White Night Part 35

When he came back out, the smile was gone. We got suited up. Swords and guns and grey cloaks and staves and magical gewgaws left and right, yeehaw. One of these days, I swear, as long as I'm playing supernatural sheriff of Chicago, I'm getting myself some honest-to-G.o.d spurs and a ten-gallon hat.

I got out a yellow legal pad and a pen, and Ramirez and I sat down over another beer. "The meeting is at the Raith family estate north of town. I've been in the house, but only part of it. Here's what I remember."

I started sketching it out for Ramirez, who asked plenty of smart questions about both the house and exterior, so that I had to go to a new page to map out what I knew of the grounds. "Not sure where the vamps will be having their meeting, but the duel is going to be in the Deeps. It's a cave outside the house, somewhere out here." I circled an area of the map. "There's a nice deep chasm in them. It's a great place to dispose of bodies, and no chance of being seen or heard."

"Very tidy," Ramirez noted. "Especially if we're the ones who need disposing of."

The doork.n.o.b twisted and began to open.

Ramirez went for his gun and had it out almost as quickly as I had my blasting rod pointed at the door. Something slammed against it, opening it five or six inches. I flicked my gaze aside for a minute, and then lowered the blasting rod. I put a hand on Ramirez's wrist and said, "Easy, tiger. It's a friendly."

Ramirez glanced at me and lowered the gun, while I watched Mouse rise to his feet and pad toward the door, tail wagging.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"That backup we might be getting," I said quietly.

The door banged open by inches and Molly slipped inside.

She'd ditched the Goth-wear almost entirely. She didn't sport any of the usual piercings-nose rings are great fashion statements, but in anything like a fight, they just aren't a good idea. Her clothing wasn't all ripped up, either. She wore heavy, loose jeans, and not slung so low on the hips that they'd threaten to fall off and trip her if she twitched her spine just right. Her combat boots had been divested of their brightly colored laces. She wore a black shirt with a Metallica logo on it, and a web belt that bore a sheathed knife and the small first-aid kit I'd seen her mother carry into battle. She wore a dark green baseball cap, with her hair gathered into a tail and tucked up under it, where it wouldn't provide an easy handle for anyone wanting to grab it.

Molly didn't look up at us. She greeted the big dog first, kneeling to give him a hug. Then she rose, facing me, and looked up. "Um. Hi, Harry. h.e.l.lo, Warden Ramirez."

"Molly," I replied, keeping my voice neutral. "Is this the third or fourth time in the last two days I've told you to stay home only to have you ignore me?"

"I know," she said, looking down again. "But... I'd like to talk to you."

"I'm busy"

"I know. But I really need to talk to you, sir. Please."

I exhaled slowly. Then I glanced aside at Ramirez. "Do me a favor? Gas up the Beetle? There's a station two blocks down the street."

Carlos looked from me to Molly and back, then shrugged and said, "Um. Sure, yeah."

I took the keys from my pocket and tossed them. Carlos caught them with casual dexterity, gave Molly a polite nod, and left.

"Shut the door," I told her.

She did, pressing her back against it and using her legs to push. It cost her a couple of grunts of effort and a few ounces of dignity, but she got it shut.

"You can barely shut the door," I said. "But you think you're ready to fight the White Court?"

She shook her head and started to speak.

I didn't let her. "Again, you're ignoring me. Again, you're here when I told you to stay away."

"Yes," she said. "But-"

"But you think I'm a frigging idiot too stupid to make these kinds of judgments on my own, and you want to go with me anyway."

"It isn't like that," she said.

"No?" I said, thrusting out my chin belligerently. "How many beads can you move, apprentice?"

"But-"

I roared at her, "How many beads?" beads?"

She flinched away from me, her expression miserable. Then she lifted the bracelet and dangled it, heavy black beads lining up at the bottom of the strand. She faced it, her blue eyes tired and haunted, and bit her lip.

