The Winter Lady looked supremely unconcerned with me, though I had a shield up, a staff raised, and murder in my eyes. I didn't really stand a chance against her, and I knew it, but I didn't care. Just to look scary, I let a little Hellfire seep into my staff. The runes carved along it lit up with a red-black glow and started smoking, a scent of brimstone and burning wood drifting into the air.

"Please, wizard," she said, her voice somehow acerbic and sultry at once. "I can see from here that you can barely stand, even if the Fires of Destruction flow through you. Besides, you cannot stand between me and my Knight." She smirked. "It would be improper."

The faerie bitch was right. I was a member of the White Council, a signatory to the Unseelie Accords, and as such, preventing her from claiming – or even approaching – a member of her Court was forbidden. My concentration wavered, and my shield blinked out. But I didn't move out of the way, and my expression didn't mellow.

"Better," she said. Maeve wore tight jeans, complicated looking heels, and a very flattering, form-fitting white tee-shirt. Her hair was separated into dreadlocks, each one a slightly different colour, running the gamut from pure black on her left shoulder to every shade of blue and green, to pure white on her right. Each of them looked hard and shiny enough that she could have broken them off like an icicle.

"My Lady," Molly said from behind her.

"My Knight," Maeve said, and her voice purred and she smiled. "I knew your feelings for Mother and I were… unflattering. But your words were simply hurtful."

Molly paused, and when she spoke, her voice was flat and held a hint of sarcasm. "Lady, please forgive me - "

"Oh, do stop." The smile was gone now. Molly stopped talking and sagged a bit in the bed. There was a look of disgust on her face. I'd never been prouder of her.

I risked speaking. It came out as a growl. "What are you doing here, Maeve? For that matter, how are you here?"

"Oh, silly wizard. The White God holds no anger against the Sidhe. Standing on this ground is of little inconvenience."

"I meant how did you get to Chicago? We're stuck in Hell, and last time I checked, that wasn't your domain."

She smiled and touched her tongue to her lips. "Oh, a girl has her ways. I could show you the Way… for a price, or course."

"Of course. You haven't answered the rest of my question. What are you doing here?"

"Is a Lady not permitted to see her servant?"

"She is. But you still haven't answered and I don't want to ask again." I smiled. "It would be improper."

Asking a Sidhe – or any fae, really – a question three times binds them to the answer; it must be the truest answer they can give. And since the fae love word games and messing with mortals, they hate being bound almost as much as they love making deals. Hey, I didn't write the rules.

"Very true, wizard," she said, and the slightest hint of devilish joy crept back into her voice. I didn't like the sound of it. "Very well," she said, stepping into the room. "I'm here to make you an offer."

Now, deals with the Sidhe are to be avoided like the plague. I would know; I'm still in debt to Mab over something stupid I did many, many years ago.

"Go fuck yourself," I said.

She actually looked offended for a second. Then she smiled again, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Wouldn't that be a sight?"

"I'm serious. You're not welcome here." I wavered a little on my feet. The adrenaline I'd been coasting on since the wide van ride was ebbing; I was crashing.

"And yet, here I am. You cannot force me to leave; this is not your home, dear wizard. Of course, you have no home and your city progresses ever closer to never returning to the mortal realm. And demons of great and terrible power stand near, held at bay only through the power of a being you swear no allegiance to." My teeth ground together. "It would seem that your options, dear wizard, are running thin."

She was right again. I hated myself, but I asked anyway. "What kind of offer?"

"Merely the strength to stand and protect your city."

"Really? And what will that cost me?"

She glanced at Molly.

I kept my temper, but it was a near thing.

I spoke, using only my lips. My jaw was clenched too tightly to use. "You want to give me the Winter Knight's mantle? Not a chance in hell."

"Curious choice of words."

"Transferring the mantle would require Molly to die. I won't allow that, and you know it. Period." I forced my jaw to relax, and tilted my head to one side to work out the muscle. I felt something pop in my neck, which immediately started hurting.

Maeve looked completely unconcerned. "Mother foresaw that her Knight would fall in this conflict; it is why she did not wish to claim you as Knight until she had a pawn to hold the position for you."

"Pawn?" Molly spat, and I could hear her fatigue and anger fighting with each other.

