I set about restoring order, though, and I was hauling the mattress out to tie onto my car so that I could take it to the dump, when Luccio arrived.
She was dressed in grey slacks and a white shirt, and carried a black nylon sports equipment bag, which would hold, I knew, the rather short staff she favored and her Warden's blade, among other things. The clothes were new. I realized, belatedly, that they'd been the sort that she'd favored when I first met her, wearing another body.
"Hey," I panted. "Give me a second."
"I'll give you a hand," she replied. She helped me maneuver the mattress onto the top of the Blue Beetle Blue Beetle, and then we tied it off with some clothesline. She checked the knots, making sure everything was just so, and then leaned on the car, studying my face.
I looked back at her.
"Rashid said he talked to you," she said.
I nodded. "Didn't want to push."
"I appreciate that. Quite a bit, actually." She looked off to one side. Mouse, now that the work was done, came out of a shamelessly lazy doze he'd been holding in the doorway and trotted over to Luccio. He sat down and offered her his paw.
She smiled quietly and took it. Then she ruffled the fur behind his ears with her fingers, the way she knew he liked, and stood up. "I, ah ... I wanted to be sure you were recovering."
"That's very responsible of you," I said.
She winced. "Ah. Dammit to hell, Dresden." She shook her head. "I spent almost two hundred years not not getting close to anyone. For damn good reasons. As can be evidenced by what happened here." getting close to anyone. For damn good reasons. As can be evidenced by what happened here."
"Can it?"
She shook her head. "I was ... distracted, by you. By ... us, I suppose. Maybe if I hadn't been, I'd have seen something. Noticed something. I don't know."
"I kind of thought that you were distracted by the mind mage who had you twisted in knots."
She grimaced. "They're separate things. And I know that. But at the same time, I don't know that. And here I'm talking like some flustered teenager." She put her hands on her hips, her mouth set in annoyance. "I'm not good at this. Help."
"Well," I said. "I take it that you came here to let me know that you weren't going to keep pursuing ... whatever it is we had."
"It's not because of you," she said.
"I know," I said. "Never was, was it?"
She exhaled through her nose, a slow sigh. Her eyes lingered on me. "I've always liked you, Dresden. For a long time, I thought you were dangerous. Then I saw you in action against the Heirs of Kemmler, and I respected you." She smiled slightly. "You're funny. I like that."
"But?" I asked.
"But someone pushed me toward you," she said. "And that pisses me off. And ..." She started weeping, though her posture and her voice didn't waver. "And I thought that maybe I had broken through some kind of ... scar. Or old wound. Or something. That I had grown closer to you, and maybe would keep growing closer to you, and it made me feel ..." She shook her head as her voice finally broke. "Young. It made everything feel new."
I walked around the car to stand in front of her. I reached a hand toward her shoulder, but she raised hers in a gesture of denial. "But it was a lie. I'm not not young, Harry. I'm not new. I've seen and done things that ... that you can't understand. That I pray to God you'll never need to understand." She took a deep breath. "This is ridiculous. I should be better at handling this." young, Harry. I'm not new. I've seen and done things that ... that you can't understand. That I pray to God you'll never need to understand." She took a deep breath. "This is ridiculous. I should be better at handling this."
"What's wrong?" I asked quietly. "I mean, other than the obvious."
"I got to have sex sex again," she snarled. "And I liked it. I again," she snarled. "And I liked it. I really liked really liked it. I had forgotten exactly how mind-numbingly incredible sex is. And right now I'm having trouble forming complete sentences because I want to rip your shirt off and bite your shoulder while you're still sweating while you-" She broke off abruptly, her cheeks turning bright red. "You're not even it. I had forgotten exactly how mind-numbingly incredible sex is. And right now I'm having trouble forming complete sentences because I want to rip your shirt off and bite your shoulder while you're still sweating while you-" She broke off abruptly, her cheeks turning bright red. "You're not even forty forty."
I leaned against the car, looking at her, and started laughing quietly.