"Harry?" she asked softly.

She sounded very young.

"Yes?" I asked. I spoke very gently.

"Why does it matter?" she asked me, staring at the bead bracelet.

"It matters if you want to go into this with me," I said quietly.

She shook her head and blinked her eyes several times. It didn't stop a tear from leaking out. "But that's just it. I... I don't want want to go. I don't to go. I don't want want to see that..." She glanced aside at Mouse and shuddered. "Blood, like that. I don't remember what happened when you and Mother saved me from Arctis Tor. But I don't want to see more of that. I don't want it to happen to me. I don't want to. hurt anyone." to see that..." She glanced aside at Mouse and shuddered. "Blood, like that. I don't remember what happened when you and Mother saved me from Arctis Tor. But I don't want to see more of that. I don't want it to happen to me. I don't want to. hurt anyone."

I let out a low, noncommittal sound. "Then why are you here?"

"B-because," she said, searching for words. "Because I need to do it. I know that what you're doing is necessary. And it's right. And I know that you're doing it because you're the only one who can. And I want to help."

"You think you're strong enough to help?" I asked her.

She bit her lip again and met my eyes for just a second. "I think... I think it doesn't matter how strong my magic is. I know I don't... I don't know how to do these things like you do. The guns and the battles and..." She lifted her chin and seemed to gather herself a little. "But I know more than most."

"You know some," I admitted. "But you got to understand, kid. That won't mean much once things get nasty. There's no time for thinking or second chances."

She nodded. "All I can promise you is that I won't leave you when you need me. I'll do whatever you think I can. I'll stay here and man the phone. I'll drive the car. I'll walk at the back and hold the flashlight. Whatever you want." She met my eyes and her own hardened. "But I can't sit at home being safe. I need to be a part of this. I need to help."

There was a sudden, sharp sound as the leather strand of her bracelet snapped of its own volition. Black beads flew upward with so much force that they rattled off the ceiling and went bouncing around the apartment for a good ten seconds. Mister, still batting playfully at his gift sack of catnip, paused to watch them, ears flicking, eyes alertly tracking their movement.

I went up to the girl, who was staring at them, mystified.

"It was the vampire, wasn't it," I said. "Seeing him die."

She blinked at me. Then at the scattered beads. "I... I didn't just see it, Harry. I felt felt it. I can't explain it any better than that. Inside my head. I it. I can't explain it any better than that. Inside my head. I felt felt it, the same way I felt that poor girl. But this was horrible." it, the same way I felt that poor girl. But this was horrible."

"Yeah," I said. "You're a sensitive. It's a tremendous talent, but it has some drawbacks to it. In this case, though, I'm glad you have it."

"Why?" she whispered.

I gestured at the scattered beads. "Congratulations, kid," I told her quietly. "You're ready."

She blinked at me, her head tilted. "What?"

I took the now-empty leather strand and held it up between two fingers. "It wasn't about power, Molly. It was never about power. You've got plenty of that."

She shook her head. "But... all those times..."

"The beads weren't ever going to go up. Like I said, power had nothing to do with it. You didn't need that. You needed brains." I thumped a forefinger over one of her eyebrows. "You needed to open your eyes. You needed to be truly aware of how dangerous things are. You needed to understand your limitations. And you needed to know why why you should set out on something like this." you should set out on something like this."

"But... all I said was that I was scared."

"After what you got to experience? That's smart, kid," I said. "I'm scared, too. Every time something like this happens, it scares me. But being strong doesn't get you through. Being smart does. I've beaten people and things who were stronger than I was, because they didn't use their heads, or because I used what I had better than they did. It isn't about muscle, kiddo, magical or otherwise. It's about your att.i.tude. About your mind."

She nodded slowly and said, "About doing things for the right reasons."

"You don't throw down like this just because you're strong enough to do it," I said. "You do it because you don't have much choice. You do it because it's unacceptable to walk away, and still live with yourself later."

