"Shooting him hardly seems to inconvenience him," Marcone said quietly to me. "I take it that the Knight's sword can harm him?"
"Michael doesn't think so," I said.
Marcone blinked and looked at me. "Then why is he fighting him?"
"Because it needs to be done," I said.
"Do you know what I think?" Marcone said.
"You think we should shoot Nicodemus in the back at the first opportunity and let Michael dismember him."
"Yes."
I drew my gun. "Okay."
Just then Demon-girl Deirdre's glowing eyes appeared several cars ahead of us and came forward at a sprint. I caught a glimpse of her before she jumped onto our car-still all supple scales and hairstyle by the Tasmanian Devil. But in addition she had a sword gripped in one hand.
"Michael!" I shouted. "Behind you!"
Michael turned and dodged to one side, avoiding Deirdre's first attack. Her hair followed him, lashing at him, tangling around the hilt of his sword.
I acted without thinking. I stripped Shiro's cane from my back, shouted, "Michael!" and threw the cane at him.
Michael didn't so much as turn his head. He reached out, caught the cane, and with a sweep of his arm threw the cane-sheath free of the sword so that Fidelacchius's blade shone with its own light. Without pausing, he swung the second sword and struck Deirdre's tangling hair from his arm, sending her stumbling back.
Nicodemus attacked him, and Michael met him squarely, shouting, "O Dei! Lava quod est sordium!" Cleanse what is unclean, O God. Michael managed to hold his ground against Nicodemus, their blades ringing. Michael drove Nicodemus to one side and I had a shot at his back. I took it. Beside me, Marcone did the same.
The shots took Nicodemus by surprise and stole his balance. Michael shouted and pressed forward on the offensive, seizing the advantage for the first time. Both shining blades dipped and circled through attack after attack, and Michael drove Nicodemus back step by step.
"Hell's bells, he's going to win," I muttered.
But Nicodemus drew a gun from the back of his belt.
He shoved it against Michael's breastplate and pulled the trigger. Repeatedly. Light and thunder made even the rushing train sound quiet.
Michael fell and did not move.
The light of the two swords went out.
I shouted, "No!" I raised my gun and started shooting again. Marcone joined me.
We didn't do too badly considering we were standing on a moving train and all. But Nicodemus didn't seem to care. He walked toward us through the bullets, jerking and twitching occasionally. He casually kicked the two swords over the side of the train.
I ran dry on bullets, and Nicodemus took the gun from my hand with a stroke of his sword. It hit the top of the boxcar once, then bounced off and into the night. The train thundered down a long, shallow grade toward a bridge. Demon-girl Deirdre leapt over to her father's side on all fours, her face distorted in glee. Tendrils of her hair ran lovingly over Michael's unmoving form.
I drew up my unfocused shield into a regular barrier before me, and said, "Don't even bother offering me a coin."
"I hadn't planned on it," Nicodemus said. "You don't seem like a team player to me." He looked past me and said. "But I've heard about you, Marcone. Are you interested in a job?"
"I was just going to ask you the same thing," Marcone said.
Nicodemus smiled and said, "Bravo, sir. I understand. I'm obliged to kill you, but I understand."
I traded a look with Marcone. I flicked my eyes at the upcoming bridge. He took a deep breath and nodded.
Nicodemus lifted the gun and aimed for my head. His shadow suddenly swept forward, under and around my shield, seizing my left hand. It ripped at my arm hard, pulling me off balance.
Marcone was ready. He let one of his empty guns fall and produced a knife from somewhere on his person. He flicked it at Nicodemus's face.
I went for his gun hand when he flinched. The gun went off. My senses exploded with a flash of light, and I lost the feeling in my left arm. But I trapped his gun arm between my body and my right arm and pried at his fingers.
Marcone went for him with another knife. It swept past my face, missing me. But it hit the Shroud. Marcone cut through it cleanly, seized it, and pulled it off Nicodemus entirely.
I felt the release of energy as the Shroud was removed, a wave of fever-hot magic that swept over me in a sudden, potent surge. When it was gone, my chills and my aching joints were gone with it. The curse had been broken.
"No!" Nicodemus shouted. "Kill him!"
Deirdre leapt at Marcone. Marcone turned and jumped off the train just as it rolled out over the river. He hit the water feet first, still clutching the Shroud, and was lost in the darkness.
I pried the gun from Nicodemus's fingers. He caught me by the hair, jerked my head back, and got his arm around my throat. He started choking me, hissing, "It's going to take days to kill you, Dresden."
He's afraid of you, said Shiro's voice in my mind.
In my memories, I watched Nicodemus edge away from Shiro as the old man entered the room.
The noose made him invulnerable to any lasting harm.
But in a flash of insight, I was willing to bet that the one thing the noose wouldn't protect him against was itself.
I reached back, fumbling until I felt the noose. I pulled on it as hard as I could, and then twisted it, pressing my knuckles hard into Nicodemus's throat.
Nicodemus reacted in sudden and obvious panic, releasing my throat and struggling to get away. I held on for dear life and dragged him off balance. I tried to throw him off the train, letting go of the noose at the last moment. He went over the edge but Deirdre let out a shriek and leapt forward, her tendrils writhing around one of his arms and holding him.
"Kill him," Nicodemus choked. "Kill him now!"
Coughing and wheezing, I picked up Michael's still form as best I could and leapt off the train.
We hit the water together. Michael sank. I wouldn't let go of him. I sank too. I tried to get us out, but I couldn't, and things started to become confusing and black.
I had almost given up trying when I felt something near me in the water. I thought it was a rope and I grabbed it. I was still holding on to Michael as whoever had thrown the rope started pulling me out.
I gasped for breath when my head broke water, and someone helped me drag Michael's body over to the shallows at the side of the river.
It was Marcone. And he hadn't thrown me a rope.
He'd hauled me out with the Shroud.
Chapter Thirty-three
I woke up in the back of Michael's pickup staring up at the stars and the moon and in considerable pain. Sanya sat at the back of the truck, facing me. Michael lay still and unmoving beside me.
"He's awake," Sanya said when he saw me moving.
Murphy's voice came from the front of the truck. "Harry, be still, okay? We don't know how badly you've been shot."
"Okay," I said. "Hi, Murph. It should have torn."
"What?" Murphy asked.
"Shroud. It should have torn like wet tissue. That just makes sense, right?"
"Shhhhh, Harry. Be still and don't talk."
That sounded fine to me. The next time I opened my eyes, I was in the morgue.
This, all by itself, is enough to really ruin your day.
I was lying on the examining table, and Butters, complete with his surgical gown and his tray of autopsy instruments, stood over me.
"I'm not dead!" I sputtered. "I'm not dead!"
Murphy appeared in my field of vision, her hand on my chest. "We know that, Harry. Easy. We've got to get the bullet out of you. We can't take you to the emergency room. They have to report any gunshot wounds."
"I don't know," Butters said. "This X ray is all screwed up. I'm not sure it's showing me where the bullet is. If I don't do this right, I could make things worse."