• Mab shows Harry how Marcone got abducted.
• Quote

  She tilted her head to one side and stared at me.  “One day, wizard, you will kneel at my feet and ask me to bestow the mantle upon you.”
  “But not today.”
  “No,” Mab said.  “Today you repay me a favor.  Just as I said you would.”

“Have you not seen the signs around you?”  Nicodemus asked.  “Beings acting against their natures?  Creatures behaving in ways that they should not?  The old conventions and customs being cast aside?”
I narrowed my eyes at him.  “You’re talking about the Black Council.”
He tilted his head slightly to one side.  Then his mouth twitched at a corner and he nodded his head very slightly.  “They move in shadows, manipulate puppets.  Some of them may be on your Council, yes.  As good a name as any.”

I turned to face him and sighed.  “I think you’re probably full of crap.  But okay, I’ll bite.  What long term issues?”
“Those surrounding the activities of your Black Council,” Nicodemus said.  “Are you certain you saw evidence of Hellfire in use at the site of the attack on Arctis Tor?”

..."Interesting.  Then the only question is if the contamination is among standing members of our Order or..."  He let the thought trail off and glanced at me, lifting an eyebrow.
I followed the logic to the only other people in possession of any of the coins.  "Someone in the Church," I whispered, with a sick feeling in my stomach.

“Would you believe me if I told you that you and I might have a great many common interests in the future?”

“Why,” I asked him.  “Why would Summer want Marcone taken by the Denarians?  Why would Summer want the Archive under their control?”
The gruff only stared at me for a long moment, but when he spoke I could have sworn that his voice sounded pensive.  Maybe even troubled.  “It is not my place to know such things—or to ask.”

“Tessa and Rosanna,” I said quietly.  “They got their collection of thugs back.  They bailed at just the right moment to ruin your plans, too.”
“Deceitful bitches,” Nicodemus murmured.  “One of them is our own Judas; I was sure of it.”
I lifted my eyebrows.  “What?”
“That’s why I let them handle the more, shall we say, memorable aspects of the Archive’s initiation to our world,” Nicodemus said.  “I suppose now that the child is free, she’ll have some rather unpleasant associations with those two.”
“And you’re telling me this why?”
He shrugged a shoulder.  “It’s somewhat ironic, Dresden, that I can talk to you about this particular aspect of family business.  You’re the only one that I’m sure hasn’t gone over to this new force—this Black Council of yours.”

“Dresden, I truly regret this necessity, but time is growing short.  I must act, and your talents could prove useful.  You’ll see.  Once we’ve cleared some of these well-intentioned idiots out of our way…”

“You gotta think that maybe there’s a matter of balance, here,” he said.  “Maybe one archangel invested his strength in this situation overtly and immediately.  Maybe another one was just quieter about it.  Thinking long-term.  Maybe he already gave you a hand.”

Mab’s head moved slightly with the words, but it was Grimalkin’s mewling voice that actually spoke.  “The Prince of the Host is all pomp and ceremony, and when he moves it is with the thunder of the wings of an army of seraphim, the crash of drums, and the clamor of horns.  The Trumpeter never walks quietly when he can appear in a chorus of light.  The Demon Binder takes tasks upon his own shoulders and solves his problems with his own hands.  But the Watchman…” Mab smiled.  “Of all the archangels, I like him the most.  He is the quiet one.  The subtle one.  The one least known.  And by far the most dangerous.”

“Why?” I demanded.  “Why did you want the Denarians stopped?  Why send the hobs to kill the Archive?  Why recruit me to save the Archive and Marcone in the event that the hobs failed?”
Mab paused, turned, casually showing off the gorgeous curves of her calves, and tilted her head at me.  “Nicodemus and his ilk were clearly in violation of my Accords, and obviously planning to abuse them to further his ambition.  That was reason enough to see his designs disrupted.  And among the Fallen was one with much to answer for to me, personally, for its attack upon my home.”
“The Black Council attack on Arctis Tor,” I said.  “One of them used Hellfire.”
“Mab showed me her snow-white teeth.  “The Watchman and I,” Grimalkin mewled for her, “had a common enemy this day.  The enemy could not be allowed to gain the power represented by the child Archive.”
I frowned and thought of the silver hand that had batted the fallen angel and his master sorceries around as if he’d been a stuffed practice dummy.  “Thorned Namshiel.”
Mab’s eyes flashed with sudden, cold fury and frost literally formed over every surface of the chapel, including upon my own eyelashes.

“The Sight,” she replied calmly.  “Every wizard develops some measure of precognizance as he matures.  It sounds to me as if yours has begun to stir, and has recognized a place that may be of significance to you in the future.”