The phone rang.

Michael answered. He listened for a moment and then said gently, “It isn’t too late to seek redemption. Not even for you.”

Someone laughed merrily on the other end of the phone.

“Just a moment,” Michael said a breath later. He turned, holding his hand over the phone, and said, “Harry.”

“Him,” I said.

Michael nodded.

I went to the phone and took it from him. “Dresden.”

“I’m impressed, Dresden,” Nicodemus said. “I expected the Hellhound to make a good showing, of course, but you surprised me. Your skills are developing quite rapidly. Tessa is furious with you.”

“I’m tired,” I replied. “Do you want to talk deal or not?”

“I wouldn’t have called, otherwise,” Nicodemus replied. “But let’s keep this a bit simpler, shall we? Just you and me. I have no desire to drag Chicago’s underworld or the rest of the White Council into this ugly little affair. Mutually guaranteed safe passage, of course.”

“We did that once,” I said.

“And despite the fact that you betrayed the neutrality of the meeting well before I or any of my people took action—which I take as a highly promising act on your part—I am willing to extend my trust to you once more.”

I bit out a little laugh. “Yeah. You’re a saint.”

“One day,” Nicodemus said. “One day. But for now, let’s say a face-to-face meeting. A talk. Just you and I.”

“So you and your posse can jump me alone? No, thanks.”

“Come now. As you say, I do want to talk deal. If you’re willing to extend your word of safe passage, we can even have it on your own ground.”

“Oh?” I asked. “And where would that be?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, as long as I don’t have to be seen with you while you’re wearing that ridiculous borrowed ensemble.”

The hairs on the back of my neck started crawling up into my hairline. I turned my head around very slightly. The windows to the Carpenters’ backyard had blinds and curtains, but neither was wholly drawn. The kitchen lights made the windows into mirrors. I couldn’t see beyond them.

“What is it going to be, Dresden?” Nicodemus asked. “Will you give me your word of safe passage for our talk? Or shall I have my men open fire on that lovely young lady at the kitchen sink?”

I glanced over my shoulder to where Molly was drying dishes. She watched me out of the corner of her eye, clearly interested in the discussion, but trying not to look like it.

I couldn’t possibly warn anyone before Nick’s men could open fire—and I believed that he had them there. Probably up in the tree house. It had a reasonably good view of the kitchen.

“All right,” I said, speaking so that everyone there could hear me. “I’m giving you my word of safe passage. For ten minutes.”

“And hope to die?” Nicodemus prompted.

I gritted my teeth. “At the rate we’re going, someone will.”