Death Curse: Chapter 11
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 10
*****
There were more nightmares after that, from which I'd awaken lathered in sweat and gasping, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might just burst through my ribcage. I don't really remember much about the dreams, except that in all of them I saw Elaine, and in all of them she was calling to me, and I couldn't quite get to her. In all of them I found myself bound against my will, all my magic useless, and in all of them there was fire, threatening to consume me while I struggled. I don't know how many times I awakened, shaking so hard I could hear my teeth clicking together, Elaine's name hovering on my lips. I don't know if I called her name aloud or only in my dreams, but it seemed vitally important that I find her, that I reach her. When I was awake, though, I couldn't bring myself to try to sleep, terrified as I was of going back to those dreams. Rationally I knew there was no way that going back to sleep could hurt me, that the fear was something I ought to just ignore and it would eventually go away, but the fever-addled part of my mind kept me half-awake and terrified, and it was only exhaustion that kept plunging me back into sleep.
The pain got worse after that, and I curled up under the sweat-soaked bedsheets in a vain effort to stave it off. In the early hours of the morning the sound of moaning awoke me, and it took me several minutes of trying to figure out who else was there before I realized that I'd awoken myself. I didn't want to go back to sleep after that, and my stomach agreed with me wholeheartedly. I thought, then, that if I went now, I might actually make it to the bathroom before it was too late. I rolled onto my side and tried to push myself upright, but a hand came out of nowhere and pushed me back onto the bed.
“Easy, Dresden. Stay put.”
I blinked in confusion. “Murph?”
“I'm not the tooth fairy, if that's what you're asking.”
My brain refused to make sense of her presence, but there was a more pressing concern on my mind. “Feel sick.”
That got her attention. I could tell by the way she let go and fumbled by the bed. “Okay, Harry, hang on. Here,” she helped me to sit up and held a basin in front of me while I retched miserably. She rubbed my back and said something that sounded nice and comforting, but I was too busy being sick to hear exactly what it was. “Feel better?” she asked, when I was done.
“Not really,” I wiped my mouth with the back of my wrist.
She got up and returned with a glass. “Here. Rinse out your mouth.”
It was mouthwash. “Oh, God bless you.”
She kept rubbing my back. “It always makes me feel better when I'm sick. I can bring you a toothbrush and toothpaste, too, if you want.”
That sounded like the best idea she'd ever come up with, bar none. “Please.”
My dentist would be disappointed with the job I did, but I felt a lot better after I couldn't taste bile anymore, and leaned back against my pillows, feeling drained. Murphy startled me by brushing her fingers across my forehead, smoothing back the hair that had plastered itself to my face with sweat, then gently wiped my face with a damp cloth I mumbled something that was meant to sound like “thank you,” but I have no idea how it came out, and she heaved an exasperated sigh.
“Dresden, what the hell have you been doing to yourself? I don't think I've ever seen you have a cold, let alone something like this. There's something else going on here, isn't there?”
“Something else?” The nagging feeling was back, worse than ever.
“Come on, Harry. There's something you're not telling us. You keep skirting around its edges, but I can tell you're holding something back. Talk to me, Harry. I thought we had an understanding about full disclosure.”
That jogged something loose in my memory. Someone had said something about disclosure to me recently. I thought I'd told someone... Bob. I had told Bob, and it wasn't as though he was going to volunteer the information. I had agreed to tell them, I just couldn't remember if I had done so. Maybe I hadn't... I made an effort to corral my thoughts. Murphy was listening, and that was all that counted. I gathered my wits about me, and tried to form a coherent sentence. I almost succeeded.
“Death curse.”
Murphy leaned in closer to me. “What? Harry, I can't understand you.”
“Death curse,” I mumbled, trying to enunciate more clearly. “That's what he said, when he died.”
“Who, Harry?”
“De Rome. The vampire. It was his death curse.” I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “He ordered me to sicken and die.”
And, as if on cue, everything went black.