She shook her head, scowling ferociously at me, her dark eyes bright. "How am I supposed to give you orders, now?" she asked. "When you and I have ... done all the things we've done."
"Well. What if I promise not to put the pictures on the Internet."
She blinked at me. "Pictures ... you are are joking, Dresden? Aren't you?" joking, Dresden? Aren't you?"
I nodded.
"Because I had quite quite enough of that during my first young adult-hood," she said. "Italy may not have had an Internet back then, but you'd be shocked how quickly pictures can circulate even when they're painted on canvas." enough of that during my first young adult-hood," she said. "Italy may not have had an Internet back then, but you'd be shocked how quickly pictures can circulate even when they're painted on canvas."
"Ana," I said quietly.
She bit her lip and looked at me.
I reached out and took her hands. I squeezed them. Then I lifted them to my lips and kissed them each once, gently. "Whatever the reason, I'm happy to remember the time we had."
She blinked her eyes several times, looking up at me.
"I get it," I said. "Things have changed. And maybe that time is over. But you'll be okay. And I'll be okay. You don't have to feel guilty about that."
She lifted my hands to her lips and kissed them, once each, just as I had. A tear fell on my knuckle. "I'm sorry," she said.
"It'll be okay," I said. "It's okay."
She nodded and looked up at me. I could see the calm, collected strength of the Captain of the Wardens, ready to assume its guiding role. I could see the uncertainty of Anastasia, who hadn't been close to anyone in a long time. And maybe I could see something lonely and sad that was a part of who she had been when she was a young woman, well over a century before I was born.
"Goodbye, Harry," she whispered.
"Goodbye, Ana," I said.
She squeezed my hands and turned to walk away. She stopped after half a dozen paces and looked back.
"Dresden?"
I looked at her.
"Rashid doesn't talk much about the night Morgan died. I barely remember anything myself, after Peabody said what he said."
I knew what she was after. "He wasn't alone," I said. "I was with him. And he knew that he'd found the traitor. He was content."
Something tight in her shoulders eased. "Thank you," she said.
"Sure."
Then she turned and strode purposefully away.
I looked at the bloodstained mattress on the Blue Beetle Blue Beetle, and sighed. I didn't feel like driving it anywhere. It was early. It could wait a few hours. I turned to Mouse and said, "Come on, boy. I need a beer."
We descended out of the summer heat into the relative cool of my basement apartment.
Maybe I needed two.
It took Justine more than two weeks to get me that meeting with Thomas. When she called, she was speaking in her official secretary tone again. She stipulated a public meeting place, where both of us would have the protection of the need to maintain a low profile. It was a precaution that the White Court had required of me, given how tense things had been between the Council and the White Court's leadership, of late.
I met Thomas on a Saturday afternoon outside the Great Cat House at the Lincoln Park Zoo.
As I came up, I spotted a pair of Lara's security guys, trying to blend in. Thomas was leaning on the rail that looked into this big pit where they keep a couple of tigers. He was wearing tight blue jeans, and a big loose white shirt. Every woman there and a large chunk of the guys were looking at him, with various degrees of lust, longing, interest, and seething hatred. I walked up and leaned on the rail beside him.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey."
We stood there watching the tigers for a few minutes.
"You asked for the meeting," he said. "What do you want?"
I arched an eyebrow. "Thomas, I want to see you. Talk to you. Be sure you're okay. You're my brother, man."
He didn't react to my words. Not at all.
I studied his profile for a few moments. Then I said, "What's wrong?"
He moved one shoulder in a careless gesture. "Nothing is wrong, per se. Unless ... it was me."
"You? Were wrong?"
"I was an idiot to try to live the way I've been living," he said.
I looked at him sharply. "What?"
He rolled a hand in a lazy gesture. "The boutique. The constant nibbling, never sating myself. The ..." He shrugged. "All of it."
I stared hard at him. Then I asked, very quietly, "What did the skinwalker do to you?"
"He reminded me of what I really am."
"Oh?"
