White Night

Chapter Nineteen

"Are you sure?" Anna Ash asked Elaine. "Wouldn't we be better off at one of our apartments? They're all warded…"

Elaine shook her head firmly. "The killer knows where you each live. He doesn't know about this place. Stay here, stay quiet, stay together. Our killer hasn't attacked anyone who wasn't alone."

"And my dog will let you know if there's anything you need to worry about," I added. "He'll probably sit on anyone who tries to mess with you, but if he does a Lassie act at you and wants you to leave, go with him—everyone, stay together and get somewhere public."

Mouse nudged his head under Anna's hand and wagged his tail. Toto dutifully followed Mouse, walking around Anna's ankles looking up at her until she petted him, too. That got a smile out of her, at least. "If we leave, how will we get in touch with you?"

"I'll find you."

"Just like you found the killer?" Priscilla spat.

I ignored her with lofty dignity.

Elaine didn't.

She stepped up to Priscilla and loomed over her. "You ungrateful, insufferable, venomous little twit. Shut your mouth. This man is trying to protect you, just like I am. I will thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head while we do our job."

Priscilla's face flushed. "We aren't paying you to insult or demean us."

"You aren't paying me enough to get me to tolerate your rudeness, either," Elaine said. "Keep it up and you won't have to worry about my bill. In fact, I suspect that in short order you'll stop worrying about absolutely everything."

"Is that a threat?" Priscilla snapped.

Elaine put a fist on her hip. "It's a fact, bitch."

Anna stepped in. "Priscilla, please. You aren't the one paying her. I am. We need her. She's the professional. If she thinks it's smart to cooperate with Mister Dresden, that's what we're going to do. And we're going to treat them with professional respect. If you can't manage courtesy, try silence."

Priscilla narrowed her eyes at Anna, then folded her arms and looked away in capitulation.

Elaine nodded at Anna and said, "I'm not sure how long we'll be gone. I'll get word to you as soon as I have a better idea."

"Thank you, Miss Mallory." After a beat she hurried to add, "And thank you, Mister Dresden."

"Stay together," I said, and Elaine and I left.

We walked together to the parking lot, and on the way Elaine said, "Tell me you've gotten a new car."

We rounded a corner, and there was the Beetle in all its battle-scarred glory.

"I like this one," I told her, and opened the door for her.

"You redid the interior," she said as I got in and started the car.

"Demons ate the old one."

Elaine began to laugh, but then blinked at me. "You're being literal?"

"Uh-huh. Fungus demons. Right down to the metal."

"Good God, you live a glamorous life," she said.

"Elaine," I said. "I thought you told me you were going to lie low until you were ready to come out to the Council." … The friendly, teasing expression on her face faded into neutrality. "Is this relevant right now?"

"Yeah," I said. "If we're going after him together, yes, it is. I need to know."

She frowned at me, and then shrugged. "I had to do something. There were people all around me getting hurt. Being used. Living scared. So I borrowed a page from your book."

"And you lied to the Warden who came to check up on you."

"You say that like you've always told the Wardens everything."

"Elaine…" I began.

She shook her head. "Harry, I know you. I trust you. But I don't trust the Council and I doubt I ever will. I certainly did not care to be impressed into service as a brand-new foot soldier to fight their war with the vampires—which I would have been, if I had put my full effort into Ramirez's tests."

We looked at each other for a moment, and I said, "Please? I'll go with you. I'll support you before the Council."

She put one of her warm, soft hands over mine, and spoke in a quiet, firm voice. "No, Harry. I won't allow those men to direct the course of my life. I won't allow them to choose if I will or will not live—or choose how."

I sighed. "You could do so much good."

"I thought that's what I was doing here," she pointed out. "Helping people. Doing good."

She had a point. "The Wardens would freak out if you went to them now, anyway," I said, "and revealed that you'd been hiding your talents from them."

"Yes," she said. "They would."

"Dammit," I said. "We could use your help."

"I don't doubt it," she said. Her eyes hardened and her voice went suddenly cold. "But I will not be used. Not by anyone. Never again."

I blinked and turned to her.

She lifted her chin slightly, green eyes bright with unfallen tears. "No, Harry."

