Peace Talks (The Dresden Files, #16)(84)

“Mab can be very creative about what she notices or doesn’t,” I said. “Particularly if the forms are observed correctly. The lack of bloodshed at what amounts to her party will go a long way toward pacifying her.”

“But she doesn’t know,” Lara pressed.

“She loaned me to you so that she wouldn’t have to know.”

Lara finished the last of her espresso. “ Meaning … that there might well be consequences for you in the aftermath.”

“Especially if we screw it up,” I said.

“If we attempt and fail,” Lara noted, “my position is even worse than if I do nothing.”

“He’s family.”

Her sapphire eyes met mine for a dangerous second and then turned to Murphy. “I take it this is your plan?”

“I don’t get weepy about who gets credit,” Murphy said. “As long as the plan gets results.”

Lara took a deep breath.

Then she said, “All right. Walk me through it.”





25


It’s not complicated,” Murphy said.

Lara tilted her head and said, “Please don’t assume I’m too thick to see the obvious options.”

“You’ve been in the building for meetings of the Brighter Future Society,” Murphy said. “I trained there on a daily basis for more than a year. With the guards.”

Lara arched an eyebrow. “I assumed you were watchdogging the imperiled families who were staying there.”

“I was,” Murphy said. “I was also learning everything I could about the place.” She snorted. “Marcone owns it. Keep your friends close.”

Lara’s smile was somehow both appreciative and predatory. “So you have information I didn’t when I was making plans.”

“The strong rooms are in the basement,” Murphy said.

“Only one way in and out,” Lara noted.

“That’s not the first problem to plan for,” Murphy said.

I nodded. “Before we go in, we need to set up a way out.”

I arrived at the reception on time, wearing my silver suit and my Warden’s cloak. It wasn’t the original, which I preferred, sort of. It was a dress cloak, made of shimmery grey silk of some kind, and it didn’t have any tears or burns or patches on it. Once again, I walked in with the Wardens and the members of the Senior Council, though this time Ramirez, dressed as I was, lagged a bit behind, leaning more heavily on his cane than the day before.

Predators would note that he was an easy target, isolated and falling behind like that, and this summit could be fairly described as a convocation of some of the deadliest predators around. I slowed my pace to walk next to him. That way he wouldn’t be alone.

It was a muggy night, with light, sullen rainfall that made the warm air smell like hot asphalt and motor oil and cut grass. The rain was something to be expected when powerful delegates of both Summer and Winter were in proximity for any length of time.

“Hey, man,” I said quietly. “You okay?”

Ramirez set his jaw, glanced at me for a second, and then said, “I will be. Right now it’s inconvenient. At least I’m not stuck in a wheelchair anymore.”

“What happened?” I asked.

The muscles in his jaw flexed before he spoke. “Tangled with the wrong monster.”

“Line of duty?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “As it turned out.”

I frowned. There were enormous anger and pain in the spaces between his words. I’d seen Carlos get hurt, during the war with the Red Court. It hadn’t ever stopped his smile for very long.

This had.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

His lips pressed into a line. “Yeah.” He gave his head a little shake, as if dislodging an insect. “I heard about the vote in the Council, man. It’s bullshit. However inconvenient you might be for them, whether any of them like it or not, you’re a wizard, Harry.”

“Yer a wizard, Harry,” I growled.

He didn’t smile, but an amused glint came to his eyes. “Point is, I’ve already cast my vote on your behalf. So have most of the other Wardens.”

I was quiet for a second, with my throat a little tight. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Yeah, well. We’re just the guys who have to do the fighting and the dirty work,” he said bitterly. “All the wizards who sit on their fat asses all day, who knows? To them, you’re scary.”

“You didn’t used to curse so much,” I noted. And he’d never sounded so bitter doing it, either. Man.

Something had done a number on Ramirez.

I made a mental note to grab a bottle of something very flammable and have a long talk with Carlos before long.

“How’s Karrin doing?” he asked.

“Like always, but slower and grouchier.”

“I heard what she did. Went hand to hand with Nicodemus Archleone and survived.”

“You got that backwards, but yeah,” I said. “Difference is, she can still live in her house.”

“Hah,” he said, with a flash of teeth. “Yeah. You wouldn’t believe how many people have come to the Council asking us to help them find him.”

“Are we?”