FIC: other things the road to hell is paved with [19/?]: lucia

lucia_tanaka

FIC: other things the road to hell is paved with [19/?]

Jan 14, 2011 17:20

lightgetsin for talking me off the metaphorical ledge about the fic this week. Twice.

All was not lost. I had to remember that. It was just that the cards were stacked against me.

The White Council never liked me, never did anything about Morgan's obsessive, crooked cop routine, never took kindly to the fact I'd broken the First Law and escaped execution. I avoided every Council meeting that had come up since I was sixteen, even when they were in my neck of the woods. Now they were calling on me personally and, according to Ebenezar, with the implicit purpose of excommunicating me to avoid conflict with the Red Court.

My gut reaction was to tell them where they could shove their excommunication, but I made myself stop and calm down. As much as I hated the Council, I was a wizard, all the way through, and I'd never really considered they could turn around and say otherwise. I'd earned my stole and it was mine. I wasn't in the mood to loose anything else to this war with Bianca.

I sagged back in John's chair, turned it on to massage up and down my back, and thought about where I stood.

Had I violated any rules? None of the Laws-- vampires didn't count on that front. I hadn't revealed the Council's existence to any mundanes, though John was extrapolating in dangerous ways. And with the Accords...

My copy had been lost in the fire, and I'd never actually sat down and read through the entire thing, but I did know someone who had.

I went out, purchased the latest three issues of Playboy and FHM, and stacked them on the dresser, setting Bob's skull on top.

His eyelights came on dreamily. "Oooh, what's this, Harry?"

"Payment," I said. "I need your expertise on the Unseelie Accords." I sat down on the bed facing him and explained about Eb's warning.

"Yowch. Hm. You want to know where you stand legally..." He hemmed and hawed for a moment, thinking. "You never started any fights and only engaged in combat when the vampires attacked you, so you can't be said to have instigated anything."

"But...?" Because I could tell there was a 'but' on the way.

"You enabled a mortal to instigate conflict. Johnny is acting under your advisement and arguably your supervision. You could be cast as an accomplice by the Red Court."

That was true enough. It would be easy to argue that without me, none of this would have happened, and the Red Court would have peacefully coexisted with the supernatural community and unsuspecting mortals of the city. Which was a bold-faced lie because Bianca would have been snagging up humans as food if John and I didn't hold off her power plays. Also, John claimed he had another magical consultant in mind in case I turned him down, but I had no way of proving that without bringing John in to testify. Which would require telling him about the Council, which would be treason, and I was back at square one. Ugh.

The problem was I didn't have a head for legalese. This was the sort of thing I left to John, who seemed to get a perverse thrill out of finding loopholes and exploiting the grey area between legal and illegal. I needed that talent and an actual copy of the Accords.

At dinner, I sat next to John as he shared his reports on the Reds' movement with me. There was wine and pasta with pink vodka sauce and candlelight, which was probably very romantic for the average person, but was a regular meal for us. Shop talk and a date-like atmosphere. Just another night with John.

I was short on the shop talk though and eventually John noticed. He lounged in his chair, watching me spin linguine around my fork without eating. "You're quiet," he observed. His voice was hushed, reserved. It'd been like that a lot lately, ever since I broke down on him.

"Hm," I hummed noncommittally.

"Harry, I know you're still getting back on your feet after the apartment fire. You could take some time off. I can handle things until you're ready."

I took a gulp of wine, which didn't have the kick I wanted. It'd probably be taken as a bad sign if I asked for a whiskey sour though. The minibar across the room was practically calling my name... "Not that. Something else is going on."

He raised his eyebrows at me, not saying anything, but silently bidding me to go on.

"I might..." I put my fork down, because I wasn't hungry anymore. "After Christmas, I might..." I leaned my face into one of my hands, rubbing my brow. "I have this thing I have to do, and it's important, and..." I might be beheaded or handed off to Bianca, trussed up with a bow. "I'm not sure if-- when I'll be back."

"That's not at all suspicious." His somber expression belied the light tone.

"I can't tell you," I said quietly, like Morgan might be lurking in the shadows, waiting with his sword at the ready. "It's trouble on my end of things."

John leaned on the table and put his hand on my arm, gaze boring into me, reading me. "You're scared. Like you were the night of the gala. When I asked about your Laws."

I pushed my chair out and got up. Letting him do this, find the answers he wanted in my face, was only going to complicate things further. "Don't, John."

