sighed. “I’ve consulted our records. This is not the first time one of the White Council has been asked to be the custodian of one of the Swords.”
I arched my eyebrows and looked at him. “Seriously?”
He nodded.
“Me and who?”
“Merlin.”
I snorted. “You sure? Because the Merlin is kind of a jerk. Even you would think so, trust me.”
“No, Harry,” Michael said, his tone patient. “Not the Merlin of the Council. Merlin. The original.”
I sat there with my jaw suavely flapping in the breeze for a minute.
Then said, “Wow.” I shook my head. “You think maybe I should find a big rock or something? Stick the sword in and leave it on the White House lawn?”
Michael crossed himself. “Heaven forbid. No. I just have an…” He scrunched up his nose. “An instinct.”
“You mean like when you get sent out on a mission from God?”
“No. I mean a regular old human hunch. I think that perhaps you should investigate the history around how Amoracchius was passed on, back then.”
Said sword now rested at a slant across Michael’s chest, safely in its scabbard, point between the knight’s boots.
“Wow. You mean… that sword right there. Your sword is…” I left it unsaid.
“Probably,” he said, nodding. “Though the Church’s records are fragmented, we’ve managed to establish that the other two Swords have been reworked from time to time, through the years. This one hasn’t.”
“That’s interesting,” I mused quietly. “That’s interesting as he—uh, as heck.”
Michael gave me a faint smile and nodded. “It’s an intriguing mystery, isn’t it?”
“You know what?” I said. “I can do mystery.” I chewed my lip for a minute and said, “But I hope you’re not in a hurry. You may have noticed that the Council is having a busy year. I’ll have time sooner or later, but for now…” I shrugged.
“I know.” He was quiet for a moment, and then said, “But knowing the sword’s history could become important. Sooner is better than later.”
Something odd in his tone made me look at him. “Why?”
His hand moved unconsciously to Amoraccbius’s hilt. “I don’t think I’ll have the sword for much longer.” His voice was very soft.
When the Knights of the Sword retired, they did it feetfirst from the inside of a box.
“Michael?” I asked. “Did the, uh, office send you a memo?” I carefully didn’t say Like they did with Shiro.
“No. Instinct,” he said, and smiled at me. “But I suppose I could be beginning my midlife crisis. But I’m not planning to change the way I live my life, and I certainly have no intention of an early retirement.”
“Good,” I said, though it came out more somber than I’d intended.
“Do you mind if I ask you something personal?” Michael said.
“I’m way too busy to answer rhetorical questions.”
He grinned for a second and nodded. Then he pursed his lips and took his time about choosing his words. “Harry, you’ve avoided me for some time. And you seem… well, somewhat more dour than I’ve seen you before.”
“I wasn’t avoiding you, exactly,” I said.
He regarded me with calm, steady eyes.
“All right,” I said. “Yeah. But I’ve been avoiding most everybody. Don’t take it personally.”
“Is it something I’ve done? Or perhaps someone in my family?”
“Enough with the rhetoric. You know it isn’t.”
He nodded. “Then maybe it’s something you’ve done. Maybe something you should talk about with a friend.”
The fallen angel’s sigil on my left palm throbbed. I started to say “no,” but stopped myself. I drove for another block or two. I should tell him. I really should. Michael was my friend. He deserved my trust and respect. He deserved to know.
But I couldn’t.
Then my mouth started moving, and I realized that what was bothering me the most had nothing to do with coins or fallen angels. “Last Halloween,” I said quietly, “I killed two people.”
He drew in a slow breath and nodded, listening.
“One of them was Cassius. Once he was beaten, I had Mouse break his neck. Another was a necromancer called Corpsetaker. I shot her in the back of the head.” I swallowed. “I murdered them. I’ve never killed, man… not like that. Cold.” I drove a while more. “I have nightmares.”
I heard him sigh. For a moment, his voice was bleak. Pained. “I’ve been in this business longer than you have. I know some of what you’re feeling.”
I didn’t answer him.
“You feel like nothing is ever going to be right again,” he said. “You remember it perfectly, and it won’t leave you alone. You feel like you’re walking around with a sharp rock