Turn Coat (The Dresden Files 11)

She wiped at her eyes and nose. "What do I do?"

"Get my ritual box. Put it in the car Murphy's cuddling up with outside."

"Okay," Molly said. She turned away but then paused and looked back over her shoulder at me. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it was wrong, but..."

I looked at her sharply and frowned.

She shook her head and held up her hands. "Hear me out. I know it was wrong, and I didn't get much of a look but... I swear to you. I think someone has tampered with Captain Luccio. I'd bet my life on it."

I ignored the little chill that danced down my spine.

"Could be that you have," I said quietly. "And mine, too. Go get the box."

Molly hurried to comply.

I waited until she was outside to look at Mouse. The big dog sat up, his eyes gravely concerned. He wasn't favoring his shoulder at all, and his movement was completely unimpaired.

Mouse got hit by the driver of a minivan once. He got back up, ran it down, and returned the favor. The Foo dog was very, very tough. I doubted he'd really needed the medical attention to recover, though I was also sure it would help speed things along. But I hadn't been completely certain the injury wasn't as serious as it looked.

In other words, the freaking dog had fooled Molly and me both.

"You were acting?" I said. "To make it hit Molly harder?"

His tail wagged back and forth proudly.

"Damn," I said, impressed. "Maybe I should have named you Denzel."

His jaws opened in a doggy grin.

"Earlier tonight," I said, "when I was trying to figure out how to find Thomas, you interrupted me. I didn't think about it before now, but you helped him track me down when Madrigal Raith was auctioning me off on eBay."

His tail wagged harder.

"Could you find Thomas?"

"Woof," he said, and his front paws bounced a couple of inches off the floor.

I nodded slowly, thinking. Then I said, "I've got another mission for you. One that could be more important. You game?"

He shook his fur out and padded to the door. Then he stopped and looked back over his shoulder at me.

"Okay," I told him, walking to the door myself. "Listen up. Things are about to get sort of risky."

Chapter Thirty-five

I looked at Luccio's still-unconscious form. The stress of coordinating the search for Morgan for who knows how long before he showed up, coupled with the pains of her injuries and the sedative effect of the painkillers I'd given her, meant that she'd never stirred. Not when the gun went off, not when we'd been talking, and not when we'd all had to work together to get Morgan back up the stairs and out to the silver Rolls.

I made sure she was covered with a blanket. The moment I did, Mister descended from his perch atop one of my bookcases, and draped himself languidly over her lower legs, purring.

I scratched my cat's ears and said, "Keep her company."

He gave me an inscrutable look that said maybe he would and maybe he wouldn't. Mister was a cat, and cats generally considered it the obligation of the universe to provide shelter, sustenance, and amusement as required. I think Mister considered it beneath his dignity to plan for the future.

I got a pen and paper and wrote.

Anastasia,

I'm running out of time, and visitors are on the way. I'm going someplace where I might be able to create new options. You'll understand shortly.

I'm sorry I didn't bring you, too. In your condition, you'd be of limited assistance. I know you don't like it, but you also know that I'm right.

Help yourself to whatever you need. I hope that we'll talk soon.

Harry

I folded the note and left it on the coffee table, where she'd see it upon waking. Then I bent over, kissed her hair, and left her sleeping safe in my home.

I parked the Rolls in the lot next to the marina. If we hurried, we could still get there before the witching hour, which would be the best time to try the invocation. Granted, trying it while injured and weary with absolutely no preritual work was probably going to detract more than enough from the ritual to offset the premium timing, but I was beggared for time and therefore not spoiling for choice.

"Allow me to reiterate," Murphy said, "that I feel that this is a bad idea."

"So noted," I said. "But will you do it?"

She stared out the Rolls's windshield at the vast expanse of Lake Michigan, a simple and enormous blackness against the lights of Chicago. "Yes," she said.

"If there was anything else you could do," I said, "I'd ask you to do it. I swear."

"I know," she said. "It just pisses me off that there's nothing more I can add."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're going to be in danger, too. Someone might decide to come by and try to use you against me. And if word gets back to the Council about how much you know, they're going to blow a gasket."

She smiled a bit. "Yes, thank you. I feel less left out now that I know someone might kill me anyway." She shifted, settling her gun's shoulder harness a little more comfortably. "I am aware of my limits. That isn't the same thing as liking them." She looked back at me. "How are you going to reach the others?"

"I'd... really rather not say. The less you know-"

"The safer I am?"

"No, actually," I said. "The less you know, the safer I am. Don't forget that we might be dealing with people who can take information out of your head, whether you want to give it or not."

Murphy folded her arms and shivered. "I hate feeling helpless."

"Yeah," I said, "me, too. How's he doing, Molly?"

"Still asleep," Molly reported from the back of the limo. "I don't think his fever is any higher, though." She reached out and touched Morgan's forehead with the back of one hand.

Morgan's arm rose up and sharply slapped her arm away at the wrist, though he never changed the pace of his breathing or otherwise stirred. Christ. It was literally a reflex action. I shook my head and said, "Let's move, people."

Molly and I wrestled the wounded Warden into his wheelchair again. He roused enough to help a little, and sagged back into sleep as soon as he was seated. Molly slung the strap of my ritual box over her shoulder and started pushing Morgan across the parking lot to the marina docks. I grabbed a couple of heavy black nylon bags.

"And what do we have in there?" Murphy asked me.

"Party favors," I said.

"You're having a party out there?"