"Oh," I said. I'd been at that party.
Mab turned to me abruptly and said, "I would lay them to rest upon the island, the fallen Ladies, if that does not offend you."
"It doesn't," I said. "But check with the island."
"I shall. Please excuse me." She turned and began walking away.
"You didn't answer my question," I said.
She stopped, her back straight.
"Was it hard for you to kill Maeve?"
Mab did not turn around. When she spoke, her voice had something in it I had never heard there before and never heard again-uncertainty. Vulnerability.
"I was mortal once, you know," she said, very quietly.
And then she kept walking toward her daughter's body, while I stared angrily... sadly... thoughtfully after her.
The rest of the night passed without anyone getting killed. I sat down with my back against the outside wall of the cottage, to keep an eye on my "guests" down the hill, but when I blinked a few seconds later, my eyes stuck shut, and then didn't open again until I heard, distantly, a bird twittering.
Footsteps came crunching up the hill, and I opened my eyes to see Kringle approaching. His red cloak and gleaming mail were stained with black ichor, the hilt of his sword was simply missing a chunk, as if it had been bitten away, and his mouth was set in a wide, pleased smile. "Dresden," he said calmly.
"Kringle."
"Long night?"
"Long day," I said. Someone, during the night, had covered me with an old woolen army surplus blanket that had been in a plastic storage box in the cottage. I eyed him. "Have fun?"
A low, warm rumble of a laugh bubbled in his chest. "Very much so. If I don't get into a good battle every few years, life just isn't the same."
"Even if it's on Halloween?" I asked.
He eyed me, and his smile became wider and more impish. "Especially then," he said. "How's the leg?"
I grunted and checked. Butters's dressing had stayed on throughout the events of the night. The constant, burning sting was gone, and I peeled off the dressing to see that the little wound on my leg had finally scabbed over. "Looks like I'll live."
"Hawthorn dart," Kringle said. "Nasty stuff. Hawthorn wood burns hot, and doesn't care for creatures of Winter." His expression sobered. "I've a message for you."
"Ah?" I asked.
"Mab has taken the new Ladies with her," he said. "She said to tell you that the new Winter Lady would be returned safely to her apartment in a few days, after some brief and gentle instruction. Mab is on excellent terms with the svartalves, and anticipates no problems with your apprentice's... new position."
"That's... good, I guess," I said.
"It is," Kringle replied. "Dresden... this is the business of the Queens. I advise you not to attempt to interfere with it."
"I already interfered," I said.
Kringle straightened, and his fierce smile became somehow satisfied. "Aye? Like to live dangerously, do you?" He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. "Never let her make you cringe-but never challenge her pride, wizard. I don't know exactly what passed between you, but I suspect that if it had been witnessed by another, she would break you to pieces. I've seen it before. Terrible pride in that creature. She'll never bend it."
"She'll never bend," I said. "That's okay. I can respect that."
"Could be that you can," Kringle said. He nodded to me and turned to go.
"Hey," I said.
He turned to me pleasantly.
"The whole Winter Knight thing," I said. "It's made me stronger."
"True enough," he said.
"But not that that much stronger," I said. "You could have beaten me last night." much stronger," I said. "You could have beaten me last night."
"Oh?" Kringle's smile faded-except from his eyes.
"And I've seen goblins move a few times," I said. "The Erlking could have gotten out of the way of that shot."
"Really?"
"You meant me to have the Wild Hunt."
"No one can be given a power like the Wild Hunt, Dresden," Kringle said. "He can only take it."
"Really?" I said, as drily as I knew how.
That got another laugh from Kringle. "You have guts and will, mortal. It had to be shown, or the Hunt would never have accepted you."
"Maybe I'll just punch you out whenever I feel like it, then," I said.
"Maybe you'll try," Kringle replied amiably. He looked out at the lightening sky and let out a satisfied breath. "It was Halloween, Dresden. You put on a mask for a time. That's all." He looked directly at me and said, "Many, many mantles are worn-or discarded-on Halloween night, wizard."
"You mean masks?" I asked, frowning.
"Masks, mantles," Kringle said. "What's the difference?"
He winked at me.
And for the briefest fraction of a second, the shadows falling from the tower and the cottage in the gathering morning behind us seemed to flow together. The eye he winked with vanished behind a stripe of shadow and what looked like a wide scar. His face seemed leaner, and for that instant I saw Vadderung's wolfish features lurking inside Kringle's.
I sat straight up, staring.
