Chapter 3

Whoever was at the door had excellent dramatic timing. Ivy set the Gideon down, but I got to the door first. Ivy had more power if it was a threat…but she was a girl. She was a girl and she was younger than me and she was small. Call me old-fashioned. Call me a prude. Call me a chauvinist. I don't like it when women and children are threatened. Ivy was a woman and she was a child…okay, I'd known her since she was a child and I would probably always see her that way. So that meant if there was something big and bad huffing and puffing and threatening to blow the door in, I was the one to fight it.

Given that whoever at the door was knocking politely, but that didn't mean much. Loads of really scary things had manners.

"Who's there?"

"Stop screwing around, Dresden. We need to talk."

I didn't recognize the voice…but whoever was at the door knew my name. Ivy glared at me, but she walked up to the door too. She frowned, but not in the same way that she kept frowning at me.

"Well…" I thought for a moment. "Mr. Stop Screwing Around, I'm afraid I have no idea who you are."

The doorknob wriggled after I said that—whoever was at the door had no sense of humor. I even caught Ivy raising her eyebrows. The stranger at the door let loose a string of whispered profanity, but it was in a language I didn't understand.

"Who is it?" I whispered, turning back to Ivy. She got everything written and spoken–that was done by humans. Faeries like Mab didn't count.

"He's human," Ivy confirmed. "One of the…Mister Dresden!"

I yanked open the door and the stranger at the door stumbled, since there was nothing for him to brace himself against. He got back to his feet, leaning on a staff for leverage. It wasn't as long or as nicely carved as my staff. He was…young. He might have even been younger than Ivy and he wasn't much taller than her either. His face was flushed and dripping sweat. And he was wearing a gray cloak.

Stars and stones–the Wardens were here. The Wardens were sort of like a mix in between the law enforcement and the military of the White Council, the organized wizards of the world. I had been a Warden once, but I'd been excommunicated from the Council after killing mortals with magic during the Battle of Chicago. I'd already been on thin ice because of my affiliation with the Winter Court. It'd…really, really sucked.

I muttered a word that would have had my daughter grounded for a month if I had heard her say it and looked the Warden up and down.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

The Warden had gotten his bearings and was staring up at me. I didn't recognize him at all and he must never have seen me before either.

"You're tall…"

"Yes," I said. "I'm Tall and you're short, but not as short as the Archive. Don't make me ask again, what do you want?"

"To ensure that you are following the conditions set forth by the Merlin and the White Council!"

This voice was…depressingly familiar. Coming down the hallway as fast as he could, leaning heavily on a cane, was Carlos Ramirez. Carlos wasn't thirty yet and for a time, he'd been my friend. We'd ridden a dinosaur together against deranged necromancers–you can't do that and not end up friends. But things had gone pear-shaped over the years and things had gone really bad during the Battle of Chicago.

I hadn't just lost Murphy during the Battle. I'd lost allies. Friends. Other Wardens had followed me in interfering with Black Court vampires in their attempt to raise an army of undead. We fought. We lost. Yukie and Wild Bill had been killed. Chandler had been…I'm not sure exactly. Drakul had opened up a portal and tossed him inside. We still hadn't heard from Chandler–or from whatever terrible creature might have gotten him.

There was a lot more history between us than just that–Carlos had screwed me over something fierce in the hours before the Battle started. I screwed him back. Hurt feelings ran deep. But he had been my friend once.

"Harry Dresden," Carlos said, leaning painfully on his cane. He looked from me to the Archive and back again. "You are aware of the conditions set forth by the White Council. You are not to partake in any sorts of black magic. As Acting Commander of the Wardens for this region, it is my responsibility to…what the hell is she doing here?"

"You're just noticing Ivy's here? She's the one who paid for the room. I'm surprised at you, Carlos. And it's terrible manners to swear in front of a lady," I said. "I get it 'Los. The Council sent you to play Probation Officer and see if I was breaking the rules. Cut the crap."

"Shut up," Ramirez said. "You weren't in your residence, Dresden. But we've just spent the last two hours interviewing your…your…"

"Tenants. And who's we, 'Los?" I demanded. "Mr. Stop Screwing Around has been gaping at me for the last five minutes and I still don't know his name."

"His name is Oscar Felixson," Ivy said, in such a monotone, it was almost unnerving. I think I was just getting used to it. The Archive cleared her throat. "My apologies for interrupting."

Felixson finally got the hint and straightened up. He cleared his throat and reached into his cloak. He pulled out a thick legal envelope and fiddled with the little metal clasp holding it closed.

