Luccio rubbed at her jaw, and then nodded slowly, her eyes thoughtful. "I have to reassign Morgan in any case." She nodded again, more sharply. "Then I'm conscripting you into the Wardens as a regional commander."

I blinked.

"You'll be in charge of security and operations in this region, and coordinate with the other three American regional commanders."

"Uh," I said. "What does that mean?"

"That it will be your job to protect mortals in this area. To be vigilant against supernatural threats in your region, and represent the Council in matters of diplomacy. To aid and assist other wizards who come to you for aid and protection, and, when required, to strike out at the enemies of the Council, such as the Red Court and their allies."

I frowned. "Uh, I pretty much do that anyway."

Luccio's face broke into the first genuinely warm smile I'd ever seen on her, the care lines vanishing, replaced with crow's-feet at the corners of her eyes. "So now you'll do it in a grey cloak." Her expression sobered. "You're a fighter, Dresden. If the White Council is to survive, we need more like you."

She pushed away from the table and walked over to the bar, carrying our empty bottles with her.

When she came back, I had just finished getting the cloak pin settled and draping the heavy, soft grey fabric around my shoulders. She stopped in front of me and looked me up and down for a moment. Ramirez glanced at me, and his grin widened. Morgan looked, and from his expression you would think someone had just shoved a knife into his testicles. Mac's brow furrowed, and he studied me in the cloak, his lips quietly pursed.

"Thank you," Luccio said quietly, and offered me an ale.

I accepted it with a nod. We touched bottles and took a drink.

"Very well then, Commander," Luccio said, her tone turning brisk and businesslike. "This is your territory, and you have the most recent intelligence on Kemmler's disciples. What is our next step?"

I shoved my hair back from my eyes and said, "Okay, Warden Luce—uh, Captain Luccio. Let's sit down and get to work. It's getting dark, and we don't have much time."

Chapter Thirty-two

When I walked through the door of Murphy's house, it was raining and I was still wearing the grey cloak. I limped into the kitchen, where Thomas and Butters and Bob were sitting at a table with a bunch of candles, paper, pencils, and empty cans of Coors.

Thomas's jaw dropped open. "Holy crap," he said.

Butters blinked at Thomas and then at me. "Uh. What?"

"Harry!" Bob said, orange eye lights glowing brightly. "You stole a Warden's cloak?"

I scowled at them and took the cloak off. It dripped all over the kitchen floor. "I didn't steal it." Mouse came padding into the room, tail wagging, and I rubbed briefly at his ears.

"Oh," Bob said. "So you took it off a body?"