Ghost Story (The Dresden Files 13)

up a chittering belly laugh, which shouldered my awareness aside and came bubbling out of our mouth.

Captain Turtleneck stared at me without expression for a moment. He looked at the fire, the moat, and then at the police. Then he grimaced and made a single gesture. The turtlenecks began to move as a single body, retreating rapidly back the way they had come.

Once I was sure they were gone, I dropped the wall and slumped to the ground. I sat there for a second, dazzled by the discomfort and the weariness, which I had rapidly grown accustomed to missing, apparently. The smell of hot asphalt, a strangely summertime smell, mingled with the scent of charred turtleneck.

I shivered. Then I made a gentle effort and withdrew from the same space Molly occupied. The weariness and pain vanished again. So did the vibrant scents.

The grasshopper looked up and around, sensing the change. Then she said, “Hold on, Harry,” and fumbled at her pockets. She produced a small silver tuning fork, struck it once against the ground, and then said, “I can hear you with this.”

“You can?”

“Yeah, no big deal,” she said, her voice slurred with fatigue. “See you, too, if I line it up right. And it’s easier to carry around than a bunch of enchanted Vaseline.”

“We’ve got to get out of here,” I said. “Before the cops show up. They’d try to lock you up for a long time.”

Molly shook her head.

“Kid, I know you’re tired. But we have to move.”

“No,” she said. “No cops.”

I arched an eyebrow at her. “What?”

“Never were any cops,” Molly said.

I blinked, looked at the empty entrance to the parking lot, and then found myself slowly smiling. “They were another illusion. And you sold it to the turtlenecks because they thought you’d already blown your wad on the flashy stuff.”

“Excellent,” purred Lea, appearing at my side again.

I flinched. Again. Man, I hate that sudden-appearance stuff.

“An unorthodox but effective improvisation, Miss Carpenter,” she continued. “Adding complexity on the meta level of the deception was inspired—especially against well-informed adversaries.”

“Uh-huh, I’m a rock star,” Molly said, her voice listless. “Lesson over?”

The Leanansidhe glanced at me and then back to Molly, still smiling. “Indeed. Both of them.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Which only goes to prove that you’re never too old, too jaded, too wise—or too dead—to be hoodwinked by one of the fae.

“You set her up,” I snarled, “for my benefit? As a lesson for me?”

“Child,” Lea said, “of course not. It was entwined with her own lesson as well.”

Molly smiled very slightly. “Oh yes. I feel I have grown tremendously from my experience of nearly being incinerated.”

“You saw that your survival depended on the protection of another,” my godmother responded, her voice sharp. “Without help from my godson’s spirit, you would have died.”

“There are a lot of people who can say something like that,” Molly said. “There’s no shame in being one of them.”

Lea looked from Molly to me and then said, “Children. So emotional—and so rarely grateful. I will leave you to consider the value of what I have this evening shown unto you both.”

“Hold it,” I said. “You aren’t going yet.”

Lea looked at me with a flat expression. “Oh?”

“No. You’re giving Molly money first.”

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“Because she’s hungry, she’s tired, she survived your lesson, and she needs to eat.”

Lea shrugged a shoulder. “What is that to me?”

I scowled. “If you’re her mentor, your support of her physical needs while she learns is implicit in the relationship. And since you’re filling in for me anyway, and since my choice right now would be to get food into her, if you don’t do it, you’ll be failing in your duty.”

The Leanansidhe rolled her eyes and murmured, with a trace of amusement, “Now is when you choose to begin paying attention to proper protocol, child?”

“Apparently,” I said. “Stop being cheap. Cough up the dough.”

Her green eyes narrowed dangerously. “I do not care for your tone, child.”

“I’m through being intimidated by you,” I replied, and to my surprise, it came out in a calm and reasonable tone, rather than a defiant one. “You’re the one with an obligation. I’m not being unreasonable. Pay up.”

The Leanansidhe turned to face me fully, those feline eyes all but glowing with either anger or pleasure. Or maybe both.

Molly ordered the Moons Over My Hammy. And hot chocolate.

I sat across the table from her at Denny’s, my elbow on its surface, my chin resting on the heel of my hand. The table could support my