"Take you apart, you mean," he said. His expression grew more troubled. "Harry, without Amoracchius … I'm not sure how much help I'll be to you."
"You know what you're doing, Michael. And I don't think the Almighty is going to quit the team just because we fumbled the ball, right?"
"Of course not, Harry. He is ever faithful."
I leaned toward him, put a hand on his shoulder, and looked him right in the eyes. I don't do that to people very often. There aren't many I can. "Michael. This thing is big, and it's bad, and it scares the hell out of me. But I might be the only one who can stop it, now. I need you. I need your help. Hell, man. I need to know that you're at my back, that you believe in what I'm doing here. Are you with me or not?"
He studied my face. "You've lost much of your power, you say. And I don't have the sword anymore. Our enemies know it. We could both be killed. Or worse."
"If we stay here doing nothing, we're going to get killed anyway. And maybe Murphy and Charity and your kids with us."
He bowed his head, and nodded. "You're right. There's not really any choice." His hand covered mine for a moment, big and calloused and strong, and then he stood up again, his back straight and his shoulders squared. "We just have to have faith. The good Lord wouldn't give us more than we could bear."
"I hope you're right," I said.
"So what's the plan, Harry? What are we going to do?"
I got up and went to the mantel over the fire, but what I needed wasn't there. I frowned, looking around the room, and spied it on the coffee table. I bent down and plucked up the white envelope, taking the gold-lettered invitation Kyle and Kelly Hamilton had delivered.
"We're going to a party."
Chapter Twenty-four
Michael parked his truck on the street outside Bianca's mansion. He put the keys in his leather belt pouch, and buttoned it with the silver cross button. Then he straightened the collar of his doublet, which showed through the neck of the mail, and reached behind the seat for the steel helmet that slipped on over his head. "Tell me again, Harry, why this is a good idea. Why are we going to a masquerade ball with a bunch of monsters?"
"Everything points us this way," I said.
"How?"
I took a breath, trying to be patient, and passed him the white cloak. "Look. We know that someone's been stirring up the spirit world. We know that they did it in order to create this Nightmare that's been after us. We know that the girl, Lydia, was connected to the Nightmare somehow."
"Yes," Michael said. "All right."
"Bianca," I said, "sent out her thugs to take Lydia. And Bianca's hosting a party for the nastiest bad guys in the region. Stallings told me that people have been going missing off the streets. They've probably been taken for food or something. Even if Bianca isn't behind it, and I'm not saying she isn't, chances are that anyone who could be is going to be at the party tonight."
"And you think you'll be able to spot them?" Michael asked.
"Pretty sure," I responded. "All I'll have to do is get close enough to touch them, to feel their aura. I felt whoever was backing the Nightmare when they helped it get away from me. I should be able to tell when I feel them again."
"I don't like it," Michael said. "Why didn't the Nightmare come after you the minute the sun went down?"
"Maybe I scared it. I cut it up a little."
Michael frowned. "I still don't like it. There are going to be dozens of things in there that have no right to exist in this world. It will be like walking into a roomful of wolves."
"All you have to do," I said, "is keep your mouth shut and watch my back. The bad guys have to play by the rules tonight. We've been given the protection of the old laws of hospitality. If Bianca doesn't respect that, it's going to kill her reputation in front of her guests and the Vampire Court."
"I will protect you, Harry," Michael said. "As I will protect anyone who these … things threaten."
"We don't need any fights, Michael. That's not why we're here."
He looked out the truck window and set his jaw.
"I mean it, Michael. It's their turf. There's probably going to be bad stuff inside, but we have to keep the big picture in focus here."
"The big picture," he said. "Harry, if there's someone in there that needs my help, they're getting it."
"Michael! If we break the truce first, we're open game. You could get us both killed."
He turned to look at me, and his eyes were granite. "I am what I am, Harry."
I threw my arms up in the air, and banged my hands on the roof of the truck. "There are people who could get killed if we mess this up. It isn't only our own lives we're talking about, here."
"I know," he said. "My family are some of them. But that doesn't change anything."
"Michael," I said. "I'm not asking you to smile and chat and get cozy. Just keep quiet and stay out of the way. Don't shove a crucifix down anyone's throat. That's all I'm asking."
"I won't stand by, Harry," he said. "I can't." He frowned and said, "I don't think you can, either."
I glared at him. "Hell's bells, Michael. I don't want to die, here."
"Nor do I. We must have faith."
"Great," I said. "That's just great."
"Harry, will you join me in prayer?"
I blinked at him. "What?"
"A prayer," Michael said. "I'd like to talk to Him for a moment." He half smiled at me. "You don't have to say anything. Just be quiet and stay out of the way." He bowed his head.
I squinted out the window of the truck, silent. I don't have anything against God. Far from it. But I don't understand Him. And I don't trust a lot of the people that go around claiming that they're working in His best interests. Faeries and vampires and whatnot—those I can fathom. Even demons. Sometimes, even the Fallen. I can understand why they do what they do.
But I don't understand God. I don't understand how he could see the way people treat one another, and not chalk up the whole human race as a bad idea.
I guess he's just bigger about it than I would be.
"Lord," Michael said. "We walk into darkness now. Our enemies will surround us. Please help to make us strong enough to do what needs to be done. Amen."
Just that. No fancy language, no flashy beseeching the Almighty for aid. Just quiet words about what he wanted to get done, and a request that God would be on his side—on our side. Simple words, and yet power surrounded him like a cloud of fine mist, prickling along my arms and my neck. Faith. I calmed down a little. We had a lot going for us. We could do this.
Michael looked up at me and nodded. "All right," he said. "I'm ready."
"How do I look?" I asked him.
He smiled, white teeth showing. "You're going to turn heads. That's for sure."
I had to smile back at him. "Okay," I said. "Let's party."
We got out of the truck, and started walking toward the gates around Bianca's estate. Michael buckled on the white cloak with its red cross as he went. He had a matching surcoat, boots, and armored guards on his shoulders. He had a pair of heavy gauntlets tucked through his boots, and wore a pair of knives on his belt, one on either side. He smelled like steel and he clanked a little bit when he walked. It sounded comforting, in a friendly, dreadnought kind of way.
It would have been more stylish to drive up through the gates and have a valet park the truck, but Michael didn't want to hand over his truck to vampires. I didn't blame him. I wouldn't trust a bloodsucking, night stalking, fiend of the shadows valet, either.
The gate had an honest-to-goodness guard house, with a pair of guards. Neither one of them looked like they were carrying guns, but they held themselves with an armed arrogance that neither myself nor Michael missed. I held up the invitation. They let us in.