heavy silence. Listens-to-Wind sagged and leaned against the doorway, panting. Then he rose and stood aside as Ebenezar McCoy came in.
My old mentor was wearing his usual overalls and T-shirt. His bald pate shone with sweat, and he looked tired, but he was smiling over the pugnacious set of his lower jaw. The air around him fairly crackled with intensity, a mantle of power that hung around him in a subtle haze. Ebenezar reached behind him to hold the door open.
Michael came in.
He wore his white cloak, his mail and breastplate, and he bore Amoracchius in his hands, stained with dark fluids. He glanced around the room, a smile firm on his face.
“Papa!” Molly shrieked, and threw herself at him.
Michael blinked and managed to get the sword out of the way before Molly hit him with a hug that nearly knocked him from his feet. He got an arm around her, smiling. “Ooof! Careful, girl, the old man needs his ribs right where they are.”
“Who the hell is this?” Ramirez demanded, frowning at Michael. He looked like he didn’t know whether to be upset or disturbed that an armed and armored stranger had just waltzed in and was now standing inside all of his security measures.
“He’s a bloody hero is what he is,” Ebenezar told him. “If he hadn’t come along when he did, not a one of us would have gotten out of there alive.” He offered Michael his hand. “I’ve only heard of you by reputation, Sir Knight. But I’ve got to say that I’m damned glad to meet you. Thank you.”
Michael grinned and juggled his sword and his daughter so he’d have a hand free to shake Ebenezar’s. “I’m only a servant,” he said. “Any thanks are rightly owed to Him, not to me.”
“Aye,” Ebenezar said. “And thank God you came, Sir Knight.”
“Secure the building,” said the Merlin in a quiet voice. He walked forward to see what was happening, and stopped beside me. Michael nodded and moved out, tapping Ramirez and another Warden, and the three of them went to make sure the bad guys weren’t still coming.
“Vote isn’t over,” I said in a very quiet voice. “Which means that the three of them will need to cast their votes as well.”
“Obviously,” the Merlin said in a neutral murmur.
“That’s Michael. Knight of the Cross.”
“Which Sword?” the Merlin asked idly.
“Amoracchius,” I said.
The Merlin lifted a brow and nodded, never looking at me.
“Looks like he just saved… about forty of our young people?”
“So it would seem,” the Merlin said.
“Seems like the least we can do is save one of his.”
The Merlin’s eyes narrowed, and he did not speak.
“Look at it this way,” I said quietly. “There’s no downside to this for you. If you’re wrong about Molly, the Council gets another wizard. Fairly talented one, too.”
“And if I’m right?” he asked quietly.
“If you’re right,” I said, “you still get to kill the girl.”
The Merlin glanced at me. “True,” he said. “And you with her.”
Chapter Forty-seven
After a second, much less lengthy round of questions and answers, the Senior Council voted, and Molly was officially declared my apprentice, to be granted clemency under the Doom of Damocles. “Doom of Damocles” was wizard-speak for probation. If Molly abused her magic or came anywhere near violating any of the Laws of Magic, she’d be executed at once—and I’d join her.
But I’d lived with that before. I could do it again.
It was full dark by the time the conclave ended and everyone filed out. As the wizard who had called the conclave, it was my job to make sure everyone departed safely and to take care of any last-minute details.
Between providing food and further medical supplies for the unexpected arrivals, and coordinating with Ramirez to make sure our comings and goings weren’t being observed, I didn’t get the chance to speak to anyone about personal matters. With Lily’s help, we’d given the vampires a stiff kick in the balls, but the fight was far from over. The combat-hardened wizards and the talents of the Senior Council were needed elsewhere, and they departed with hardly a pause for food and drink.
Once it was done, I left the warehouse and sank down against the wall, just letting the cool summer evening wash over me.
I’d saved the girl from the bad guys. And more importantly, from the good guys. Which seemed the sort of thing that should pay my Warden’s salary overtime, but for the moment I was simply glad it was over.
I’d gambled horribly in