"You needn't bother," the Archive said. "I know all that is written and spoken. I can recite the terms of the conditions."

"Oh, right," Felixson said. He cleared his throat. "The residence of the practitioner Harry Copperfield Blackstone Dresden is forbidden to house any other practitioners, for tutelage or for the binding of a covenant."

"And it doesn't," I said. "I'm the only Wizard."

"You are not a wizard," Felixson said, but it seemed almost as if he were reciting a rebuttal that he'd practiced over and over. "You have more power than most practitioners…but you are not one of us, per orders of the Senior Council."

"I am a Wizard," I snapped. "With a 'W.' I'm in the Yellow Pages. Or do you not know what those are, junior?"

"Enough!" Ramirez barked. "Whatever you call yourself, Dresden, the fact remains that you and you alone are the only practitioner allowed to be under your roof."

"We detected the magical signature of at least four werewolves," Felixson argued. "Fully mature werewolves."

"The Alphas?" I blurted. "That's just stupid! They've had their powers since you would have been in kindergarten, junior! I didn't teach them any magic!"

"Will Borden is a shapeshifter, under your command and he threatened us with bodily harm if we did not vacate the premises," Felixson said. "I should point out that there were portions of your residence that we didn't get to investigate."

"Trust me, if Will wanted to hurt you, he wouldn't have bothered with threats. He'd have turned into his two-hundred-pound wolf form and bitten your ass off. And then you'd be an asshole without an ass. Can either of you imagine trying to walk without an ass?"

Ramirez leaned more heavily on his cane and his eyebrows rose so high, I'm surprised they didn't disappear into his hair.

"There's also the matter of the refugees," Ramirez said, his voice hardening. "It's been a year, Dresden, and you're still housing them."

"Those people lost their homes," I said. "And we have very strict policies in the castle that no magic is to be done by anyone without my permission–and aside from the Alphas and Paranoid Gary, we don't have even any minor talents. I didn't teach anyone anything. You should relate to that, Ramirez–all these years and you've haven't learned anything."

"You have an entire house powered with magical wards and runes," Ramirez continued, as if I hadn't said anything. Part of me wanted to punch Carlos really, really hard.

"It's not a house, it's a castle and it's mine. There's nothing in your stupid rules saying I have to be stuck in a sub-basement. Besides, it's plenty discreet," I said. "Compared to what Marcone had going on there when he was running it?"

Strictly speaking, I'm not sure to what extent the White Council had been aware of Marcone's dealings. He had his finger in every pie in Chicago and he could spin words as well as any faerie, but the White Council never had jurisdiction to go after him. The Archive stiffened beside me and I glanced at her. Ivy was fair-skinned to begin with–and she struck me as the type who would burn rather than tan–but now she was nearly gray-faced. She would know what'd been going on, of course.

Baron John Marcone had been the only mortal signatory of the Unseelie Accords–the Archive didn't really count, it was pretty much a mantle and Ivy had the memories of every previous Archive. Marcone was a member of the Accords, but he was also the head of organized crime in Chicago. Every drug dealer was under his thumb, every crook, every thug. Marcone was a very, very bad man–he fought worse men to get his position, to be clear, but he was not by any means a hero.

Unfortunately, he had a nasty habit of standing up to monsters and that made it almost impossible for me to hate him, even though I really, really, really wanted to, because it would make my life so much easier.

I had invoked the Accords to steal back my lab from Marcone and it'd come with his castle. He was probably still secretly furious with me about that. Impressed, but furious. As it was, instead of housing his army of mobsters and drug dealers and hitmen and magic bodyguards–he had a Valkyrie on his payroll for crying out loud–the castle was now…well, basically, very, very, very affordable housing for those who'd lost their homes to the Titan's attack.

"The Baron Marcone," Ramirez spat, "Is a free-holding lord. He is not under the authority of the White Council. You are under our authority, Dresden. We also detected the presence of many, many faeries."

"Under your authority? You kicked me out! I work for the Queens of Winter!" I snapped. "Dammit, 'Los, you can't blame me for that! Of course, you'll detect faerie magic!"

At the mention of the Queens of Winter–yeah, Queens, plural, not Queen and Princess…faeries are weird–Carlos's face flushed.

"And if this is about Toot-toot and his friends, that's not against the contract either."

"You've bound countless beings under your dominion," Ramirez insisted. "Beings that rely on you, in the mortal world."

