"This is so new!"
I smiled as my other daughter took in everything she could. Or as much as a cloud of sparkly, green ember-lights could take things in.
I'd had a shadow of a rogue angel stuck in my head for a few years, and though we hadn't started out as friends, she'd gradually turned into something much greater than a tempting voice in my head. We'd become close. She'd honestly known me better than I knew myself, in many ways. We'd been intimate in a way simple friends never could be, though we had never been physical lovers. But in the end, when my life had been threatened, she'd given herself to save me.
That act of nobility, of sacrifice, of love, had created our offspring. (Or at least that's what I figured had happened.) A fully-formed being of pure spirit energy, gifted with the knowledge of both of her parents. And now that she'd been born from my mind, thankfully without the use of an axe, she was curious about everything new.
The problem was, she'd been completely lethargic and uninterested in everything she already knew, which, considering her mother had been around at the dawn of time and had been interacting with humans for millennia, was… well, everything.
I'd let her out of the skull into the truck a few minutes after we crossed the portal. And for the first time in a month, she was excited. She was interested in something. So, she hadn't been weak all this time; she'd been bored.
Sigh. Kids.
"Is that the sun?" she asked.
"It's the spiritual reflection of the sun," I said.
"Wow! It doesn't hurt at all."
"It can't; you're spiritual, too."
"I don't recognize those trees; what are they called?"
"I don't know."
"The air feels different; what's in it?"
"Uh, ectoplasm? I think."
"There are mountains with no snow over there; how is that possible?"
"I don't think it's ever snowed there."
"Is that river really water? Or just a reflection of water?"
"I think it's just a reflection."
And on, and on, and on. I finally got the kid to come out of her shell, and she came out running. I very pointedly ignored the others as they tried not to laugh at me.
I like to think I managed most of the questions well, but she did trip me up just before we reached the Miami end of the trip.
"We're about to leave the Nevernever. You need to get back in the skull," I said.
"Can we come back?" she asked as her light cloud condensed back into the skull's eyes.
"Absolutely," I said, "as long as you're good."
"Oh, okay. Um, can you define 'good'?"
I opened my mouth, and nothing came out. I glanced at Thomas, and he held up a hand, which meant, You're on your own.
I tried the werewolves in the back, but they looked about as uncertain as I felt. That was a hell of a question. Did I go the philosophical route, and try for an abstract definition? Dictionary-definite? Did I define it as, 'not bad'? I suppose, in the end, I did what every parent ends up doing: I took the pragmatic route.
"I'll give you a complete definition later, but it includes doing as you're told. I mean, told by me. As your father."
"Okay, we can start with that."
That suddenly felt woefully incomplete. "I'm not saying don't question me. Or don't think for yourself. It's just… the world can be very dangerous. And I don't want you to get hurt. And you aren't as familiar with those dangers as I am."
"I appreciate that. I don't want you to get hurt either."
"Oh. Well, thank you."
"You're welcome. Oh, are you about to open a portal back to the real world?"
"I am, yeah."
"Okay. That place is boring. I'm going back to sleep." Her lights went out.
"Wow," I said, putting the skull down.
"The new girl is very inquisitive," Andi said.
"She is that," I said, rubbing my eyes. "Huh. New. Maybe I could call her 'Nova'?"
"You mean like from Planet of the Apes?" Marci asked. "Or that series on PBS?"
"Right," I said, "scratch that one, too."
Twenty minutes later, we were driving in mid-afternoon weekend Miami traffic. The sun was shining, the windows were down (Thomas wasn't willing to risk the A/C around me) and we managed not to get caught in stop-and-go more than twice.
Lara had a room at the Marriott Marquis downtown, and Thomas worked his way in that direction.
"Who's in charge of Malvora these days?" I asked. I had raise my voice over the traffic.
"After you killed Vitto and Cesarina, there was a bit of a struggle. Eventually, Danicka, my third of fourth cousin, took over. Mostly by getting the competition killed."
"Competition?"
"Her sister and brother."
"Gee, sounds like she's a people person."
"All things considered, she seems to be the least of several evils," he said, "which means she probably isn't. Tough; she'd have to be. Pigheaded. Might have some anger issues."
