Death Curse: Chapter 12
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 11
*****
I dreamed of Elaine. This time, there were no nightmares. I dreamed of Elaine when we were teenagers, learning together the secrets of magic, and learning what it was like to be in love. I dreamed about caressing her skin, about escaping with her through the trees in the little woods that were near the house where we lived, and I dreamed of her laughter, merry and infectious in the afternoon sunlight. I was ill, once, when we were still young, and she sat with me until I was better. She was always better at the subtle arts than I was. My spells always involved brute force, but hers could wind themselves into delicate webs of magic, just as strong, if not stronger than mine.
I dreamed of Elaine, that she was there with me, holding my hand, murmuring to me. I knew it couldn't be true, that in reality she was hundreds of miles away building a whole new life for herself, away from me, away from all the twisted, tangled memories we had together. I knew it, but still I allowed myself to believe it, because it made me feel better to have her there, even though things could never be the way they were when we were kids, still untarnished by everything that had come afterward. Now we were separated by memories, by others, by our choices, but part of me still wanted her, could still feel the electric tingle of her skin against mine. I might not have been in love with Elaine any longer, but I loved her, and part of me still longed for the comfort of her nearness. One dream of her turned into two, into three, and each one was pleasant, in its own way.
The light in the room was fading when I opened my eyes, which meant that it was day again, and a quick glance at my bedside clock confirmed that it was either five o'clock in the evening, or else that I had lost several months and it was now five in the evening sometime during the summer. Since I've never been a fan of Rip Van Winkle, I decided to be optimistic and go with the former assumption.
I was also feeling a whole lot better. So much better, in fact, that I was kind of suspicious. I mean, I wasn't complaining, or anything, but you have to admit it's a little weird to feel like you're on death's door one minute, and the next thing you know you feel as though you could probably get out of bed and go make breakfast. I decided to test that theory, and pushed myself up on my elbows, waiting for the inevitable feelings of dizziness and nausea, and was pleasantly surprised when neither came about. My head was clear for the first time in what felt like weeks, and I was no longer shaking or sweating, neither too hot nor too cold. In fact, I felt good all around, if maybe a little weak. I definitely wanted a shower, though. There were sweat stains on my t-shirt, and there are no words to describe just how gross I felt.
I was careful getting up, but whatever had made me feel so wretched, it seemed to be well and truly gone. Even my leg had stopped hurting, although it was still bound tightly with an elastic bandage. I suspected that was Charity's doing. I brushed my fingertips against the wall as I went into the bathroom, and switched on the shower. The shock of the cold water made me gasp, but it was a small price to pay for the sensation of being clean again. I stayed under the freezing stream maybe a few minutes longer than I would have otherwise, enjoying the feeling of water over my abused body. I was a little shakier when I got out, but a bit of food would soon put that right. I towelled off, brushed my teeth properly for the first time in days, and very carefully shaved the several days' growth of beard from my chin before fumbling in my dresser for some clean clothes. Luckily, this wasn't too hard to accomplish: I always have clean clothes these days, ever since the fae folk have taken to housekeeping for me. The wee folk are strange about that sort of thing, though, which is why I keep it a secret. If you go around blabbing that they're the ones keeping your place clean, then they just stop. So, I keep it between them and me, and I routinely order and extra pizza for them, as a way of saying thank you.
I pulled a t-shirt over my head, carefully re-wrapped my leg in the elastic bandage, and tugged on a clean pair of jeans. I was buckling my belt -noting with some dismay that I was able to tighten it by two notches - when Molly poked her head around the door.
“You're awake!” she beamed with unfeigned pleasure, and I'll admit it kind of gave me a warm fuzzy feeling. I grinned back at her.
“Hey, grasshopper. How've you been?”
“Better than you. School just let out a while ago. I thought you'd still be asleep.”
I shook my head. “Too hungry to sleep. I thought I'd go raid the fridge.”
She stood in the doorway, biting her lower lip. “You sure you don't want me to bring you a tray?”