"They've made their choices. Are you going to police them too?" I said. That reminded me–I was probably going to have to place an order soon–whether ordering Will to make some homemade pizza or placing a delivery order with Pizza Express, so that Toot-toot and the other Little Folk in the 'Za Guard could have their pay. And of course, I was a wizard and I couldn't use most phones. I glanced at Ivy–maybe, if I asked her very nicely, she could place the order for me.

"Do any mortals know about the Small Folk?" Ramirez demanded. "We gave you clear instructions that you were not to advertise your powers in public or make showy displays."

Yeesh, you warn one faerie that his pizza supply is threatened with extinction and he summons three hundred thousand of his faerie friends to fight the Fomor and nobody ever lets you forget it. It was something I usually tried to keep on the downlow, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"And I told you that I wasn't going to stand aside while people got hurt," I said. "If that meant using magic in public, then so be it. But I am not going to stand aside while people are hurting, Ramirez. You try to stop me and I'll snap your other leg."

"There's a matter of the protective enchantments themselves," Felixson interrupted before I could continue–Ramirez had gone paper-white. "Some of which are rather…excessive. Are you intending to put more wards on your home?"

"I'll do whatever it takes to protect my people," I answered, gripping my staff so tightly that it creaked under my fingers. "There's families with kids there. People need protection. Do you have a family, Felixson? Or did you ditch them after you got your magic?"

"Yes…" Ramirez said. "People need protection. People are counting on you to protect them and if you let them down, their blood is on your hands, Dresden. How many more people are you going to leave to die?"

"Don't even start," I growled and the lights in the hallway began to flicker. Whether that was me or Ramirez or Felixson, I wasn't sure. "That was not my fault and you know it."

It was at least a bit my fault though. I didn't have to lead the Wardens against the Black Court vampires. I certainly wasn't expecting Drakul himself to be there. I missed my friends too–Ramirez knew that.

"Oh, I'll do whatever the hell I please," Ramirez said. "And if there's consequences, I'm not going to run away from them. I'm not a coward."

"Coward?!" I snarled and I pictured thumping Ramirez upside his stupid head with my staff. I could only picture it because if I actually hit him, there'd be real trouble. As it was, the Winter Knight's mantle was pressing hard against my psyche. It would be so, so easy to give Ramirez the ol' one-two. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Like he was so special, he'd killed plenty of humans during the Battle of Chicago, but was he on the outs with the Council? Oh, no–not Carlos. Never, never Carlos.

"I said what I said," Ramirez said. "People need protection. Especially kids. You can't just ship them off to boarding school and pretend you're a parent."

Maggie was at a boarding school because it was literally the best place for her to be–a place where she could learn with other kids who came from magical families or who had ties to the Nevernever or what have you. It was literally the best place for her to be…and she'd be coming home in just a few days!

I started forward, but a small hand grabbed at my duster sleeve with surprising strength. Ivy used my size to vault herself forward and she stood in front of the doorway, in between me and the Wardens.

"Has Mister Dresden done anything that's actually in violation of the conditions set by the White Council?" Ivy demanded. "Know that I am fully aware of its contents and possess a better knowledge than most of Mr. Dresden's habits."

"What you're supposed to be is neutral," Ramirez snapped. "But no–not that we can tell…but that doesn't mean that he hasn't. You're still on thin ice, Dresden…and you, Archive, remember your purpose. He isn't your friend. Dresden will use you until he doesn't need you and then leave you to hang. You, of all people, should know that."

Ivy flushed deeply and her grip on my arm tightened to the point where I could feel it. Part of being the Winter Knight is that I get really, really good pain tolerance, so the fact that I could feel Ivy's itty-bitty hands…she was pissed. Ramirez gave about as rude a nod as possible and stormed back down the hallway, leaning on his cane. Felixson looked back up at me. I glared at him, deliberately stressing my facial scars to make myself look even more intimidating. Felixson made a small noise that if I hadn't seen his lips move, I'd have thought it'd come from Ivy and then ran for his life towards the stairwell, his own staff knocking against the floor.

I let out a breath and stormed back into the hotel room, slamming the door behind me. I stumbled as I turned. Ivy was still holding onto my arm. Her eyes widened and she yanked her hand away.

"You seem distressed," Ivy said, inhaling and exhaling on every word. She sounded a bit more like herself. "Would you like to…would it please you, Mr. Dresden…I believe it would be advantageous if you got some fresh air."

"I'm not angry at you," I said. Ivy wasn't my daughter, but Maggie didn't like hearing me raise my voice. Ivy was probably the same way. "I'm just…frustrated."

