A/N: Having finished Skin Game, I was seized with the need to start writing Dresden again. So, here is my take on what happened not long after Harry finally came home.

"So, basically, my life is pretty routine these days," I said. I twirled my oak staff over my head to build some momentum, then brought the end of it down into the face of an ugly man in a turtleneck. His jaw cracked and he fell.

"That's good to hear," my brother, Thomas, shouted over his shoulder. He emptied another clip from his unnecessarily huge handgun into a crowd of turtlenecks. "What's your typical day like?"

"Well," I said, kicking another man in the gut, doubling him over, "I wake up, usually at Karrin's, roll out of bed, get the coffee on. Forzare!" - a motorcycle that had been overturned earlier jumped off the ground at my command and hurled itself into two more of the turtlenecks, knocking them through a wall – "Then I grab a shower – a hot shower, which is amazing, by the way."

"Yeah, welcome to the twenty-first century, dumbass, we've been waiting for you." Thomas caught a blow from a heavy tree branch on a curved knife. The knife sank into the wood a little, and he pulled, yanking the bearer of the branch forward. He punched the man in the face, crumpling him.

"Fuego!" I shouted, and a gout of fire leapt from the end of my staff into the small building we were currently fighting beside. It started to burn, forcing the motorcycle men to crawl their way back out. "By the time I get out, Karrin's usually up, and we lay out the plan for the day. Some shopping," – I pulled a large revolver from a shoulder holster and shot a small man in the leg – "maybe it's my turn to do the laundry, we kill some bad guys, or clean the gutters. I have a few new foci I've been working on." I swung my staff again, bringing it down on a man's hand, knocking his gun away. Then I kicked him in the chest, sending him flying.

"If I'm being honest, it sounds a little boring," Thomas said. The crowd we were taking on was thinning out – almost all of the servitors of the Fomor were on the ground, dead or injured. He blurred a little as he moved out of the way of a shotgun blast – which was loud, even here in the great outdoors – then brought his curved kukri knife down, severing the hand of the shooter, who sank to his knees, groaning.

"Oh, and what, you and Justine don't do domestic bliss?" I absent-mindedly kicked a man in the face who drew a knife while staggering up from the ground. He might have been one of the motorcyclists. "I'm done with my half, by the way."

"Every day is a new adventure for us, little brother," he said, and blurred again, this time grabbing a turtleneck who was hiding behind a tree, and throwing him, end over end, into a different tree. "Also done." He was breathing about as heavily as I was, which was to say not much at all. His eyes had turned silvery, though.

"Finally," I said, then raised my voice. "If you're still alive, stay down if you want to stay that way. If you choose to get up, be advised that I have back up on the way."

Thomas snickered for reasons all his own. It was a harsh sound.

I gave a hard look around at the twenty or so men we had just utterly destroyed. They all stayed on the ground. Expression softening, I turned back to Thomas and lowered my voice. "Besides, that's not the end of the day. I also get to spend time with the kids."

Thomas blinked a few times, and his eyes lost some of their sheen. He did start to breathe heavily, as his demon, the source of his super-strength, receded. He smiled again, but it was much softer than before. "Maggie," he whispered.

"And the new addition."

"Oh yeah. Pick a name yet?"

"No, not yet."

"It's been over a month, now."

"I know."

"May I suggest 'Babiel'?"

I squinted at him. "No. No you may not. That's terrible."

He barked out a laugh. "I would have thought you'd have gone with Athena."

"Nah, too obvious. And it implies I'm Zeus."

He snorted. "I still can't believe you gave birth."

Behind me, the garage burned, but it had nothing to do with the sudden heat in my cheeks. I sighed. "All right, get it out."

"Get what out? I have nothing to say."

"Good."

"Seahorse."

I rolled my eyes.

"Mr. Mom."

I grunted.

"Junior. Bunny Test. M-Preg."

"If I were to punch you in the face right now, would you take it personally?"

Something moved in the woods, and both of us turned, tensing. A large wolf stepped into a shadow, and a stout, strong, naked man stepped out of it.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Will. Don't sneak up on a guy."

He gave me a look a lesser person might have thought condescending. "Harry, if I wanted to sneak up on you, I would have."

Thomas laughed. He now had his hands on his knees, and continued to breathe. "You okay?" I asked.

"I should stay out here," he said after a moment. "You go finish up."

I nodded in understanding. Thomas' predator instincts, his need to feed, were strong right now. If he came inside with us…

Well. Let's just say I know a thing or two about succumbing to baser desires. It wouldn't be pretty. Keeping my mind distracted through running math equations or engaging in banter was just about the only way to keep my own demon quiet, even as I drew on its strength. Now, my demon was a little more metaphorical than Thomas'… but no less deadly.

"Okay," I said. I looked at Will. "The others in place?"