"No." He got up and followed me. I made a game attempt to get to the hallway before he could catch up, but yelped when I was jerked back suddenly. I glanced back to see he'd hooked two fingers into one of the belt loops of my jeans to stop me. Who does that? "That night, you said you'd be killed. There's a threat to your life and you want me to sit aside and ignore it?"

I smacked his hand away and turned to face him. "Yeah, I do. If you get more involved, the situation will get worse."

He stepped in close, meeting my glare with his own. "Tell me why."

"Because it's about you. The fact I've already told you so much, that's going to bite me here." He started to snap back, and I put a finger on his mouth. It instantly hushed him, his eyes widening. I doubted it would last, but for now I was totally willing to take advantage of the fact physicality on my part startled him. "I just have to argue that I didn't break any rules and I'll be fine."

He grabbed my hand and pulled it away from his face. I noticed absently he didn't let go afterward, his hand warm and tight around mine. "And if not, you'll die?"

I nodded. "That's kind of how it works in this case."

John shook his head. "No. Absolutely not. You want me to entrust your life to what sounds like a legal battle. I have phenomenal faith in your abilities, Harry, but law is not an area of your expertise."

"Well, that sucks for you," I said and made to leave again.

He didn't let go though, holding fast. "There is a governing body that you're meant to keep secret from non-magical humans that enforces certain Laws over the use of magic. Overt acknowledgement of magic isn't illegal-- you advertise in the yellow pages, after all. Nor is discussing the details of magic with non-magical humans, or else you would not have explained so much when you designed my office's protections. That leaves our business with the Margravine."

"John, stop," I pleaded, trying in earnest to break his grip.

He stepped forward and grabbed me by the shoulder, holding me still as he went on. "There is a distinction between the help you gave me against the Margravine and the office design. You treated the prospect of taking the Red Court on as preposterous. Obviously your governing body must be aware of the Red Court feasting on innocents, but actual confrontation wasn't something you considered. Now why is that." It wasn't a question, merely him thinking aloud. I waited for him to go on because Hell's bells, he was good. As much as I was afraid of him getting me in further trouble just by knowing too much, it was a little riveting to see how that rational, logical mind sorted things out.

I wasn't disappointed. He kept going. "An obvious answer is that this governing body isn't powerful enough to enforce law on the vampires, but that doesn't seem likely. You and I have been doing a fine job ourselves with my resources, and this group threatening you must have more power than I do. You never feared me, but this group makes you nervous. You see them as more dangerous than I am."

"Kind of," I said. "They... they wanted to kill me before. Not without reason, I guess."

His face got hard and I could see him mark the Council on his list of enemies right then, simply because they'd tried to take me out and would try again. "You weren't supposed to tell me how to handle the Red Court. No, no," he shook his head. "Knowledge itself isn't the issue here. The fact something came from the knowledge..." Click-click-click went the details, lining up in John head. "You need to prove this situation with the Margravine isn't your fault, because instigating conflict is illegal."

"You're terrifying sometimes, did you know that?" I just stared at him because holy shit. He wasn't completely correct, but close enough it was scary.

"I'm correct, then?"

"I..." I pressed my lips together and mutely nodded.

He took a breath and seemed to relax somewhat. Not knowing what was going on really bothered him, I think, and having worked it out was a relief. "Well, then you definitely won't be doing this alone. If the burden of proof is on you to show you're innocent, you'll need me."

"I can't, John." I looked down at our feet instead of at him, hoping that would help me refuse him. "If you know this, you'll be in as much danger as I am."

"Harry. Harry." One of his hands curled around my neck, tilting it back so I'd meet his gaze again. I wondered if he was through respecting my personal space anymore. "I think you have forgotten who I am. I run the drugs, the books, the numbers, the guns-- every vice trade worth anything. Also, I have a vampiress who's made it her mission to drink me dry." He grinned faintly, reassuringly. "One more enemy is not going to make my life that much harder."

"This is different," I insisted.

"Tell me why."

"Could you... stop? Quit the whole reasonable thing? It's really annoying." It wasn't helping that he was rubbing his thumb in little circles against the skin under my ear, running over my hairline. It was making me want to tense up and relax all at once. Very disorienting.

"Help me understand, Harry. Please." His eyes bored into mine imploringly. "I will do everything in my power to protect you from these people, but I have to know what exactly I'm up against."

"It's treason," I said helplessly.

"I assure you, I am excellent at keeping secrets."