"Sounds like a doll."
There was a pause in the conversation as a flurry of honking and a generous application of brakes and swearing accompanied someone running a red.
"What about 'Angel'?" he asked after he stopped describing really uncomfortable sexual acts to the other drivers.
"What?"
"For a name."
"Uh, it's a little…"
"Appropriate?"
"Ironic. Considering her parents are a human and a Fallen Angel."
"Hmph." He paused, thinking. "Angela?"
"No."
"Angelina?"
"Definitely not."
"Angelica?"
"Stars and stones, Thomas."
Andi piped up. "Oh, come on. You could sing 'Angie' to her as a lullaby."
"Please don't encourage him."
A few minutes later, Thomas pulled up to the hotel. The entrance way was recessed within the building on a driveway that the hotel proper covered from all sides. As we stopped with the front doors on our left, I glanced right. Two huge stone griffins stood guard between us and the street.
We all hopped out, Thomas nonchalantly tossing the keys to a valet while I made certain the wooden skull was settled in my duster's pocket. We headed inside. Thomas didn't have to say anything; the concierge, a middle-aged, balding fellow of medium build, appeared at his elbow as if – dare I say it? – by magic.
"Mr. Raith, a pleasure to see you again, sir."
Thomas swept his sunglasses off. "Carl, it's always nice to see you, too. Has my sister settled in?"
"Yes, sir. The penthouse is yours, of course." He produced one of those plastic access cards from an inner pocket. "Your key card, Mr. Raith."
"Thank you, Carl. You'll see to our luggage?"
"Of course, sir."
"Good man." Thomas shook the guy's hand. I watched, but I saw no tip. My guess was the Raith family spent a lot of money here, or Lara had fed on Carl before. The act of feeding itself could become addictive for the feed-ee, and inspire a remarkable devotion.
Of course, it was also possible the guy was just really good at his job. What did I know?
The four of us filed into an elevator, and Thomas waved the access card in front of a little plastic protrusion on the button panel. Something beeped, and my brother hit a button. It was above number 41.
I've blown out elevators before, just by repeatedly using them. I dreaded the idea of having to tromp down 41 flights of stairs, so I just stood in the corner and tried not to think about breaking things. I swear the air got thinner as we shot up into the sky.
The doors finally opened.
On a very sweet suite. I'm talking full-floor penthouse. Karrin's entire house could have fit in there. Twice. There were floor-to-ceiling windows, plus skylights, high ceilings, carpet soft enough to sleep on, a full kitchen, a conference table in its own glass-walled area, and an enclosed solarium/sitting room at the opposite end. Flanking that, there were four doors in the far wall; I guessed two bedrooms and two bathrooms.
"Gentlemen," Thomas said. He stepped off the elevator and greeted a pair of serious-looking men standing to one side.
"Mr. Raith," the smaller of the two men said. His eyes were quick, taking in all four of us. He adjusted his feet and put his weight forward. He'd looked us over, and I saw him decide each of us was a threat. Good for him. Even if people don't know I'm a wizard, I'm 6'5" and pretty solid. I was also holding a 6' long, inch-thick oak stick. Most people would also have dismissed Marci and Andi; honestly, each of them was just as dangerous as Thomas or I. But usually their 'person' camouflage deflected suspicion. This guy had obviously seen Some Things during his employment.
His partner, who could look me right in the eye, but didn't, and was a good bit wider than me, just undid his suit button and looked relaxed.
I just stood and let Thomas do the talking. I knew I could kill either of them without breaking a sweat; half of me figured it wasn't worth the effort, the other was in more of a 'what-the-hell?' kind of mood.
No. No it wasn't. I blinked. Murder is wrong. Actions have consequences. Murder is wrong. And I might have to work with these guys, and there was no point in breeding animosity. Right now, anyway. And murder is wrong.
Figured if I told myself that enough, maybe it would stick. Eventually.
"I called ahead. My sister is expecting me and three… friends." He grinned in a devilish way.
The talker looked up at me again. I bounced a friendly eyebrow. He looked at the werewolves, and while Marci just smiled, Andi put a hand on her hip and smiled.