He nodded. "Good to go."

"All right. Let's do it."

He hesitated a moment.

"What is it?"

He smiled and embraced me. Was I uncomfortable being hugged by a naked man? Maybe a smidge. But he was a friend, and I had missed him. I hugged back. This sort of thing also held back the cold winds of Winter flowing in my blood. Will pulled away. "I haven't had a chance to say it, but, welcome back, Harry."

"Good to be back, my friend. Now, game face on." I turned to look a little up a hill at a large house that could barely be seen through the foliage. "This is a rescue mission, after all."

The Fomor aren't a race. Or rather, they aren't one race. Over the centuries, the millennia, they formed as a coalition of supernatural outcasts and exiles, biding their time, waiting for opportunities and searching for weaknesses. A couple of years ago, I'd accidentally given them the biggest opportunity they'd ever had, and the fishy-faced bastards had seized it.

They had begun taking people; mostly people with magical talent – a low level practitioner here, a werewolf there, a few others - but also folks with no link to the supernatural at all.

And recently, they'd started taking children.

So naturally, I'd decided it was time for them all to die.

I walked, obviously alone, right up the driveway towards the front door of the house. It was old and oversized, and located in one of the most exclusive, expensive, and most importantly, isolated, pieces of property in Chicago.

My leather duster draped around me. There was a growing wind coming off Lake Michigan, which was less than a mile from here, and the coat started to billow, which definitely made me look cool. My staff hit the driveway with a nice, solid 'thunk' with every other step I took. My face was set in what I hoped was a grim, pissed-off expression.

The front door to the house was oversized, just like the rest of it, made of solid old wood and set just a step above the driveway, which looped across the full breadth of the place. I stopped about ten yards from it, then looked up at all the windows. Every single one of them was dark.

I raised my voice, addressing the whole house. "You know who I am. You know why I'm here. Give me what I want, and I'll let you live. Don't give me what I want, and your house will soon look like your garage." I pulled out an honest to god pocket watch – I picked it up at a pawn shop for cheap, just for this little show, and felt it added quite a dramatic touch. "You have one minute."

Then I looked at the watch very deliberately. The seconds ticked by. Ten. Twenty. I was of two minds about what I wanted to happen. If the Fomor gave up the hostages willingly, there was no chance of any of them would get hurt.

On the other hand, if they didn't, I could tear in there and beat the every living hell out of every single one of the amphibian assholes, rip their gills out, gut them, scale them, throw them over a garage fire and maybe even feast on sole –

Five fives is twenty five, six sixes is thirty six, seven sevens is forty nine, eight eights is sixty four…

The instinctual need to kill slowly pulled back into my hindbrain again.

Forty seconds. Forty five.

I looked up at the dark windows again. "You're almost out of time. Oh, and every single servitor you left out side is dead, over well on the way. Ten seconds left… Five."

Zero.

"Okay, have it your way." I put the watch away. "You come here, you take people off the streets, you think you can do anything you want? Well, brother, not in my fucking city! That shit stops right now! Forzare! Forzare!"

I didn't aim for the front door, because that's what they would have been expecting. Instead, I blew out the windows to the rooms immediately to the right and left of the front doors. And then my back up charged in.

Will and Georgia, the nicest werewolf couple I know, came flying in from the left, while Marci and Andi, two other members of the Alpha pack, came in from the right. Behind them, a dozen men, each with large guns and even larger muscles, charged out of the trees and towards the shattered windows. As the returned Viking warriors chased the werewolves, I went for the front door myself. As I did, several windows on the second floor exploded outwards, and men and… uh, other things, most of which were close to human, started shooting down at us.

I still hadn't had time to create a new shield bracelet, but I had become much better at creating shields without one lately. I lifted my left arm – difficult, it being recently broken, though not impossible with the cool power of Winter numbing the pain – and pushed my will, along with a bit of gathered energy, forward. Bullets instantly began to ring against a half-dome of that energy, and slip off. I tuned the shield to have some give, so anything hitting it would lose all of its momentum; I'd tried making one that was just soft recently, and the drain on me was just too much. I trusted the einherjaren to protect themselves.

I stopped at the door, leaned my staff against it, and touched it with my right hand, keeping my bullet umbrella above me. I felt several wards, mostly simple, but one or two that were more in line with my own power level. Obviously, they didn't extend to the windows. I could have broken them and forced the door – and part of me really, really wanted to, to assert my dominance – but time was of the essence here. I headed for the window on the right and followed the first wave.

I jumped through the window, and into a mess. Several turtlenecked guards had been cut down with tooth and claw, bullet and blade. The room had been an office of some sort, and wood, glass and paper were freaking everywhere, most of it shredded and shattered and covered in blood. I followed the trail of destruction into the hallway, where the einherjar were now pushing the attack with controlled bursts of fire out into the wings of the house. The Alphas, sticking to the plan, had taken shelter behind the big men, where they were much harder to hit, keeping weary eyes on the entrance hall until I came to join them.