I just wanted to protect him. Yeah, I was scared for my own skin, but being afraid of Council retribution was something I was very much accustomed to. I had no idea what they'd do with him, if they decided he knew too much. It wasn't something wizards talked about, as telling the mundanes about the Council just wasn't done. By bringing up the topic, you were practically asking for a Warden investigation. Mundanes weren't meant to know. Hell's bells, plenty of magical mortals didn't know about the Council. The world was too big and it's not like the Senior Council held open houses. I would bet a lot of money that the first most people heard of the Council was from a Warden warning young practitioners to toe the line or risk execution.

But I didn't want to die and John was trying desperately to help me.

I was not used to having someone to rely on.

I licked my lips and whispered, "It's a long story."

"I'll make us some coffee."

I let him back me into the kitchen and usher me into one of the chairs around the island. I made him clear out the guards lurking around, not wanting anyone else to overhear. This was stuff that wasn't going to show up on the Outfit's curriculum.

John gave me a hazelnut thing with a dash of nutmeg on top. He stuck to his usual latte.

I took a sip, swiped the foam off my lips with my tongue, then said, "They're called the White Council."

It took a while, but I explained the Council, the organization that appointed itself as lawmaker and policing force for mortal use of the Art. I explained about the Wardens, about Morgan being eternally suspicious of me and convinced of my status as a warlock. I finally told him about Morgan's threats to me, about investigation and possible censure.

I told John about the Accords, as much as I could with my limited knowledge of them, the loose treaty that bound so many factions of the supernatural world. The rules that had to be followed, the fact it entreated each signatory to take care of the problems in their own domain, and how I might be in danger of censure or expulsion is the Accords were interpreted in a certain light.

Around then, John gave me another coffee, something a bit more Irish, if you get my meaning. "I'll need to see a copy," he said.

"Mine was lost in the fire, but..." I shrugged. "I'll see what I can do."

"You say you don't think you've broken any of the rules of these Accords?"

"Yeah. It might not matter, though." I looked down at the drink in my hands, stirring it absentmindedly. "The White Council's never liked me. A lot of them think I should've..." I swallowed thickly. "I'm going to tell you something. It's not... anything I've told anyone before, not the details. It's not a secret, but I don't like talking about it. But it's important if you're going to try to help, I guess. And you should probably know anyway.

"All right," he murmured evenly. When I went quiet, he didn't push, just waiting for me.

I took a deep breath. "My mother died when I was born. And my father had a brain aneurysm when I was six, so I ended up in the system for a while." John nodded, like he knew this. It was probably in whatever records he'd dug up about me, come to think of it. "Then I was adopted by a wizard, Justin DuMorne."

So I told him everything. Justin, Elaine, my home, my training. I meant to keep it brief, but details kept leaking in before I could stop them. How I trusted Justin, how I fell in giddy teenage love with Elaine, the harshness of my lessons. The shock of betrayal, escaping Justin's enthrallment even as I lost Elaine to his will. He Who Walks Behind stalking me. My stupid deal with my Godmother. Banishing the Walker and killing Justin and burning down my home and my innocence with it.

My trial, being placed under the Doom of Damocles, and my parole officer Warden. Then meeting Ebenezar. That was easier to talk about. Long days doing honest work, then studying magic into the evenings, learning to respect the power I had and how it should be used.

Somehow, over the course of the night, the mugs were pushed aside and I ended up laying half on the island, my head on my arms. John's hand returned to the back of my neck, brushing through my hair in a way that left me oddly tranquil after having confessed my life story to him. The only worry I had was why he hadn't reacted in any other way to all of it.

I shifted so I could look at him over the fold of my arms. "Say something, John."

He hummed softly, continuing to soothe me for a moment. "Well... I admit your issues with authority make much more sense now, as well as your resolute autonomy."

I snorted. "See if I ever bare my soul for you again."

"You bared your soul the first time we met."

"No," I corrected, "you tricked me into letting you see it. Totally different."

"My apologies." He let go of my neck, pulling away with some reluctance. "It is very late and you're clearly tired. Go to sleep, we'll figure out a plan of action in the morning."

Part of me didn't want to. I felt... I don't know. Every breath was a little difficult after reliving all those emotions. I would've been perfectly happy to sleep with his hand in my hair, like that presence would fend off the nightmares about Justin and the Walker I was sure to have after talking about them. But there was no way I could ask him for that. So I nodded and went to my room, stripping out of my clothes, falling on the bed, and hoping for a restful night.

My copy of the Accords was kindling, and John insisted he needed a copy if he was going to keep my ass out of the proverbial fire. It was harder to find one than I expected. Bock's place was fresh out when I checked. I went to Mac to see if he'd loan me his, but I took his silent, thousand-yard stare as a no.

