for us is about midnight for you."

"I'll call you just before."

"Watch your back, Hoss. And take care of that apprentice of yours."

We broke the connection, and I blinked. Murphy's living room came into existence before me. For that matter, so did Murphy. "Hey," she said from the couch. Her cheeks were still rosy, and her eyes had slight circles.

"Hey. When did you get back?" I unfolded myself from the floor.

"About five minutes ago."

I saw Fidelacchius, the only thing lying next to her on the couch. "Where's Thomas?"

His voice came from the kitchen: "Making hot chocolate! It's freezing out!"

"Molly's outside with Mouse," Murph finished.

I nodded. "You didn't see anything overnight, did you? Anything from our side of the tracks?"

Murph thought for a second, then shook her head. "Nothing out of place." She glanced at the Sword. "I'm still getting used to the upgraded radar, but I don't think I felt anything."

"If you'd felt anything, you also would've known what to do about it, I'm sure."

"Probably. I need to talk to Sanya more, get some lessons." Her hand sought out the Sword again, a touchstone. I watched her eyes lose focus.

Thomas came in with a tray, and I lifted a finger to my lips. He instantly froze, going inhumanly still. He didn't look cold. He didn't look tired. He looked like a handsome, cocky, ass.

We stayed quiet as, gradually, she came back to herself. "Maybe we should head down to St. Mary of the Angels," she said softly.

"Any reason?" I asked, though I'd already decided to do whatever she suggested.

She blinked a few times, shook her head. "No. Just a feeling, I guess." She looked at the Sword, shook her head. "Oh. So that's what it's like."

Thomas and I exchanged a look and he started moving again, distributing warm beverages. Molly and Mouse come in through the front door. "Ooh, yummy," she said, and headed straight for the tray.

Mouse saw the distribution of hot chocolate, and gave Thomas a look. My brother very pointedly ignored him. Then Mouse turned his puppy dog eyes on me. "You'll live," I told him.

He huffed at me.

I rolled my eyes. "Good news, Invisible Woman," I said to Molly. "We're heading down to the church."

The poor dear actually looked relieved, bless her heart. "Instead of going home?"

With a glance at my brother, I said, "Molly, Molly, Molly." I put an arm around her shoulders. "There's been a disaster in Chicago. Where do you think we're going to find your family?"

St. Mary of the Angels is a big church. I mean Big. Capital 'B'. It takes up an entire city block, if you include the parking lots, and simply dominates the area. Sure, there are taller buildings, fancier ones, and ones with more glass and sharper angles, but none are as impressive. The big stone walls simply radiate strength.

Which is probably just one more reason why, in times of distress and disaster, people flock to churches.

We got there just after lunchtime, despite a faerie shortcut that dropped us two blocks away. The streets got progressively more strangled as we approached, clogged with cars that had been abandoned. I couldn't see around to the front of the building, but I could guess that it was much the same.

As we neared the rear service door, Thomas gave a wary look at the spire above us. "What's the matter?" I asked. "Heebie-jeebies? Creeps?"

He looked at me, deadly serious. "Cooties."

I nodded wisely. "Serious case, too. Well, stay behind me." I put a hand on Molly's shoulder. "You want to knock?"

She took a moment. I could see her working herself up to it, slowly nodding, the nods getting a little bigger, a little bigger, then finally, "Sure, why not?"

She didn't move. Murphy stepped up to her other side. "Molly, you don't know for sure they're in there. And what are the odds one of them will answer the door? Shouldn't a priest do that?"

She was nodding again. "You're right. You're right." She finally sounded convinced. She still didn't move.

I glanced at Murph, and something unspoken was exchanged. We each put a hand on Molly's back, and pushed.

She took a step, then another, then raised her fist, and pounded on the door, three times. She stepped back. "They might not even be here," I heard her say to herself.

Naturally, her father opened the door.

Michael Carpenter is a big man. Not as tall as me, but broad and covered in lean muscle. He'd always been that way, and even now, with a severed nerve causing a limp, and partial blindness and an inability to wield the Sword he'd carried for years, he was still an impressive man. I'd seen him stare down demons and Fallen Angels and every kind of horror from this world and the next, and never once hesitate.

But seeing Molly stunned him.

It took almost five full seconds for Molly to break the silence with a halting voice. "Uh, hi, Daddy. I, um, I mean, I know I haven't exactly called, but - "

She was cut off when Michael scooped her up in both arms, squeezing for all he was worth. "Molly! Oh, Molly, thank God!"

Michael's eyes were closed tightly, but he was weeping, completely unembarrassed, simply overjoyed.

