The Merlin stared at me hard, and I could actually sense the pressure of his rage, like the end of a baseball bat poking steadily at my chest.
Morgan said, very, very quietly, “He’s right, honored Merlin.”
The Merlin narrowed his eyes. Then he turned his head to the Gatekeeper. “As you wish. We shall play this farce to its conclusion. Gatekeeper, how find you in this matter?”
And the Gatekeeper said… nothing.
He just stood there, face almost invisible beneath his cowl.
“Gatekeeper!” the Merlin called. “How find you?”
“I find the need for deliberation,” the Gatekeeper responded. “I beg the Council’s indulgence while I ponder this matter.”
“Ridiculous,” the Merlin said.
The Gatekeeper tilted his head. “Death is rather final, honored Merlin. I must consider carefully before I consign a soul, any soul, no matter how guilty, to that end.”
“This is nonsense. It will make no difference how you vote.”
“True,” the Gatekeeper replied, very gently, the faintest shade of rebuke in his voice. “But that does not change my moral obligation to make this decision with care.”
The Merlin took a deep breath and then said, forced calm in his voice, “I suppose a few moments for thought are not unreasonable.”
“Thank you,” the Gatekeeper said gravely.
Five minutes went by like five thousand years. Molly sagged against me, so frightened she could barely stand.
“Enough,” the Merlin said, finally. “This travesty needs to end.”
“On that point,” the Gatekeeper said, “we agree.” And then he stepped forward to the circle marked on the floor, and smudged it with his boot, breaking the circle. He flicked a gloved hand, and the lock on the chained door sprang open and fell away, followed closely by the chains.
“What is the meaning of this?” the Merlin demanded.
The Gatekeeper ignored him and pushed open the door. One of the Wardens on guard outside stood in front of it, one hand raised as if to knock. He blinked at the Gatekeeper, and then looked over his shoulder and said, “It’s open, sir.”
“Get clear of the door, fool,” barked Ebenezar’s voice. “Get them inside. Hurry, man! They’re right behind us!”
Outside there was an eerie howl and a sudden detonation of thunder that shook the concrete floor. Young people in roomy brown robes began to hurry through the doorway, most of them around Molly’s age or a bit younger. They were led by a young woman with short, curly hair and cheeks that had a dimple even when she wasn’t smiling-Luccio, the commander of the Wardens, in the young body a necromancer had trapped her in. The kids must have been her trainees.
She was followed by more children and a tall, brawny woman with dark skin and short, iron grey hair, helping a lanky young man with a wounded leg. Martha Liberty helped the young man settle to the ground and barked out a command for a medical kit. An old man with braided hair and Native American features brought up the rear, shepherding the last few young wizards ahead of him. “Injun Joe” Listens-to-Wind made sure they were all inside, and then turned and shouted, “I’m closing the way now!”
There were several more howls, and a bell-like chime of steel. Something hit the wall of the warehouse hard enough to shake dust from the rafters. Then there was a rushing sound of wind that abruptly ended in 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.