Bob offered to recite the entire thing to me in exchange for a night out on the town, but I turned him down. He'd been extra annoying since meeting John and I didn't want to know what he'd do if set loose. And besides, I didn't want to copy the Accords down by hand.

I broke down and called John towards the end of office hours. "Meet me at the Blackstone Library. And, uh..." I didn't want him to scare anyone. "Can you not be in your suit?"

"I can dress like a civilian."

"You are a civilian."

He snorted. "Former military, Harry."

They'd left that out of the rumor mills and the endless write-ups in Entrepreneur Magazine. "I didn't know that."

"But now you do," he said in that low, rumbling tone he only used when talking to me. "We certainly are learning about each other, aren't we?"

"Can we not flirt right now?" I said, even as I started grinning like an idiot. "My imminent death is kind of a turn-off."

"Is that so? My, I always assumed you found a certain thrill in near-death experiences. It would explain so much about your lifestyle."

Standing at a payphone getting hit on by the local Don. Average day in my life now. "You going to be here or am I getting stood up?"

"I wouldn't dream of standing you up. It would only exacerbate your hard-to-get routine."

"You like a challenge," I reminded him cheekily.

"I do. I have something to see to, then I'll meet you. Give me an hour."

"Bring something to take notes with." I tried not to feel disappointed when he ended the call. We really had a rhythm. It was nice to get that rapport going. Nice, and gratifying. Flattery would get him nowhere, but the game was still fun to play.

I leaned against one of the columns in front of Blackstone as I waited, tucked up in my borrowed suede jacket. The library was one of the oldest ones in the city, from way back in the 1900s, and had Classical architecture with a bold white facade and Greek-style columns. The whole place felt old and strong, if a bit outdated. The rotunda lobby was large and impressive, but the color scheme was very Fifties and probably in need of a fresh coat of paint. It was a landmark though, so that wasn't likely to happen. That said, it was sort of homey. It felt like an actual library, unlike the palatial Harold Washington Center south of the Loop. Blackstone wasn't the prettiest building in Chicago, but it had it where it counted.

John strolled over to me in blue jeans and a sweater, utterly normal. Cujo shadowed him, and I'd never seen him out of a suit until that moment. The lug had on a wool overcoat to ward off the winter chill, and it made him look even more formal, albeit in a more comfortable way. He looked less like a monkey in a suit and more like a respectable guy. Still broad and powerful, but no longer reading as an obvious goon. Hell, he might've had John outdressed a little. Which was weird.

"Afternoon, Harry," John greeted me mildly, a smile in his eyes if not on his lips.

"Hi, John. Cujo. So," I scratched the back of my neck, which didn't really work with John's gloves on. "I couldn't get a copy of the Accords. No one had one to spare. But we can find one here."

"Filed under fairy tales?" Hendricks asked.

"We call those cautionary tales in my neighborhood, pal. But no. Somewhere else. Back room of sorts." I nodded to the doors. "I'll show you. C'mon."

John kept an easy pace with me, but Cujo lagged behind a little. I was surprised to find his gaze wandering the shelves as we walked. Something in the non-fiction section had his eye.

Eventually John turned to Cujo and said, "Mr. Hendricks, if you'd like--"

Hendricks looked almost bashful. "Nah, I'm good. Sorry, boss."

John smiled at him, kind and empathetic. "Please, Mr. Hendricks. I'm certain we'll be fine without you for a few moments. Should we run into trouble, Mr. Dresden should be able to guard me for a while." He glanced sideways at me. "Worst comes to pass, he could just burn the building down."

I scoffed. "That was once!"

"I've done a thorough background check on you, Harry. Don't fib."

I threw my hands into the air and looked to Cujo for back-up. He was busy perving over the books. Useless. "You act like my response to everything is fire. It's not like it's linear thinking for me."

John got even more smug. One of these days I was going to smack the smile off his face, I thought, then immediately got a full-body flash of guilt. John looked surprised, so I was sure it'd shown on my face. He stared at me for a moment, then told Hendricks, "We'll meet up with you shortly."

Cujo actually shuffled his feet for a moment before wandering away. John watched him go, a paternal, indulgent set to his face. I wondered what I didn't know about them. "What's with him?"

"Another time. Shall we?" He put a hand on my arm and I sighed, leading him on. He didn't remark on my... moment, there, and I was grateful. It was a shock to me too. After telling him everything that made me tick and accepting that what we were doing was undoubtedly flirting, it wasn't okay to entertain thoughts like that. Something changed.