The guy nodded. He was in the know about the Raith's proclivities. Or at least Lara's. Either way, he said, "Come with me."
We followed Mr. Talkative to the solarium, in front of the door to the bedroom on the left. Lara was standing in there, looking out a window, taking in the sun while she spoke on a cell phone.
To say Lara is attractive is like saying a fire is hot, or water is wet. It's not so much a description, as a simple statement of fact. And that's when she's not trying. When she really turns it on, better analogies would include, 'hurricanes are a little windy,' or 'electrons are pretty small,' or 'governments can occasionally be hard to trust.'
Beside me, Marci looked around. When she saw Lara, her eyes widened just a little. Then she touched a finger to her lips. "Uh…" she said.
"Yeah, she has that effect on everybody," I said quietly. I glanced at the bodyguard, who was also looking.
Andi, who was usually the prettiest girl in most rooms, crossed her arms and lifted an eyebrow. She may also have arched her back.
Lara ended her call and turned to see us. She turned her phone off, then came out of the solarium with a smile. "Thomas," she said, parting her arms and going in for a kiss on the cheek.
"Hey, big sister." He kissed her cheek, too.
She turned to me. "Ah, Harry Dresden: The man who won't stay down."
"Not for lack of trying," I said. I didn't try to hug her, or shake her hand, and she didn't offer.
She glanced to my sides, saw the girls, and smiled a little wider. She extended a hand to Andi first. "Hello. Lara Raith."
"Um. Andi. Hi." The redhead took her hand. The shake was quick, and Lara withdrew her hand a little too fast. That made some sense. Andi was in love with Butters, mutual, reciprocal love, and had been as physically and emotionally close to him as it was possible to be. Love was anathema to the White Court; their demons literally could not bear the touch of it. Love left an impression on human skin. The closer to the surface, the more dependent upon the demon a vampire was at a given moment, the more painful the touch would be. I'd seen Thomas let his skin burn just for a touch from Justine. Speaking of which…
I glanced around, and noted my brother doing the same thing. It seemed Justine was not in the suite.
Lara turned to Marci, and one of her eyebrows lifted. "Well, hello. I'm Lara."
"Hi," she said back, though it came out more as Hhhhhi. "Marci. Nice to meet you." They shook hands. It lasted a bit longer than the other shake.
"Pleasure," Lara said.
Thomas focused on Lara again. "So, sis. Anybody try to kill you today?"
Lara's smile became much more wry. She turned her head. "No. But I haven't even had lunch yet. Would you all like to join me?"
"Sure, why not?"
She finally let go of Marci's hand and looked at the bodyguard. "Lunch for six, in twenty minutes."
"Yes, ma'am." He stepped away, and was soon talking on a hardline in the penthouse's kitchen.
"My assistant is in the far room. She's assembling some information you may find useful."
I didn't turn my head, but Thomas started heading in that direction.
I glanced around to make sure the bodyguards weren't in earshot. "Why are you here?" I asked.
She didn't move, but I could sense that she was suddenly more tense. "Inspecting financial holdings."
"Uh-huh. You can send people for that."
"I like inspecting holdings."
"Right. A little bird told me people have to be reminded of who's on top."
"Oh?"
"I figure some folks have been asking questions."
"What sorts of questions?"
"About daddy, mostly."
She took a breath and glanced at the bedroom, where Thomas was just slipping through the door. "Boys," she said, and made it a curse. "You're good for so few things." She glanced meaningfully at Marci again.
Marci looked uncertain, but licked her lips.
"Hey, knock that off," I said. Though I had to admit, a piece of me didn't want her to. A piece of me wanted her to turn that mojo my way… not that she needed it, since I could very easily –
Her eyes snapped back to me. She made a sound that might have been mistaken for a cat's purr.
The square root of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the square of the other two sides, Harry. Sum of the square…
"We're here because there's a Black Court vamp gunning for you."
She saw me shake it off, and the sides of her mouth went up a bit. "In the conference room," she said, and started walking.