"I…I never implied that you were," Ivy responded, her voice returning to the same monotone that was really, really scary. "But you are not in the right frame of mind to conduct surveillance at the moment. A brisk walk would be advantageous…and…oh!"

It was subtle, but as Ivy reached for her forehead, I felt it too. There was a slight change in the air–a sudden shift in temperature. There was something…or someone…or some thing different.

The last time I'd been to SplatterCon!, there'd been monsters made real through magic and that wasn't even factoring in the White Court vampires trying to take advantage of the situation. There could be trouble…but when I wasn't getting into trouble, I was stopping it. I nodded at Ivy.

"Let's go…"

oooo

Eleven flights of stairs was a lot easier going down than going up, at least for me. Ivy was a little bit slower, since she had much shorter legs and her heels couldn't have been fun to walk in either.

The air got colder and colder as we walked further and further down the stairs and I readied myself for a fight. I didn't just have my staff. I had my blasting rod, which would come in handy if I needed to use more directed magic. My fingers were covered with enchanted rings, which stored energy as I moved, giving me extra kinetic force in my punches. My shield bracelet dangled from my wrist. And I had backup–Ivy was tremendously powerful, far more than me, but she came in a smaller, cuter package.

There were cries coming from a room on the far end of the hotel and I tore through the lobby, Ivy at my heels. The mean receptionist who'd given us the key on the twelfth floor glanced up, but I paid her no mind. The noise was coming from a room roped off, and by now, it had to be about forty degrees. It could be even colder through that door. If a monster had gotten in there, there'd be any number of people who were in very real danger. People of Chicago, who I had to protect.

I yanked open the door and stumbled. There, in the middle of the room, was an enormous monster. It was probably eight feet tall and five feet across, but it was rounded and wider at the bottom than at its head. It was orange and yellow and gold, all mixed together. And all around it were people gathered and whispering in hushed tones. Tell me I hadn't come into a pack of cultists and their…what was that thing? It wasn't trying to eat anyone. It was…oof!

Somebody knocked into me and I fell down–and because this was an auditorium room, the floor had turned into a ramp and I rolled down to the stage where the huge monster was. I tried to brace myself, but my limbs didn't want to cooperate and I slammed against the monster–splat!

Splat? Why would it go splat? I'd faced a lot of monsters over the years–most of them made of flesh and bone. They weren't human, but most of them obeyed the laws of physics…mostly. Some were a little strange–the chlorofiend that had been dispatched with a chainsaw, for example–and others were more spectral than solid, like the Shagnasty. And some creatures from the Nevernever could only manifest by making themselves a body of ectoplasm. But slime monsters didn't go splat, they went splish and they moved around to avoid going splish and…why did I taste salt? This didn't taste like ectoplasm.

"My slime monster! You ruined it…actually, that was really, really cool! Did anyone get video of that?"

For their sake, I hoped nobody had their phones out, because there's no way someone could use their phone as a video camera in front of me and not have it go kablooey.

A pair of hands grabbed my wrist, but they weren't Ivy's hands. They were larger–though considering Ivy's smallness, that wasn't saying much–and they didn't…they didn't feel human.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"Molly?"

The same inhuman hand gently wiped the…I'm not even sure what it was made of. It was slime, but that didn't tell me anything. As the slime was wiped from my vision, I could see two young females staring at me. One of them was Ivy, who didn't have so much as a speck of slime on her and the other was…was Molly. My old apprentice, my friend, my best friend's daughter…the Winter Lady.

"I am so, so sorry this happened," Molly said. "They were talking about making sure the slime monster didn't melt and…oh, don't swallow!"

"Bleck!" I said. "What is this?"

"Er…I'm not sure," Molly admitted. "I sucked at science in school, remember?"

"It's most likely a compound of oatmeal and glue and food coloring," Ivy began, but then she realized that there were a couple dozen teenagers and young adults–and one guy about my age, who was probably a dad who had been roped into this, judging by the teenaged girl leaning against his shoulder–all staring at me. "We apologize for the interruption. It was a lovely sculpture of The Great Blob Of Orange-yness. Please excuse us while we help this man get cleaned up."

"He's really tall," said one teenager with a pimply face. "And look how big his shoulders are…are you a stuntman, Mister?"

With the number of times I'd broken bones or gotten burned or bruised or fell and hurt myself, I probably had about as impressive a hospital record as a stuntman, but I didn't respond as the girls led me away. Molly steered me towards the ladies' room and had Ivy run in to get some damp paper towels. Knowing Ivy, she'd come up with the precise measurements for soap and water for the towels so that I could wipe my face efficiently and completely, without getting soap in my eyes.

