Death Curse: Chapter 7
Title: Death Curse
Rating: Work-safe!
Book or TV verse: Book verse. I haven't seen the show
Summary: The problem with vampires who are also practitioners of magic, is well, that they are practitioners, with all that entails. Has Harry bitten off more than he can chew? Set between White Night and Small Favor. Spoilers up to SF.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Jim Butcher, I'm just playing in his sandbox and hoping no one sends lawyers after me.
Chapter 6
*****
I was feeling both better and worse by the time night started to fall. Better, in that I was more alert than before, and worse, in that, well, I felt like I had taken the worst beating of my life. I'd started shivering again sometime in the evening, and no matter how many blankets Molly piled on me, and no matter how hard Mouse pressed up against me, I felt as though I'd never get warm again. I didn't hear Molly say anything to Michael, but I could tell they were worried. I couldn't think of anything to say to reassure them, either. If I hadn't felt so out of it, I might have been worried myself.
The last few rays of sunlight were vanishing below the horizon (or, at least, below where they could filter in through the half-window in my room) when I heard a different set of footsteps in the house, and Michael greeting someone in low tones. Molly poked her head around the door.
“Uh, Harry? Dad and I have to take off. We have to get the kidlets fed and bathed and put to bed, and Mom will have a fit if we don't get back in time to help.” I nodded, as though I had no idea that Molly actually enjoyed the routine of taking care of her younger siblings, and that I took all her bitching and moaning about how unfair her mother was and what a chore it was seriously.
“Right. Drive safe.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dad's driving. If you look in the dictionary under 'safe' there's a picture of him.”
“Fair enough.”
“See you tomorrow after school. Take care, okay?” she looked as though she was about to say something else, then thought better of it and left.
Michael made his goodbyes quickly, obviously anxious to be home. A few minutes later my brother came in, looking even better than the day before. Then again, Thomas always manages to look as though he just stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad, so I guess that's not saying much. He gave me the same worried look I'd seen on everyone's faces lately, and leaned over to brush the hair away from my face. Given that his body temperature is always lower than average, I tried not to worry that it felt as though he'd brushed ice cubes against my skin.
“Michael tells me you're pretty sick, bro. Why didn't you tell me when I was here? I would have stayed.”
It was precisely because of that that I wouldn't have told him, but at least this time I could tell him the truth. “Wasn't feeling sick then. Just concussed.”
“Well, you're not getting rid of me so easily this time. Michael and Charity have to stay with their kids, and Molly's got school tomorrow, so you're stuck with me for the night.”
I managed to raise an eyebrow in mock-concern. “Damn. Now the neighbours will talk.”
He laughed. “If you're well enough to wisecrack, then I think you'll be just fine.”
I grinned, then coughed and pulled the blankets closer. “Do I get a bell? I hear invalids get a bell to summon people.”
“No bell.”
“Aww, you're no fun.”
“I can't trust you not to abuse it.”
“Not without the neighbours really talking,” I agreed. I could feel myself starting to fade, suddenly exhausted. “Did someone feed Mouse and Mister?”
“Yes, although I think Mister decided he'd rather hunt for his own food tonight. Something tells me he wasn't too thrilled at all the comings and goings today.” He reached over to where Mouse was lying on the bed, having renewed his unsuccessful attempt to be small and inconspicuous, and gave him a friendly pat. “There's food in your dish, buddy. How about I take you for a walk? Molly tells me you've been here all day. Even a temple dog can't hold it forever.
Mouse whined and looked at me. I gave his head a pat. “It's okay, buddy. You go ahead. It's not like I'm going anywhere.” He gave a disapproving huff, but reluctantly jumped to the floor and allowed Thomas to clip his leash to his collar. The leash was a formality: Mouse could have broken away from me at any time of his choosing, but municipal laws are municipal laws, and he put up with it with good grace.
“We'll be back really soon. You going to be okay until then?”
“Yeah, fine.” There had been something else I wanted to ask, but suddenly I couldn't remember what it was, and besides, my eyes didn't want to stay open. “Thanks,” I managed, and sank into sleep.
I had some pretty intense nightmares after that. I don't remember much about them, except that there were vampires, lots of vampires, and they held me down, fangs bared, all semblance of humanity gone from their bodies as they descended on me. Then the dream shifted and I found myself in a twisting maze of hallways, trying to find my way out. After that I dreamed of fire and Elaine, and I dreamed that I was burning alive and that she was there, just out of my reach, calling for me, pleading with me to help her while Justin DuMorne fanned the flames and laughed while he told me that I was going to die. Someone called my name and I started awake, panting, sweat pouring from me, and immediately began coughing so hard that I nearly retched.