"Yes, dear. You were never meant to be the Winter Knight for long; only until now, to keep dear Harry here from being wasted. Granted, I had suspected that you would perish, and that was prevented." She looked at me. "Which may complicate things, if I have any understanding of mortal reasoning."

"I won't let you kill her," I said, rubbing my neck. I still stood between them. One of my knees felt a little shaky. In fact, my entire leg had that restless tension you get when you're overtired and just can't get to sleep… my mind was drifting.

"Silly wizard. I am unable to end any mortal's life, even my own Knight." Her eyes flashed. "But do not think for a moment that you pose a threat or stand as a barrier to me. Your energy is spent."

"Maybe," I said, dropping my staff and pulling out my .44. "But I've got at least two rounds in here that aren't." I pointed the old revolver at her. I couldn't hold my arm out, and I didn't want her knocking it from my hand anyway, so I aimed from the hip, gunslinger style.

"Lead does not scare me, wizard."

"I know. That's why I go through the pain of buying steel-jacketed rounds. They're a little harder to find, but totally worth it."

Maeve's face went deadly serious, and her eyes fixed on the weapon. "You wouldn't dare."

"I've killed one Sidhe Lady. Try me."

After a long stare, one side of her mouth ticked up – her beautiful, full, pouty – dammit! Mind is wandering a little too easily. "Such willfulness… I'll speak plainly, wizard. You have three hours, perhaps four, before the Transit becomes permanent. And I've seen the auxiliary you have at your disposal: vampires, the weakest of their kind; werewolves; a mere handful of wizards, many of them maimed; and many, many scared little mortals, who think they have seen the worst, but will run and hide when they are exposed to what truly waits."

She stepped closer to me, but Mouse interposed himself. Eying him, she stopped moving, saying, "But the Winter Knight could call forth the strength of Winter. An army of fae."

"I could call in back-up?" Molly asked. Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

Maeve looked at her. "You never asked. And it seemed a waste."

I cocked the gun and felt my upper lip peel back involuntarily. One of my eyes starting twitching and I blinked it a few times; my vision got blurry, then cleared. Both of my eyes felt cold and dry.

Maeve's eyes snapped to me, and she took a breath. "You would sacrifice a city – your own – and the lives of over a thousand mortals, to preserve one? And only for a short time?" She tilted her head. "Perhaps I don't understand mortals at all." Her voice, of course, made it sound like she knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Why don't you just heal her? Get her back in fighting shape?"

Maeve made a disgusted face. "I could only do so if it were part of a bargain. As she is currently my Knight, and I have no desire to bargain with her, it is unlikely to happen." She smiled sweetly.

"We don't need your army. I have a Valkyrie who can bring down the wrath of the All-Father taking a nap downstairs."

Maeve's head tilted a little to the side. "That's true. Of course, she is unconscious at the moment. And once she wakes, she will have to send word, then those forces would have to travel here. That would be risky, since they do not know the Ways through this domain. Not to mention that it would be slow."

"Slow?"

"Oh my, wizard, yes. At least six hours, I should say. If time were to hold constant for their sojourn."

Well, so much for that.

I grunted, trying to think. We'd done fairly well so far, taking out Mavra and Taira and their small force, but I'd been lucky beyond measure. And the rescue at the Velvet Room could have gone more smoothly, too. Quite a few of the best fighters I knew were either out of the game or walking wounded.

I'd seen what Molly was capable of now; with the strength of the Winter Knight's mantle, I'd be able to keep going, despite my fatigue. I could call up all the reinforcements I needed. Combined with the Wardens and the Norse warriors Gard could eventually get… we'd have an army. We'd have a chance.

But Molly would die.

Damn the Sidhe. And damn me for even considering it.

I said nothing. I was too angry to trust myself. There was no sound in the tiny room for a moment except for me shuffling my legs, trying to keep the muscles from shaking.

Then: "Harry," Molly's voice said from behind me. "Harry, you should do it."

My neck snapped back at whiplash speed. It hurt, enough to make me wince. Molly was working herself into a sitting position again.

"Molly, don't let her manipulate you," I said, rubbing my neck again. "You have a choice, you just said so yourself, five minutes ago!"

"I know, Harry."