Shortly after, lunch was served (a smattering of Italian specialties, mostly) and the bodyguards were not invited to join us. Thomas and Lara sat on either side of Justine, pure white hair scraped back in a bun held in place with two black sticks; Andi and Marci flanked me on the facing side. I dug into some lasagna as Justine slid a folder across the table. She gave me a professional smile, but there was warmth to it; I thought of her as my sister-in-law, and I liked to think the feeling was mutual.
"We don't have much, but what little there is, I've compiled for you," Justine said.
The lasagna was good. Not mind-blowing, but darn tasty. Full fat. The folder, in comparison, was rather anemic. I took another bite and flipped it open. I was greeted with a picture of Krejetzy, different from the one I had seen that morning, older. He was at the back of a room, with a few other supernatural entities I knew or knew of; a Jorogumo, a couple of bugbears, an ipotane, and at least one Loveland frog. There were also several blurry places, like the things in the picture had not allowed the camera to focus on them.
"When was this taken?" I asked.
"Sixteen years ago," Justine said. "It was the last time a gathering of Unseelie Accords signatories included any Black Court representatives, in Zagreb."
"Uh-huh. How was this taken?"
"Carefully, and secretly," Lara said.
"Was Krejetzy the only one to attend?"
"Yes," Lara said. "He voiced concern over the growing strength of mortals in this age of information, and suggested that the Internet be destroyed."
I snorted. "Lot of porn lovers would be unhappy."
"Why do you think the White Court argued against it? Not to mention that it had become so ubiquitous in such a short time, that getting rid of it would've been almost impossible without greater resources than even we had. A similar argument happened over the printing press. It was ultimately agreed that destroying the medium itself would not work, as it would simply arise again."
"My guess is he didn't take the rebuff well."
"He was basically shut down, and nearly laughed out of the place. After that, he vanished."
"That was the last time he was seen?"
"Until now. Since that time, whenever there's been a gathering, or a party, Mavra is the only Black Court representative to be seen."
I grunted and made a fist with my left hand. I still owed Mavra for some burn scars.
"You ever meet him yourself?"
She looked cagey for a second, like she was deciding what to say. Finally, she started with, "The only other time we met, was in France during the First World War."
"What were you doing in the First World War?"
"Running a brothel. What else would I have been doing? There's hardly a war in history where a White Court House wasn't nearby."
Which made sense. Anger, fear, hatred despair all run close to the surface among soldiers in dire situations. And once they get away from the front, many of them would need a reminder of their humanity: a warm embrace; a gentle word; a good, hard f-
"Why was Krejetzy there?"
"He was destroying records."
"Records?" Marci asked.
She sighed. "The First World War was a turning point in modern history. Dozens of empires and old regimes fell. The world needed a clean break, and to forget about some of the things that had come before, such as the semi-regular slaughter of mortals."
"By then, we'd proven that we could do it just fine ourselves," I said.
"And so, the records – diaries, papers, library and church records – had to go," Lara finished.
"Wait," Marci said. "Are you saying that all this supernatural stuff, that we can't talk about with regular people; it used to be common knowledge?"
"Open secrets," I said. "A bit in North America, not so much in the British Isles, where the White Council actively suppressed things, but in Europe? Asia? Most of Africa? Yeah. A hundred to a hundred and fifty years ago, everybody knew, but nobody talked about it."
"Exactly," Lara said, looking at Marci. "And most who did remember, wanted it all forgotten. Through the lens of history, the twentieth century is an aberration. The world you now know is the real world."
"That is… very strange to think about," Marci said.
"How did you run into him?" I asked.
"He tended to stay near the front lines, easier to work unimpeded and unnoticed. But with the way the front stabilized for so long, he took… furlough."
"Hold it," I said. "The Black Court's power was broken by the First World War. Whose authority was Krejetzy acting under?"
"The various Courts have a long history of mutual trust - " I snorted and grabbed some garlic bread " - and cooperation. And this was before it became common knowledge that Stoker was our agent."
Something clicked. "It was the turning point, wasn't it? When you met him? He figured it out."
"It was 1916. I had no reason to fear him. I assumed he was reporting that he was finished and would move to the south of the country. I met him outside a small town about ten miles from the Front, in a ruined farmhouse.