"What are you doing here, Molly?" I asked as Molly wiped more of the gunk from my eyes–her fingers were freezing cold.

"It's Splattercon!" Molly grinned. "Where else would I be?"

"Anywhere else?" I said. "Did Mab send you for backup because of the whole Librarian thing?"

"Uh…what Librarian thing?"

"Stars and stones, Molly," I sighed. "There's a million things on your to-do list before sneaking into a crappy monster movie convention."

"Slime monsters aren't crappy!" Molly responded. "And besides, Harry…this is something I used to love when…when I was human."

Oh.

Oh.

Molly wasn't human anymore. At least, not entirely. She was fae. Mostly. Due to a catastrophe that I hadn't anticipated, Molly had her humanity stripped away from her, due to Mab's insane daughter Maeve. And there wasn't anything I could do to fix that. At least, I hadn't figured out how to fix it just yet. I had to do it though–she was my apprentice and my friend and she was still so much a child. As a wizard, I'll live a couple of centuries before I die–maybe as many as three or four hundred years. Assuming something doesn't get me first. But fae are immortal…or close to it. Molly isn't going to die of old age. She'll watch, through the years, through the decades, through the centuries, as everyone she loved when she was human. Her mother and father, her plethora of brothers and sisters, grow old and die. And any potential nieces and nephews–heck, her brother Daniel already had a kid and I think his wife was pregnant again already (Daniel was never the patient type). Molly would watch her family, but there was a very big part of her that would never be with her family ever again. And it was growing bigger all the time.

Oh…I'm a real jerk sometimes.

"Sorry, grasshopper," I said. "I guess I…it's the little things that we do to make us feel that matter most and…oh!"

Ivy was back with several sodden paper towels. Molly helped me clean myself up as best she could and when we were done, she gave me a gentle smile.

"Some day off," Molly said. "But it beats having to get CPR because I got set on fire…"

Long story. Don't ask.

"It could be worse," I agreed. "So what's on your agenda after you get in your allotment of cheap monster movies and popcorn?"

"A little of this, a little of that," Molly said. "Mab is probably going to have me speak to Marcone at some point…he's…well…"

"A tricky bastard," I said. "And that's the best thing I can say about him."

Beside me, Ivy stiffened. I wasn't sure what that might be about, but it was so nice to be able to catch up with Molly without Mab breathing down our necks, that I didn't pay it much mind.

"He's dangerous, but necessary," Molly agreed. "So what's this about the Librarians? Are they in town?"

"I hope so," I said. "Because otherwise, I got drafted into babysitting duty."

Molly had six little brothers and sisters…even though none of them were that little anymore. She had been babysitting since forever. She laughed hard. And her laugh was like birdsong, which made me laugh, and that in turn made her laugh even harder.

"Mister Dresden!"

I turned around and saw Ivy glaring at me. Her hands were clenched into tiny fists and her face was beet-red.

"Mister Dresden," Ivy repeated. "We do have orders from Mab, Queen of Winter. We are not here to dilly-dally. I believe it would be most prudent if we continue an analysis of this establishment in regards to its architectural structure and whatever advantages that might be ascertained in the event that we must take more drastic action."

She turned on her heel and stormed away, her shoes clacking hard against the lobby's floor.

"I'll be in touch, when I can," Molly said. "Take care of yourself, Harry."

I gave Molly a nod and then turned back around. Then, I followed the Archive.

oooo

The Archive was meant to be a neutral entity, with no favor towards one faction or the other–her affiliation with the Ministry was based largely on a need to survive while she stockpiled humanity's knowledge. Having her irate was not a pleasant feeling. The Archive stomped as hard as she could without actually hurting the tiles of the hotel's floor and she was walking as quickly as she was able in heels…which wasn't very fast and I was able to catch up in no time. Given that my legs were long enough to reach her chest, it wasn't much of a contest.

"Hold on!" I said, placing my hand on her shoulder. The Archive didn't bother to turn to face me. I squeezed a little and she nearly tripped.

"There are four emergency exits on this floor alone," the Archive said. "It may be prudent to place an agent at each door, in case interception becomes an issue. Also, there is a small library for patrons on the second floor. It may be where the government's agents are meeting rather than in one of the conference rooms, as it will offer some discretion and privacy."

"Ivy!"