"So, what the hell?" My voice dropped, all the anger draining out. "I promised your parents I'd get you out of here."

"I am making a choice. I promised them that if I had to, I'd die a good death. I'd die for a good reason. To give you a fighting chance? To save Chicago, and all of the people in it? I can't think of a better one." Molly turned a hard gaze on Maeve. "Right now, I'm nothing but a pawn, anyway."

"In chess," Maeve said, "pawns exist to be sacrificed."

In a low voice I said, "And sometimes, pawns kill queens." I turned back to the Winter Lady. "Though usually, that's a job for a knight." I kept my gun on her. "I won't take it. I won't take anything from you."

"Harry - "

"Forget it, Molly. Give it up if you want to, but knowing that it killed you, I won't take it."

Maeve sighed, rolling her eyes. "So noble." She somehow made it sound like an insult. "Very well. Before you make your decision, you should know something, wizard."

"Yeah? What?"

"Molly need not die permanently."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

Of course, Lash whispered.

"Think of where you are, wizard."

"In a priest's bedroom?" I know I was being difficult. Sue me; I was tired.

Maeve rolled her eyes again and put her hands on her hips. "We are in Hell," she said with exaggerated softness. "It is a realm that exists for but one purpose: to contain the souls of mortal dead."

"That's just another reason to say no; if she dies here, her soul would be stuck - " I'm pretty sure there was a buzz-click sound inside my brain as I realized what she meant. "Molly's soul won't… might not depart? Though, if she did die here, she'd be trapped in Hell."

Maeve tilted her head and grinned, Cheshire Cat style. "Well, it would take not inconsiderable effort on my part, and on yours, but in the end, I could remove the mantle, put dear Molly's soul back where it belongs, and gift you with the power of Winter." She paused, her expression growing serious. "Decide quickly."

'Could', she'd said. Not the same as 'will'.

I paused. Am I crazy?

I wasn't expecting an answer, but Lash whispered, Possibly.

Get the strength and endurance I needed to save Chicago – maybe – and more importantly, get Molly out of her bargain. This was the only way I was going to find to do that – Maeve and Mab were too clever to let me have the opportunity ever again. Manipulative bitches that they were, they'd waited until I was desperate and dangled this prize right in front of me. Maybe I was crazy. There had to be another way… didn't there?

"Harry," Molly said again. I looked at her, and she nodded. "Do it," she whispered.

Time was tight. I was on my last legs. I'd made a promise to Molly, and to Charity.

What the hell. I was in deep as it was. I made a snap decision and turned back to the Winter Lady. "Promise me," I said.

Her head jerked back as if I'd slapped her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Promise me that Molly will survive."

She hesitated. Fae hate making promises. It ties back to the no lying rule – if they make a promise that they cannot fulfil… well, it's occasionally been known to completely destroy the faerie involved.

I tried not to grin like an idiot. If she wanted to play hardball, she'd find I had a nasty swing.

Her eyes narrowed. "I freely give a promise to attempt to preserve Molly's life."

"Not good enough. Not even in the right ZIP code."

She paused again, her eyes never leaving me. There was no sound in the little room but for my breath; Mouse and Molly were both holding theirs. "It would be conditional," she finally said.

"Not a problem. I've got a few conditions before I accept, too."

"It would require the Fires of Creation."

"Soulfire? I'm running a little low."

"Nonetheless, it is required."

I glanced at Molly, saw hope and fear warring on her face. "Fine. What else?"

"Harry, no, you won't survive that!"

"I can make choices, too, Molls. What else?"

"Swear on your power that you will accept the mantle, and not end your own life to escape it."

I paused, but only for a second to infuse my words with my intent. "I swear, on my word and on my magic, that I will accept the mantle of the Winter Knight, and fulfil the office to the best of my abilities. And I will never attempt to end my own life to end my obligation." She smiled. I continued, "Provided, of course that I am never set against those I care about and love." Her smile vanished.

"You presume a great deal, wizard."

"I've not yet begun to presume. But I think we're both taking what we can get here. I also want you to heal Molly, and everyone else here."

"Don't be a fool, wizard. They have their own free will; I cannot alter them without bargains made."