*****
Chapter 12
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 10
*****
There were more nightmares after that, from which I'd awaken lathered in sweat and gasping, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might just burst through my ribcage. I don't really remember much about the dreams, except that in all of them I saw Elaine, and in all of them she was calling to me, and I couldn't quite get to her. In all of them I found myself bound against my will, all my magic useless, and in all of them there was fire, threatening to consume me while I struggled. I don't know how many times I awakened, shaking so hard I could hear my teeth clicking together, Elaine's name hovering on my lips. I don't know if I called her name aloud or only in my dreams, but it seemed vitally important that I find her, that I reach her. When I was awake, though, I couldn't bring myself to try to sleep, terrified as I was of going back to those dreams. Rationally I knew there was no way that going back to sleep could hurt me, that the fear was something I ought to just ignore and it would eventually go away, but the fever-addled part of my mind kept me half-awake and terrified, and it was only exhaustion that kept plunging me back into sleep.
The pain got worse after that, and I curled up under the sweat-soaked bedsheets in a vain effort to stave it off. In the early hours of the morning the sound of moaning awoke me, and it took me several minutes of trying to figure out who else was there before I realized that I'd awoken myself. I didn't want to go back to sleep after that, and my stomach agreed with me wholeheartedly. I thought, then, that if I went now, I might actually make it to the bathroom before it was too late. I rolled onto my side and tried to push myself upright, but a hand came out of nowhere and pushed me back onto the bed.
“Easy, Dresden. Stay put.”
I blinked in confusion. “Murph?”
“I'm not the tooth fairy, if that's what you're asking.”
My brain refused to make sense of her presence, but there was a more pressing concern on my mind. “Feel sick.”
That got her attention. I could tell by the way she let go and fumbled by the bed. “Okay, Harry, hang on. Here,” she helped me to sit up and held a basin in front of me while I retched miserably. She rubbed my back and said something that sounded nice and comforting, but I was too busy being sick to hear exactly what it was. “Feel better?” she asked, when I was done.
“Not really,” I wiped my mouth with the back of my wrist.
She got up and returned with a glass. “Here. Rinse out your mouth.”
It was mouthwash. “Oh, God bless you.”
She kept rubbing my back. “It always makes me feel better when I'm sick. I can bring you a toothbrush and toothpaste, too, if you want.”
That sounded like the best idea she'd ever come up with, bar none. “Please.”
My dentist would be disappointed with the job I did, but I felt a lot better after I couldn't taste bile anymore, and leaned back against my pillows, feeling drained. Murphy startled me by brushing her fingers across my forehead, smoothing back the hair that had plastered itself to my face with sweat, then gently wiped my face with a damp cloth I mumbled something that was meant to sound like “thank you,” but I have no idea how it came out, and she heaved an exasperated sigh.
“Dresden, what the hell have you been doing to yourself? I don't think I've ever seen you have a cold, let alone something like this. There's something else going on here, isn't there?”
“Something else?” The nagging feeling was back, worse than ever.
“Come on, Harry. There's something you're not telling us. You keep skirting around its edges, but I can tell you're holding something back. Talk to me, Harry. I thought we had an understanding about full disclosure.”
That jogged something loose in my memory. Someone had said something about disclosure to me recently. I thought I'd told someone... Bob. I had told Bob, and it wasn't as though he was going to volunteer the information. I had agreed to tell them, I just couldn't remember if I had done so. Maybe I hadn't... I made an effort to corral my thoughts. Murphy was listening, and that was all that counted. I gathered my wits about me, and tried to form a coherent sentence. I almost succeeded.
“Death curse.”
Murphy leaned in closer to me. “What? Harry, I can't understand you.”
“Death curse,” I mumbled, trying to enunciate more clearly. “That's what he said, when he died.”
“Who, Harry?”
“De Rome. The vampire. It was his death curse.” I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “He ordered me to sicken and die.”
And, as if on cue, everything went black.
*****
Chapter 12