“He’s being held prisoner on a ceramic-lined cookie sheet in the oven,” Thomas said. “I figured he couldn’t jigger his way out of a bunch of steel, and it would give him something to think about before we start asking questions.”“That’s an awful thing to do to one of the Little Folk, man,” I said.“I’m planning to start making a pie in front of him.”“Nice.”“Thank you.”

“I glanced up at Thomas. "We've still got Hook, right?""He's being held prisoner on a ceramic-lined cookie sheet in the oven," Thomas said. "I figured he couldn't jigger his way out of a bunch of steel, and it would give him something to think about before we start asking questions.""That's an awful thing to do to one of the Little Folk, man," I said."I'm planning to start making a pie in front of him.""Nice.""Thank you.”

“Why?” I asked him tiredly. “What would it have changed? What could you possibly have said that would have made a difference?”“That I was your brother, Harry,” he said. “That I loved you. That I knew a few things about denying the dark parts of your nature. And that we would get through it.” He put his elblows on his knees and rested his forehead on his hands. “That we’d figure it out. That you weren’t alone.” Stab.Twist.He was right. It was just that simple.”

“Da. This is going very well already."Thomas barked out a laugh. "There are seven of us against the Red King and his thirteen most powerful nobles, and it's going well?"Mouse sneezed."Eight," Thomas corrected himself. He rolled his eyes and said, "And the psycho death faerie makes it nine.""It is like movie," Sanya said, nodding. "Dibs on Legolas.""Are you kidding?" Thomas said. "I'm obviously Legolas. You're . . ." He squinted thoughtfully at Sanya and then at Martin. "Well. He's Boromir and you're clearly Aragorn.""Martin is so dour, he is more like Gimli." Sanya pointed at Susan. "Her sword is much more like Aragorn's.""Aragorn wishes he looked that good," countered Thomas."What about Karrin?" Sanya asked."What--for Gimli?" Thomas mused. "She is fairly--""Finish that sentence, Raith, and we throw down," said Murphy in a calm, level voice."Tough," Thomas said, his expression aggrieved. "I was going to say 'tough.' "As the discussion went on--with Molly's sponsorship, Mouse was lobbying to claim Gimli on the basis of being the shortest, the stoutest, and the hairiest--"Sanya," I said. "Who did I get cast as?""Sam," Sanya said.I blinked at him. "Not . . . Oh, for crying out loud, it was perfectly obvious who I should have been."Sanya shrugged. "It was no contest. They gave Gandalf to your godmother. You got Sam.”

“[Thomas said] "I have my cell phone on me. Try to call before things start exploding.""Maybe this time it'll be different. Maybe I'll work everything out through reason, diplomacy, dialogue, and mutual cooperation."Thomas eyed me.I tried to look wounded. "It could happen.”

“You about done?” I asked him. “I need the table.”“What is it with you people?” Butters groused. “For God’s sake, these are real injuries here.”“There will be more of them than a thousand reluctant physicians could patch up if we don’t get moving,” I said. “Today’s serious business, man.”“How serious?”“Can’t think when it’s been grimmer,” I said. “Freaking waste-of-space vampires, lying around on tables you need to use.”“Useless wizards,” Thomas said, “jumping on enemy guns and accidentally shooting their allies with them.”“Oh,” I said. “That was when I jumped Ace?”He snorted. “Yeah.”

“Thomas grunted. "Might have been smarter for them to have left you alone. Now you know something."I made an exasperated sound. "Yes. Those fools. By trying to kill me, they've revealed their very souls. I have them now."Thomas gave me a steady look. "Being Mab's bitch has made you a pessimist.""I am not a pessimist," I said loftily. "Though that can't last."That made Thomas grin. "Nice.""Thank you.”