One of the wolves shimmered and was replaced by a petite, naked, toned woman with brown hair crouching on all fours. I tried not to notice any of those things, and was partly successful. "Where's Thomas?" she asked, sounding just a little worried. That was difficult to do when shouting over automatic gunfire.

"Keeping a lid on things outside," I answered. "We stick to the game plan, Marci. Ready?"

Marci nodded and changed her coat back. She and Andi both tensed behind me. I looked across the antechamber, and its large, engraved wooden staircase, where Will and Georgia were similarly waiting. I took a breath, allowed Winter to flood through my muscles, easing aches, quieting the guns, and tightening my muscles.

I gave them a thumbs-up, then shoved my will back into my umbrella, and charged for the stairs.

Gunfire rained down on me as I surged forward. The occasional stray shot that got by the shield bounced off the heavily-spell-re-enforced leather of my duster, and I didn't take a single hit as I mounted the stairs three at a time. When I was halfway up and all five – no, six – shooters were focused on me, the wolves made their move, following me up under the protection of my shield. As I continued up, without slowing down, the shooters backed up. One of them bumped into the wall behind him, and turned to run. The others took their cue from him, but before they could get away, the Alphas were on them, and a wolf with human-level intelligence does not take long to dispatch… well, anything, really.

I dropped my shield and drew my gun. Another gunman appeared, paused to take aim, and flew backwards with one of my bullets in his chest. "Noses up. Any more?"

Billy the wolf shook his head.

"Check the rooms, just in case they're shielded somehow, then we hit the basement."

The Alphas moved, quickly and carefully, to each room on the floor, literally poking their noses in, but returned empty-pawed a couple of minutes later. The gunfire downstairs had tapered off. I led the way back to the entrance hall. "Skheldi?" I asked the enormous man standing at the base of the stairs.

"Floor is clear," he replied, his accent giving his voice a strangely soothing cadence. "The stairs down are at the back." He pointed to a third hall that extended back from the front of the house. I could see the other einherjar standing in what might have been a kitchen.

He led me and the Alphas to the basement door. I put my hand on it and extended my arcane senses. Most people have these extra senses; anytime you suddenly know you're being watched, or get a chill up your spine, that's your instincts detecting something the rest of you can't. Usually, it's better that way. Wizards train and hone that little chunk of ESP for years, creating sensitivity to things vanilla people never even realize are there.

I'm not that sensitive, not compared to many, but I do have practice. "Wards," I muttered. "Strong. Well grounded. Give me a minute." I felt out a little farther. "They extend into the wall on either side." I closed my eyes and concentrated. Undoing wards can be tricky, especially if they are well-made, and these… these weren't bad.

But I've been breaking things for years. I handed my staff to a large, black-clad man of Swedish descent, and put my other hand on the door. "Stand back," I said, and everyone moved away, just a little. Eyes closed again, I pushed on the wards, looking for weak spots, seams, overlaps… there! A random frayed thread. Someone had been in a hurry. I checked the whole of that thread, and it didn't lead to a booby trap.

Mentally, I tugged. The ward slowly began to undo. I tugged a little harder.

Something let go, like reaching the middle of a band-aid as you pull it off, and the whole thing just sort of collapsed. The door grew very hot, but I encouraged the pent-up energy to diffuse throughout the house, and only a few light bulbs popped.

"Got it." I took a step back, then kicked the sweet spot right under the lock. The door cracked. I grabbed the knob with one hand, readied a shield with the other, and made to yank it open.

I should have been tipped off by the pounding sounds that erupted suddenly from the other side. The door blew right off its hinges, and I caught it with my face.

I suppose I should have been knocked out cold, but cold and I have an arrangement. I landed on my back, most of the door on top of me, and heard gunfire explode all around. I shoved the door to one side, and saw a freaking giant bearing down on me, mostly ignoring the various bullet holes that appeared in his grey skin. He was hairless and mostly toothless, but when he howled, I saw a few sharp, pointy things in his mouth.

I was not pleased with this guy's doorman routine. I pointed a finger and growled, "Infriga!" Instantly, the air temperature dropped, and mist coalesced around the giant. His roar was cut off, along with the small arms fire. The mist cleared quickly. The giant was still there, he just wasn't moving. Not his fault, really. He was coated in three inches of ice.

I planted a foot in his midsection (or three inches out from it) and kicked, hard. He slid backwards and cracked into dozens of pieces as he hit the doorway. Those chunks fell down the stairs, shattering into ever more, ever smaller pieces as they bounced on the steps until they hit the basement floor.

