"They weren't," I said. "Morgan has threatened and persecuted me every time he got the chance." I clenched my right hand into a fist. "And I have done nothing nothing. I won't become a part of that, Warden Luccio. So keep the cape. I wouldn't polish my car with it."
She regarded her folded hands, eyes narrow. "Dresden," she said quietly. "The White Council is at war. Would you simply abandon your own people to the mercies of the Red Court? Would you stand aside and let Kemmler's disciples have their way?"
"Of course not," I said. "And I never said I wouldn't fight. But I won't be wearing this. this." I shoved the cloak across the table. "Keep it."
She shoved it back to the table before me. "Put it on."
"Thank you, no."
"Dresden," Luccio said, and her voice was calm and agate-hard. "It is not a request."
"I don't respond well to threats," I said.
"Then respond to reality," she snapped. "Dresden, the Wardens are all but shattered. We need every battle-capable wizard we can recruit, train, or conscript."
"A lot of wizards can fight," I growled.
"And they aren't aren't Harry Dresden," she said. "You idiot. Don't you know what I am offering you?" Harry Dresden," she said. "You idiot. Don't you know what I am offering you?"
"Yeah. The chance to hunt down teenage kids who were never told the Laws of Magic and execute them for breaking them. The chance to badger and intimidate and interrogate anyone who doesn't suit me. Neither of which I want anything to do with."
"Ebenezar said you were stubborn, but not that you were a fool. The Council has been betrayed, Dresden. And you you are the most infamous wizard in it. There are many who have spoken out against you. Many who say that you began the war with the Red Court intentionally so that you could create an opportunity to bring about the fall of the Council." are the most infamous wizard in it. There are many who have spoken out against you. Many who say that you began the war with the Red Court intentionally so that you could create an opportunity to bring about the fall of the Council."
I burst out in bitter laughter. "Me? That's insane. insane. For crying out loud, I can't even balance my stupid checkbook!" For crying out loud, I can't even balance my stupid checkbook!"
Luccio's eyes softened a little, and she sighed. "I believe you." She shook her head. "But you have a reputation, and the members of the Council will be badly unsettled by this loss. Their fear could easily turn upon you. That is why you are going to join the Wardens."
I scowled. "I don't get it."
"It is time to set our past differences aside. If you wear the cloak of a Warden and step in to fight when the Council is in its hour of need, it will make our people look at you differently."
I took a deep breath. "Oh. Vader syndrome."
"Excuse me?"
"Vader syndrome," I said. "There's no ally so impressive, encouraging, and well loved as an ally who was an enemy that made you shake in your boots a couple of minutes ago."
"There's more to it than that," Luccio said. "I think that you do not realize your own reputation. You have overcome more enemies and battled more evils than most wizards a century your senior. And times are changing. There are more young wizards attaining membership to the Council than ever before-like Ramirez and his companions, there. To them, you are a symbol of defiance to the conservative elements of the Council, and a hero who will risk his life when his principles demand it."
"I am?"
"You are," Luccio said. "I can't say that I approve of it. But right now the Council will need every scrap of courage and faith we can muster. Your presence and support in the face of a greater danger will appease your detractors, and the presence of a wizard who has experience in battle will encourage the younger members of the Council." She grimaced. "Put simply, Dresden, we need you. And you need us."
I rubbed at my eyes for a moment. Then I said, "Let's say I do sign on. I'm willing to wear the cloak. I'm willing to fight for as long as the war is on. But I won't move away from Chicago. There are people here who depend on me." I glowered. "And I won't bow my head to Morgan. I don't want him within a hundred miles of my town."
Luccio rubbed at her jaw, and then nodded slowly, her eyes thoughtful. "I have to reassign Morgan in any case." She nodded again, more sharply. "Then I'm conscripting you into the Wardens as a regional commander."
I blinked.
"You'll be in charge of security and operations in this region, and coordinate with the other three American regional commanders."
