I drew my hand back. "Look. I just want to make sure you're all right."
Susan's breathing was a little fast, but other than that she concealed her tension almost completely. "I'm perfectly fine," she said. "Don't worry about me."
"At least get out of here. You're not safe here. You came in on an invitation you had made up. Do you remember that?"
She screwed up her face into a frown. "How did you know that?" she asked.
"You told me so about five minutes ago," I said, and sighed. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. You've had a bunch of your memories taken."
"I remember coming here," Susan said. "I remember having the counterfeit invitation made."
"I know," I said. "You got it off of my living room table. Do you remember that?"
She frowned. "I got it …" Her expression flickered, and she swallowed, glancing around. "I don't remember where I got it."
"There," I said. "Do you see? Do you remember driving out to bail me out of jail a couple of nights ago?"
She'd lowered the knife by now. "I … I remember that I went down to the jail. And paid the bail money, but … I can't think …"
"Okay, okay," I said. My head hurt, and I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. "It looks like she took all of your memories that had me directly in them. Or her. What about Michael, do you remember him?"
She looked at Michael and shook her head.
I nodded. "Okay. Then I need to ask you to trust me, Miss Rodriguez. You've been affected by magic and I don't know how we can get it fixed yet. But you're in danger here and I think you should leave."
"Not with you," she said at once. "I have no idea who you are. Other than some kind of psychic consultant for Special Investigations."
"Okay, okay," I said. "Not with me. But at least let us walk you out of here, so that we can make sure you get out okay. You can't swing a cat without hitting a vampire in here. So let us get you out to your car and then you can go wherever you like."
"I didn't get my interview," she said. "But … I feel so strange." She shook her head, and replaced her knife in her picnic basket. I heard the click of a tape recorder being switched off. "Okay," she said. "I guess we can go."
I nodded, relieved. "Wonderful. Michael, shall we?"
He chewed on his lip. "Maybe I should stay, Harry. If your godmother's here, the Sword might be here too. I might get the chance to take it back."
"Yeah. And you might get the chance to get taken from behind without someone here to cover for you. There's too much messed up stuff here, man. Even for me. Let's go."
Michael fell in behind me, to my right. Susan walked beside him, on my left, keeping us both in careful view, and one hand still inside her picnic basket. I briefly wondered what kind of goodies she'd been bringing in case the big, bad wolf tried to head her off from grandma's house.
We reached the foot of the stairs that led back up into the house. Something prickled the hairs at the back of my neck, and I stopped.
"Harry?" Michael asked. "What is it?"
"There's someone …" I said, and closed my eyes. I brought up my Sight, just for a moment, and felt the pressure just a little above the spot between my eyebrows. I looked up again. The Sight cut through the enchantment in front of me like sunlight through a wispy cloud. Behind me, Michael and Susan both took in sharp breaths of surprise.
The Hamlet lookalike stood three stairs up, half smiling. I realized only then that the figure was a woman rather than a man, the slender shape of her slim hips and breasts obscured by the sable doublet she wore, giving her an odd, androgynous appearance. Her skin was pallid—not pale, not creamy. Pallid. Translucent. Almost greyish. Her lips were tinged very faintly blue, as though she'd been recently chilled. Or dead. I shivered, and lowered the Sight before it showed me something that I didn't want to keep with me.
It didn't change her appearance one bit. She wore a cap, which hid her hair completely, one of those puffy ones that fell over to one side, and stood with one hip cocked out, a rapier hanging from her belt. She held a skull in her other hand—it was a real one. And the bloodstains on it couldn't have been more than a few hours old.
"Well done, wizard," she said. Her voice sounded raspy, a quiet, hissing whisper, the kind that comes from throats and mouths which are perfectly dry. "Very few can see me when I do not wish to be seen."
"Thank you. And excuse me," I said. "We were just leaving."
Bluish lips curved into a chill little smile. Other than that, she didn't move. Not an inch. "Oh, but this is the hour for all to mingle and meet. I have a right to introduce myself to you and to hear your names and exchange pleasantries in return." Her eyes fastened calmly on my face, evidently not fearing to meet my gaze. I figured that whatever she was, she probably had an advantage on me in the devastating gaze department. So I kept my own eyes firmly planted on the tip of her nose, and tried very hard not to notice that her eyes had no color at all, just a kind of flaccid blue-grey tinge to them, a filmy coating like cataracts.
"And what if I don't have time for the pleasantries?" I said.
"Oh," she whispered. "Then I might be insulted. I might even be tempted to call for satisfaction."
"A duel?" I asked, incredulous. "Are you kidding me?"
Her eyes drifted to my right. "Of course, if you would rather a champion fought in your place, I would gladly accept."
I glanced back at Michael, who had his eyes narrowed, focused on the woman's doublet or upon her belt, perhaps. "You know this lady?"
"She's no lady," Michael said, his voice quiet. He had a hand on his knife. "Harry Dresden, Wizard of the White Council, this is Mavra, of the Black Court of Vampires."
"A real vampire," Susan said. I heard the click of her tape recorder coming on again.
"A pleasure," Mavra whispered. "To meet you, at last, wizard. We should talk. I suspect we have much in common."
"I'm failing to see anything we might possibly have in common, ma'am. Do you two know each other?"
"Yes," Michael said.
Mavra's whisper became chill. "The good Knight here murdered my children and grandchildren, some small time ago."
"Twenty years ago," Michael said. "Three dozen people killed in the space of a month. Yes, I put a stop to it."
Mavra's lips curved a little more, and showed yellowed teeth. "Yes. Just a little time ago. I haven't forgotten, Knight."
"Well," I said. "It's been nice chatting, Mavra, but we're on our way out."
"No you're not," Mavra said, calmly. But for her lips and her eyes, she still hadn't moved. It was an eerie stillness, not real. Real things move, stir, breathe. Mavra didn't.
"Yes, we are."
"No. Two of you are on your way out." Her smile turned chilly. "I know that the invitations said only one person could be brought with you. Therefore, one of your companions is not under the protection of the old laws, wizard. If the Knight is unprotected, then he and I will have words. A pity you do not have Amoracchius with you, Sir Knight. It would have made things interesting, at least."
I got a sinking feeling in my gut. "And if it isn't Michael?"
"Then you keep offensive company, wizard, and I am displeased with you. I will demonstrate my displeasure decisively." Her gaze swept to Susan. "By all means. Choose which two are leaving. Then I will have a brief conversation with the third."