I stood at the top of the stairs. "My name is Harry Dresden," I said to the basement, where I could see nothing but the concrete floor and the stairs themselves, all covered in a giant mess (heh). "Up until now, I've just been unhappy. I'm going to come downstairs, and you're not going to have any weapons in your hands, and none of the hostages will be harmed. If you do have weapons, or the hostages are hurt, I'm going to get downright grumpy. And you wouldn't like me when I'm grumpy."

When we went down, there were no more turtlenecks or giants or other attackers. Just a trio of nervous men, one of whom was purple, one of whom had horns, and one of whom had no nose. They were waiting, on their knees, no weapons. Part of me, the part that caught the door and froze the doorman, wanted to kill them anyway, but I started reciting the Pythagorean theorem instead. The einherjar secured them.

I turned to the other end of the basement. It was dark. I watched the Alphas all stalk into the darkness, then touched the silver amulet around my neck, and willed it to light up. There, chained to the wall, where fourteen children, none older than seven, of all shapes, sizes, and colours, all in dirty clothes, and all scared out of their minds.

One of the einherjar had clothes for the wolves in a pack, and I left the actual removal of the hostages to them. I just stood there, hoping I didn't scare them. That might have been difficult. I was clenching my fists so tightly my fingernails drew blood.

I stood outside with Thomas, well away from the children, back in the woods, while the just-arrived police and EMS tended to them.

"Think they'll be okay?"

"Rawlins got the message. There he is." Karrin Murphy's former partner was a big, dark, unsmiling man, but he also the best damn cop I'd ever known who I hadn't slept with. He watched the children being fussed over, then turned to scan the tree line. I lit up my amulet again, just a little, and he saw me after a few seconds. I nodded to him, and he gave a small nod back.

Thomas and I turned and walked back into the woods, heading for his car. The Alphas flanked us, moving stealthily through the woods, and the einherjar, their mission complete, were long gone. "Will you be okay?" he asked.

I knew he could smell the literal blood on my hands. "I just got angry. Seeing them all down there, scared and helpless… I wanted to shove that giant down the stairs again. I wanted to tear into the place all over again, on my own, and kill every single one of them with my bare hands. Slowly."

He was quiet for a second. "So, to answer my question… no?"

I sighed. "Still getting used to the predator instincts the mantle brings with it."

"They are hard to control. Take it from a pro."

I gave him a glance. "I do appreciate you being here."

"I've got your back, you know that. Especially since Karrin's still recovering. She doing any better?"

"Docs said her arm should be fine, but her left ACL is torn. No more spin kicks, I guess. She's always kept in shape, though, so the physio shouldn't be a problem."

"I know she's not working. If funds get tight…" he trailed off.

I grunted. "We've started moving some of the diamonds. Turns out Charity's a natural at gem-fencing."

"Churchmouse-supermom? Seriously?"

"Mm-hmm. None more surprised than she. Though remember, she's also a blacksmith and a professional-grade sparring partner, so she has hidden talents."

"Well. I guess there might be hope for her yet."

We reached his car, an over-sized German SUV, and piled in. After a few moments, the Alphas joined us, dressed in loose-fitting clothes. I twisted to face them. "Nice job tonight, everyone."

"Felt good," Georgia said from the middle seats, "letting them know they can't take children." As a mother herself, knew what she meant. Lionesses have nothing on Mama Wolf. Will took her hand. Thomas got us rolling.

"It's good having you with us again, Harry," Marci said from the far back seat. "Bit like old times. Just Fomor instead of vampires."

Thomas faked a cough.

"I meant Red Court vampires. Sorry."

"No offence taken, Mars," he said.

"Hey, nicknames are my thing," I said.

"We did good," the redhead beside Marci said. "Lots still to do, but it's a hell of a start."

"Damn right, Andi. We've been bloodying their noses for weeks. We'll hit them with a knock-out blow before too long."

"No doubt about that."

I gave her a smile, and saw her wrap a friendly arm around Marci and squeeze. She turned to look out a window, so she didn't see Marci's cheeks flush.

Thomas jerked his head, ever so slightly, like he had just smelled something delicious. Then he gripped the wheel a little tighter and focused on the road.

Thomas dropped Marci and Andi at Andi's apartment. She currently lived with Butters – or, I guess, Sir Waldo? It was hard to know what to call him since he picked up that Sword – and Marci was crashing with her tonight, since Butters had suddenly decided to travel to Idaho, for no particular reason he could explain. A primal thought about what Marci wanted to do tonight, complete with pictures, tried to capture my attention, but I turned my thoughts to something more important. Pretty sure Thomas got a whiff of those thoughts, because he gave me a very strange grin.