Of course not. I grimaced and rubbed my eyes. Damn, but I was tired. I could only hope I was thinking straight enough for this. But that was a flawed thought; if I was thinking straight, I'd be dodging this situation entirely. She'd waited until I was tired to come to me. She'd waited until I wasn't thinking straight at all.

Brilliant.

"Are you satisfied, wizard?"

I almost said yes. Then I glanced at my apprentice – my friend – again. The fear I'd heard in her voice, the pain and humiliation… "You'll not break me."

Maeve smiled. "Greater men than you have said such."

"No, I mean as part of this arrangement. I do your bidding, sure. I follow orders. But I do it my way. No interference, no manipulation; you just give me a goal to accomplish, and let me be. No trying to turn me into just another thug." Her face was unreadable. My mouth ran on without me. "I don't think that's why you want me, anyway." Realization clicked again. "You could have just about anyone you want as Knight. You and Mab want me because I'm not just a thug."

Maeve's head shook side to side, ever so slightly. "Willful, strong, and perceptive. Mother is correct: a definite improvement over poor Lloyd. I agree to your conditions, wizard, including the promise, if you agree to mine."

I thought furiously for a second, but nothing else came to mind. I had the damnedest feeling I was forgetting something vital, but naturally I couldn't think of what it was. "I do."

"So mote be it."

I felt a tingle – a wave, really – of cold run up my spine. Then it was gone. Maeve turned to Molly. "Lie still," she said. Molly gave me a worried look, then lay back.

Maeve looked down at Mouse. "You should remove yourself." Mouse tilted his head and made no sound I could hear. Maeve lifted an eyebrow. "If you insist." Mouse moved to stand beside me, and to stare at Maeve, but he was no longer between us. I touched his head in gratitude.

"So when do we do this?" I asked.

She looked over her shoulder. "Why, immediately."

I drew in a breath. "I need to tell - "

"Time is short, wizard. You know what marches ever closer. Transit, and the unnatural foe."

"Unnatural?"

"You know of whom I speak. He who taunts death. He who injured Mother."

I nodded slowly, pieces falling into place. "Cowl. The beating sounds, in the distance; he's raised an army of dead, hasn't he? And he's the one who injured Mab?"

"Mother is the power of Winter given form. She is a force of nature. His power is unnatural. He violates the law of nature that the White Council and the Courts agree upon."

"Well, Winter does."

"Indeed. Titania's actions grow ever more unpredictable. All the more reason to hurry."

I looked down at Molly one more time. She was angry, mostly, but also tired. She reminded me of how Ebenezar had looked just a few days ago, worry supplanting energy, fear overriding confidence, weariness destroying joy. "Okay," I said. "How do we do this?"

"Is it not obvious, wizard?" Her voice seemed gleeful, and my neck instantly started to itch. "I am unable to end a mortal life. You must now kill Molly."

Dresden.

The sound of Demonreach's voice rolled through my head, though it was now distant, rather than right in my ear. The effect wasn't as pronounced as it had been before, so instead of collapsing, I just almost collapsed. A wave of weakness rolled over me, then it was gone. Mouse kept me standing by acting as a living crutch.

Every time I was weak, or felt helpless, that damn island somehow managed to get a word into my head. Why? And more importantly, how?

"Wizard?"

Well, time for islands will have to be later. "No," I said, barely lifting a finger to point at Maeve. "No, you said she didn't have to die."

"Permanently. It is the only way to extract the mantle."

"So what's the Soulfire for?"

"When her soul attempts to escape, you will contain it."

"Contain it?"

"Box it in, my Knight-in-waiting. Prevent it from fleeing."

I looked down at Molly, who was staring up at me, her expression full of sadness, and just a touch of fear. "Harry, if it doesn't work - "

"It'll work," I said, putting as much granite into my voice as I could… which wasn't much, I admit.

"If it doesn't," she said again, "say good-bye to my family for me."

I tried to kneel down, but it became a fall. I hurt one of my knees, winced. I put my gun away and took her hand. "You're not going to die. She promised, and I promise."

On side of her mouth ticked up at that, then drooped again. "Why'd you call me Molls?"

I shrugged. "I was saving it for when you stopped being my apprentice. You know, when you were all grown up, like when I stopped calling Will, 'Billy.' Though in this case, I think you grew up a while ago, and I just had to finally accept it."

