Holy crap, the boss herself. Anastasia Luccio was one of the next in line for a seat on the Senior Council, and was the commander of the Wardens. She was one tough old bird, and she was the field commander of the Council's forces in the war with the Red Court.

"Warden Luccio," I said respectfully—both because she probably deserved it and because I needed to get along with her as well as I possibly could.

"What is the situation?" she asked.

"At least three apprentices to the necromancer Kemmler are here in Chicago," I said. "They found the fourth book. They're going to use it tonight."

There was a stunned silence from the other end of the phone.

"Hello?" I said.

"Are you sure?" Luccio asked. Her voice had a faint Italian accent. "How do you know who they are?"

"All those zombies and ghosts were sort of a giveaway," I said. "I confronted them. They identified themselves as Grevane, Cowl, and Capiorcorpus, and they each had a drummer with them."

" Dio," Luccio said. "Do you know where they are?"

"Not yet, but I'm working on it," I said. "Can you help?"

"Affirmative," Luccio said. "We will dispatch Wardens to Chicago immediately. They will arrive at your apartment within six hours."

"Might not be the best place," I said. "I was attacked there last night, and my wards got torn apart. The apartment may be under surveillance."

"Understood. Then we will rendezvous at the alternate location."

I checked the notebook. I'd have to meet them at McAnally's. "Gotcha," I said.

" Che cosa?" she asked.

"Uh, understood, Warden," I said. "Six hours, alternate location. Don't skimp on the personnel, either. These folks are serious."

"I am familiar with Kemmler's disciples," she said, though her tone was more one of agreement than reprimand. "I will lead the team myself. Six hours."

"Right. Six hours."

She hung up the phone.

I settled it back onto its cradle, lips pursed in thought. Hell's bells, the war captain of the White Council herself was to take the field. That meant that this situation was being regarded as an emergency tantamount to a terrorist with an armed nuclear bomb. If the head Warden was coming out to battle, it meant that the Wardens were going to pull out all the stops.

I was going to have a lot of help for a change. Help that held me in deadly suspicion, and who might execute me if they learned some of my secrets, but help nonetheless. I felt an odd sense of comfort. The Wardens had been one of my biggest fears practically since I had learned about their existence. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing the object of that fear take a hostile interest in Grevane and company. Like when Darth Vader turns against the emperor and throws him down the shaft. There's nothing quite so cool as seeing someone who scares the hell out of you go at an enemy.