Dammit. Nothing like a little pro forma quid pro quo action. By Mab’s reckoning, I was pretty sure, Nicodemus and I had played this one out evenly. My actions in protecting Butters could be explained as bad luck and sincere incompetence. Nicodemus’s attempt to kill me could be explained as a ploy to destroy the Sword.

His eyes narrowed. “And I fully expect you to continue to fulfill your half of the bargain, Dresden, regardless of what happens over the next few hours.”

I ground my teeth and said, “You attacked Murphy.”

“I warned you that I could not guarantee her safety,” he said in a reasonable tone. “And in any case, she initiated the attack, if you recall. And she’s not dead just yet.” He showed me white teeth. “I’d say that I’m being more than reasonable. And so would your liege.”

Again, he was right—by Mab’s reckoning, he was indeed a reasonable man.

Uriel, meanwhile, had paced over to stand at Michael’s right hand. I took up station on my friend’s left.

“The bargain was made,” Nicodemus purred, to Uriel, “his word freely given. You cannot stop him from fulfilling it.”

“Correct,” Uriel said, “but I can help him do so.”

Nicodemus’s smile slipped.

Calmly, Uriel turned to Michael. He put a hand on Michael’s shoulder and gently took his cane away.

Michael blinked at Uriel, his arms going out for balance, his body tightening as if he expected to pitch over without the cane’s support. And then he abruptly relaxed. He put some of his weight on his bad leg, and then a little more. And then he let out a little laugh and hopped on it a few times.

Just then, Butters came running back around from behind the house. There was a twig with a soggy brown oak leaf still attached to it in his hair, his knees were scuffed and marked with sap, and he was carrying a slender package wrapped in canvas and duct tape, almost as long as he was tall. Butters was tearing at the package as he ran over and then offered it to Michael.

Michael’s eyes widened and went to Nicodemus as he stretched out his right hand, without looking, without needing to look, and withdrew from the canvas package a Sword, a shining length of straight steel with a cruciform hilt. As Michael’s fingers closed on it, Amoracchius exploded into white light, and for the second time in an evening, the quiet, ominous power of one of the Swords filled the air.

Nicodemus’s eyes widened. “You cheat!” he snarled.

“I said I would come out to you,” Michael said.

Then he lifted a work-booted foot and kicked the white picket gate off its hinges. It struck Nicodemus across the torso, driving him back into the street, and Michael Carpenter, Knight of the Cross, strode out of the open gate onto the icy sidewalk while the archangel looked on, silver-greeneyes blazing in answer to the light of the Sword in Michael’s hands.

“I’m out,” Michael said. “In nomine Dei, Nicodemus, I have come to face you.”

In the street, Nicodemus bared his teeth.

I was terrified for Michael.

And my heart soared.

“Hah-hah,” I said, like the bully on The Simpsons, pointing at him. Then I walked out of the gate to stand beside my friend. I pointed my finger at my quarterstaff, fallen on the ground where the Genoskwa had held me, exerted my will, and called, “Ventas servitas.”

A burst of wind rose and flung the staff into the air. I caught it, and called power into it, summoning green-white light and silvery soulfire into the channels of power that ran through its runes.

Uriel smiled tightly, his eyes hard, and the sleet began to fall once more. It burst into little drops of steam when it hit the runes on my staff.

“Two of you,” I said to Nicodemus. “Two of us. What do you think, Nick?”

Michael faced him squarely, both hands on the hilt of Amoracchius. The Sword’s light filled the air—and Nicodemus’s shadow quailed before it.

Nicodemus finally stood back. He lowered his blade and said, “Dresden. I expect you back at our headquarters by four a.m.” He turned to go.

“Not so fast, smart guy,” I said.

Nicodemus paused.

“If I have to play by these stupid rules, so do you. I still get someone to watch my back during this job.”

“Miss Murphy is more than welcome to do so.”

“You put her out of commission,” I said. “You didn’t have to do that. You’d already beaten her.”

“Then choose another,” Nicodemus snapped.

I put a hand on Michael’s shoulder and said, “I already have. And you’re going to put up with it, or I’ll consider it a release of obligation—and so will Mab.”

Nicodemus simply stood, soaked by the sleet and unmoved by the cold. He stared at me in chilly silence for several seconds. Then he said, “So be it.”

Shadows gathered around him, and vanished up into the stormy night, taking him with them. I looked left and right, and realized that the Genoskwa was already gone.

Michael was looking at me very oddly as he lowered the Sword.

“What?” I asked him.

“Charity,” he predicted, “is not going to be pleased.”

Thirty-one

Once Nick and Big Shaggy were gone, I hurried to Karrin. She was on her back, shuddering, her eyes focused on nothing.

I turned to Uriel, pointed a finger at Karrin, and said, “Fix her.”

Uriel grimaced. “I cannot.” After a moment, he added, “I’m sorry.”