"He surprised me, took me by the neck and told me that if he didn't know that killing me would set the whole of the White Court upon him, he would have done it. He told me that he knew about Stoker, and was not pleased. He also told me to warn my father that he would have revenge. Not long after that meeting, the remaining survivors of the Black Court became fully aware of our actions, and stopped cooperating with us. My father couldn't move against him since he hadn't killed me, without acknowledging the Stoker gambit, something he wasn't prepared to do immediately."
"I always wondered when that little falling out happened. How did he figure it out?"
"I can only assume he was reading the records before destroying them, and stumbled on something."
"Great. So he's smart and informed."
"He's barely two hundred years old, but yes, very smart. He was a spy for the Hapsburgs before he was turned. Managing information was always his specialty."
"Managing?" Andi asked.
"Finding, manipulating, destroying," I said. "I'm assuming bribery, threats and murder were his secondary specialties."
"Just so," Lara confirmed. "He was the man they called when someone had to be erased. Not just the information they had, but their friends, family, servants; anyone information might have been passed to. He was ruthless and thorough."
"You sound almost admiring."
"I don't care for him personally, if that's what you're getting at, but he had a function, and he fulfilled it. And still does, apparently."
"Don't suppose you have any idea where he might be?"
"No. Though, he would prefer somewhere hard to notice, away from the lights. A quieter neighborhood, perhaps a place full of… undesirables."
"Undesirables?" Marci asked, and all at once, her voice was much less infatuated with Lara.
"The poor," I said, voice tight. "The homeless. Criminals. Drug addicts. All of the most vulnerable. And least likely to be missed."
Lara gave me a nod.
"Terrific," Thomas said. "That narrows it down to about a third of the city."
"We don't have the time or the ability to search the whole city, Harry," Marci said.
"We don't need to," I said. "I made some arrangements before we left Chicago." I looked at Lara. "Is there any way I can get up to the roof?"
A few minutes later, the talkative bodyguard brought me up to the room of the hotel. It was a hell of a view, city on one side and ocean on the other.
I was also darn windy. My duster caught the air instantly and started flopping around. "Wait here," I said over the wind.
He nodded. "No problem. I'm not much for heights."
Remembering a certain winter a couple of years ago, and a few gruffs that just did not want to leave me alone, I had to agree with him. "I won't be long."
I turned and headed for a spot out of sight behind a large air conditioning unit. Was Mr. Talkative couldn't see me, I took a breath and uttered a Name, pushing just a little willpower into it. Not enough to command, but just enough to notice.
After a few seconds, a human-looking being, about a foot and a half tall, dropped out of the sky and hovered a few feet away on gossamer wings. His hair was purple and fine, drifting in the currents in defiance of gravity and common sense, and he was dressed in what looked like leather pants and pieces of a Coke can, cut and re-shaped to fit his contours.
The Little Folk are often ignored in Faerie, and are all but invisible in the real world, which means they can pretty much go anywhere unnoticed. And as long as you kept them plied with pizza, as I did, they would be quite loyal.
"My lord!" Toot-Toot said. He bobbed a little in the wind.
I lifted a hand in salute. "Major General. Good to see you. Glad you were able to follow without any difficulty."
"Most of us, Sir Knight! There were a few stragglers, but I got them in line!"
"Never doubted it. You run a tight ship, Toot."
His bluster died a bit, and he dropped his voice. "Uh, we fly, Harry. We don't have ships."
I bit the inside of my cheek on purpose for the second time in as many days. "You're right, that was an error on my part."
His voice bounced back up. "Think nothing of it! I won't!"
I smiled. "Is the Guard ready to fulfill their duty?"
"Absolutely!"
"Great." I pulled the picture of Krejetzy from an inner pocket. "See this guy?"
Toot took a good look. "Do you wish him slain, Za Lord?"
Tempting, but it would be a slaughter. "Actually, that's my duty, Toot. He's a Black Court Vampire." Toot visibly shivered. "I just need the Guard to find him. I'll do the rest."
"Consider it done, my lord!" He zipped up about twenty feet, stopped, zipped back to me. "Uh, Harry, can I take that paper to show the others?"
"Yeah, that's kind of important, isn't it? Tell you what; have someone drop it in my pocket as the signal that you found him. Just write the address on the back of the page. You remember addresses, right?"