I turned my hand under hers, and we intertwined our fingers with the careless ease of an old habit. "Elaine. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push. I hadn't realized…"

She blinked several times and looked away from me. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm going all neurotic on you, here. I don't mean to be." She stared out the window at the city. "After you killed DuMorne, I spent a year having a nightmare. The same one, every single night. I was sure that it was true. That he was still alive. That he was coming for me."

"He wasn't," I told her.

"I know," she said. "I saw him die just as you did. But I was so afraid… " She shook her head. "I ran to the Summer Court because of it. I ran, Harry. I couldn't face it."

"Is that what you're doing, going public?" I asked. "Facing your past?"

"I have to," she said, her voice growing firmer. "It scares the crap out of me, all the time. And over the years… I've had problems with crowds. With enclosed spaces. With heights. With wide-open spaces. Night terrors. Panic attacks. Paranoia. God, sometimes it seems like there's nothing I haven't had a phobia about."

What Elaine had described was about what I would have expected from someone whose mind had been invaded by an outside will. Magic can get you into someone's head, but if you decide to start redecorating to your tastes, there is no way to avoid inflicting damage to their psyche. Depending upon several factors, someone who has been put under that kind of control can be left twitchy and erratic at best—and at worst, totally catatonic or completely dysfunctional.

And there was the utterly normal element of emotional pain to consider, too. Elaine had, in the course of a single evening, lost absolutely everything she loved. Her boyfriend. Her adopted father. Her home.

Losing a home means a lot more to an orphan than it does to most other people. I'm in a position to know. Like me, Elaine had spent most of her childhood bouncing around from one foster home to another, one state-run orphanage to another. Like me, being given a real home, a real house, a real father figure had been a desperate dream come true. It had been a terrible loss to me, and Justin hadn't gotten any hooks into my head. For Elaine, that series of events had been infinitely more painful, infinitely more frightening.

"I let fear control one part of my life," Elaine said, "and it took root and started growing. I had to get involved, Harry. I have to use what I know to change things. If I don't, then all I'll ever be is DuMorne's tool. His terrified little weapon. I will not allow anyone to take control of my life away from me. I can't." She shrugged. "And I can't stand by and do nothing, either. I threw the tests. I don't regret it. I sure as hell am not going to apologize for it—not to you or to anyone."

I grunted.

"Well?" she asked.

"I think I get it," I said.

"Are you willing to work with me, then?"

I squeezed her hand a little. "Of course."

The tension in her shoulders eased, and she squeezed my hand back. "My turn," she said.

"Your turn?"

She nodded. "You recognized the killer when you looked at the photo."

"What?" I said. "No, I didn't."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Harry. It's me."

I sighed. "Yeah, well."

"Who is he?" she asked.

"Thomas Raith," I said. "White Court."

"How do you know him?"

"He's…" Not many people knew that Thomas was my brother. It was safer for both of us to keep that information limited. "He's a friend. Someone I trust."

"Trust," Elaine said quietly. "I notice you use the present tense."

"Thomas isn't hurting anyone," I said.

"He's a vampire, Harry. He hurts someone every time he feeds."

He'd been doing quite a bit of that lately. "I know Thomas," I maintained. "He isn't the killer."

Elaine frowned. "Treachery hurts, Harry. Believe me, I know."

"Nothing has proved Thomas is behind these killings," I said. "It could be someone else, or something else, masquerading as him. It isn't as if there aren't plenty of shapeshifting things around that could do it."

"Little bit of a reach, though," Elaine said. She nodded at the photos, where I'd set them on the dashboard. "The simplest explanation is usually the correct one."

"Sooner or later," I said, "I'll have a case where everything is simple. But I don't think this one is it."

Elaine exhaled slowly, studying my face. "You care about him."

No point in denying that. "Yeah."

"He trusts you in return?"

"Yeah."

"Then why hasn't he explained himself to you?" she asked. "Why hasn't he gotten in touch with you?"

"I don't know. But I know he's not a killer."

She nodded slowly. "But there he is, with Olivia."

"Yeah."

"Then I think you should agree with me that we need to find him."

"Yeah."

"Can you?"

"Yep."

"All right, then," she said, and put on her seat belt. "We'll find him. We'll talk to him. I'll try to keep an open mind." She looked at me. "But if it turns out to be him, Harry, he's got to be stopped—and I expect you to help me."

"If it turns out to be him," I said, "he'd want me to."