Ten minutes later, we pulled up to Will and Georgia's old apartment near the university, and piled out. Georgia made a very quick cell phone call from thirty feet away, to let the babysitter know we were there, then the Bordens led us inside. The elevator was cramped with us all squeezed in. When we got to the door, Will said to me, "You're both invited in, of course." He wasn't just being nice to me; not having to leave 80-90% or so of my power and awareness outside his home was far more convenient for me. He was just being polite to Thomas, of course; White Court vampires could cross any threshold, as long as their demon was not in control.

Inside, we found the babysitter sitting in a comfortable chair with 3-year-old Carlie Borden.

Karrin Murphy smiled at her charge's parents, and lifted a finger to her lips. Will and Georgia crept forward quietly. "She fell asleep to Shrek. Again. Everything's off." She added the last to me, and I took a few steps closer. Since magic and technology go together like white phosphorous and pure oxygen, I tend to be careful around cell phones and computers, for the most part. Newer TVs, too. And newer coffee pots. And newer cars. And cameras. And hot water tanks. And… everything, really.

Honestly, the world just can't handle me.

Karrin completed the hand over, and eased herself to her feet. She had refused a cane, but limped slightly, a tough, thick brace on her left knee. I retrieved her coat from the closet as she eased her left arm into a sling, which she hadn't really been using, but the doctors insisted upon.

"She wasn't too much, was she?" Georgia asked.

"Of course not. We tried hide and go seek a few times, then the big green ogre took over."

"That movie is so unrealistic," I said. "Everyone knows trolls are green. Ogres are grey."

Karrin looked at me, her smile growing wry. "Of course they are, Harry."

I draped her jacket over her shoulders.

"Thank you, Karrin," Will said as Georgia took the wolf cub to bed. "I know you hate being on the sidelines."

"Life is what it is, Will." She gave him a one-armed hug. "I watched your kid, you kept my big ogre alive. We all contribute where we can." She let go, and he nodded at her.

"We'll be in touch in a day or two," I said.

"Whenever you're ready for the next move, we're good to go."

"As we discussed; the Fomor will be pissed. No unnecessary risks for a while."

He looked in to the bedroom door. "I got it, Harry. We all did."

Thomas led us out. Karrin held my hand, and totally did not lean on me for support.

"I have a question," Thomas said to Karrin.

"Shoot."

"'Carlie'?"

"Carl was the only name they found in common between famous shrinks and famous engineers. That they liked, anyway."

"Well, better than 'Sigmund'."

We rode down to the ground floor, and headed for Thomas' Panzer. I got the door for Karrin and I offered her an arm, which five years ago she wouldn't have taken, then walked around and climbed in the middle seat next to her. "Drop you at home?" Thomas asked.

I glanced at Karrin. "Did you want to stay the night? I mean... Justine's traveling with Lara…"

"Big sister does what she has to, and so does her executive assistant. I'm a big boy. And Justine and I have an understanding. And a couple of mutual friends who occasionally stop by. And maybe spend the night."

I nodded and let it go. Thomas' demon fed on the emotional energy of sex. He could psychically stimulate anyone into wanting – hell, needing – sex, but he usually kept his feeding particular. Aside from a brief period shortly before he'd thought I was dead, he'd practiced awesome self-control his whole life. These days… well, if he said he was good, he was good.

"Actually, would you mind making a stop at Michael's?"

Thomas gave me a half smile in the rear-view, and got us moving.

It was a strangely pleasant day, considering the time of year. Spring had sprung, according to the calendar, but winter was being a bitch about it. Or Winter was. Either way. The sun had shone, and the air had been crisp, but not really cold. We got to the Carpenter residence just before 8:30. "Go on, it's her bedtime. Hurry," Karrin said.

"Uh, but you - "

"Go, you moron," Thomas said. "I'll get her out."

"Okay. Okay," I stuttered, and hopped out of the SUV. I left my duster and staff on my seat. The literal white picket fence around the house had been fixed since last month's incident with the fallen angel and the psycho sasquatch, and I all but skipped up the path to knock on the door.

Charity Carpenter opened it a second later. She lifted an eyebrow.

"Hi Charity. Um. Am I too late?"

"Cutting it a little fine tonight. I was getting worried." She smiled and backed up. "Come on in. She's just brushing her teeth." A relieved smile broke across my face and I stepped inside. "You might as well just head right up."

"Thanks." I trotted over to the stairs and kept right on going. As I got to the top, I heard a tap shut off and the dull rattle of plastic on plastic. A second later, the cutest 9-year-old girl in the whole world stepped out of the bathroom, accompanied by the biggest freaking dog in the world. They were approximately the same height, give or take an inch.

And they were both just as happy to see me as I was to see them.

"Daddy!" Maggie squeaked. She was dressed in a faded softball jersey. She trotted right over to me and I ducked down to give her a hug.