Michael is, without a doubt, the best man I have ever known, and probably the best father.

I exchanged a glance with Thomas, and we both smiled a little. I felt a tiny hand on my arm and knew Murphy was grinning in spite of herself.

Eventually, Michael put his eldest child down, and looked at her. There were tears on both their faces. His hands never left her shoulders, just in case she vanished, I supposed. Suddenly, he seemed to become aware of the rest of us. "Harry. Karrin." He stiffened, ever so slightly. "Thomas. Please, all of you," he looked at Molly again, "come in."

Grinning like an idiot, Molly went in first as Michael stepped aside. I followed Murph and Thomas. Michael put a hand on my arm as I stepped inside. "Harry, thank you. Thank for finding her."

"Actually, she found me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Look, there's something I need to explain - "

"Molly!"

We both turned our heads. Alicia, one of the Carpenter's other children, had spotted her sister from down the hall. Not quite as wiry as Molly, Alicia was still built like an athlete, and sprinted straight at her sister. Murph and Thomas both hugged the wall to get out of her way. Molly gasped, then dropped to one knee and braced herself, catching Alicia in a tight hug. "Oh, man, it's good to see you, kiddo."

Alicia peeled herself away and twisted her face back down the hall. "Kelly!" she shouted. "Come quick!" She contorted herself around to face forward again. "I can't believe you're home! This is great!"

Michael leaned close to me. "Whatever it is, Harry, I think it can wait a moment."

At the end of the hall, a thin, freckly, redheaded girl came into view, wearing jeans and a baseball jersey, looking worried. "Alicia?"

"It's my sister! She's home!"

Hot on Kelly's heels, a slew of children, all baring a bit of a resemblance to each other, piled around the corner. In seconds, Molly was buried in a sibling avalanche. Everyone was smiling, some were laughing, and questions were flying. "Where have you been?" "Where did you get a sword?" and "What did you do to your hair?" were the loudest ones.

Even Thomas, as uncomfortable as he usually was in churches, had a smirk on his face.

It's a great feeling, knowing that you've been part of bringing joy to people. In spite of the damage to my town, in spite of the worries I had over the immediate future, both magical and not, I could follow Michael's advice.

At least until Charity showed up at the end of the hall. The crowd got awfully quiet awfully fast as everyone caught sight of her. Charity Carpenter was the same height as her daughter, though maybe a touch more slight, and her hair was still its natural blonde. Her jeans were stained with what looked like paint. Her gaze was locked on Molly, who slowly stood, but whether she was overjoyed or furious was anyone's guess.

She stepped slowly down the hall, and the feeling of joy I'd had evaporated. Some cautious hope took its place. That, and powerlessness. This was a moment between Molly and her mother. I couldn't do anything to interfere.

And I heard that damn voice again. Just a whisper, and just my name, but it was creepy. And I know from creepy. I thought it came from over my shoulder, so I glanced back, but only saw the door we'd come in through. Lash?

Her voice was hesitant, sympathetic. I am sorry, Harry. I heard nothing.

I knew the Carpenter women were exchanging words, but I didn't hear them. My mind raced, running over all the things that could possibly get into my head so quickly, quietly, and easily, and came up with a remarkably short list.

I shook my head and turned back. I'd obviously missed something; Molly and Charity were embracing, and Michael limped forward to squeeze them both. Then the whole family was in a pile again, Kelly included.

"Come in," Charity was saying. "We could use a few more hands, please," and suddenly she was leading the whole brood down the hall. "Alicia, Kelly, could you please find Father Fraser?"

The redhead took the other girl's hand, and they both shot off running. Murphy pulled Thomas ahead while I followed the throng, ending up back near Michael again, while Molly stayed close to her mother. "Thank you, again, Harry," he said.

"I told you, she found me."

"Yes, but you brought her here."

I shrugged.

"Is she…" He paused and his jaw stiffened. "Is she still being hunted?"

"Short answer: no. Long answer: I think it's best I explain that to you and Charity at the same time."

He nodded and took a deep breath. "Well, that's some relief, at least."

I was silent as we emerged into the church proper. Remember how I said St. Mary's is big? Big as a city block? Well, imagine if that block was populated only with the homeless.

That was my first impression when I looked around; dozens, hundreds, maybe more than that, people of every size, shape, age and colour, were seated or lying, in pews, on the floors, in the aisles and against the walls.

I was stunned, but I shouldn't have been. History teaches that in times of disaster, people run to churches. These days, at least in the West, folks are probably more likely to run to a hospital, but if the church was closer, and you were scared, what would you do?