“Easy, Harry,” Thomas pulled me up into a sitting position so I could breathe, “Easy, there. I've got you. Just relax, and breathe. I've got you.”
After what seemed like an eternity of uncontrollable coughing, I drew in a shuddering breath and let myself relax against his arm. He lowered me gently back onto the bed, then propped me up with several pillows so I could breathe more easily, then fixed me with an anxious stare.
“You okay?”
I tried to catch my breath. “More or less.”
“I'm going to take off that bandage. You've soaked through it, anyway.” I winced as he carefully cut the bandage away from my head. He dipped a folded facecloth in a basin of water by the bed, and wiped my face with it, which was quite possibly the most wonderful feeling in the world. I tried to bite back a quiet moan, feeling as though there wasn't a single part of me that didn't hurt in some way, and felt rather than saw him wince in sympathy. “De Rome really did a number on you.”
I stifled a cough. “You should see the other guy.”
“You know, your tough guy act isn't fooling anyone.”
“Can't blame a guy for trying.”
He grimaced, but didn't press the issue. “I want you to take some more of these,” he rattled the bottle of Advil Charity had left on the night table. “Think you'll be able to get some sleep?”
I swallowed the pills without arguing. It was just ibuprofen, and I didn't have the energy to protest. The room was swimming in my vision, and I couldn't quite focus. There was something I was forgetting, something else I'd wanted to ask or do, but I couldn't keep my eyes open, and it just didn't seem all that important anymore. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“I'll be right here if you need anything. Just yell.”
There were no more nightmares after that, although I didn't sleep very soundly. I felt just as terrible when I awoke again, if reasonably clear-headed. I looked around blearily, only to find the room empty this time. I could hear Thomas' voice coming from the living room, and realized that it was the sound of the telephone ringing that had awoken me.
“No, Sergeant, I'm afraid he can't speak to you right now,” Thomas was saying, in that respectful tone that he reserves only for Murphy. I remembered then what I had forgotten, that I owed Murphy a report on the alleged “gang” activity that had resulted in the weird deaths I'd been investigating. It wasn't a gang, of course, since Gentleman Johnny Marcone, the local crime boss, would never stand for competition on his territory, but rather the little cabal of vampires I'd encountered and whose leader had all but handed my ass to me on a platter before I took him out. I hadn't really had much of a chance to find out what their game was before de Rome tried to use me as a human wrecking ball against the wall of the warehouse, and he was beyond questioning now, anyway.
Sergeant Karrin Murphy was one of the few people I counted as a close friend. In fact, she was as close as they come. She'd risked life, limb, and her career to help me in the past, and I owed her my life a couple of times over. Up until a few months ago, she'd been a Lieutenant and was in charge of SI, or “Special Investigations,” the No-Man's Land of Chicago PD, where they send cops who don't fit in with the others for various reasons. In theory SI is supposed to investigate strange occurrences that no one can quite explain through scientific or human means. In reality, because ordinary people don't want to be told that the bogey man is real, SI officers are expected to come up with a rational explanation for werewolves, vampires, ghosts, faeries, demons, and whatever else crops up in a city that happens to be a kind of supernatural crossroads. For cops who have to lie on their reports on a consistent basis, the ones in SI are among the best I have ever had to deal with. At this point, though, I wasn't looking forward to talking to Murphy, because she was likely spitting nails at the absence of my report, which I'd promised her three days before.
There was a pause in the conversation while Murphy said something that sounded unpleasant, and Thomas' tone became sharper. “No, Sergeant, he is not “avoiding” you. He's sick, and he can't come to the phone.” Another pause. “Yes, sick. It does happen occasionally to mortals, you know.”
I briefly toyed with the idea of letting Thomas play watch dog and avoid the whole unpleasantness until my head stopped hurting, then decided the idea was unworthy even of me. I pushed myself up onto one elbow. “I'm awake,” I called out. My voice sounded hoarse, even to me. “I can talk to her, just let me have the phone.”
There was a shuffling sound. “Just a moment, please.” Thomas poked his head around the door. “Are you sure? A couple of hours ago you were delirious with fever. This can't be a good idea.”
I motioned vaguely for the phone. “I owe her a report. Completely forgot. Besides, good ideas aren't my bag.” I took the glass of water that was sitting on my night table and drained it.