"Hey, kiddo!" She sunk into my arms and I lifted her up, keeping most of the weight on my right. She locked her arms around my neck and squeezed, and I loved it. "You ready for bed?"

"Uh-huh."

"You know what story you want?"

"Yup."

"Okay." I started down the hall to her bedroom, and Mouse, my dog – her dog, in most ways, though he'd been with me for years before – kept pace with a huge open-mouthed grin.

I read her a story that involved dancing lollipops and bananas that kept slipping on themselves, and tucked her in to her top bunk bed and kissed her forehead. She had her mother's dark hair, and I brushed a curl of it out of her eyes. I gave Mouse a thorough rubbing behind the ears, then turned off the light.

"Daddy?" she said in the darkness.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"You gonna come back?"

Over the sound of my heart breaking in two, I managed to say, "Of course. I'll always come back."

"Promise?"

And those two parts shattered into infinite shards. "Yeah, I promise."

Slightly groggy, she said, "Okay."

"Sleep tight, Maggie."

"Mm-hmm." And she was out.

I eased the door shut, then meandered down the hall and stairs, unsure what I was feeling. I saw Karrin and Charity sitting in the kitchen, and I joined them. Charity saw me first. "Harry."

"Hey."

Karrin put down her tea and turned awkwardly in her seat. She knew something was off. "You okay?"

"Not sure."

"You're afraid it's not enough," Charity said. It wasn't a question; she just knew. There was nothing harsh in her voice. Instead it was… well, maternal.

My eyes snapped to her, then dropped to the floor. "I'm… starting to wonder." I looked around. "Where's Michael?"

"Alicia had practice with a few friends. She has a scholarship lined up for next year."

"Alicia's going to college next year?"

"This fall, God willing."

"Wow," I said. "They… they do grow up fast, don't they?"

Charity gave me a sympathetic smile. We hadn't always got along well, but over the years we'd discovered a few things in common, and the relationship had warmed. Apparently, parenthood was the thing that made me mostly-okay in her book. "Don't have to tell me," she said, and, while I have no idea how she did it, there was sadness and happiness in her voice at the same time.

Karrin and I ambled back to Thomas' waiting SUV. I saw him see us, and turn off his cell phone. "You going to be okay?" she asked.

"I'm working on it. I'm not sure. I know this is just one big band-aid right now, but… if I'm going to be her father, I mean, really be a part of her life…" I trailed off, uncertain how to continue.

We climbed into the luxury apartment on wheels. Thomas took one glance at me and said, "You look like you just took one to the gut."

"She made me promise I would always come back."

Thomas did a double take, his mouth open and his eyebrows in his hairline. He was silent for a moment, slowly turning to setting facing forward in his seat, then said, "Holy shit, little brother."

Karrin piped up. "Speaking as a girl whose dad didn't come home one day… don't make that promise." We both turned to her. "Just don't. If something bad gets you one day… that'll break her heart. But the fact that you promised… that'll tear it out and smash it on the ground." We were silent. "In my experience, anyway."

"Karrin - " I started.

She silenced me with a hand on my arm. "Be there. Be there as much as you possibly can. But don't lie to her. Don't you fucking dare. There's a chance she'll never be able to forgive you."

The silence thickened as I considered that I should have asked for this advice before making the promise. Finally, Thomas turned the big vehicle turned on and took us home.

Once inside Karrin's little house – I was having trouble thinking of it as 'our house' – we started our nightly wind down. I couldn't spend every night here, of course – eventually, the magic I brought along would break everything in the place – but when I could, I did. And we did have a way of mitigating the damage.

"You sure?" she asked. "You don't have to do this everytime."

"We've been over this. It's the easiest way to keep the lid on the magic. And it's just about the only way to keep the lid on the Knight's mantle. I need to be able to feel my injuries, remember my limits."

She took a breath. "Okay." She picked up the steel bracelet I'd obtained from the Svartalves, lined with dozens of tiny, steel thorns around the inner circumference, and locked it around my right wrist. The thorns bit into my skin. Iron and its alloys are anathema to Fae magic, and the Mantle I'd received from Mab, the Winter Queen, was pure Fae.

Instantly, the power of Winter receded, the dulling effect on my pain vanished, and my enhanced stamina and strength – and aggression - faded. Dozens of little aches and pains suddenly demanded attention, and I found myself glad I was already sitting in the kitchen. I was hit with an overwhelming fatigue that made me really, really want to sleep.

I closed my eyes. The thorn bracelet also prevented my own magic from being useful; I couldn't project it or use it to sense things. The most disturbing thing was losing contact with my wards – the defensive spells I'd placed around the house. It was like suddenly going numb in a limb. There were honestly days I had no idea how vanilla mortals functioned.

"You good?" she asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, you go get ready for bed. I have some mental blocks to put in place."