He looked at me like he thought I was an idiot. "Yes, Harry, I remember how to write an address." He paused. "I think? It's the number first, right?"
"If you need instructions - "
"No, no, wait, I got it! Number, then the street-word-sign-thing! See you soon!" He took the picture and shot into the sky again, quickly vanishing.
Shaking my head, I came back to the door. Mr. Talkative was still waiting for me, enjoying a cigarette. "That didn't take long," he said. "You use a satellite phone or something?"
"Yeah, something," I said, and continued past him.
Maybe it was just because the Chicago Little Folk were new to Miami, but they took a long time to find my target. I passed the time reading everything the White Court had on Krejetzy, which was virtually nothing beyond what Lara had told me. Lara herself dragged a couple of bodyguard and Justine off to a meeting somewhere with a rich somebody.
Andi made noises about going to the beach, but I pointed out that we could get word at any moment.
She made more noises. And so did Thomas.
I tried to remind them that we were on a mission.
More noises, with Marci joining in.
So, Thomas drove us down to the seafront areas. Now, I love Chicago. It's my home, and it's a hell of a city. But it's also a bit on the chilly side for most of the year. Lake Michigan's shores never look like Miami's. Which might be a good thing. The beaches, that we could see, were crowded and damn near impossible to get close to.
"This is nothing like that CSI show," Andi said.
"According to Karrin," I said, "nothing is like that show. She says she could never watch more than about ten minutes of any of them without throwing something at the screen."
"Murphy? Threatening violence? Well, I never," Thomas said. He hit the brakes for what felt like the thousandth time.
"Do you think this is how professional assassins spend their time?" Marci asked. "Just kind of driving around, waiting?"
"Killing time before killing people?" I asked. "I doubt it. Most of them probably know where their target is."
Thomas hit the brakes yet again, then stuck his head out the window. "Get off the road, you stupid asshole!" He yanked his head back in and caught me looking at him. If fact, we were all looking at him. "What?"
"Road rage is unbecoming," I said. "Especially when driving a vehicle that could so easily crush the surrounding ones."
"Sorry. Just a little, uh… frustrated."
"I'm probably going to regret this, but, why?"
He paused a little before answering. "Justine's been travelling a lot. And we've been having discussions about it. And they are proving to be… unproductive."
I sat up straight. "Stars and stones. You're jealous of her career."
"I am not."
"Yes, you are. You're angry that she's always travelling, never home."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are. You miss her and want Lara to give her a break."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"Okay, fine, I am."
"Knew it."
"Can we not talk about this right now?"
"Hey," Andi said from the back, "don't hold back on our account."
"Yeah," Marci said, "we find this fascinating."
Thomas gave me a look that could have cut steel. "There is nothing to talk about. It's a private matter. The end."
"Okay," I said. "We'll let it go. Just don't let it affect your driving." I glanced upwards. The sun was already well on its way down, and the dashboard clock confirmed we were on the far side of three o'clock. Come on, little guys. "Man this traffic sucks."
Thomas hit his brakes one more time as a black Mercedes cut him off. "Preaching to the choir, Harry."
I felt an odd sensation near my leg, and twisted a little. I heard a crinkle of paper. Reaching in, I pulled out the picture of Krejetzy. "Bingo," I said. Smiling, I turned it over. "Okay. Anybody know where Northwest 102nd Place is?"
"Well, if I wasn't afraid it would explode, I'd ask the GPS," Thomas said. Unhelpfully.
"It's west of the Palmetto Expressway," Marci said. "I'm sure of that."
"That I can work with," Thomas said, and he immediately started looking for an opening to squeeze the monster truck into. "As soon as we find a place to pull over, Harry gets out and I'll make with the technomancy."
I was instantly alarmed. "Did you just make up a pseudo-magical term?" I asked. "You can't just do that."
"You do it all the time."
"Yeah, but I'm a wizard. It's in my job description. Sheesh. First the nicknames, and now this? You learn a little magic, and I'm going start feeling redundant."
"Only then? Really?"
I made a grumpy face, but at least my brother was smiling again. I wondered how long that would last.