I saw the servitor take note of the same thing. His weight shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

“Yeah,” I said in a lower, quieter voice. “I don’t know which of the Fomor you serve. But tell your boss that Harry Dresden is back, and he says to stay the hell out of Chicago. Otherwise, I’m going to knock his teeth out.” I paused. “Assuming, uh, he has teeth, I mean. But I’ll knock something out. Definitely. You tell him that.”

“You dare to threaten him?” the servitor whispered.

“Just stating facts,” I said. “You and your crew better go. Before I start ripping off your collars and asking the police and reporters what’s wrong with your necks.”

The servitor stared at me with empty eyes for a long moment. Then he turned abruptly and started walking. The other guys in caterer uniforms went with him.

“Subtle,” came Karrin’s voice.

I turned to find her standing maybe ten feet behind me, her arms crossed, where her hand would be close to her gun. Had the servitor or his buddies drawn a weapon, she’d have been in a good position to draw and start evening the odds.

“Murph,” I said. “Did they get out?”

“They’re waiting.” Her eyes flickered with distress as they swept over me. “Jesus, Harry. Are you all right?”

“Aches a bit. Stings a bit. ’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” she said, hurrying closer. “Your leg. Hold still.” She knelt down and I suddenly realized that she was right—my leg was bleeding, the leg of my pants soaked, blood dripping from the hem of my pants leg and onto my rented shoes. She rolled the bloodied cloth up briskly.

“You’ve been shot,” she said.

I blinked. “Uh, what? I don’t feel shot. Are you sure?”

“There’s a hole right through the outside of your calf,” she said. “Little on both sides. Christ, they must have been close.”

“M240,” I said. “From maybe thirty feet.”

“You got lucky—it missed the bone and didn’t tumble.” She pulled a handkerchief from her jacket pocket and said, “This is what Butters warned you about. Not being able to sense your own injuries. I’ve got to tie this off until we can get it taken care of. Brace.”

Her shoulders twisted as she knotted the cloth around my calf and jerked it tight. That tingled and stung a little, but it didn’t hurt any more than that. I suddenly realized that Winter was sighing through me like an icy wind, dulling the pain.

I also suddenly realized that Karrin was kneeling at my feet. The Winter in me thought that was all kinds of interesting. Something very like panic fluttered through my chest, something far more energetic and destabilizing than the fear I’d felt in the conflict a few minutes before.

“Uh, right,” I said, forcing my eyes away. “What are we doing standing around here? Let’s go.”

Karrin rose and looked up at me, her expression torn between concern and something darker. Then she nodded and said, “Car’s over here. Follow me.”

* * *

Once in the car, I looked back over my shoulder at Ascher and Valmont while Karrin got us moving. We cruised out just as the majority of the emergency vehicles arrived. Valmont was staring out the window, her face unreadable behind her sunglasses. Ascher was looking over her shoulder, watching the scene behind.

When she finally turned around to see me looking at her, her face split into a wide smile, and her dark eyes glittered brightly. “Damn,” she said, “that was intense.”

“More for some than others,” Karrin said. “Miss Ascher, I’m going to take you back to the slaughterhouse to meet up with your partner.”

Ascher frowned. “What about you?”

“Dresden’s shot.”

Ascher blinked. “When?”

“Getting me out,” Valmont said, still staring out the window. “He got shot pushing me behind him.”

“I’m taking him to someone who can help,” Karrin said. “Tell Nicodemus that Valmont is with us.”

Ascher frowned at that, and eyed Valmont. “That what you want?”

“I’m not going to see that guy without Dresden around,” Valmont said. “You were smart, you wouldn’t, either.”

“Let her be,” I said quietly. “Ascher’s a big girl. She can make her own choices.”

“Sure,” Valmont said.

Ascher frowned at me for a long minute before saying, “I hear a lot of stories about you.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“The warlock who became a Warden,” she said. “And then refused to hunt warlocks for the Council.”

I shrugged. “True.”

“And they didn’t kill you for it?” Ascher asked.

“Middle of a war,” I said. “Needed every fighter.”

“I hear other things. Wild things. That you help people. That you’ll fight anyone.”

I shrugged a shoulder. It hurt a little. “Sometimes.”

“Is he always like this?” Ascher asked Karrin.

“Only when he’s bleeding out,” Karrin said. “Usually you can’t get him to shut up.”

“Hey,” I said.

Karrin eyed me, a faint glimmer of humor somewhere in the look.

I shrugged a shoulder tiredly. “Yeah. Okay.”

“So if you’re such a tough guy,” Ascher said, “how come I didn’t see you kicking ass and taking names in there?”