"Uh," I said. "What does that mean?"
"That it will be your job to protect mortals in this area. To be vigilant against supernatural threats in your region, and represent the Council in matters of diplomacy. To aid and assist other wizards who come to you for aid and protection, and, when required, to strike out at the enemies of the Council, such as the Red Court and their allies."
I frowned. "Uh, I pretty much do that anyway."
Luccio's face broke into the first genuinely warm smile I'd ever seen on her, the care lines vanishing, replaced with crow's-feet at the corners of her eyes. "So now you'll do it in a grey cloak." Her expression sobered. "You're a fighter, Dresden. If the White Council is to survive, we need more like you."
She pushed away from the table and walked over to the bar, carrying our empty bottles with her.
When she came back, I had just finished getting the cloak pin settled and draping the heavy, soft grey fabric around my shoulders. She stopped in front of me and looked me up and down for a moment. Ramirez glanced at me, and his grin widened. Morgan looked, and from his expression you would think someone had just shoved a knife into his testicles. Mac's brow furrowed, and he studied me in the cloak, his lips quietly pursed.
"Thank you," Luccio said quietly, and offered me an ale.
I accepted it with a nod. We touched bottles and took a drink.
"Very well then, Commander," Luccio said, her tone turning brisk and businesslike. "This is your territory, and you have the most recent intelligence on Kemmler's disciples. What is our next step?"
I shoved my hair back from my eyes and said, "Okay, Warden Lucc-uh, Captain Luccio. Let's sit down and get to work. It's getting dark, and we don't have much time."
Chapter Thirty-two
When I walked through the door of Murphy's house, it was raining and I was still wearing the grey cloak. I limped into the kitchen, where Thomas and Butters and Bob were sitting at a table with a bunch of candles, paper, pencils, and empty cans of Coors.
Thomas's jaw dropped open. "Holy crap," he said.
Butters blinked at Thomas and then at me. "Uh. What?"
"Harry!" Bob said, orange eye lights glowing brightly. "You stole stole a Warden's cloak?" a Warden's cloak?"
I scowled at them and took the cloak off. It dripped all over the kitchen floor. "I didn't steal it." Mouse came padding into the room, tail wagging, and I rubbed briefly at his ears.
"Oh," Bob said. "So you took it off a body?"
"No," I said, annoyed, and settled onto a chair at the table. "I got drafted."
"Holy crap," Thomas said again.
"I don't get it," Butters said.
"Harry's joined the wizard secret police!" Bob burbled. "He gets to convict on suspicion and take justice into his own hands! How cool is that!"
Thomas looked at me steadily and then at the door behind me. Then back to me.
"I'm alone," I said quietly. "Relax."
He nodded. "What happened?"
"A lot," I said. "There isn't time to cover it all now. But the Wardens are in town, and I'm not so worried about them crawling all over and finding out everyone's secrets."
"Why not?" Thomas asked.
"Because at the moment all five of them are at a hotel downtown, getting showers and changing bandages while I try to come up with more information about the heirs of Kemmler."
Thomas blinked slowly. "All five five...and they have wounded?"
I nodded, my lips pressed hard together.
"Wow," Thomas said quietly. "How bad is it?"
"They drafted me, me," I said.
"That's bad, all right," Bob said cheerfully.
I looked at the scattered papers and books on the table. "Tell me you guys came up with something."
Butters blinked a few times and then started fumbling at the papers on the table, peering at them in the candlelight. "Uh, well, there's good news and bad news."
"Bad first," I said. "I'm going to need the pick-me-up afterward."
"We've got nothing on those numbers," Butters said. "I mean, they aren't a code. They're too short. They could be an address or an account number, but none of the banks we could get on the phone use that number of digits." He coughed apologetically. "If I could have gotten on the Net I could have gotten you a lot more, but..." He gestured uselessly around the room. "We couldn't get one call in fifty to go through, and at most of the places we called, no one answered. And in the past hour the phones have gone out altogether."