I took us to a shadowy back corner of the library, where the tables had a thin layer of dust on them and the books always remained on their shelves. People didn't walk back here when browsing. The reason why slowly wrapped itself around John's mind. He started to fall out of step with me, looking dazed. I reached back and caught the front of his shirt, pulling him along. "Come on."

"Harry, what is this?" His voice sounded drowsy, like it was pushing through a layer of something to get through.

"Minor veil. You ever read Douglas Adams?" He shook his head slowly, frowning deeply as we moved deeper into the veil. "Well, there's this thing from his books, a Somebody Else's Problem field. You can hide things with it. The thing you're hiding is there, and your mind knows it's there. But the field makes you think it's not important, that you don't need to pay attention to the thing. You could look right at it and not really see it."

"Does it always induce headaches?"

"Sorry, just give it a second. Once you see the door, you'll be fine." I could dispel the veil. I knew where it was and while it was subtle, strong work, veils were easy to break through once you knew about them. But walking into someone else's domain and shattering their careful magic was kind of like tracking mud into a friend's house when visiting and putting your feet up on the chairs. Not polite.

"What door?" John sounded genuinely pained.

I turned and grabbed his shoulders, directing him to our destination. I caught his hand, unrolled the fist it'd twisted into, and pressed his palm to a old, ornate yew door. It was carved with various sigils and runes, a large yantra in the center. As soon as John's skin made contact with the lines of the yantra, his face relaxed, his tightly-shut eyes opening like the pain had never been there. He peered at the door, taking it in.

"That door," I answered finally.

"Yes, I'd noticed, thank you." He squared his shoulders, composure restored with one languid shrug. "That was unpleasant."

"Yeah, sorry. But you wanted a copy of the Accords to look at." I opened the door for him and bowed slightly. "Welcome to the supernatural branch of the Chicago Library System."

I have no idea when the room was set up. It was one of those word of mouth things in the city, like Mac's pub. It had just always been there. It wasn't a large room, but it used the space well. The shelves were tall and set close together to hold the maximum amount of literature possible. It wasn't as well-kept as the rest of the building, probably because it was so closed off. With no windows and thus no airflow, it smelled dusty.

A elderly woman sat behind a desk and gave me a severe look as I let John in. "Mr. Dresden," she said, contempt clear in her voice.

I winced. I'd avoided the library for years for... um. Certain very good reasons. I was hoping Mz. Krentz had been replaced by someone who wouldn't recognize me on sight. "Ma'am. We won't be long, just need to look at the Unseelie Accords."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Do you."

I gave her a friendly smile, then pretty much shoved John into an aisle of shelves, eager to get both of us out of her sight. "Hell's bells, memory like an elephant."

"Something I should know?"

"No. Don't worry about it. Let's just find the Accords..." I started scanning the shelves, reading the spines of each book.

"What would it be under?" John started searching the shelf behind me.

"Complicated... Probably not under anything. They try to organize by subject or author, but most of the stuff here doesn't have a confirmed authorship. If you see books on treaties or the Fae, that'd be the place for it."

I slunk around the room, running my fingers along the books as I hunted for what we were looking for. John helped, but seemed to be getting distracted by all the reading material on offer. More than once I spotted him about to pull a tome from the wall before visibly quashing his curiosity. I made a note to bring him back sometime. Maybe he'd like to see some informed literature on the supernatural world.

The Accords turned up in the section about the Fae and their deals, next to a slim book about phrases and tricks to look out for when bartering with faeries. I handed it off to John who wasted no time finding a reading table and starting in on it with his fancy fountain pen and a blank legal pad.

I stood around watching for a moment. "So, um."

"Working," John said curtly, jotting notes.

"Okay." I tapped my foot, trying not to look over my shoulder. I could feel Mz. Krentz's gaze boring into me from behind. "I'm... gonna go check on Cujo."

"I assumed you would," John murmured and waved me off in that bossy, superior way he had. I eyerolled at him even though he didn't see it. It was a good thing I knew he wasn't trying to be an asshole and didn't hold his little habits against him. I'm generous like that.

Upon finding him, Hendricks glared at me. "You left him alone?"

"He's behind a veil, chill. You're getting worse than him." I leaned on the shelf and eyed the stack of books tucked into Cujo's arm. "Descartes, Hume, Kierkegaard... What're those for?"

Cujo shrugged. "Dunno. Like them, I guess. Early existentialists more than Cartesians, but it's good to get background, right?"

"I have no idea what you just said," I admitted.

