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Then the flicker was abruptly replaced with the form of Anastasia Luccio, who raised a hand and beckoned me.

Yikes.

I jaywalked over to her, timing my crossing in between the occasional passing car, and we took several steps back into the alley.

"Evening, Stacy," I said.

She turned to me and, in a single motion, drew a curved saber from a sheath at her hip and produced a gun in her other hand. The tip of the blade menaced my face, and I had to jerk my head back, which put me off balance, and I wound up with my shoulders pressed up against a wall.

Anastasia arched an eyebrow, her soft mouth set in a hard line. "I hope for your sake that you are the true Harry Dresden, only using that abomination of a nickname to make sure that I was the true Anastasia"-she emphasized the word slightly-"Luccio."

"Well, yes, Anastasia," I said, being careful not to move. "And by your reaction, I can tell that it really is you."

She dropped the sword's point and lowered the gun. The tension faded from her body, and she put her hardware away. "Well, of course it's me. Who else would it be?"

I shook my head. "I've had a bad shapeshifter night."

She arched an eyebrow. Anastasia Luccio was the captain of the Wardens of the White Council. She had a couple of centuries of experience.

"I've had those," she said, and put a hand on my arm. "Are you all right?"

We stepped into each other and hugged. I hadn't realized how stiffly I'd been holding myself until I exhaled and relaxed a little. She felt slender and warm and strong in my arms. "So far I'm not dead," I said. "I take it you used a tracking spell to run me down-since you don't seem to be worried about whether or not I'm me."

She lifted her face to mine and planted a soft kiss on my mouth. "Honestly, Harry," she said, smiling. "Who would pretend to be you?"

"Someone who wanted to be kissed in dark alleys by seductive older women, apparently."

Her smile widened for a second, and then faded. "I thought I was going to have to break down the door and come in after you. What were you doing in that White Court cesspit?"

I didn't think I'd done anything to cause it, but we stepped out of each other's arms. "Looking for information," I said quietly. "Something's up. And someone's cut me out of the loop."

Anastasia pressed her lips together and looked away. Her expression was closed, touched with anger. "Yes. Orders."

"Orders," I said. "From the Merlin, I guess."

"From Ebenezar McCoy, actually."

I grunted in surprise. McCoy had been my mentor when I was young. I respected him.

"I get it," I said. "He was afraid that if I heard Morgan was on the run, I'd hat up and dish out some payback."

She glanced up at me, and then across the street at Zero. She shrugged, without quite looking me in the face. "God knows you have enough cause to do so."

"You agreed with him," I said.

She looked up at me, her eyes a little wider. "If I did, then why am I standing here?"

I frowned at her and scratched my head. "Okay. You've got me on that one."

"Besides," she said. "I was worried about you."

"Worried?"

She nodded. "Morgan's done something that is hiding him from even the Senior Council's abilities. I was afraid that he might come here."

Poker face don't fail me now. "That's crazy," I said. "Why would he do that?"

She squared her shoulders and faced me steadily. "Maybe because he's innocent."

"And?"

"There are a number of people who have sought permission from the Senior Council to investigate and interrogate you under the presumption that you were the traitor who has been feeding information to the Red Court." She looked away again. "Morgan has been one of the most overt agitators."

I took a deep breath. "You're saying that Morgan knows he isn't the traitor. And he thinks it's me."

"And he might be moving toward you, in an attempt to prove his own innocence or, failing that..."

"Kill me," I said, quietly. "If he's going to go down, you think he might have decided to take out the real traitor before he gets the axe."

And suddenly I had to wonder if Morgan had shown up at my door for the reasons he'd given me. Anastasia had been Morgan's mentor, when he was an apprentice. She'd known the man for the vast majority of his life, literally for generations.

What if her judgment of him was better than mine?

Sure, Morgan wasn't in any shape to kill me personally-but he wouldn't need to. All he had to do is call the Wardens and tell them where he was. A lot of people in the Council didn't like me much. I'd go down with Morgan, for giving aid and comfort to a traitor.

I suddenly felt naive and vulnerable and maybe a little stupid.

"He was already in custody," I said. "How did he get away?"

Luccio smiled faintly. "We aren't sure. He thought of something we didn't. And he put three Wardens in the hospital when he left."

"But you don't think he's guilty."

"I..." She frowned for a moment and then said, "I refuse to let fear turn me against a man I know and trust. But it doesn't matter what I think. There's enough evidence to kill him."

"What evidence?" I asked.

"Other than finding him standing over LaFortier's corpse with a literal bloody knife in his hand?"

"Yeah," I said. "Other than that."

She raked her fingers back through her curly hair. "The information the Red Court has attained was exclusive to a very small pool of suspects, of which he was one. We have telephone records of him in frequent contact with a known operative of the Red Court. We also tracked down an offshore account belonging to him, in which several million dollars had recently been deposited."

I snorted derisively. "Yeah, that's him. Morgan the mercenary, nothing but dollar signs in his eyes."

"I know," she said. "That's what I mean about fear clouding people's judgment. We all know that the Red Court is going to come after us again. We know that if we don't eliminate the traitor, their first blow could be fatal. The Merlin is desperate."

"Join the club," I muttered. I rubbed at my eyes and sighed.

She touched my arm again. "I thought you had a right to know," she said. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to get here sooner."

I covered her hand with mine and pressed gently. "Yeah," I said. "Thanks."


Tags: Jim Butcher The Dresden Files Suspense