“I'm sure. I've been lying down way too long. I promise, I'll take it easy,” I held up a hand in a placating gesture. “I just want to move a little bit, get the feeling back in my legs.”
“Okay. As long as you promise.”
“Scout's honour.”
She grabbed me by the elbow as I made my way to the kitchen, and while I wasn't exactly feeling dizzy, I didn't protest too much. I was a little shaky, and the floor looked awfully far away if I fell.
“Why don't you let me make you dinner?” she offered suddenly. “You sit there, and I'll make whatever you want.”
“Anything?” I teased, and her face fell.
“Uh, well, anything that you have on hand, anyway. Also, Mom says nothing too rich, or you won't be able to hold it down. So... how about spaghetti?”
I tried my best to look resigned, but right now spaghetti sounded like the best thing in the universe. “Spaghetti it is.”
She bustled around the stove with more than her usual enthusiasm. Molly has never been overly keen on the domestic arts, not that I can blame her. She kept stealing covert glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking, and the effect was oddly charming.
“Something on your mind, grasshopper?”
She turned to face me, fork in hand from where she'd been trying to keep the spaghetti from clumping together. “You're really feeling better, right?”
“Of course.” I frowned, wondering just what she was driving at. “Why?” She didn't answer for a few minutes, pretending to be busy with the food. She dumped the pasta into a colander, draining the water and shaking it a bit before setting it before me on a steaming plate.
“No sauce, either, sorry. If this doesn't make you hurl, then maybe we can give you something more exciting.”
I took a bite, and it tasted like the most delicious thing I'd ever eaten. I forced myself to eat slowly, one bite at a time. “Okay, Molly, talk to me. What's going on?”
Her expression changed, to one that gave me less of a warm fuzzy feeling. “Promise you won't be mad?”
I swallowed another mouthful of spaghetti. “What did you do?”
She folded her arms over her chest and scuffed the toe of her shoe on the floor, a gesture that made her look more childlike than I'd seen her in a long time. “Before you get mad, you ought to know that everyone else agreed with me on this, and you are feeling better, right?”
“Maybe not as much as I thought, since I can't make any sense of what you're saying.” That didn't prevent me from continuing to attack the spaghetti as though it was my mortal enemy. “Let's start with the obvious. Did you break any of the Laws of Magic while I was unconscious?”
She made an indignant noise. “Of course not!”
I nodded. “Good. So whatever it is, it can't be that bad. Spill.”
She sat down at the table in front of me. “So how come you didn't tell me it was a death curse?”
I blinked. This wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting. “What?”
Molly didn't quite meet my eyes. “Is it because you don't trust me? Did I do something wrong?”
“I thought I was the one doing the interrogating, here. And no, you didn't do anything wrong. I didn't tell you at first because I didn't think it was relevant, and after that I wasn't exactly thinking straight. I have several reliable witnesses to that effect,” I added wryly, and that earned me a small smile.
“I was worried, you know. You were so sick, you didn't recognize anyone, and every time I walked into the room it felt as though you were just bleeding to death right in front of me.”
“You're not making sense. What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “I can't explain it. I just... I could feel energy bleeding out of you. It scared me.”
That unsettled me. I was the only thing standing between her and death by the White Council, and I hadn't realized just how much she relied on my presence, as a protector as well as a teacher. I reached out and patted her hand. “Well, I'm all right now, so don't worry about it.”
“No, that's not...” She seemed almost to choke on the words, then steeled herself and looked me directly in the eyes. “You're not really all right. That's what I wanted to tell you. I was scared that you were going to die, and I couldn't explain it to my parents or to Murphy, or any of them. They just thought you had the flu, or something, but it was worse than that, and I couldn't get them to understand, and the best I could do was get them to agree to ask someone who would understand.”
I felt my pulse quicken. “Who?”
“You promised you wouldn't be mad,” she reminded me.
“I'm not, but I need to know what 's going on, and who you've been talking to.”
She dropped her gaze and fiddled with the salt shaker. “There's only one wizard we both know who's got a gift for healing. So I asked her.”
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. “Elaine.”