Thomas sighed, but brought the phone, stretching the long cord as far as it would go. “Fine. I still think this is a bad idea.”
“Noted.” I took the receiver from him. “Murph? You there?”
“Dresden?” Murphy sounded suspicious. “Your brother said you were sick.”
“Far be it from me to contradict my own brother,” I quipped, ignoring the dark look I got from Thomas. “I know I owe you a report, and I'll get it to you as soon as I can. The CliffsNotes version is that your mysterious murders were the result of a heaping plateful of black magic with a side order of Black Court vampire.”
I could practically hear the gears working in her mind. “So, a vampire with magical ability.”
“Along with a small group of followers, with minor magical powers themselves. You don't need to worry about them for now, though. Their leader had an unfortunate encounter with some scaffolding that just happened to be on fire at the time.”
“Oh, Christ, Dresden, that was you? How many buildings does that make now?”
“I stopped counting after five. It feels too much like bragging.”
“So where are the rest of this little fanclub?”
My head was throbbing again. Or maybe I should say worse, because it had never really stopped throbbing. “Not sure. I kind of lost track of them when their leader started throwing spells around. They'll need some time to regroup, though, or so Bob assures me.”
“Who?”
Hell's Bells, I must be further gone than I thought, to let that slip. “Uh, just a source I use. Not his real name, I might add.” I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, trying to massage away the headache. It didn't work.
“Great. An unnamed source who goes by 'Bob.' I wish I shared your touching faith in this man. Are you sure the information is reliable?”
“My source is above reproach,” I assured her, if a bit mechanically. It was getting hard to concentrate, and I didn't catch what she said next.
“Dresden?”
“'M still here.”
“You all right?”
“Fine,” I lied. I was dizzy, and the short conversation had already tired me out.
“Why don't you give the phone back to your brother.”
“Just 'cause he's prettier than me...” I held the phone out vaguely in Thomas' direction. “She wants to speak to you. No funny stuff, now,” I mumbled, my eyes closing in spite of me.
He took the phone, and a moment later I heard him say accusingly: “I told you...” I didn't catch the end of his sentence as he left the room, and, admitting defeat, I let myself drift back to sleep.
*****
Chapter 8
Rating: Work-safe!
Book or TV verse: Book verse. I haven't seen the show
Summary: The problem with vampires who are also practitioners of magic, is well, that they are practitioners, with all that entails. Has Harry bitten off more than he can chew? Set between White Night and Small Favor. Spoilers up to SF.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Jim Butcher, I'm just playing in his sandbox and hoping no one sends lawyers after me.
Chapter 6
*****
I was feeling both better and worse by the time night started to fall. Better, in that I was more alert than before, and worse, in that, well, I felt like I had taken the worst beating of my life. I'd started shivering again sometime in the evening, and no matter how many blankets Molly piled on me, and no matter how hard Mouse pressed up against me, I felt as though I'd never get warm again. I didn't hear Molly say anything to Michael, but I could tell they were worried. I couldn't think of anything to say to reassure them, either. If I hadn't felt so out of it, I might have been worried myself.
The last few rays of sunlight were vanishing below the horizon (or, at least, below where they could filter in through the half-window in my room) when I heard a different set of footsteps in the house, and Michael greeting someone in low tones. Molly poked her head around the door.
“Uh, Harry? Dad and I have to take off. We have to get the kidlets fed and bathed and put to bed, and Mom will have a fit if we don't get back in time to help.” I nodded, as though I had no idea that Molly actually enjoyed the routine of taking care of her younger siblings, and that I took all her bitching and moaning about how unfair her mother was and what a chore it was seriously.
“Right. Drive safe.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dad's driving. If you look in the dictionary under 'safe' there's a picture of him.”
“Fair enough.”
“See you tomorrow after school. Take care, okay?” she looked as though she was about to say something else, then thought better of it and left.
Michael made his goodbyes quickly, obviously anxious to be home. A few minutes later my brother came in, looking even better than the day before. Then again, Thomas always manages to look as though he just stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad, so I guess that's not saying much. He gave me the same worried look I'd seen on everyone's faces lately, and leaned over to brush the hair away from my face. Given that his body temperature is always lower than average, I tried not to worry that it felt as though he'd brushed ice cubes against my skin.
“Michael tells me you're pretty sick, bro. Why didn't you tell me when I was here? I would have stayed.”
