“No,” I said calmly. “I’ve been taking in the sweet Chicago summer. Didn’t you notice?”
That seemed to rattle her cage a little. Ilyana glanced toward the nearest wall, her expression disturbed. Sure, as a young Warden, she’d seen some things. But even a month later, the remnants of the Battle of Chicago were horrific. I tried to avoid going out into them.
“There have been many members of the substandard magical community visiting,” she said stiffly.
“There’s a lot of people hurting,” I said. “A lot of people scared. A lot of people hungry. A lot of people without shelter. We’re helping each other out.”
“Is that your plan?” she demanded. “To obligate them to you and subvert them for your own ends?”
“Okey dokey.” I sighed. “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to stand in my own damned home and take this from anyone. Ilyana, you’re running at about a nine on the psycho scale. If you want this to stay friendly, I’d like you to dial it down to maybe a six.”
Ilyana’s hand went to her sword. “You heard him,” she said to Carlos. “He threatened us.”
Ramirez put his hand over Ilyana’s, preventing her from drawing the enchanted blade, and gave me a half-weary, half-exasperated look. “Dresden, for the love of God.”
I held up my hands guilelessly. “You heard her, Carlos. I’m out. I don’t have to be a team player anymore.”
“My God,” Ramirez said, blowing out a breath. “You actually think you were a team player.”
I waggled a hand. “Relatively, sure.”
He shook his head. “We’re going to be coming by once a month or so. We won’t be announcing ourselves. I’ll expect you to make time to talk to us when we do.”
“Warlock protocol,” I noted.
“That’s how it is,” Ramirez said. “Though with a couple of notable exceptions”—he glanced at Ilyana—“not even the Wardens think you’re going to be getting up to any mischief for a while.”
“Heh,” I said. “Yeah. You know me, Carlos.”
“I did once,” he said.
I nodded. I paused to visibly consider. Then I looked up, smiled pleasantly, and told him, “No.”
He went still.
“What?” Ilyana asked, disbelievingly.
“No,” I repeated calmly. “See, I’m not just some schmuck you can kick around like a wounded dog. I’m not some random two-bit talent that has to roll over for you. This isn’t Council territory. It’s Winter. I’m the Winter Knight. This is my home, rightfully won at arms. You want to visit me, Carlos, fine. You call ahead. Like a proper guest.”
There was a long silence.
“Youdare—” Ilyana began.
Ramirez silenced her with a look.
She fumed.
Carlos turned slowly to me and spoke softly. “What are you doing, Harry?”
“It’s called establishing boundaries,” I said. “It’s healthy. You should read up.”
“Take him now!” Ilyana snapped to Ramirez.
“We’re standing in Merlin’s fortress,” Ramirez told her, “and its capabilities are not in our control. Dresden is one of the top ten or twenty most powerful wizards on the planet. And he’s facing us with a Valkyrie backing him up. Even if it was the right procedure to follow, it would be suicide.”
“I’d probably just throw you out the first time,” I said. “But you wouldn’t be welcome back. The White Council can show basic courtesy and respect. I’ll be happy to do the same. But I’m not the Council’s whipping boy anymore, Warden Ramirez. And we’re not going to pretend that I am.”
Carlos thumped his cane down a couple of times, thoughtfully. “Suppose the Council decides to take issue with this decision, Harry?”