*****
Chapter 13
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 11
*****
I dreamed of Elaine. This time, there were no nightmares. I dreamed of Elaine when we were teenagers, learning together the secrets of magic, and learning what it was like to be in love. I dreamed about caressing her skin, about escaping with her through the trees in the little woods that were near the house where we lived, and I dreamed of her laughter, merry and infectious in the afternoon sunlight. I was ill, once, when we were still young, and she sat with me until I was better. She was always better at the subtle arts than I was. My spells always involved brute force, but hers could wind themselves into delicate webs of magic, just as strong, if not stronger than mine.
I dreamed of Elaine, that she was there with me, holding my hand, murmuring to me. I knew it couldn't be true, that in reality she was hundreds of miles away building a whole new life for herself, away from me, away from all the twisted, tangled memories we had together. I knew it, but still I allowed myself to believe it, because it made me feel better to have her there, even though things could never be the way they were when we were kids, still untarnished by everything that had come afterward. Now we were separated by memories, by others, by our choices, but part of me still wanted her, could still feel the electric tingle of her skin against mine. I might not have been in love with Elaine any longer, but I loved her, and part of me still longed for the comfort of her nearness. One dream of her turned into two, into three, and each one was pleasant, in its own way.
The light in the room was fading when I opened my eyes, which meant that it was day again, and a quick glance at my bedside clock confirmed that it was either five o'clock in the evening, or else that I had lost several months and it was now five in the evening sometime during the summer. Since I've never been a fan of Rip Van Winkle, I decided to be optimistic and go with the former assumption.
I was also feeling a whole lot better. So much better, in fact, that I was kind of suspicious. I mean, I wasn't complaining, or anything, but you have to admit it's a little weird to feel like you're on death's door one minute, and the next thing you know you feel as though you could probably get out of bed and go make breakfast. I decided to test that theory, and pushed myself up on my elbows, waiting for the inevitable feelings of dizziness and nausea, and was pleasantly surprised when neither came about. My head was clear for the first time in what felt like weeks, and I was no longer shaking or sweating, neither too hot nor too cold. In fact, I felt good all around, if maybe a little weak. I definitely wanted a shower, though. There were sweat stains on my t-shirt, and there are no words to describe just how gross I felt.
I was careful getting up, but whatever had made me feel so wretched, it seemed to be well and truly gone. Even my leg had stopped hurting, although it was still bound tightly with an elastic bandage. I suspected that was Charity's doing. I brushed my fingertips against the wall as I went into the bathroom, and switched on the shower. The shock of the cold water made me gasp, but it was a small price to pay for the sensation of being clean again. I stayed under the freezing stream maybe a few minutes longer than I would have otherwise, enjoying the feeling of water over my abused body. I was a little shakier when I got out, but a bit of food would soon put that right. I towelled off, brushed my teeth properly for the first time in days, and very carefully shaved the several days' growth of beard from my chin before fumbling in my dresser for some clean clothes. Luckily, this wasn't too hard to accomplish: I always have clean clothes these days, ever since the fae folk have taken to housekeeping for me. The wee folk are strange about that sort of thing, though, which is why I keep it a secret. If you go around blabbing that they're the ones keeping your place clean, then they just stop. So, I keep it between them and me, and I routinely order and extra pizza for them, as a way of saying thank you.
I pulled a t-shirt over my head, carefully re-wrapped my leg in the elastic bandage, and tugged on a clean pair of jeans. I was buckling my belt -noting with some dismay that I was able to tighten it by two notches - when Molly poked her head around the door.
“You're awake!” she beamed with unfeigned pleasure, and I'll admit it kind of gave me a warm fuzzy feeling. I grinned back at her.
“Hey, grasshopper. How've you been?”
“Better than you. School just let out a while ago. I thought you'd still be asleep.”
I shook my head. “Too hungry to sleep. I thought I'd go raid the fridge.”
She stood in the doorway, biting her lower lip. “You sure you don't want me to bring you a tray?”
