Blood Rites (The Dresden Files 6)

Chapter Fifteen

The first thought that went through my mind was something like, Wow her voice is hot. The second was, How the hell did she catch up to us so quickly?

Oh, and somewhere in there the practical side of me chimed in with, It would be bad to get shot.

What came out of my mouth was, "Is your last name really Romany?"

I didn't hear any footsteps, but her voice came from closer when she answered. "It was my married name. Briefly. Now please step away from my little brother."

Hell's bells, she was his sister! Familial dementia. She might not react rationally to a threat. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that under the circumstances, I'd be an idiot to push Lara Raith. "I assume that when I do, you'll lower the guns?"

"Assume instead that if you don't, I'll shoot you dead."

"Oh, for the love of God." Thomas sighed. "Lara, would you relax? We were just talking."

She clucked her teeth, a sound of almost maternal disapproval. "Tommy, Tommy. When you say ridiculous things like that, I have to keep reminding myself that my baby brother isn't as large an idiot as you would like us all to believe."

"Oh, come on," Thomas said. "This is a waste of time."

"Shut up," I said with an ungracious waggle of the blasting rod. I looked over my shoulder at Lara. She was wearing black lacy things with stockings and heels-

(How the hell had she caught up to us in the freaking heels? Even for a wizard, some things are simply beyond belief.)

-  and she held a pair of pretty little guns in her hands. They probably weren't packing the high-caliber ammunition of heavier weapons, but even baby bullets could kill me just fine. She held them like she knew what she was doing, and sauntered closer through the heavy shadows, her skin luminous. And showing. And really gorgeous.

I gritted my teeth and beat back the sudden urge to taste-test the curvy dents in her stomach and thighs, and kept the blasting rod lit and pointing at Thomas. "Back off, toots. Put the guns down, stop with the come-hither whammy, and we can talk."

She stopped between one step and the next, a faintly troubled expression on her face. She narrowed her eyes, and her voice slid through the air like honey and heroin. "What did you say?"

I fought off the pressure of that voice and growled, "Back. Off." My inner Quixote was not to be entirely denied though, and I added, "Please."

She stared at me for a moment, and then blinked her eyes slowly, as if seeing me for the first time. "Empty night," she murmured, her tone one of someone speaking an oath. "You're Harry Dresden."

"Don't feel bad. I cleverly concealed my identity as Harry the Production Assistant."

She pursed her lips (which also looked delicious) and said, "Why are you threatening my brother?"

"It was a slow night and everyone else was busy."

There wasn't even the hint of a warning. One of the little guns barked, there was a flash of scarlet pain in my head, and I collapsed to one knee.

I kept the blasting rod trained on Thomas and lifted my hand to my ear. It came away wet with droplets of blood, but the pain had begun to recede. Lara arched a delicate eyebrow at me. Hell's bells. She'd grazed my ear with a bullet. With that kind of skill, between the eyes would be no trick at all.

"Normally I would admire that kind of piquant retort," she said in a silken, quiet voice. Probably because she thought it sounded scarier than if she'd said it loudly. "But where my little brother is concerned, I am in no mood to play games."

"Point taken," I said. My voice sounded shaky. I lowered the blasting rod until it wasn't pointing at Thomas, and eased away the power held ready in it. The sullen fire at the tip of the rod went out.

"Lovely," she said, but she didn't lower the twin pistols. The autumn's evening breeze blew her dark, glossy hair around her head, and her grey eyes shone silver in the half-light.

"Harry," Thomas said. "This is my oldest sister, Lara. Lara, Harry Dresden."

"A pleasure," she said. "Thomas, step out from behind the wizard. I don't want one of these rounds to take you if they go through."

My guts turned to water. I still had my blasting rod in hand, but Lara could pull the trigger quicker than I could aim and loose a strike at her.

"Wait," Thomas said. He pushed himself up to one knee and put himself between me and the other White vampire. "Don't kill him."

That earned Thomas an arched eyebrow, but a smile haunted her mouth. "And why not?"

"There's the chance that he'd be able to level his death curse, for one."

"True. And?"

Thomas shrugged. "And I have personal reasons. I'd take it as a favor if we could discuss the matter first."

"So would I," I added.

Lara let the ghostly smile remain. "I find myself liking you, wizard, but..." She sighed. "There is little room for negotiation, Thomas. Dresden's presence here is unacceptable. Arturo's independent streak is an internal matter of the White Court."