She smirked again, then glanced up at Maeve. "Will it hurt?"

"Oh, yes," the Winter Lady said, "very much so."

Molly sighed, then clamped her jaw and nodded to herself. My teeth ground together, too. I'd have offered to put her to sleep, but I wasn't sure I had the mojo to do so. "All right," she said. "Let's get this over with."

"Right," I said, suddenly hesitant. I didn't let go of her hand. Over my shoulder, I asked, "So, any recommendations on how?"

"One," Maeve said, putting a hand on shoulder. I flinched a little; she didn't react. "Construct a container from the Fires of Creation, surrounding her. Then, move the container."

I looked up at her. "That's it?"

"You cannot damage her body, lest it fail once we are done. Simply ripping the soul from her is much more efficient." I managed to suppress a horrified shudder, but just barely. Molly's whole body went rigid for a second, but she didn't say anything. "The sooner we begin, the sooner we shall finish," Maeve said.

I heard Mouse growl, low and steady. Maeve finally withdrew her hand.

Molly gave my hand a squeeze, then let go and turned her head to look right at the ceiling. She closed her eyes, linked her hands over her belly and her lips started moving; she was praying.

Well, every little bit helps, I guess. I pushed myself up and took a step back. "A container?" I asked.

"I will guide you," Maeve said.

Maeve gave me some instructions, then I built a box in my mind. It was probably going to be the simplest use I'd ever put Soulfire to. I visualized encasing Molly, but the first mental image I had was of a coffin, and I dismissed it with a shake. Instead, I pictured a cocoon, like a butterfly would emerge from.

It took way too long to get the image to hold steady; exhaustion had left my concentration completely shot.

"Okay," I finally said once the image solidified, "I've got it."

"Create it," Maeve said – no. She commanded. I was too tired, and circumstances were too dire, to say something snarky. Instead, I looked down at Molly, arms crossed over abdomen, who looked back and nodded at me. I extended my hands, took a deep breath, and touched Soulfire.

Instantly, my fatigue was worse. I'm pretty sure every muscle in my body started objecting at once. My soul itself flowed out of me, into the air, and down around Molly, encircling her in a bright, translucent bluish-white light, beginning at her feet and working its way up. As I stood there, my arms began to shake; I felt myself swaying, but Mouse shored me up on one side and Maeve braced me on the other.

The cocoon wrapped around Molly, nearly skin-tight, and just as it began to cover her face, she closed her eyes again.

I stopped pushing as the cocoon finished; I was barely conscious. I hadn't pushed this much Soulfire since my trip back in time with McCoy that sort of set off this whole mess, and now the mere act of not falling seemed border-line impossible.

My arms fell, and I struggled to pull in a breath. Molly lay there on the bed, wrapped in what looked like a loaf of bread made out of silvery water.

"Now," Maeve whispered, "lift it."

I took a few deep breaths, fighting to keep my concentration; we had one shot at doing this correctly. One shot at keeping Molly alive. One shot at saving Chicago and everyone in it, really.

No pressure.

"Let me kneel," I gasped out. Maeve held my arm and lowered me to my knees. She did it with great ease, probably born of a great deal of practice.

I wasn't breathing right. My vision wasn't exactly tunnelling, but I was taking an extra second to recognize objects in my periphery – yes, that is a lamp, yes, that is a bedpost.

I managed to get my hands stretched out again, resting them on the mattress itself, palms up. I saw Molly's eyes open, saw her breathing quicken. She looked at me. I hesitated.

"Lift it, wizard."

"I don't… I don't know - "

"You have no time, and no more pleasant alternative. Lift it."

I stared at my friend for another full second, trying to talk myself out of it, but Maeve was right. I'd already made the decision, and was simply putting it off. "Forgive me, grasshopper." I slid my hands under the edge of the cocoon, and bent my arms, at the same time willing it – and the soul it now encircled – up.

Molly screamed, briefly.

I did not stop.

I lights flickered, and when the lamp in the room came back on, it wasn't as bright as it had been, and there was a decidedly red tone to the light. The shadows were thicker, the contrast between light and dark much less definite.

Some of the shadows appeared to be moving.