“I'm sure. I've been lying down way too long. I promise, I'll take it easy,” I held up a hand in a placating gesture. “I just want to move a little bit, get the feeling back in my legs.”
“Okay. As long as you promise.”
“Scout's honour.”
She grabbed me by the elbow as I made my way to the kitchen, and while I wasn't exactly feeling dizzy, I didn't protest too much. I was a little shaky, and the floor looked awfully far away if I fell.
“Why don't you let me make you dinner?” she offered suddenly. “You sit there, and I'll make whatever you want.”
“Anything?” I teased, and her face fell.
“Uh, well, anything that you have on hand, anyway. Also, Mom says nothing too rich, or you won't be able to hold it down. So... how about spaghetti?”
I tried my best to look resigned, but right now spaghetti sounded like the best thing in the universe. “Spaghetti it is.”
She bustled around the stove with more than her usual enthusiasm. Molly has never been overly keen on the domestic arts, not that I can blame her. She kept stealing covert glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking, and the effect was oddly charming.
“Something on your mind, grasshopper?”
She turned to face me, fork in hand from where she'd been trying to keep the spaghetti from clumping together. “You're really feeling better, right?”
“Of course.” I frowned, wondering just what she was driving at. “Why?” She didn't answer for a few minutes, pretending to be busy with the food. She dumped the pasta into a colander, draining the water and shaking it a bit before setting it before me on a steaming plate.
“No sauce, either, sorry. If this doesn't make you hurl, then maybe we can give you something more exciting.”
I took a bite, and it tasted like the most delicious thing I'd ever eaten. I forced myself to eat slowly, one bite at a time. “Okay, Molly, talk to me. What's going on?”
Her expression changed, to one that gave me less of a warm fuzzy feeling. “Promise you won't be mad?”
I swallowed another mouthful of spaghetti. “What did you do?”
She folded her arms over her chest and scuffed the toe of her shoe on the floor, a gesture that made her look more childlike than I'd seen her in a long time. “Before you get mad, you ought to know that everyone else agreed with me on this, and you are feeling better, right?”
“Maybe not as much as I thought, since I can't make any sense of what you're saying.” That didn't prevent me from continuing to attack the spaghetti as though it was my mortal enemy. “Let's start with the obvious. Did you break any of the Laws of Magic while I was unconscious?”
She made an indignant noise. “Of course not!”
I nodded. “Good. So whatever it is, it can't be that bad. Spill.”
She sat down at the table in front of me. “So how come you didn't tell me it was a death curse?”
I blinked. This wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting. “What?”
Molly didn't quite meet my eyes. “Is it because you don't trust me? Did I do something wrong?”
“I thought I was the one doing the interrogating, here. And no, you didn't do anything wrong. I didn't tell you at first because I didn't think it was relevant, and after that I wasn't exactly thinking straight. I have several reliable witnesses to that effect,” I added wryly, and that earned me a small smile.
“I was worried, you know. You were so sick, you didn't recognize anyone, and every time I walked into the room it felt as though you were just bleeding to death right in front of me.”
“You're not making sense. What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “I can't explain it. I just... I could feel energy bleeding out of you. It scared me.”
That unsettled me. I was the only thing standing between her and death by the White Council, and I hadn't realized just how much she relied on my presence, as a protector as well as a teacher. I reached out and patted her hand. “Well, I'm all right now, so don't worry about it.”
“No, that's not...” She seemed almost to choke on the words, then steeled herself and looked me directly in the eyes. “You're not really all right. That's what I wanted to tell you. I was scared that you were going to die, and I couldn't explain it to my parents or to Murphy, or any of them. They just thought you had the flu, or something, but it was worse than that, and I couldn't get them to understand, and the best I could do was get them to agree to ask someone who would understand.”
I felt my pulse quicken. “Who?”
“You promised you wouldn't be mad,” she reminded me.
“I'm not, but I need to know what 's going on, and who you've been talking to.”
She dropped her gaze and fiddled with the salt shaker. “There's only one wizard we both know who's got a gift for healing. So I asked her.”
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. “Elaine.”
*****
Chapter 13