She stared at me for a second, and then her eyes widened. "Otherwise, you're using power for the sake of using power."

I nodded. "And power tends to corrupt. It isn't hard to love using it, Molly. You've got to go in with the right att.i.tude or..."

"Or the power starts using you," she said. She'd heard the argument before, but this was the first time she said the words slowly, thoughtfully, as if she'd actually understood them, instead of just parroting them back to me. Then she looked up. "That's why you do it. Why you help people. You're using the power for someone other than yourself."

"That's part of it," I said. "Yeah."

"I feel... sort of stupid."

"There's a difference in knowing something"-I poked her head again-"and knowing it." I touched the middle of her sternum. "See?"

She nodded slowly. Then she took the strand back from me and put it back on her wrist. There was just enough left to let her tie it again. She held it up so that I could see and said, "So that I'll remember."

I grinned at her and hugged her. She hugged back. "Did you get a lesson like this?"

"Pretty much," I said. "From this grumpy old Scot on a farm in the Ozarks."

"When do I stop feeling like an idiot?"

"I'll let you know when I do," I said, and she laughed.

We parted the hug and I met her eyes. eyes. "You still in?" "You still in?"

"Yes," she said simply.

"Then you'll ride up with Ramirez and me. We'll stop outside the compound and you'll stay with with the car." the car."

She nodded seriously. "What do I do?"

"Keep your eyes and ears open. Stay alert for anything you might sense. Don't talk to anyone. If anyone approaches you, leave. If you see a bunch of bad guys showing up, start honking the horn and get out."

"Okay," she said. She looked a little pale.

I pulled a silver cylinder out of my pocket. "This is a hypersonic whistle. Mouse can hear it from a mile away. If we get in trouble, I'll blow it and he'll start barking about it. He'll face where we are. Try to get the car as close as you can."

"I'll have Mouse with me," she said, and looked considerably relieved.

I nodded. "Almost always better not to work alone."

"What if... what if I do something wrong?"

I shrugged. "What if you do? That's always possible, Molly. But the only way never to do the wrong thing-"

"-is never to do anything," she finished.

"Bingo." I put a hand on her shoulder. "Look. You're smart enough. I've taught you everything I know about the White Court. Keep your eyes open. Use your head, your judgment. If things get bad and I haven't started blowing the whistle, run like h.e.l.l. If it gets past ten P.M. and you haven't heard from me, do the same. Get home and tell your folks."

"All right," she said quietly. She took a deep breath and let it out unsteadily. "This is scary."

"And we're doing it anyway," I said.

"That makes us brave, right?"

"If we get away with it," I said. "If we don't, it just makes us stupid."

Her eyes widened for a second and then she let out a full-throated laugh.

"Ready?" I asked her.

"Ready, sir."

"Good."

Outside, gravel crunched as Ramirez returned with the Beetle. "All right, apprentice," I said. "Get Mouse's lead on him, will you? Let's do it."

CHAPTER Thirty-Five

Chateau Raith hadn't changed much since my last visit. That's one of the good things about dealing with nigh-immortals. They tend to adjust badly to change and avoid it wherever possible.

It was a big place, north of the city, where the countryside rolls over a surprising variety of terrain-flat stretches of rich land that used to be farms, but are mostly big, expensive properties now. Dozens of little rivers and big creeks have carved hills and valleys more steep than most people expect from the Midwest. The trees out in that area, one of the older settlements in the United States, can be absolutely huge, and it would cost me five or six years' worth of income to buy even a tiny house.

Chateau Raith is surrounded by a forest of those enormous, ancient trees, as if someone had managed to transplant a section of Sherwood Forest itself from Britain. You can't see a thing of the estate from any of the roads around it. I knew it was at least a half-mile run through the trees before you got to the grounds, which were enormous in their own right.

Translation: You weren't getting away from the chateau on foot speed alone. Not if there were vampires there to run you down.