Kringle finished his wink, turned jauntily, and started walking down the hill, humming "Here Comes Santa Claus" in a rumbling bass voice.
I stared after him.
"Son of a bitch," I muttered to myself.
I stood up and wrapped the army surplus blanket around myself before I walked into the cottage. I smelled coffee and soup, and my stomach wanted lots of both.
There was a fire going in the fireplace, and my coffeepot was hanging near the fire. The soup kettle was hanging on its swinger, too. The soup would be made from stock and freeze-dried meat, but I was hungry enough not to be picky. Everyone else there probably felt the same way.
Thomas was sacked out on one of the cots, snoring. Justine had spooned up behind him, her face pressed into his back. They both had clean faces and hands, at least. Mac was snoozing on the other cot, bare to the waist, his chest and stomach evidently washed free of any dirt-and any blood or any injury as well.
Sarissa was gone. Molly was gone. Fix was gone. I felt confident they had left together.
Karrin sat at the fire, staring in, a cup of coffee in her hands. Mouse sat beside her. When I came in, he looked over at me and started wagging his tail.
"You leave the blanket?" I asked quietly.
"Once we got the fire going," she said. "I suppose I could go get you your duster now, though."
"I'd look like a flasher," I said.
She smiled, very slightly, and offered me two mugs. I looked. One had coffee, the other very chunky soup. She passed me a camp fork to go along with the soup. "It isn't much," she said.
"Don't care," I said, and sat down on the hearth across from her to partake of both. The heat gurgled into my belly along with the food and the coffee, and I started feeling human for the first time in... a while. I ached everywhere. It wasn't at all pleasant, but it felt like something I'd come by honestly.
"Christ, Dresden," Karrin said. "You could at least wash your hands." She picked up a towelette and leaned over to start cleaning off my hands. My stomach thought stopping was a bad idea, but I put the mugs aside and let her.
She cleaned my hands off patiently, going through a couple of towelettes. Then she said, "Lean over."
I did.
She took a fresh towelette and wiped off my face, slowly and carefully. There were nicks and cuts. It hurt when she cleaned one of them out, but it also felt right. Sometimes the things that are good for you, in the long run, hurt for a little while when you first get to them.
"There," she said a moment later. "You almost look human-" She paused at that, and looked down. "I mean..."
"I know what you mean," I said.
"Yeah."
The fire crackled.
"What's the story with Mac?" I asked.
Karrin looked over at the sleeping man. "Mab," she said. "She just came in here a few minutes ago and looked at him. Then before anyone could react, she ripped off the bandage, stuck her fingers into the wound, and pulled out the bullet. Dropped it right on his chest."
"No wound now," I noted.
"Yeah. Started closing up the minute she was done. But you remember the time he got beaten so badly in his bar? Why didn't his injuries regenerate then?"
I shook my head. "Maybe because he was conscious then."
"He did turn down the painkillers. I remember it seemed odd at the time," Karrin murmured. "What is he?"
I shrugged. "Ask him."
"I did," she said, "right before he passed out."
"What'd he say?"
"He said, 'I'm out.'"
I grunted.
"What do you think it means?" she asked.
I thought about it. "Maybe it means he's out."
"We just let it go?" she asked.
"It's what he wants," I said. "Think we should torture him?"
"Point," she said, and sighed. "Maybe instead we just let him rest."
"Maybe we should let him make beer," I said. "What about Thomas?"
"Woke up. Ate." She frowned and clarified, "Ate soup. soup. Been asleep for a couple of hours. That big bone thing really clobbered him." Been asleep for a couple of hours. That big bone thing really clobbered him."
"There's always someone bigger than you," I said.
She gave me a look.
"More true for some than others," I clarified.
She rolled her eyes.
"So," I said, a moment later.
"So," she said.
"Um. Should we talk?"
"About what?"
Mouse looked back and forth between us and started wagging his tail hopefully.
"Quiet, you," I said, and rubbed his ears. "Bad guy made of bones bones and he gets the drop on you? Charity giving you too many treats or something? That fight should have been like Scooby-Doo versus the Scooby Snack Ghost." and he gets the drop on you? Charity giving you too many treats or something? That fight should have been like Scooby-Doo versus the Scooby Snack Ghost."
Mouse grinned happily, unfazed, still wagging his tail.
"Don't be so hard on him," Karrin said. "There's always someone bigger." Then she shook her head and said, "Wow, we are such children. We'll grab at any excuse not to talk about us right now."