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I bit out a little laugh. "Yeah. You're a saint."
"One day," Nicodemus said. "One day. But for now, let's say a face-to-face meeting. A talk. Just you and I."
"So you and your posse can jump me alone? No, thanks."
"Come now. As you say, I do want to talk deal. If you're willing to extend your word of safe passage, we can even have it on your own ground."
"Oh?" I asked. "And where would that be?"
"It doesn't matter to me, as long as I don't have to be seen with you while you're wearing that ridiculous borrowed ensemble."
The hairs on the back of my neck started crawling up into my hairline. I turned my head around very slightly. The windows to the Carpenters' backyard had blinds and curtains, but neither was wholly drawn. The kitchen lights made the windows into mirrors. I couldn't see beyond them.
"What is it going to be, Dresden?" Nicodemus asked. "Will you give me your word of safe passage for our talk? Or shall I have my men open fire on that lovely young lady at the kitchen sink?"
I glanced over my shoulder to where Molly was drying dishes. She watched me out of the corner of her eye, clearly interested in the discussion, but trying not to look like it.
I couldn't possibly warn anyone before Nick's men could open fire-and I believed that he had them there. Probably up in the tree house. It had a reasonably good view of the kitchen.
"All right," I said, speaking so that everyone there could hear me. "I'm giving you my word of safe passage. For ten minutes."
"And hope to die?" Nicodemus prompted.
I gritted my teeth. "At the rate we're going, someone will."
He laughed again. "Keep the subject matter of this conversation between you and I, and it won't have to be anyone in the kitchen."
The phone disconnected.
A beat later someone knocked at the front door.
Mouse's growl rumbled through the whole house, even though he'd remained in the front room.
"Harry?" Michael asked.
I found my shoes and stuffed my bare feet into them. "I'm going out to talk to him. Keep an eye on us, but don't do anything if he doesn't start it. And watch your back. The last chat with him was a distraction." I stood up, pulled on my duster, and picked up my staff. I met Michael's eyes and said, "Watch your back."
Michael's head tilted slightly. Then he looked past me, to the windows to the backyard. "Be careful."
I took my shield bracelet out of my duster pocket and fastened it on, wincing as it went over the mild burns on my wrist. "You know me, Michael. I'm always careful."
I walked to the front door and looked out the window.
The lights on the street were all out, except for the streetlight in front of Michael's house. Nicodemus stood in the center of the street outside. His shadow stretched out long and dark to one side of him-the side opposite the one it should have been on, given the position of the light.
Mouse came to my side and planted himself there firmly.
I rested my hand on my dog's thick neck for a moment, searching the darkness outside for anything or anyone else. I saw nothing-which meant nothing, really. Anything could be out there in the dark.
But the only thing I knew was out there was a scared little girl.
"Let's go," I said to Mouse, and stalked out into the snow.
Chapter Thirty-seven
I t was snowing again. Five or six inches had fallen since the last time anyone cleared the Carpenters' front walk. My footsteps crunched through the silent winter air. You could have heard them a block away.
Nicodemus waited for me, stylishly casual in a deep green silk shirt and black trousers. He watched me come with a neutral expression, his eyes narrowed.
I shivered when a breath of cold wind touched me, and my weary muscles threatened to go out of control. Dammit, I was the one working for the Winter Queen. So how come everyone else got to be perfectly comfortable in the middle of a blizzard?
I stopped at the end of Michael's driveway and planted my staff on the ground. Nicodemus stared silently at me for a while. The shadows had shifted to mask his expression, and I couldn't see his face very well.
"What," he said in a low, deadly tone, "is that?"
Mouse stared at Nicodemus, and let out a growl so low that individual snowflakes jumped up off the ground all around him. My dog bared his teeth, showing long white fangs, and his snarl rose in volume.
Hell's bells. I'd never seen Mouse react like that, except in earnest combat.
And it looked like Nicodemus didn't like Mouse much, either.
"Answer my question, Dresden," Nicodemus growled. "What is that?"
"A precaution against getting stuck in deep snow," I said. "He's training to be a Saint Bernard."
"Excuse me?" Nicodemus said.
I mimed covering one of Mouse's ears with my hand and stage-whispered, "Don't tell him that they don't actually carry kegs of booze on their collars. Break his little heart."
Nicodemus didn't move, but his shadow shifted until it lay in a shapeless little pool between him and Mouse. His face came into view again, and he was smiling. "It's been a little while since anyone was quite that insolent to my face. May I ask you a question?"
"Why not?"
"Do you always retreat into insouciance when you're frightened, Dresden?"
"I don't think of it as retreating. I think of it as an advance to the cheer. May I ask you a question?"
The smile widened. "Oh, why not?"
"How come some of you losers seem to have personal names, and the others just get called after the Fallen in the coin?"
"It isn't complicated," Nicodemus said. "Some of our order are active, willing minds, with strength enough to retain their sense of self. Others are"-he shrugged a shoulder, an elegant, arrogant little motion-"of little consequence. Disposable vessels, and nothing more."
"Like Rasmussen," I muttered.
Nicodemus looked puzzled for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed suddenly, focusing intently upon me. His shadow stirred again, and something made a noise that sounded like a disturbingly serpentine whisper. "Oh, yes, Ursiel's vessel. Precisely." He looked past me to the house. "Have your friends begun whispering behind your back yet?"
They sure as hell had, though I had no idea why. I hung on to my poker face. "Why would they?"
"Try to imagine the Aquarium from their point of view. They enter a building with you, along with someone they would not normally bring along-but you have insisted that the police detective accompany your group. As a result, you walk away to a private conference with just you, me, and the Archive's guard dog. Then the sign goes up, and they can hear a terrible conflict raging. They race to the scene as quickly as possible and find my people dragging you out of the water-to take back the coin you had in your pocket, but your friends had no way of knowing that. They find the Archive gone, her bodyguard wounded or dead, and you being apparently assisted by my people.
