“Yeah,” I said.

“She might lean on you pretty hard. Try to put you into a box you don’t want to be in. But don’t let her. She can’t take away your will. Even if she can make it seem that way.” He sighed again, but there was bedrock in his voice. “That’s the one thing all these dark beings and powers can’t do. Take away your ability to choose. They can kill you. They can make you do things—but they can’t make you choose to do ’em. They almost always try to lie to you about that. Don’t fall for it.”

“I won’t,” I said. I looked up at him and said, “Thank you, Grandfather.”

He wrinkled up his nose. “Ouch. That doesn’t fit.”

“Grampa,” I said. “Gramps.”

He put his hand against his chest.

I smiled a little. “Sir.”

He nodded at the child. “What will you do with her?”

“What I see fit,” I said, but gently. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t know.”

Both pain and faintly amused resignation showed in his face. “Maybe it is. See you soon, Hoss.”

He got halfway down the stairs before I said, “Sir? Do you want your staff?”

He nodded at me. “You keep it, until I can get you a new blank.”

I nodded back at him. Then I said, “I don’t know what to say.”

His eyes wrinkled up even more heavily at the corners. “Hell, Hoss. Then don’t say anything.” He turned and called over his shoulder, “You get in less trouble that way!”

My grandfather kept going down the stairs, walking with quick, sure strides. He vanished through the doorway of lightning.

I heard steps behind me, and turned to find Murphy standing in the entrance of the temple. Fidelacchius rode over one shoulder, and her P-90 hung from its strap on the other. She looked tired. Her hair was all coming out of its ponytail, strands hanging here and there. She studied my face, smiled slightly, and came down to where I sat.

“Hey,” she said, her voice hushed. “You back?”

“I guess I am.”

“Sanya was worried,” she said, with a little roll of her eyes.

“Oh,” I said. “Well. Tell him not to worry. I’m still here.”

She nodded and stepped closer. “So this is her?”

I nodded, and looked down at the sleeping little girl. Her cheeks were pink. I couldn’t talk.

“She’s beautiful,” Murphy said. “Like her mother.”

I nodded and rolled one tired and complaining shoulder. “She is.”

“Do you want someone else to take her for a minute?”

My arms tightened on the child, and I felt myself turn a little away from her.

“Okay,” Murphy said gently, raising her hands. “Okay.”

I swallowed and realized that I was parched. Starving. And, more than anything, I was weary. Desperately, desolately tired. And the prospect of sleep was terrifying. I turned to look at Murphy and saw the pain on her face as she watched me. “Karrin,” I said. “I’m tired.”

I looked down at the child, a sleepy, warm little presence who had simply accepted what meager shelter and comfort I had been able to offer. And I thought my heart would break. Break more. Because I knew that I couldn’t be what she needed. That I could never give her what she had to have to stand a chance of growing up strong and sane and happy.

Because I had made a deal. If I hadn’t done it, she’d be dead—but because I had, I couldn’t be what she deserved to have.

Never looking away from the little girl’s face, I whispered, “Will you do me a favor?”

“Yes,” Karrin said. Such a simple word, to have so much reassuring mass.

My throat tightened and my vision blurred. It took me two tries to speak. “Please take her to Father Forthill, when we get b-back,” I said. “T-tell him that she needs to disappear. The safest place he has. That I . . .” My voice failed. I took deep breaths and said, “And I don’t need to know where. T-tell him that for me.”

I turned to Murphy and said, “Please?”

She looked at me as if her heart were breaking. But she had a soul of steel, of strength, and her eyes were steady and direct. “Yes.”

I bit my lip.

And, very carefully, I passed my little girl over into her arms. Murphy took her, and didn’t comment about the weight. But then, she wouldn’t.

“God,” I said, not two full seconds later. “Molly. Where is she?”

Murphy looked up at me as she settled down to hold the child. The girl murmured a sleepy complaint, and Murphy rocked her gently to soothe her back to sleep. “Wow. You were really out of it. You didn’t see the helicopter?”

I raked through my memories of the night. “Um. No.”

“After . . .” She glanced at me and then away. “After,” she said more firmly, “Thomas found a landline and made a call. And a navy helicopter landed right out there on the lawn less than an hour later. Lifted him, Molly, and Mouse right out.”

“Mouse?”

Murphy snorted gently. “No one was willing to tell him he couldn’t go with Molly.”

“He takes his work seriously,” I said.

“Apparently.”

“Do we know anything?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Murphy said. “Sanya’s manning the phone in the visitors’ center. We gave Thomas the number before he left.”

“Be honest, Sergeant Murphy,” the Leanansidhe said quietly as she glided back over to me. “You gave the dog the number.”

Murphy eyed her, then looked at me and said defensively, “Thomas seemed to have enough on his mind already.”

I frowned.

“Not like that,” Murphy said sternly. “Ugh. I wouldn’t have let him go with her if he’d seemed . . . all weird.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah. Mouse wouldn’t have, either, would he.”

“He was in no danger of losing control,” my godmother said calmly. “I would never let such a promising prospect be accidentally devoured.”

Sanya appeared, jogging around the lower end of the pyramid from its far side. Esperacchius hung at his side—and Amoracchius, still in its sheath on Susan’s white leather belt, hung from his shoulder.

I stared at the belt for a moment.

It hurt.

Sanya came chugging up the stairs, moving lightly for a big guy with so much muscle. He gave my godmother a pleasant smile, one hand checking to be sure that Amoracchius was still on his shoulder.

“Next time,” Lea murmured.

“I think not,” Sanya said, beaming. He turned to me. “Thomas called. He seemed surprised it was me. Molly is on navy cruiser on maneuvers in Gulf of Mexico. She will be fine.”

I whistled. “How did . . . ?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Lara?” Murphy asked quietly.

“Got to be,” I answered.

“Lara has enough clout to get a navy chopper sent into another country’s airspace for an extraction?” Murphy kept on rocking Maggie as she spoke, seemingly unaware that she was still doing it. “That’s . . . scary.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe she sang ‘Happy Birthday, Mister President.’ ”

“Not to be rude,” Sanya said, “but I saw some people come up road in car and drive away very fast. Now would be a good time to . . .” He glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “Who left that lightning door there?”

“I arranged that,” Lea said lightly. “It will take you directly back to Chicago.”

“How’d you manage that?” I asked.

The Leanansidhe smoothed her gown, a hungry little smile on her lips, and folded her hands primly in her lap. “I . . . negotiated with its creator. Aggressively.”

I made a choking sound.

“After all, your quest must be completed, my child,” my godmother said. “Maggie must be made safe. And while I found the swim bracing, I thought it might not be safe for her. I’m given to understand that the little ones are quite fragile.”

“Okay,” I said. “I . . .” I looked back up at the temple. “I can’t just leave her there.”

“Will you take her back to Chicago, child?” my godmother asked. “Allow your police to ask many questions? Perhaps slip her into your own grave at Graceland Boneyard, and cover her with dirt?”

“I can’t just leave her,” I said.

The Leanansidhe looked at me and shook her head. Her expression was . . . less predatory than it could have been, even if it wasn’t precisely gentle. “Go. I will see to the child’s mother.” She lifted her hand to forestall my skeptical reply. “With all the honor and respect you would wish to bestow yourself, my godson. And I will take you to visit when you desire. You have my word.”