Senses Maeve

Lily closed her eyes and folded her hands on her lap, her expression relaxing into one of deep concentration. I could feel the subtle stir of energy around her.
My stomach rumbled. I asked Mac to whip me up a steak sandwich and settled down to wait.
It didn't take long. My sandwich wasn't halfway done when Mouse let out a sudden, rumbling growl of warning, and the temperature in the bar dropped about ten degrees. The whirling ceiling fans let out mechanical moans of protest and spun faster. Then the door opened and let in sunlight made wan by a patch of dreary grey clouds. The light cast a slender black silhouette.
Fix's eyes narrowed. His hands slid casually out of sight beneath the table, and he said, "Oh. Her"
The young woman who entered the bar could have been Lily's sister. She had the same exotic beauty, the same canted, feline eyes, the same pale, flawless skin. But this one's hair was worn in long, ragged strands of varying lengths, like a Raggedy Ann doll, each one dyed a slightly different color from frozen seas-pale blues and greens, as though each had borrowed its color from a different glacier. Her eyes were a cold, brilliant shade of green, almost entirely darkened by pupils dilated as though with drugs or arousal. A slender silver hoop gleamed at one side of her nose, and a collar of black leather studded with silver snowflakes encircled the graceful line of her slender throat. She wore sandals and cut-off blue jean shorts-very cut-off, and very tight. A tight, white T-shirt strained across her chest, and read, in pale blue letters stretched into intriguing curves, "YOUR BOYFRIEND WANTS ME."
She prowled across the room to us, all hips and lips and fascinating eyes, looking far too young to move with such wanton sensuality. I knew better. She could have been a century old. She chose to look the way she did because of what she was: the Winter Lady, youngest Queen of the Un-seelie Court, Mab's understudy in wickedness and power. When she walked by the flowers that had bloomed in Lily's presence, they froze over, withered, and died. She gave them no more notice than Lily had.
"Harry Dresden," she said, her voice low, lulling, and sweet.
And I said, "Hello, Maeve."


Proven Guilty Chapter 19, Page 134-135