She patted my knee and I heard her stand and limp away. I started my usual mental exercise: erecting barriers in my mind that would hold back the pain. It was an old meditation trick I'd picked up in my teens during my original training with Justin DuMorne, my adoptive father. He'd turned out to be a mind-controlling psycho, but he knew his stuff.

After a while I stood on uneasy feet. I'd broken my back shortly before taking the Winter Knight's Mantle on; I'd made healing my back a separate part of the bargain when I agreed to the position, otherwise the thorn bracelet would have left me without the use of my legs, too. I'd discovered the hard way (that is to say, I fell flat on my face) that the only thing that could take my back away was an outright refusal to act in Winter's interests once I'd taken on a task.

I walked towards the spare bedroom, where I'd recently set up a miniature magic workshop. It was a tiny fraction of the size of my old lab, but it didn't need to be big. We'd arranged a desk in the corner, and on and near it, some of my magical accoutrements. And leaning up against the wall next to it, on top of a small pile of notebooks, was Excalibur.

That's not the name the old Sword went by these days, but at one time… Now called Amoracchius, the massive broadsword had a nail from the crucifixion worked into the hilt. It was one of the most powerful weapons mortals could wield against the supernatural in existence.

And I was using it as a glorified paperweight.

Gives you an idea of the level of crap I deal with on a daily basis.

But sitting on top of the desk, on top of another little pile of notebooks, near my jeweler's tools, was a hand-carved, wooden copy of a human skull. I sat down at the desk and put my hand on the skull, gently, feeling some of the hundreds of small glyphs I'd carved into the surface.

Tiny green lights popped into existence in the skull's eye sockets. "Hello?" a little voice asked from inside it.

"Hi there, little one," I said.

"Oh, hi, Harry. How are you?"

"I'm fine," I didn't-quite-lie. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"How I was doing what?" She sounded confused, and it took everything I had not to laugh at her. It seemed she had inherited her mother's sense of humour.

"I meant how you were getting along."

"Getting along with who? I'm the only one in here."

I blinked and bit the inside of my cheek. "You know what? I phrased that poorly. I meant that I wanted to know how you were feeling."

"Oh, that. Stronger. I read some more today after sunset."

"Did you learn anything new?"

"No."

My brow creased. "Oh. Well, we'll have to find some new sources for you, then."

"That would be nice." She sounded genuinely pleased.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do tomorrow."

"Okay." She made a yawning noise and the skull rattled a bit. "I'm sleepy again."

"Get some more rest. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

The little lights went out.

"You've been really cool about this," I said to Karrin a few minutes later as I climbed into bed.

"About what?" She didn't look up from her book.

"Well, I never figured you for a girl who'd hook up with a guy who has two kids."

She snorted, and put her book down, dog-earing the page. Then she leaned over and kissed me. "What can I say? If either of them is anything like you, they'll be worth knowing."

I half-smiled. "I worry. That they might end up too much like me."

"If they're too much like you, they'll just end up lipping off and burning things down all the time." She touched my face. "But they'll also be survivors. And they'll be good people."

"Probably not too bright, though."

"Here's hoping they take after their mothers in that sense." My turn to snort. "How's the arm?"

"Achy. But I appear to be healing much faster than I should."

"Hmm. Must be nice."

"Oh, foot-in-mouth disease strikes again. Karrin, I didn't mean - "

"Stop. Stop right there. The ACL was torn, not severed. It'll heal some, and I'll be walking just fine before we know it. I'll probably wear a brace for the rest of my life, but hey, shit happens."

"You… you're taking that so well."

"I know. A few years ago, I probably would have been extremely unhappy about it."

"To put it mildly."

"Well, what can I say? One of us had to be the mature one."

"You got hurt saving my life."

"Yeah, I was there."

"It was amazing."

"Again, saw it."

"It was hot."

"Okay. Keep talking." She leaned in again.

"True act of heroism. Or 'heroine-ism', I guess."

"Okay. Stop talking."

"Right."

Then we were kissing, and the night went far better than the day.

The following morning, I stood beside Karrin in my jeans and a button-down shirt. She sat at the kitchen table, still wearing her pajamas, staring intently at a series of maps that she'd had open for an hour: Chicago, the mid-west, North America, and most of South America and the Caribbean, all of which had been marked with lines and 'X's. "The territory is shifting," she said. "I'm not ready to say we're winning, but even before last night, the Fomor were on the back foot here. The problem is, Chicago is one of the exceptions; they have a pretty solid presence in most major cities in the western hemisphere these days."

"So they can bring in reinforcements," I said.

"From anywhere. A few people thought we could track the incoming, but those of us who stopped and thought about it for more than a second realized - "

"Back up shows up from underwater."

