"Oh, yeah?" Master of repartee, that's me.

"Indeed. Either you will be freed and sit down to enjoy a nice breakfast …" He picked up a slightly curved and sharp-looking knife from the table. "Or I will cut your throat as soon as I finish eating."

He said it scary-without any melodrama to it at all. Matter-of-fact. The way most people say that they need to take out the trash. "Ye olde 'join up or die' ultimatum," I said. "Gee, no matter how many times I get it, that one never goes out of style."

"Your history indicates that you are too dangerous to leave alive, I'm afraid-and I am on a schedule," Nicodemus said.

A schedule? He was working against a time limit, then. "I'm really inconvenient that way. Don't take it personal."

"I don't," he assured me. "This isn't easy for either of us. I'd use some sort of psychological technique on you, but I haven't gotten caught up on some of the more recent developments." He took a piece of toast and buttered it. "Then again, I suppose not many psychologists can drive chariots, so perhaps it balances out."

The door opened again, and a young woman came into the room. She had long, sleep-tousled dark hair, dark eyes, and a face a little too lean to be conventionally pretty. She wore a kimono of red silk belted loosely, so that gaps appeared as she moved. She evidently didn't have anything on underneath it. Like I said, Undertown is cold.

The girl yawned and stretched lazily, watching me as she did. She too spoke with an odd, vaguely British accent. "Good morning."

"And you, little one. Harry Dresden, I don't believe you've been introduced to my daughter, Deirdre."

I eyed the girl, who seemed vaguely familiar. "We haven't met."

"Yes, we have," Deirdre said, reaching out to pluck a strawberry from the breakfast table. She took a slow bite from it, lips sealed around the fruit. "At the harbor."

"Ah. Madame Medusa, I presume."

Deirdre sighed. "I've never heard that one before. It's so amusing. May I kill him, Father?"

"Not just yet," Nicodemus said. "But if it comes to that, he's mine."

Deirdre nodded sleepily. "Have I missed breakfast?"

Nicodemus smiled at her. "Not at all. Give us a kiss."

She slid onto his lap and did. With tongue. Yuck. After a moment she rose, and Nicodemus held one of the chairs out for her as she sat down. He reseated himself and said, "There are three chairs here, Dresden . Are you sure you wouldn't like to take breakfast with us?"

I started to tell him what he could do with his third chair, but the smell of food stopped me. I suddenly felt desperately, painfully hungry. The water got colder. "What did you have in mind?"

Nicodemus nodded to one of the goons. The man walked over to me, drawing a jewelry box out of his pocket. He opened it, offering it out to me.