Historically, there's debate about whether people rushed to church in a time of trouble because they were looking to beg for God's intervention, or if the church was just the best built structure in the old village, and thus the safest. Either way, it would fill up fast.

Like it had now. I stumbled for a second, stunned with the sheer volume of people, hurt and scared, asleep or hungry. About twenty or so people, not all of them adults, were busy passing out blankets and sandwiches. Three others were applying bandages. And one of those people was a large, powerfully built black man with a Russian accent and a big sword over one shoulder.

Murphy approached Sanya, the big man turning his perpetually grinning face to her. I turned to Michael, found him watching the Knights, too. "You miss it?"

He glanced at me. Then he looked at his wife and a sampler of his children, who were now taking up food to distribute. "Sometimes," he admitted. "But not often. And not for long." He turned back. "Others have taken up the fight, Harry. I did His will as long as I was able."

"Earned your seventh day, huh?"

He grinned. "I'd be lying if I said there were more days ahead than behind. But I intend to live every single one of them as He would have me." He looked again at his family. "Or as they would have me." I watched as the rugrats scattered. He started limping away, towards the diminished pile of food, with every intention of picking up a tray and spreading it around.

I sighed and shrugged out of my duster, then hooked the neck over my staff and leaned it against a wall. I caught up to Michael as he was hoisting a tray, and did so myself. He nodded in thanks.

Thomas had vanished. I didn't blame him. With this many injured and deprived human beings around, he was going to struggle to control his demon side.

So, I passed out food, blankets, pillows, and reassurances, for the better part of an hour. It was, if possible, even more exhausting than the previous night. I found myself stopping every few feet to breathe deeply. I covered by simply talking to whoever was against the wall when I stopped, and handing out a sandwich or a pillow. Everyone's story was the same, plus or minus a few details:

Every ten minutes or so, the front doors would open, and another group of refugees would come in. I paused by the doors once. The devastation on the roads leading to the church was massive. There appeared to be only one clear route, unblocked by cars, debris, or broken roads.

Alicia and Kelly discovered some stuffed animals somewhere, and began dutifully spreading them among the smallest children.

A few people had managed to struggle in with a suitcase or two, but most had nothing. Making them comfortable was all we could do. And I hated it. These people needed out of the city, or access to a hospital. We could get neither for them, since the phones were still out.

The last sandwich had just been taken off my plate when the doors opened again. In walked three National Guardsmen in full uniform, and behind them, a tall woman with golden brown hair, hidden in a hood.

I smiled as Father Fraser stepped forward to greet the new group. "Sweet mother," I heard one of the soldiers say, looking around.

Then I stepped around him. The woman, gangly like me, but somehow able to make it look good, took a step away, out the door into the cool November air, out of earshot of anyone inside. I slowly followed her. I waited for the doors to swing shut before I smiled at her. "Hello, Elaine."

Elaine looked me up and down, a smirk on her soft lips and hands on soft hips. "That a tray in your hand, or you just happy to see me?"

I looked at the plastic disk, then tossed it like a Frisbee out into the parking lot. It vanished under a snow-dusted car. "Both," I said, and got a little closer.

She stepped closer, too, and put her hands around my waist, holding me tight. "Why, Miss Mallory, what are you doing?"

"Staying warm, you doofus. Where's your jacket?"

"If it goes below your butt, it's called a coat. And if it looks cool, it's a duster. Nice hoodie, by the way." I reached up and tugged on said hood.

"Hey, it's insulated."

"So, leading soldiers around? Big high-profile for you."

"They're not going to remember me."

"Say what?" I said, with no playfulness at all.

She rolled her eyes. "Not because of that. They've just got other things to worry about."

"Ah, good."

"Got your message, by the way."

"My – oh, right. Sorry, been a busy day."

"It's okay. I heard them, Harry. The horns blowing."

"So it is all magic users?"

"Well, the Alphas didn't hear a thing; I asked Andi when I got in. Of course, before I could call you, there was an earthquake. You might have noticed. I haven't heard from any of the sensitives or lower-level users, but I wouldn't be surprised either way."

"Me neither."

We stopped talking, and she leaned a little closer, gently bumping her nose against mine. Then I kissed her. It wasn't deep, dramatic, or super-passionate, like it would have been in our youth. It was warm, sweet, and gentle. It was perfect.

Then it was over, and I felt better, stronger, more energetic. I smiled. "Well, that was nice."

"Yeah," she said. "But not as nice as getting inside a warm building."

"Just be glad they have a generator," I said, and started to follow her inside.

That was when the aftershock came. Nowhere near as strong as the main quake, it still knocked me against the door. Elaine and I stayed on our feet by virtue of holding the handles. Inside, the chandeliers were swaying, windows cracking, and children crying.