Thomas turned to look at me with calm deep grey eyes. "Yes. It didn't take him long, once he set about it."
I felt sick to my stomach. "What happened?"
"He hung me up by my heels," Thomas said. "And ripped strips of skin off of me. One at a time."
I shuddered.
"It's agonizing," he said. "Not terribly dangerous to one of us. My demon didn't really have any trouble regenerating the skin-but it did become hungry. Very, very hungry." His eyes suddenly gleamed paler silver and he looked back at the tigers, which were now restlessly prowling the pit. "He'd taken a female kine to the lair where he had me prisoner. And he fed her to me."
"Hell's bells," I breathed.
Thomas watched the tigers pace. "She was lovely. Sixteen or so? I don't know, exactly. I didn't ask for her name." He spread his hands. "It was a fatal feeding, of course. I don't think I've ever really explained to you exactly what that is like."
"What is it like?" I asked in a quiet rasp.
"Like becoming light," he said, his eyes drifting closed. "Like sinking into the warmth of a campfire when you've been shivering for hours. Like a hot steak after a day of swimming in cold water. It transforms you, Harry. Makes you feel ..." His eyes became haunted, hollow. "Whole."
I shook my head. "Thomas. Jesus."
"Once she was gone and my body was restored, the skinwalker tortured me again, until I was in the same desperate condition. Then he fed me another doe." He shrugged. "Rinse and repeat. Perhaps half a dozen times. He gave me young women and then put me in agony again. I was all but chewing out my own innards when he took me to the island. To tell you the truth, I barely remember it." He smiled. "I remember seeing Molly. But you've taught her enough to protect herself, it seems."
"Thomas," I said gently.
He smirked. "If you ever get tired of her, I hope you'll let me know."
I stared at him, sickened. "Thomas." "Thomas."
He looked at me again, still smirking-but he couldn't hold it. Once again, his eyes looked hollow, touched with despair. He looked away from me. "You don't get it, Harry."
"Then talk to me," I said, urgently. "Thomas, Jesus Christ. This is not not you." you."
"Yes, it is," he spat, the words a bladed hiss. "That's what it taught me, Harry. At the end of the day, I'm just an empty place that needs to be filled." He shook his head. "I didn't what it taught me, Harry. At the end of the day, I'm just an empty place that needs to be filled." He shook his head. "I didn't want want to kill those girls. But I did it. I killed them, over and over, and I to kill those girls. But I did it. I killed them, over and over, and I loved loved how it felt. When I think back on the memory of it, it doesn't make me horrified." He sneered. "It just makes me hard." how it felt. When I think back on the memory of it, it doesn't make me horrified." He sneered. "It just makes me hard."
"Thomas," I whispered. "Please, man. This isn't what you want to be. I know you, man. I've seen you."
"You've seen who I wanted to be," he said. "Who I thought I was." He shook his head and looked around at the people around us. "Play a game with me."
"What game?"
He nodded toward a pair of young women walking by holding ice-cream cones. "What do you see when you look at them? Your first thought."
I blinked. I looked. "Uh. Blonde and brunette, too young for me, not bad to look at. I bet the blonde paid too much for those shoes."
He nodded and pointed at an old couple sitting on a bench. "Them?"
"They're fighting with each other over something and enjoying it. They've been together so long, it's comfortable for them. Later, they'll hold hands and laugh over the fight."
He pursed his lips, and pointed at a mother chivvying a trio of small children of various sizes along the zoo. "Them?"
"She's got an expensive ring, but she's here at the zoo alone. Her kids all have matching outfits. Her husband works a lot, and she doesn't look as good as she used to-look how the shoes are biting into her feet. She's worried that she's a trophy wife, or maybe an ex-wife in progress. She's about to start crying."
"Uh-huh," he said. "Can I give you my first thoughts?"
I nodded, frowning at him.
Thomas pointed a finger at the young women. "Food." He pointed a finger at the old couple. "Food." He pointed a finger at the mother and her children. "Food."