"I didn't come here to interfere with the White Court," I said. "It wasn't my intention at all."

She regarded me. "We all know what intentions are worth. Why then, wizard?"

"That's a good question," I said, turning my head deliberately to Thomas. "I'd love to hear the answer."

Thomas's expression become apprehensive. His gaze flicked to Lara, and I had the sudden impression that he was preparing to move against her.

Lara frowned and said, "Thomas? What is he talking about?"

"This is a tempest in a teapot, Lara," Thomas said. "It's nothing. Really."

Lara's eyes widened. "You brought him into this?"

"Um," Thomas began.

"You're damn right he did," I said. "You think I'd be here for the fun of it?"

Lara's mouth dropped open. "Thomas. You've entered the game now?"

Thomas pressed his lips together for a few seconds, then rose slowly to his feet. He winced and put one hand to the small of his back. "Looks that way."

"He'll kill you," Lara said. "He'll kill you and worse. You haven't got a fraction of the strength you'd need to threaten him."

"That all depends," Thomas said.

"On what?" she asked.

"On where the other members of the House decide to place their support."

She let out a short laugh of disbelief. "You think any of us would take your side over his?"

"Why not," Thomas said calmly. "Think about it. Father is strong, but he isn't invincible. If he's taken down by my influence, it leaves me in charge, and I'd be a hell of a lot easier to depose than he would. But if I lose, you can blame me for putting the psychic wristlock on you. Instant scapegoat. Life goes on and the only one to pay for it is me."

She narrowed her eyes. "You've been reading Machiavelli again."

"To Justine at bedtime."

Lara became quiet for a moment, her expression pensive. Then she said, "This is ill-advised, Thomas."

"But- "

"Your timing is horrible. Raith's position is already precarious among the Houses. Internal instability now could leave us vulnerable to Skavis or Malvora or those like them. If they sense weakness they won't hesitate to destroy us."

"Dad's losing it," Thomas countered. "He hasn't been right for years, and we all know it. He's getting old. It's only a matter of time before the other Lords decide to take him-and when that happens, all of us will go down with him."

She shook her head. "Do you know how many brothers and sisters have said such words to me over the years? He has destroyed them all."

"They went up against him alone. I'm talking about all of us working together. We can do it."

"Why now, of all times?"

"Why not now?"

She frowned at Thomas, and stared intently at him for better than sixty seconds. Then she shivered, took a deep breath, and pointed one gun at my head. And the other at Thomas.

"Lara," he protested.

"Take your hand out from your back. Now."

Thomas stiffened, but he moved his hand from his back slowly, fingers empty. I looked up and saw a bulge that brushed his shirt at the belt line.

Lara nodded. "I'm sorry, Tommy. I really am quite fond of you, but you do not know Father the way I do. You aren't the only Raith who takes advantage of being underestimated. He already suspects you have something afoot, and if he thinks for a moment I'm working with you, he'll kill me. Without hesitation."

Thomas's voice grew desperate. "Lara, if we act together-"

"We will die together. If not at his hands than at Malvora's and his like. I don't have a choice. It gives me no pleasure to kill you."

"Then don't do it!" he said.

"And leave you to Father's mercies? Even I have a few principles. I love you as much as anyone in the world, little brother, but I did not survive as long as I have by taking unnecessary risks."

Thomas swallowed. He didn't look at me, but his balance shifted a little, and his shirt rode up enough to show me the handle of a gun he had tucked into the back of his jeans. I didn't stare at it. I wouldn't have time to grab it and shoot before Lara could gun me down, but if Thomas could distract her for a beat or two, there might be a chance.

Thomas took a deep breath and said, "Lara."

Something in his voice had changed. The tone of it sounded the same, on the surface, but there was something beneath it that made the air sing with quiet, seductive power. It commanded attention. Hell, it commanded a lot of things, and it was creepy to hear it coming from him. I was glad that Thomas wasn't addressing me, because it would have been damned confusing.

"Lara," he said again. I saw her sway a little as he spoke. "Let me talk to you."

Evidently the sway was induced more by the evening breeze and those high heels than it was by Thomas's voice. "I'm afraid all you need say is good-bye, little brother." Lara thumbed back the hammer on both guns, her features calm and remote. "And you'd best say it for wizard as well."