"Philosophy, Dresden. Christ." He shook his head and started putting the books back. "Never-fucking-mind."

"Whoa, whoa, hey. If that's your thing, go for it?" I averted my gaze as Hendricks suddenly looked me dead in the eye. "Find your bliss, or however the phrase goes."

"Nah. Too busy anyway."

I had the idea this was the thing I was missing eariler when John and Hendricks did their whole pretending to talk about one thing when really talking about something else routine. So Hendricks wanted to broaden his horizons but felt beholden to his job. Made sense, he really was almost as protective as John himself. That was to be expected when you worked in close proximity with the Chicago Don for long periods of time. He monopolized you. I'm speaking from experience here.

But I didn't think John would mind Hendricks branching out. That odd, fond look he'd given Hendricks before was more blatantly obvious than John tended to be in public. Even I'd caught it, and I have it on good authority I miss signs like that most of the time.

Oh, stars, maybe I was supposed to catch that? Maybe I was supposed to talk to Cujo?

I couldn't decide if John's communication skills were terrible or amazing. Could go either way, that one.

"I don't think so. I mean," I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly, "you're John's right hand guy and he needs you for his enforcing and all, but how long do you spend just sitting in the office when he does paperwork or meetings? They got night classes and I know a werewolf who takes his gen eds on the internet. You got internet at John's office, right?"

Cujo gave me a long, incredulous stare. "Yeah, Dresden, we got internet."

I nodded quickly. "Well, good, see... the option's there, is all I'm saying." Where was one of the Alphas when I needed them? I had no idea what I was talking about. "I'm just... going to check on John now."

I sauntered up behind him, noticing he had four pages of notes already. Man worked fast. "I hate you," I told him, leaning over his shoulder to watch him work.

"What did Mr. Hendricks say?"

"It's Hendricks. I can never get a read on him. Hey, tell me next time you're going to use me as a pawn in your mental game of chess?"

John smiled secretively. "A pawn? Harry, give yourself credit."

"Rook?"

"Knight, I think. Are they not known for their erratic movements and devastating, unpredictable strikes?" He abruptly shut the book. "I need to take this with me."

I glanced over at the attendant. "Uh. No. Can't."

"Is there a rule that prevents these books from being checked out?"

"No, more like a rule that prevents me from checking them out. It's a long story," I muttered.

John stood up and gave me a look, then went to the desk. I flailed out, trying to catch his sleeve, stop him, but he sidestepped out of my reach.

"Excuse me." He said politely at Mz. Krentz. "If I may bother you a moment. Why is it Mr. Dresden cannot borrow a copy of the Accords from this library?"

Mz. Krentz glared over her half-moon glasses up at John, face sourly pulled into a frown. "Outstanding fees."

John arched an eyebrow. "Outstanding fees?"

Mz. Krentz grabbed a file folder from the corner of her desk and flipped it open, checking it. "Two hundred seventy six dollars and sixty cents."

John didn't react at all, his face completely blank. He didn't even blink for several seconds, then did once, very slowly. "I see." He started to turn towards me, mouth opening, then he stopped and shook his head. "Nevermind." He pulled a wallet out of his back pocket and put three large bills on the desk. "Please, keep the change. Consider it a donation."

"Thank you," Mz. Krentz said, snatching the bills up and stashing them away under her desk. "Have it back in two weeks, please."

"Of course. Harry?" John picked up the Accords and beckoned me to him. I shuffled over, resisting the urge to open a gate to the Nevernever and disappear.

To his credit, John managed to not say anything until dinner several hours later, when he suddenly dropped his silverware and ran both hands through his hair. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. Over two hundred dollars, how exactly did you do that?"

I flushed bright red. "You... take out a few books, forget to return them for a few months, then let them just sit on your bookshelf for a few years?"

John Marcone doesn't boggle much, as few things truly took him off-guard. I'd managed to find something that did, it seemed. "You're amazing," he said earnestly. "You are a singular, remarkable man."

"Anyway, all those books are kind of... gone... now." I cleared my throat. "Anyway, how about those Accords, huh?"

"I've received smaller payments from my protection rackets."

"Hey!" I waved a fork at him. "You got my apartment burned down! No making fun of me, scumbag!"

That quieted him. Even if he did spend the rest of the night mumbling, 'Twenty cents a day, twenty, and he managed that. Mother of Christ,' under his breath.

That was fine. I liked surprising him.

Chapter Twenty

Originally posted at DW. Comment here or there. DW comments:

fic.other things the road to hell, fic, dresden omfg