I lifted until the cocoon was several inches above Molly's body – and it was just her body, now. She lay limp, lifeless. No movement, not even breath. Her mouth was till open in that scream, and her eyes are glassy, staring at the ceiling. A cold, solid feeling burst into existence in my gut, and I felt tears coming on; I'd just killed her. Ripped her soul out like a band-aid off a paper-cut.

"Now," the Winter Lady said, "as I told you."

I closed my eyes, tight, and it was so tempting to just collapse and never open them again, just go to sleep and be done. That wasn't an option, though. I focussed on a spot in the middle of my forehead – a place some folks would call a chakra point – and opened a small window into what was left of my soul. My Sight came up as I opened my eyes again.

Molly's body hadn't moved, but it was now covered in a jumble of colour and not-colour, fading blues and oranges of life and determination along with slowly disappearing reds of passion and greens of sympathy, along with the encroaching grey of death, all slowly being supplanted by a complete, solid black from those shadows.

I ripped my eyes away from Molly's body, and its echoes of life, looking up… and there was Molly, too.

Within the cocoon, a transparent outline of my friend floated, a rainbow of colours washing over her from one end to the other. Disappointment, fear, frustration, pain and relief all took their turn. These colours were bright, vibrant, alive in a way those on her body were not. Her outline was pushing against the cocoon, head whipping back and forth, her hair weightlessly flying about, legs thrashing, arms flailing. She was trapped.

And the shadows were encircling her. The blackness had grown out of the shadows, leapt off the walls and was now reaching for her, grabbing at the soul of a good woman, trying to break down the barrier I'd placed in the way.

Hell itself wanted her.

Something that was somehow both blood-red and silver-white flowed out of her, coalescing into an orb, floating just to the side of her hip. It flowed together from every glassy molecule of her, weaving together into a ball and bumping into the barrier I'd created, trying to get out, aiming over my shoulder, trying to get to Maeve.

"It's separated," I breathed.

"Good, wizard," Maeve said from over my shoulder. "Close your Eye."

I closed all my eyes, though she was only referring to the Sight. I didn't want to see even a portion of Maeve with my Eye open, and especially not this close; I'd once caught a glimpse – just a glimpse - of Titania, from several miles away with the Sight up, and I'd come very close to melting my brain. The closest I can come to describing it is, imagine looking directly into the Sun, while the Sun is looking into you.

When I opened my normal eyes again, the shadows were just shadows, and the cocoon appeared empty. Maeve was reaching into it, and appeared to be in ecstasy; she was reclaiming the Winter Knight's mantle, that portion of the power of Winter that contained just a hint of each and every Knight to have held it before; just enough mortal essence to make it bounce off the barrier. Maeve, having no soul at all, was unimpeded.

She sighed and withdrew her hand. "Now, put her back."

I lowered the cocoon as quickly as I could, bringing up my Sight again as I did. The physical act of lifting and lowering was only symbolic for me, since it was the application of will that would actually move the cocoon. However, I was so tired that I needed all the help I could get to focus. Once again, the riot of colour that was my friend's purest essence sprang to life, surrounded by a barrier of energy that seemed to be trying to jump at me.

And once again, tendrils of darkness surrounded the barrier.

The Soulfire construct settled over Molly's body, and I waited, hoping. This was the one thing she would have to do for herself: return to her body, willingly. I watched the transparent echo of my former apprentice writhe, then stiffen. She looked around, as though recognizing something, then she settled back. With a smile, her head leaned back…

Molly shuddered and tried to sit up, gasping in breath. The cocoon vanished, and with it, the shadows. I jerked away, toppling flat on my back, clamping my eyes shut and just breathing for a moment. I heard her struggling to get air in, felt myself having the same problem.

There was a slight groan to her voice. I forced my eyes – just my normal ones – open. Mouse licked my cheek. It was warm, and a little wet, and actually felt good, compared to the rest of my body, which just felt… empty.

I was numb.

Lash appeared over me, smiling. You did it, she said without saying.

Yeah. How about that?

She reached out a hand to stroke my face, and I saw that it was burned. Horribly. It looked like my left hand had after Mavra scorched it. I wasn't repulsed, or shocked. I didn't even really feel any surprise. I didn't really feel anything.