"Exactly. The best we can hope for is the Paranet will keep us apprised if the Fomor suddenly show a weakness, or a thinning of numbers."

I leaned down to get a closer look at the maps. "And we can arrange a hit wherever that is. I love it."

"It'll only work if the White Council and the Wardens back us up, though. I cashed in the only favor Marcone owed us yesterday; right now he's content to defend his territory. We can't count on the einherjar. Unless…"

I shook my head. "I have a good relationship with the guy who owns Monoc Securities. But he made it clear that he doesn't offer a friends-and-family discount. We can't afford them."

"Figured. Which leaves us with three possible sources for man-power: the White Court, the White Council, and the Winter Court."

"Three WCs," I said. "If I had any old-timey British friends, they'd laugh."

"If only," she said, very much not laughing.

"Thomas is the only one in the White Court we can trust, but he doesn't have the pull to get many boots on the ground. Three or four people, maybe, and they'd probably only act as bodyguards. We have to wait for Lara to get back into town. White Council is a possibility. I'm technically still a Warden."

"A senior one, last I checked. And you have an in with a Senior Council member or two."

"True, but the Wardens have largely been on the back foot themselves, spread thin all over the world. It's a maybe."

"And Winter?"

"The Winter Knight doesn't have much influence. He's seen as a tool, in all the ways that can be taken. I've made an impression, but I haven't earned any loyalty. But there is a way around that."

She smirked. "You have an in with one of the Queens."

I smiled and glanced, with flourish, at my truly awesome pocket-watch. "The Winter Lady will be arriving to take me to lunch in just a few minutes."

She finally sat back and crossed her arms, looking at me. "First chance to follow up with the midwife since the birth," she said. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said she was trying not to laugh.

To hide my sour expression, I plucked an apple from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table and took a bite. "Hardy har-har," I said around a mouthful.

She sobered. "First real chance to talk to her since her… promotion."

I nodded. "Yeah. Promoted ahead of me, too." The doorbell rang. "Ah, my ride. I hope." I headed for the front door, sneaking a glance out the front window as I went. In the street, a white limousine idled, just as promised. I tugged the door open, stepping back out of striking range as I did.

A young-appearing man, with a perfectly symmetrical face and a chauffeur's uniform that didn't have a single wrinkle on it stood there. "Sir Knight. The Winter Lady awaits your presence." He had the most wonderful English accent. Seriously, I could have listened to him talk all day.

"Well, mustn't keep her waiting. See you later, Karrin! And don't forget to let Mister back in when he's done hunting raccoons." I shrugged on my duster, slipped into my work boots, and nabbed my staff, leaning against the wall.

"Hey," she said.

I was literally halfway out the front door, apple in my mouth again. I finished my bite and asked, "What?"

"Don't forget, it's your turn to do the dishes."

"I did them yesterday."

"No, you did them yesterday morning. I did them after lunch."

I shook my head. "Fine. It's my turn. When I get back." I took another bite and muttered something that may or may not have sounded like, "Ball and chain," and stepped outside. "So, what's your name?" I asked the chauffeur as we walked down the driveway to the limo.

"Faron, Sir."

"Do you often escort her Ladyship?"

"I believe the expression is, 'she has taken a shine to me,' Sir."

We reached the car, and Faron opened a rear door.

"Thank you," I said, and stepped inside, ducking low and holding my staff carefully. The door closed behind me. I settled into the bench seat at the back of the car, and let my eyes adjust. Molly Carpenter, the Winter Lady, was seated on the opposite bench, backing onto the driver's glass partition. She was dressed in a flattering, deep-blue, calf-length skirt, a blouse the color of fresh snow, and her blonde hair was up in a professional bun. Her hand was against the glass, and she had her eyes closed. "Hi Harry, just a sec."

I waited. After a second, during which we started moving, she smiled and opened her eyes. "Ah, that's better. I just wanted to make sure we couldn't be overheard."

"Oh? I thought you'd taken a shine to Faron."

"He's sidhe of the Winter Court. I trust him as far as I can throw him."

"That's my girl. But I take it he's polite?"

"He's less offensive than most."

I smiled. "That's good. I love his voice, I'd hate to have to kill him for you. But seriously, it's nice to finally have a chance to talk."

Her smile faltered. "Um, about that. I'm here on business, Sir Knight. Mostly."

I blinked. "Seriously?"

She nodded, and there was sadness on her face, her smile fading.

"Oh. I see. Well." I straightened up and looked her in the eye. If this had been Mab delivering a command, I would have been approximately 10000% snarkier, but this was Molly. She'd been my apprentice for years. Hell, Mab probably arranged for Molly to give me an order simply because she could skip the usual back-and-forth. "How may I serve, my Lady?"

Her face fell. "I need you to kill someone."

Honestly, I really should have seen that coming.