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He chewed on his lip. "Maybe I should stay, Harry. If your godmother's here, the Sword might be here too. I might get the chance to take it back."
"Yeah. And you might get the chance to get taken from behind without someone here to cover for you. There's too much messed up stuff here, man. Even for me. Let's go."
Michael fell in behind me, to my right. Susan walked beside him, on my left, keeping us both in careful view, and one hand still inside her picnic basket. I briefly wondered what kind of goodies she'd been bringing in case the big, bad wolf tried to head her off from grandma's house.
We reached the foot of the stairs that led back up into the house. Something prickled the hairs at the back of my neck, and I stopped.
"Harry?" Michael asked. "What is it?"
"There's someone ..." I said, and closed my eyes. I brought up my Sight, just for a moment, and felt the pressure just a little above the spot between my eyebrows. I looked up again. The Sight cut through the enchantment in front of me like sunlight through a wispy cloud. Behind me, Michael and Susan both took in sharp breaths of surprise.
The Hamlet lookalike stood three stairs up, half smiling. I realized only then that the figure was a woman rather than a man, the slender shape of her slim hips and breasts obscured by the sable doublet she wore, giving her an odd, androgynous appearance. Her skin was pallid - not pale, not creamy. Pallid. Translucent. Almost greyish. Her lips were tinged very faintly blue, as though she'd been recently chilled. Or dead. I shivered, and lowered the Sight before it showed me something that I didn't want to keep with me.
It didn't change her appearance one bit. She wore a cap, which hid her hair completely, one of those puffy ones that fell over to one side, and stood with one hip cocked out, a rapier hanging from her belt. She held a skull in her other hand - it was a real one. And the bloodstains on it couldn't have been more than a few hours old.
"Well done, wizard," she said. Her voice sounded raspy, a quiet, hissing whisper, the kind that comes from throats and mouths which are perfectly dry. "Very few can see me when I do not wish to be seen."
"Thank you. And excuse me," I said. "We were just leaving."
Bluish lips curved into a chill little smile. Other than that, she didn't move. Not an inch. "Oh, but this is the hour for all to mingle and meet. I have a right to introduce myself to you and to hear your names and exchange pleasantries in return." Her eyes fastened calmly on my face, evidently not fearing to meet my gaze. I figured that whatever she was, she probably had an advantage on me in the devastating gaze department. So I kept my own eyes firmly planted on the tip of her nose, and tried very hard not to notice that her eyes had no color at all, just a kind of flaccid blue-grey tinge to them, a filmy coating like cataracts.
"And what if I don't have time for the pleasantries?" I said.
"Oh," she whispered. "Then I might be insulted. I might even be tempted to call for satisfaction."
"A duel?" I asked, incredulous. "Are you kidding me?"
Her eyes drifted to my right. "Of course, if you would rather a champion fought in your place, I would gladly accept."
I glanced back at Michael, who had his eyes narrowed, focused on the woman's doublet or upon her belt, perhaps. "You know this lady?"
"She's no lady," Michael said, his voice quiet. He had a hand on his knife. "Harry Dresden, Wizard of the White Council, this is Mavra, of the Black Court of Vampires."
"A real vampire," Susan said. I heard the click of her tape recorder coming on again.
"A pleasure," Mavra whispered. "To meet you, at last, wizard. We should talk. I suspect we have much in common."
"I'm failing to see anything we might possibly have in common, ma'am. Do you two know each other?"
"Yes," Michael said.
Mavra's whisper became chill. "The good Knight here murdered my children and grandchildren, some small time ago."
"Twenty years ago," Michael said. "Three dozen people killed in the space of a month. Yes, I put a stop to it."
Mavra's lips curved a little more, and showed yellowed teeth. "Yes. Just a little time ago. I haven't forgotten, Knight."
"Well," I said. "It's been nice chatting, Mavra, but we're on our way out."
"No you're not," Mavra said, calmly. But for her lips and her eyes, she still hadn't moved. It was an eerie stillness, not real. Real things move, stir, breathe. Mavra didn't.
"Yes, we are."
"No. Two of you are on your way out." Her smile turned chilly. "I know that the invitations said only one person could be brought with you. Therefore, one of your companions is not under the protection of the old laws, wizard. If the Knight is unprotected, then he and I will have words. A pity you do not have Amoracchius with you, Sir Knight. It would have made things interesting, at least."
I got a sinking feeling in my gut. "And if it isn't Michael?"
"Then you keep offensive company, wizard, and I am displeased with you. I will demonstrate my displeasure decisively." Her gaze swept to Susan. "By all means. Choose which two are leaving. Then I will have a brief conversation with the third."
"You mean you'll kill them."
Mavra shrugged, finally breaking her stillness. I thought I heard a faint crackling of tendons, as though they'd protested moving again. "One must eat, after all. And these little, dazzled morsels the Reds brought tonight are too sweet and insubstantial for my taste."
I took a step back, and turned to Michael, speaking in a whisper. "If I get Susan out of here, can you take this bitch?"
"You might as well not whisper, Harry," Michael said. "It can hear you."
"Yes," Mavra said. "It can."
Way to go, Harry. Endear yourself to the monsters, why don't you. "Well," I asked Michael. "Can you?"
Michael looked at me for a moment, his lips pressed together. Then he said, "Take Susan and go. I'll manage here."
Mavra laughed, a dry and raspy sound. "So very noble. So pure. So self-sacrificing."
Susan stepped around me, to close a triangle with Michael and me. As she did, I noticed that Mavra leaned back from her, just slightly. "Now just a minute," Susan said. "I'm a big girl. I knew the risks when I came here."
"I'm sorry, Miss Rodriguez," Michael said, his tone apologetic. "But this is what I do."
"Save me from chauvinist pigs," Susan muttered. She turned her head around to me. "Excuse me. What do you think you're doing?"