What happened? I only asked out of habit.

She didn't answer.

It was the Soulfire, wasn't it?

She smiled a sad smile and shrugged one shoulder. It had to be slowed, somehow.

Maeve got a hand on my shoulder and yanked me to my feet. I got a half-second of vertigo as I passed through Lash, then I was looking down at Molly again. She was sitting up, leaning against the wall, covered in sweat, her hands on her broken leg. Her breathing was strained, her teeth were clenched together, her hair wet and sticking to her. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were closed tight.

"Molly?" I said. "You okay?"

Her eyes opened, but she otherwise didn't move. "They wanted me," she gasped out. "They were trying to get me. The shadows."

"They didn't get you. You're safe." There was no infection to my voice. That seemed wrong, for some reason, but I couldn't put my finger on why.

"I hurt," she said. "Everywhere. So much. I think I need an aspirin."

"Maybe a Tylenol 3?" I made the joke, but mostly from habit, I think. I didn't smile with it. I just didn't feel the need.

"That would work," she said around a tiny laugh. She grimaced as the chuckle went through her body.

"Keep laughing. It'll release endorphins."

She snorted. "Unless endorphins are made of Vicodin, they won't help much." She sagged against the wall, eyes closed again, her breathing ragged.

In some part of my brain, I thought I could reach out and put a hand on her arm. I could go get help, someone to make sure her leg was bound properly. I could give her a hug. I did none of those things. I noted, in a very cold, detached way, that the usual imperative I had for those kinds of actions simply wasn't there. Logically, I knew I should do something, but the emotional drive was just lacking.

Lash appeared in my periphery, and I turned my head to her.

Harry? She looked very concerned about something.

Yeah?

Are you alright?

I think so. Why?

Her face went from concerned to scared. You are… hollow.

Not sure I understand.

You are emotionally… dead. Your soul is almost gone.

So this is what happens when your soul is almost gone? I felt no fear, no concern. Interesting.

Lash looked horrified.

Maeve grabbed my shoulder, turned me to look at her. "Now, wizard." Her eyes had a slightly manic look, wide and a little glassy.

"Now what?"

"I must impart the mantle."

"Right this second?"

"You have no time to waste, dear Harry."

I looked over my shoulder at Molly. She had one eye open. She nodded at me. "Alright." I turned back to the Winter Lady. "What's required?"

"An act," she said, putting both hands on my chest, "of intimacy." I vaguely noted that her breathing had changed, becoming quicker, shallower.

I felt no reaction at all, beyond simple curiosity. "How intimate?"

She smiled. "As intimate as I wish," she said, and pushed herself up on her toes. At the same time, she got her hands behind my neck and pulled me down. As the kiss started, there was a large shock of static electricity on my mouth. I tried to jerk back, but her grip was solid. Then I felt myself falling.

I wasn't falling to the floor; I was falling from miles up, the cold air of a winter's gale was raging around us, and the press of her body against mine, her lips against mine, the only source of warmth. I pulled closer instinctively.

I was naked, she was naked, and we were tumbling through the air of the night. I found my body responding in its natural way. As we fell, there was still no fear, no pain, no fatigue; only strength, and warmth, flowing from Maeve's lips into me and slowly growing.

I felt myself growing stronger. I felt my focus and concentration returning. I felt my burdens growing lighter.

I felt my emotions returning. I felt alive and energized in a way I hadn't realised was possible. I felt anger and frustration, but also relief, determination, joy, I felt life itself, total, uncompromised and overwhelming.

I felt power.

We kept falling, but there was no ground rushing up to meet us; we were as a leaf in a tornado, whipping about in whatever direction nature wanted. There was no up, no down, only movement and energy.

The need to cry out, to release the power overwhelmed me, and my voice welled up, a shout starting in the bottom of my lungs and racing up my throat. I ripped my mouth from hers, yelling in triumph.

The gale was gone. I was back my body, back Fraser's room. I was down on one knee, staring up at the Winter Lady as she looked down at me, hers hands still linked behind my neck. She licked her lips. "My Knight," she whispered, breathless, smirking.

I swallowed, the joy and relief draining away, leaving me with fear and uncertainty. I guess any emotion was better than none at all. "My Lady," I answered.