It was precisely because of that that I wouldn't have told him, but at least this time I could tell him the truth. “Wasn't feeling sick then. Just concussed.”
“Well, you're not getting rid of me so easily this time. Michael and Charity have to stay with their kids, and Molly's got school tomorrow, so you're stuck with me for the night.”
I managed to raise an eyebrow in mock-concern. “Damn. Now the neighbours will talk.”
He laughed. “If you're well enough to wisecrack, then I think you'll be just fine.”
I grinned, then coughed and pulled the blankets closer. “Do I get a bell? I hear invalids get a bell to summon people.”
“No bell.”
“Aww, you're no fun.”
“I can't trust you not to abuse it.”
“Not without the neighbours really talking,” I agreed. I could feel myself starting to fade, suddenly exhausted. “Did someone feed Mouse and Mister?”
“Yes, although I think Mister decided he'd rather hunt for his own food tonight. Something tells me he wasn't too thrilled at all the comings and goings today.” He reached over to where Mouse was lying on the bed, having renewed his unsuccessful attempt to be small and inconspicuous, and gave him a friendly pat. “There's food in your dish, buddy. How about I take you for a walk? Molly tells me you've been here all day. Even a temple dog can't hold it forever.
Mouse whined and looked at me. I gave his head a pat. “It's okay, buddy. You go ahead. It's not like I'm going anywhere.” He gave a disapproving huff, but reluctantly jumped to the floor and allowed Thomas to clip his leash to his collar. The leash was a formality: Mouse could have broken away from me at any time of his choosing, but municipal laws are municipal laws, and he put up with it with good grace.
“We'll be back really soon. You going to be okay until then?”
“Yeah, fine.” There had been something else I wanted to ask, but suddenly I couldn't remember what it was, and besides, my eyes didn't want to stay open. “Thanks,” I managed, and sank into sleep.
I had some pretty intense nightmares after that. I don't remember much about them, except that there were vampires, lots of vampires, and they held me down, fangs bared, all semblance of humanity gone from their bodies as they descended on me. Then the dream shifted and I found myself in a twisting maze of hallways, trying to find my way out. After that I dreamed of fire and Elaine, and I dreamed that I was burning alive and that she was there, just out of my reach, calling for me, pleading with me to help her while Justin DuMorne fanned the flames and laughed while he told me that I was going to die. Someone called my name and I started awake, panting, sweat pouring from me, and immediately began coughing so hard that I nearly retched.
“Easy, Harry,” Thomas pulled me up into a sitting position so I could breathe, “Easy, there. I've got you. Just relax, and breathe. I've got you.”
After what seemed like an eternity of uncontrollable coughing, I drew in a shuddering breath and let myself relax against his arm. He lowered me gently back onto the bed, then propped me up with several pillows so I could breathe more easily, then fixed me with an anxious stare.
“You okay?”
I tried to catch my breath. “More or less.”
“I'm going to take off that bandage. You've soaked through it, anyway.” I winced as he carefully cut the bandage away from my head. He dipped a folded facecloth in a basin of water by the bed, and wiped my face with it, which was quite possibly the most wonderful feeling in the world. I tried to bite back a quiet moan, feeling as though there wasn't a single part of me that didn't hurt in some way, and felt rather than saw him wince in sympathy. “De Rome really did a number on you.”
I stifled a cough. “You should see the other guy.”
“You know, your tough guy act isn't fooling anyone.”
“Can't blame a guy for trying.”
He grimaced, but didn't press the issue. “I want you to take some more of these,” he rattled the bottle of Advil Charity had left on the night table. “Think you'll be able to get some sleep?”
I swallowed the pills without arguing. It was just ibuprofen, and I didn't have the energy to protest. The room was swimming in my vision, and I couldn't quite focus. There was something I was forgetting, something else I'd wanted to ask or do, but I couldn't keep my eyes open, and it just didn't seem all that important anymore. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“I'll be right here if you need anything. Just yell.”
There were no more nightmares after that, although I didn't sleep very soundly. I felt just as terrible when I awoke again, if reasonably clear-headed. I looked around blearily, only to find the room empty this time. I could hear Thomas' voice coming from the living room, and realized that it was the sound of the telephone ringing that had awoken me.
