Goodbye Concurrent with the end of Changes

I hung up the phone on Dresden and stared at it for a moment.

Damn.

And I thought I was a hard case.

Only goes to show you that not only do principles get you raked over the coals, they make you lay, light, and rake them for yourself. A
man should live his life for more practical things.

But I had to respect him a little. He believed goofball things about the world, but he meant it.

I went to the closet, opened the safe, and removed my most dangerous weapon, my laptop. It had been secured with absolutely every
software and hardware precaution I could arrange, all the most up-to-date surveillance countermeasures that were available. It was
impregnable. For the next few weeks. Then someone would do something clever and I’d have to update.

I arranged for travel to Chicago. I arranged for hardware to be waiting for me.

I’d already figured my approach for Dresden as a potential target. He was too annoying for words, and too powerful to ignore. Sooner
or later, someone was going to contract him. I just hadn’t expected him to do it himself.

I got my coat and walked out of my bedroom in the safehouse.

The Archive was standing in the hallway outside my room, between me and the door.

She was at that awkward age, where if I’d actually been the single father I was being paid to imitate, I’d have been getting worried
about uncomfortable conversations. But she wasn’t a pubescent girl. She was the Archive, the living memory of humanity, and one of
the most powerful beings on the planet.

And she was furious.

Dresden had named her Ivy. And she had clung to it like a teddy bear.

I stopped and faced her. I had a gun in the small of my back, another in an ankle holster. I’d store them in a secured compartment in
the car before I went into the airport. Not that the gendarmes would appreciate the distinction if I was caught with them.

If the Archive decided to come at me, I doubted they’d do me much good.

She stared at me. A child who I’d been attending since shortly after she could walk. Who I’d watched grow up. Who sometimes had
nightmares. Who sometimes got sick.

I’d taken care of her.

If I’d been her father, and not a hired driver and gun, that look would have broken something small and fragile, way down inside.

She knew.

“In the chest, Kincaid,” Ivy said.

If you’re shooting at someone, you’ve already decided to kill him. There’s no reason to shoot him anywhere other than the head, if
you can. And I can.

She took a step toward me, maybe ninety pounds of furious, tearful eyes and newly-filled-out lips pulled away from a snarl. “In the
chest. Or face me.”

I thought about asking her why. But in the end, it didn’t really matter. She had the power to stop me, for good. And she would use it if
I didn’t comply. A chest shot might give the wizard time to throw a death curse at me, if he changed his mind.

It was a less risky proposition than going up against the Archive herself, here, now.

I gave her a small bow.

She returned it. Then she stepped aside, so that I could walk to the door.

“I’ll be back in two days,” I said.

“Kincaid,” Ivy said quietly.

I paused at the door.

“He’s my only other friend,” she said.

I looked back at her.

All the knowledge of humanity in once place. But she still couldn’t keep the schoolgirl stockings from rumpling by herself. She had
power and ageless wisdom, but she was still a child. Tears stained her cheeks.

“My feet reach the pedals, now,” she said. “Your services are no longer required.”

For a moment, it was hard to move.

But I owed the wizard. And I repay what is rightfully owed.

Spend enough time on this earth, and that’s all that makes sense.

It was only a job, I told myself.

I turned my back on the little girl and left to kill the wizard.

Never did say goodbye.