"There is also the matter of the Winter Lady's presence here," the Archive continued. "If she will be here for an extended period…or if she will be speaking with the Baron on these premises, then we will need to take different measures."

"And what about White Court vampires?"

I turned around so quickly, I nearly rebroke Ivy's nose with the back of my duster. Standing in front of me was an impossibly beautiful woman with obsidian black hair and skin so fair, it was almost ivory. She was as supernaturally beautiful as a Faerie Queen, but Lara Raith was no Faerie Queen. She was a White Court vampire, a succubus, impossibly dangerous…and also my fiancée. And my brother's half-sister…but no blood relation to me. Like I said, it's a long story…and I don't ever want to see what my family tree looks like.

"Hello, Miss Raith," the Archive said, her voice even more grounded than normal. So, she sounded almost completely like a robot. "What brings you to this establishment?"

Lara was dressed in her nicest business apparel and unlike Ivy, she looked far more comfortable in hers. A suitcase of the finest leather was gripped in her hand. A thin line of predatory pleasure spread across Lara's face. Let's just say that her smile was such that…well, it wasn't a charming smile, but it was still very hard to look away from it. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as Lara tucked a length of hair behind her ear.

"I have business, Miss Archive. Or is it Ivy?" Lara's grin grew thinner and more animalistic, like that of a twisted Cheshire Cat. Ivy took a few steps back, her fingers twisting, preparing to defend herself if need be. The last thing I wanted was for this to end in a fight. Even though Ivy could most likely break Lara into a million pieces without breaking a sweat, it'd piss Mab off something fierce and that was even more terrifying. But Lara didn't seem to be overly aggressive–it was more that she liked watching Ivy squirm. "The reason I am here? Why, to partake in the conventions of course!"

Molly was one thing, but there was no way that Lara was here to partake in Splattercon! It wasn't as if Lara was above rubbing elbows with Hollywood bigwigs. Or even Hollywood small-wigs. But her allies there didn't really line up with Splattercon!, especially since this year's theme was a bit more whimsical than usual.

White Court vampires are among the magical factions most integrated into humanity. This is due in no small part that they prey on humanity by having lustful sex with them until the human dies. Trust me, you don't want to know. The Raiths were the most powerful faction of the White Court and Lara was its de facto leader, since her father, Lord Raith, was comatose. Lara had a habit of having politicians and bureaucrats tied around her… finger, but she also worked with the erotica industry.

It's not exactly pleasant dinner conversation and Lara and I have been on several dinner dates so far in the last year. Lara wanted an alliance with Winter, so Mab decided we should be married. Again, it's a long story.

"You're here to try and mosey up to the politicians at the Librarians' convention. We have business as well," I said and Lara gave me a knowing smile. "I'm not sure if Mab told you…this doesn't conflict with one of our dates, but you know, just in case…"

It would be just like Mab to arrange this stakeout as an eleventh date so she could expedite the wedding. It hadn't been a full year since the Battle of Chicago yet, but Mab was an unstoppable force and completely ruthless when it came to things like this.

"That won't be a concern, Harry," Lara said, stealing a quick glance at Ivy. "We will conduct our business as we ought and upon completion, we can begin discussing the terms for the eleventh date."

That was fine enough on paper, but Lara's presence here was definitely an unforeseen complication. White Court vampires do not get along with the White Council–and Ramriez would be all too happy to cut Lara's head off. And if Lara–or some other White Court vampire–got her hands on the documents that Ivy and I were after, she'd likely keep them for herself. Or at least make copies to give her a leg up before handing them over to Mab.

Sometimes, I really, really, really hate my job. This wasn't as boring as being stuck in the hotel room with a grumpy Archive, but it was a heck of a lot more complicated.

"Oh, and Harry, you'll need this," Lara said, handing me her suitcase. It was a very nice suitcase. It cost more than my old car…which isn't actually saying much. The Blue Beetle had character, but it wasn't expensive character. "This should hold you over for a few days, provided you don't fight too many monsters. You're absolutely covered in…I don't know and I don't want to know. But we'll see one another again, I suspect, quite soon."

Lara gave her coyest smile and a slight wave–her fingernails, oddly painted midnight blue, were much longer than normal. She stepped back a few paces and then turned into a growing crowd. I turned back to the Archive, who was glaring at me fiercely. So she was back to being mad at me…that was just lovely.

The Wardens were on my case.

Molly might have to meet with Marcone.

Lara was up to…well, something.

And the Archive was being a brat.

This was going to be a very, very long stakeout.

At least I had a change of clothes.