“No, Sergeant, I'm afraid he can't speak to you right now,” Thomas was saying, in that respectful tone that he reserves only for Murphy. I remembered then what I had forgotten, that I owed Murphy a report on the alleged “gang” activity that had resulted in the weird deaths I'd been investigating. It wasn't a gang, of course, since Gentleman Johnny Marcone, the local crime boss, would never stand for competition on his territory, but rather the little cabal of vampires I'd encountered and whose leader had all but handed my ass to me on a platter before I took him out. I hadn't really had much of a chance to find out what their game was before de Rome tried to use me as a human wrecking ball against the wall of the warehouse, and he was beyond questioning now, anyway.
Sergeant Karrin Murphy was one of the few people I counted as a close friend. In fact, she was as close as they come. She'd risked life, limb, and her career to help me in the past, and I owed her my life a couple of times over. Up until a few months ago, she'd been a Lieutenant and was in charge of SI, or “Special Investigations,” the No-Man's Land of Chicago PD, where they send cops who don't fit in with the others for various reasons. In theory SI is supposed to investigate strange occurrences that no one can quite explain through scientific or human means. In reality, because ordinary people don't want to be told that the bogey man is real, SI officers are expected to come up with a rational explanation for werewolves, vampires, ghosts, faeries, demons, and whatever else crops up in a city that happens to be a kind of supernatural crossroads. For cops who have to lie on their reports on a consistent basis, the ones in SI are among the best I have ever had to deal with. At this point, though, I wasn't looking forward to talking to Murphy, because she was likely spitting nails at the absence of my report, which I'd promised her three days before.
There was a pause in the conversation while Murphy said something that sounded unpleasant, and Thomas' tone became sharper. “No, Sergeant, he is not “avoiding” you. He's sick, and he can't come to the phone.” Another pause. “Yes, sick. It does happen occasionally to mortals, you know.”
I briefly toyed with the idea of letting Thomas play watch dog and avoid the whole unpleasantness until my head stopped hurting, then decided the idea was unworthy even of me. I pushed myself up onto one elbow. “I'm awake,” I called out. My voice sounded hoarse, even to me. “I can talk to her, just let me have the phone.”
There was a shuffling sound. “Just a moment, please.” Thomas poked his head around the door. “Are you sure? A couple of hours ago you were delirious with fever. This can't be a good idea.”
I motioned vaguely for the phone. “I owe her a report. Completely forgot. Besides, good ideas aren't my bag.” I took the glass of water that was sitting on my night table and drained it.
Thomas sighed, but brought the phone, stretching the long cord as far as it would go. “Fine. I still think this is a bad idea.”
“Noted.” I took the receiver from him. “Murph? You there?”
“Dresden?” Murphy sounded suspicious. “Your brother said you were sick.”
“Far be it from me to contradict my own brother,” I quipped, ignoring the dark look I got from Thomas. “I know I owe you a report, and I'll get it to you as soon as I can. The CliffsNotes version is that your mysterious murders were the result of a heaping plateful of black magic with a side order of Black Court vampire.”
I could practically hear the gears working in her mind. “So, a vampire with magical ability.”
“Along with a small group of followers, with minor magical powers themselves. You don't need to worry about them for now, though. Their leader had an unfortunate encounter with some scaffolding that just happened to be on fire at the time.”
“Oh, Christ, Dresden, that was you? How many buildings does that make now?”
“I stopped counting after five. It feels too much like bragging.”
“So where are the rest of this little fanclub?”
My head was throbbing again. Or maybe I should say worse, because it had never really stopped throbbing. “Not sure. I kind of lost track of them when their leader started throwing spells around. They'll need some time to regroup, though, or so Bob assures me.”
“Who?”
Hell's Bells, I must be further gone than I thought, to let that slip. “Uh, just a source I use. Not his real name, I might add.” I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, trying to massage away the headache. It didn't work.
“Great. An unnamed source who goes by 'Bob.' I wish I shared your touching faith in this man. Are you sure the information is reliable?”
“My source is above reproach,” I assured her, if a bit mechanically. It was getting hard to concentrate, and I didn't catch what she said next.
“Dresden?”
“'M still here.”
“You all right?”
“Fine,” I lied. I was dizzy, and the short conversation had already tired me out.
“Why don't you give the phone back to your brother.”
“Just 'cause he's prettier than me...” I held the phone out vaguely in Thomas' direction. “She wants to speak to you. No funny stuff, now,” I mumbled, my eyes closing in spite of me.
He took the phone, and a moment later I heard him say accusingly: “I told you...” I didn't catch the end of his sentence as he left the room, and, admitting defeat, I let myself drift back to sleep.
*****
Chapter 8