“Oh,” I said. “It was a precautionary shotgun aimed at my skull. That makes it different.”
“Dammit, Dresden,” Fix said. “What do I have to do to get you to listen to me?”
“Behave in a vaguely trustworthy fashion,” I said. “For instance, next time you know that Summer’s hitters are about to make a run at me, maybe you could call me on a telephone and give me a little heads-up.”
Fix grimaced. His face twisted into an expression of effort. When he spoke his jaws stayed locked together, but I could, with difficulty, understand the words. “Wanted to.”
“Oh,” I said. A big chunk of my anger evaporated. It was probably just as well. Fix wasn’t the one who deserved to be on the receiving end of it. “I can’t back off.”
He drew in a breath and nodded as if in comprehension. “Mab’s got a handle on you.”
“For now.”
He gave me a rather bleak smile. “She isn’t the sort to let go of anyone she wants to keep.”
“And I’m not the sort who gets kept,” I replied.
“Maybe not,” Fix said, but he sounded dubious. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”
“We’re going to have to agree to disagree.”
“Jesus,” Fix said, looking away. “I don’t want to square off against you, Dresden.”
“Then don’t.”
He stared quietly at me, his expression serious. “I can’t back off, either. I like you, Harry. But I can’t make you any promises.”
“We’re playing for opposite teams,” I said. “Nothing personal. But we’ll do what we have to do.”
Fix nodded.
We didn’t speak for almost a minute.
Then I laid the shotgun down in the snow, nodded, and got back into Thomas’s truck. I gave the huge automatic back to my brother. Fix made no move toward the shotgun.
“Harry,” he said, as the truck started to pull out. His mouth twitched a few times before he blurted, “Remember the leaf Lily gave you.”
I frowned at him, but nodded.
Thomas got the truck moving again and started driving. Windshield wipers squeaked. Snow crunched beneath tires, a steady white noise.
“Okay,” Thomas said. “What was that all about? Guy’s supposed to be a friend, and he screwed you over. I thought you were going to pistol-whip him for a minute. Then you start getting all teary-eyed.”
“Metaphorically speaking,” I said tiredly.
“You know what I mean.”
“He’s under a geas, Thomas.”
Thomas frowned. “Lily’s got him in a brain-lock?”
“I doubt she’d do that to Fix. They go back.”
“Who, then?”
“My money is on Titania, the Summer Queen. If she told him to keep his mouth shut and not to help me, he wouldn’t get a choice in the matter. Probably why he showed up armed and tried to intimidate me. He wouldn’t be able to speak to me outright, but if he’s delivering a threat in order to further Titania’s plans, it might let him get around the geas.”
“Seems pretty thin to me. You believe him?”
“Titania’s done it to him before. And she doesn’t really like me.”
“You kill someone’s daughter, that happens,” he said.
I shrugged wearily, tired to my bones. The combination of pain, cold, and multiple bursts of adrenaline had worn me down a lot more than I had realized. I couldn’t stop another yawn.
“What was he talking about as we pulled out?”
“Oh,” I mumbled. “After that mess at Arctis Tor, Lily gave me a silver pin in the shape of an oak leaf. It makes me an Esquire of Summer. Supposedly I can use it to whistle up help from Titania’s Court. It’s their way of balancing the scales for what we did.”
“Never a bad thing to be owed a favor,” Thomas agreed. “You got it on you?”
“Yeah,” I said. It was, in fact, in a little ring box within the inner coat of my duster. I got it out and showed it to Thomas.
He whistled. “Gorgeous work.”
“The Sidhe know pretty,” I agreed.
“Maybe you can use it and get them to back off.”
I snorted. “It’s never that simple. Titania could decide that the best way to help me would be to break my back, paralyze me from the waist down, and dump me into a hospital bed so her gruffs won’t have to kill me.”
Thomas grunted. “Then why would Fix mention it?”
“Maybe he was compelled to,” I said. “Maybe Titania’s hoping I’ll call for help and she’ll have a chance to squash me personally. Or maybe…”
I let my voice trail off for a moment, while I kicked my punch-drunk brain in the stomach until it threw up an idea.
“Or maybe,” I said, “because he wanted to warn me about it. The gruffs have found me twice now, and they haven’t been physically tailing or tracking me. Neither location was one of my regular hangouts. And how did Fix find me just now, in the middle of a blizzard? He sure as hell didn’t coincidentally pick a random IHOP.”
Thomas’s eyes widened in realization. “It’s a tracking device.”
I scowled at the beautiful little silver leaf and said, not without a certain amount of grudging admiration, “Titania. That conniving bitch.”
“Damn,” Thomas said. “I feel a little bad for pointing a gun at the shrimp, now.”
“I probably would, too,” I said, “if I wasn’t so weirded out by the fact that Fix is starting to be as crabwise and squirrelly as the rest of the Sidhe.”
Thomas grunted. “Better get rid of that thing before more of them show up.”
He hit the control that lowered the passenger window. It coughed and rattled a little before it jerked into motion, instead of smoothly gliding down. Wizards and technology don’t get along so well. To high-tech equipment I am the living avatar of Murphy’s Law: The longer I stayed in Thomas’s shiny new oil tanker, the more all the things that could go wrong, would go wrong.
I lifted the leaf to chuck it out, but something made me hesitate. “No,” I murmured.
Thomas blinked. “No?”
“No,” I said with more certainty, closing my hand around the treacherous silver leaf. “I’ve got a better idea.”
Chapter Ten
I finished the spell that I thought would keep the gruffs busy and climbed wearily out of my lab to find Thomas sitting by the fireplace. My big grey dog, Mouse, lay beside him, his fur reflecting highlights of reddened silver in the firelight, watching Thomas’s work with interest.
My brother sat cross-legged on the floor, with my gun lying disassembled on a soft leather cloth upon the hearth. He frowned in concentration as he cleaned the pieces of the weapon with a brush, a soft cloth, and a small bottle of oil.
Mister, my hyperthyroid tomcat, bounded over the minute I opened the trapdoor to the lab, and hurried down the folding staircase into the subbasement.
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” I muttered after him by way of encouragement. “Make them run their little hooves off.”
I left the door open, heaved myself to the couch, and collapsed. Mouse’s tail thumped the floor gently.