I shook my head. "Yeah. City's going insane, too. There were two fires between here and McAnally's. Some kind of riot going in Bucktown, I heard on a police radio."
"The governor has asked for help from the National Guard," Thomas said quietly. "They're sending troops in to keep order on the streets."
I blinked. "How did you find that out?"
"I called my sister," he said.
I frowned. "I thought Lara wasn't speaking with you."
Thomas's voice went dry. "Just because she cut me off from the family's money, kicked me out of any of our holdings, made it clear that I no longer have their protection, and she's holding the woman I love as a virtual prisoner, don't think she doesn't still like me, personally."
"So she did you a little favor," I said.
"Technically," Thomas said, "she did you you a little favor." a little favor."
"Why did she do that?" I asked.
"Well, I hinted about how since her entire power base depended on a certain secret being kept, and since you were awfully irrational about protecting the good citizens of Chicago, that you might develop loose lips to sink her ship if she didn't help you in your moment of need."
"Um," I said. "So you're telling me that I just engaged in blackmail against the ruler of the White Court. By proxy."
"Yeah," Thomas said. "You've got some great big brass balls on you to do something like that, Harry."
"I guess I do." I shook my head. "Why did I do that?"
"Because we needed help," Thomas said. "We were getting nowhere fast. Lara's got a ton of resources available to her, and a lot of manpower. She was able to come up with some of the other information we needed."
"Which is the good news," Butters said. "She wasn't blacked out and cut off from the Internet like we are, and she was able to get a bunch of information we couldn't." He passed me a piece of paper. "Not on the numbers-but one of her people was able to find out about Native American artifacts and weapons here in Chicago."
I looked up sharply at Butters. "Yeah?"
He nodded at the paper and I read over it. "Yep," he said. "The Native American Center is using their facility to host this big display on tribal hunting and warfare before all of us palefaces showed up with guns and smallpox. The History Channel is using it as a part of some history-of-warfare special, and they were filming there all last week."
"Yeah," I said. "That could have some old hunter spirits attached to it." I read over the list. "Dammit, I should have remembered this myself. The Field Museum has that big Cahokian artifacts exhibit that Professor Bartlesby was in charge of. Hell, it was a bunch of Indian artifacts that Corpsetaker helped assemble himself. Probably with tonight in mind."
Butters nodded. "And the Mitchell Museum up in Evanston has got more Native American artifacts than either one put together."
"Crap," I said. "That's it."
"How do you know that?" Butters asked.
"It only stands to reason," Bob supplied. "The whole point is to summon up as many old spirits as possible and then consume them. The most spirits are going to be attracted to wherever there is the most old junk."
I nodded. "I remember this place now. That museum's on a college campus, right?"
"Kendall College," Butters confirmed.
"College campus on Halloween night," Thomas said. "Hell of a place for a gang of necromancers to slug it out. There's going to be collateral damage."
"No, there isn't," I said, and I was surprised how vicious my own voice sounded. "Because we're going to stop this stupid summoning. And then we're going to hunt those murderous bastards down and kill them."
There was dead silence in the kitchen.
Thomas and Butters both stared at me, expressions apprehensive.
"Maybe it's the cloak," Bob suggested brightly. "Harry, do you feel any more judgmental and self-righteous than you did this morning?"
I took a slow and deep breath. "Sorry," I said. "Sorry. That came out kinda harsh."
"Maybe a little," Butters said, his voice all but a whisper.
I rubbed at my face and glanced at the battery-powered clock on the wall of Murphy's kitchen. "Okay. Sundown's in just over an hour. I have to be ready to call up the Erlking by then."
"Um," Thomas said. "Harry, if it's the Erlking's presence that's going to attract all of these old spirits to their old tools and stuff, then won't it do the same thing no matter who who calls him up?" calls him up?"
"Yeah," I said. "Unless the one who calls him traps him in a circle to contain his power and leaves him there."