Michael abruptly turned to face me squarely, and his right hand closed into a fist. “Stop talking,” he said in a low, hard tone. “Right now.”

So help me God, I almost took a swing at him out of sheer frustration. But sanity grabbed the scruff of my neck and turned me around. I stalked several paces away through the snow and stood with my back to him.

Sanity invited shame over for tea and biscuits. Dammit. I was supposed to be a wizard. Connected with my inner light, master of the disciplined mind, all of that kind of crap. But instead I was shooting my mouth off at a man who didn’t deserve it because…

Because I was scared. Really, really scared. I always started shooting my mouth off when something scared me. It had been an asset before, but it sure as hell wasn’t right now. When something scared me I almost always embraced my anger as a weapon against it. That, too, was usually an asset. But this time I’d let that fear and anger shape my thinking, and as a result I’d torn into my friend in the most tender spot he had, at a time when he could probably have used my support.

Then I realized why I was angry at Michael. I had wanted him to come flying in like Superman and solve my problems, and he’d let me down.

We’re always disappointed when we find out someone else has human limits, the same as we do. It’s stupid for us to feel that way, and we really ought to know better, but that doesn’t seem to slow us down.

I wondered if Michael had ever felt the same way about me.

“My last remark,” I muttered, “was out of line.”

“Yes,” Michael said. “It was.”

“You want to duke it out or arm wrestle or something?”

“There are better ways for us to spend our time. Nicodemus and Tessa should be our focus.”

I turned back to him. “Agreed.”

“This isn’t over,” he said, a harsh edge in his voice. “We’ll discuss it after.”

I grunted and nodded. Some of the tension left the air between us. Back to business. That was easier. “You know what I don’t get?” I said. “How do you step from Nicodemus’s end of recruiting Marcone all the way to Tessa’s end of a society steeped in chaos and despair?”

“I don’t know,” Michael said. He moved his hand to the hilt of the sword he now wore belted to his side, an unconscious gesture. “But Nicodemus thinks he does. And whatever he’s doing, I’ve got a bad feeling that we’d better figure it out before he gets it done.”

Chapter Twenty-one

“If I knew of any trusted lieutenants preparing to betray my employer,” Miss Gard said with exaggerated patience, “they wouldn’t be trusted, now, would they? If you ask politely, I’m sure you can get someone to read the definition of treachery to you, Dresden.”

Michael smiled quietly. He sat at the workbench with one of his heavy daggers and a metal file, evidently taking some burrs out of the blade. Hendricks sat on a stool at the other end of the workbench. The huge enforcer had disassembled a handgun and was cleaning the pieces fastidiously.