We got the door shut, and Molly was suddenly there. Elaine was usually good about hiding her emotions, but she stiffened, visibly. Molly said, "You okay?"

"Yeah, grasshopper, we're fine."

She gave me a light squeeze on the shoulder, nodded curtly to Elaine, and disappeared into the crowd.

"Is that - ?"

"Yup."

"How - ?"

"Long story."

Ten minutes later, the Guardsmen were spreading the promise of buses and helicopters to evacuate. Strangely, their radios had not worked well so long as they were walking with their guide, but now were just fine. St. Mary's, it seemed, was the single largest refuge they'd found within the disaster zone – which, we found out, Chicago had been designated at about one that morning.

Father Fraser, Charity and Molly went about getting the seriously injured closer to the door. Thomas helped, making look easy, of course.

When he had finally reappeared, he dropped a battery-powered radio in my lap with a wink. Elaine kept me company as I tried to tune the dial. With two wizards sitting next to it, the radio was lucky not to explode, but it was made some time in the late eighties, so it was a little more resilient than the newest models. For almost two straight minutes, I got nothing but bursts of static.

Then Michael limped over to us, sat down, and, miracle of miracles, the EBS started coming in perfectly. Michael is really handy to have around.

The news wasn't much we didn't already know or suspect; the aftershock had ripped through, causing even more damage; flooding in the low-lying areas as sewers backed up and the lake rushed in; and fires continued to burn, spreading now beyond control.

I snapped the power switch off. "Well, that was helpful."

"They can only know what they know, Harry."

"Why are you always so positive Michael?"

Elaine said, "It's called optimism, foolish boy. You should try it sometime." She gave me a peck on the forehead while Michael chuckled.

I saw Thomas, under Charity's watchful eye, gently pick up a old man wrapped in a blanket, and walk him up an aisle, place him down in a pew, and take three steps away, followed by several steadying breaths. His demon was hungry. Charity put a hand on his shoulder, and he stiffened. She whispered something in his ear. He nodded, then made a quick beeline for the front door and vanished through it.

Molly approached her mother, mouthed something I couldn't make out. Then Charity looked at me, nodded, and walked up to us, Molly at her shoulder.

"Molly says we need to talk." She looked over her shoulder and crossed her arms. "About her 'political situation'?"

My former apprentice swallowed and nodded, slowly. I gave her a narrowed eye. "And why am I the one doing the talking?" I asked.

Molly's face was surprised, scared, and pleading all at once. "Well… I can tell them. But you should be here, just in case I miss something. Please?"

I sighed. I just can't say no to a lady in distress. "The White Council is no longer hunting her," I said, and she deflated in relief.

"Really?" Elaine said. "What happened?"

"That's my question," Charity said.

I looked at the floor. "She made a deal."

"A deal? You mean like a plea bargain, with the Council?"

I looked Charity in the eye, because it was the right thing to do. "Not with the Council. With the Sidhe. With the Winter Queen."

Beside me, I noted Elaine went completely stiff and still.

I watched the understanding spread over Charity's face. Slowly, she looked at her daughter. Molly said, "I'm the Winter Knight. The Queen's mortal champion."

There was total silence for a few seconds, then, "Perhaps," Michael said, struggling to his feet, "we could talk about this more in the back room?"

Molly and Charity looked at each other, then both nodded at him. All three Carpenters walked away silently, Molly between her parents. Charity looked fit to burst, and I wisely decided that I didn't want to be part of that.

I turned to Elaine. "You okay?"

She was staring at Molly like a lone gazelle looks at a lion. Elaine shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

"What's wrong?"

"Is she really the Winter Knight?"

"Yes. No question."

Molly and her parents vanished down a hall, and Elaine let out a breath. But her eyes stayed on that hall. "Harry, there might be a little problem here."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just, a little, tiny conflict."

"Conflict? You're not still in debt to Summer, are you? I thought that was done and over when Aurora died."

"Almost. Not quite."

"Not quite?"

"I owe Summer one small favour."

I felt my eyes double in size. "The last 'small favour' I did for a Faerie Queen involved Denarians and Michael Carpenter getting shot. So you'll excuse me if I'd like you to be a little more specific."

She sighed. "I must render aid and succour to an agent of Summer, when the debt is invoked."

I blinked. "That's it?"

"Harry, that could be anything from let a gruff sleep on my couch one night to help the Summer Knight carry out an assassination."

I grimaced. "True. Well, this is good."

"Good? How is this good?"

"I was afraid things were getting dull. This makes them a little more interesting."