Compulsion 20

[edana_ni_emer]

Title: Compulsion part 20  (And late again.)
Author: Edana ni Emer
Universe: TV
Pairing: Harry/OC previously, but for now some nice tasty H/B.
Rating: R for nekkid, and explicit dead-making type things.
Warnings: Bob is smug, Mai is bitchy, Morgan is a Warden, and Harry's getting frustrated.
Word Count: 5625
Summary: Sometimes you don't know your own mind. Sometimes somebody wants to make sure you don't.

All previous installments can be found here.



Harry woke with a start the next morning, sitting bolt upright with a feeling of impending doom.  Doom had actually gone right past 'impending', straight to 'clear and present', and was sitting oddly demure on his dresser, staring at him with a gimlet eye.

Bob stirred beside him and sat up as well, following his gaze and sighing. "Really, Mai," he said reprovingly.  "Have you taken leave of your senses?"  He threw back the sheets, making Harry scramble to stay covered, and stood. Unconcerned with and unashamed of his nudity, he retrieved a pair of pants and calmly stepped into them.  Harry envied him his poise, but stayed where he was. The thought of Ancient Mai seeing him naked made his skin crawl.

"No," she said coldly. "But apparently Dresden has, letting you go free." She turned her laser-like gaze back to Harry. "I nearly called Morgan a liar when he told me. I couldn't believe that even you could be that stupid."

"Not stupid," Harry corrected, tucking the blankets more firmly around his waist. "I just know him better than you do."

"Better than the people that have been watching him for centuries?" she asked, artfully disdainful.

"Yes," Bob said unequivocally, buckling his belt and reaching for a shirt.

"I bothered, you know, talking to him," Harry added.

"We have no desire to listen to his lies, excuses, and manipulations," she said, expressionless.

"I don't generally bother with lies," Bob said, adjusting his shirt sleeves. "Not when the truth is so much more entertaining.  And effective."  He smiled at Mai, almost paternally except for the calculating gleam in his eyes, and the hint of threat that turned it into a smirk. She stiffened, dark clouds gathering in her expression.  "Why don't we go downstairs?" Bob said, making it a question only for form's sake. "I'll make some tea, and coffee for Harry when he joins us, and we can have a bit of a chat."

She stared at him for a moment with a suspicious frown, then slid lightly off the dresser, regally descending the stairs.  Harry stared after her, thrown a little off-balance by her easy acquiescence. Bob returned to his side to kiss him briefly, caressing the side of his face.

"Join us downstairs when you're dressed," he said. "And don't rush. There are a few things we need to discuss, she and I." He sounded maliciously pleased, and absolutely certain of having the upper hand.  He took a moment to brush nonexistent dust from his pants and smooth imaginary wrinkles from his shirt before sitting down on the bed to don shoes and socks in an unhurried fashion. Harry gawked at him.

"Uh, Mai's downstairs," he pointed out hesitantly. "Are you really sure you ought to be letting her wait alone down there?"

"Are you worried she's going to make off with the silver?" Bob asked with a smile, finally standing. "Don't worry so, Harry. Dealing with her is going to be a lot easier from now on. Her coming to speak to us before we have to deal with the Council is a wonderful stroke of luck."

Harry blinked at him.  "Maybe I'm not the one that's crazy after all," he mused. Bob smiled at him with a sort of savage good humor and vanished down the stairs.  Harry gazed after him in confusion until he heard the low murmur of voices, then shook himself out of his daze to stumble out of bed and fumble for clothing that didn't smell too much like what they'd been doing that night.

Like it mattered. The whole room smelled like sex. It wasn't even like he wanted to hide it really, it was just that he had a vague feeling of getting caught necking on the couch by his grandmother. If he'd ever had a grandmother, anyway, and if she'd been the type to bake arsenic into her oatmeal cookies.

He finished dressing, shoving his sockless feet into a pair of ratty sneakers, and warily descended the stairs.  The voices by then had ceased, but the icy silence was almost as easy to follow as sound.  Mai sat across from Bob at their small kitchen table, a mug clenched between her white-knuckled hands, her expression blank. Bob was watching her carefully, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Um, hi," Harry said uncertainly.

"Harry," Bob acknowledged with a more pleasant smile, standing to kiss him gently and press a mug of coffee into his hands.  Harry clutched it gratefully, his eyes flicking back and forth between Mai and Bob.

"You're acting like I'm supposed to believe you actually care for him, necromancer," she said with chill scorn.

"It matters not a bit one way or another, so long as you believe that I will keep my word to you," Bob said lightly, but Harry could see the flare of animosity in his eyes. Harry winced inwardly. She'd probably only said that to get Bob's goat... she'd succeeded admirably.

"For that, it seems I have little choice," she said without emotion, standing. Her mug of tea was left on the table, apparently untouched. She stared at Harry with a bitter expression for a moment, and then was gone.  Harry stared after her in befuddlement.  Bob sat back down, leaning back in his chair and taking a decidedly smug sip of tea.

"We really do need to get a proper set of teacups," he said idly.

"What just happened?" Harry asked plaintively.

"I believe they generally call it blackmail," Bob said blithely. "Or politics. Same difference, really. At any rate, we've her public support now, even if privately she'd love to see us hang."

"How did you manage that?" Harry blinked.

"I've picked quite a few little tidbits of information over the years, many of them about her. She's always known that." Bob said. "One of the reasons she was so opposed to my restoration, no doubt.  When I was still cursed, it would have been a simple matter to have my skull stolen or smashed if I spoke." The way Bob said that made Harry grimace. It was like he'd have expected nothing else, like he'd maybe have thought less of her if she hadn't done something like that.

Harry really hated politics.

He sat across from Bob, rubbing the grit from his eyes.  It was really too early for this kind of thing. "What do you have on her?" he wanted to know.

Bob considered him carefully and sighed. "If I tell you, you'll want to do something about it," he said apologetically. "And there goes our leverage."

Harry sighed, bowing his head over his cup of coffee. Bob knew him, and knew where his lines were. If he thought Harry would need to do something about what he was told to be able to sleep at night, he was probably right.

"It's that bad?" he asked, a little disturbed.

Bob bit his lip in thought, which very nearly made Harry lose track of the conversation entirely. He wrenched his mind back to the subject at hand with an effort.

"It would be extremely difficult for Mai to explain some of her actions in a remotely defensible manner," Bob finally said. "Especially considering how many times she's sent her Wardens after those who've done the same sorts of things. Even if she managed to avoid all other consequences of her actions, which is no guarantee, she would certainly alienate Morgan. She can't afford to lose his support."

"Won't she anyway?" Harry asked. The whole thing was sort of fascinating in a strangely voyeuristic sort of way. Like reading a National Geographic article on the social customs of some obscure tribe in New Guinea.

"Remotely possible," Bob conceded. "But not likely. Especially after our help with that redheaded bastard." He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "In fact, I'd lay long odds that he strongly recommended a hands-off approach when he spoke to her. Probably couched it as giving us enough rope to hang ourselves."

Harry frowned. "So Mai gets to look like she's taking Morgan's advice, Morgan gets to back off on us without looking like he's backing off, and we'll generally get left alone more because nobody will dare to go against the two of them?" Harry asked, a little incredulous. "That sounds way too easy."

"Why thank you," Bob said smugly. "Making it look easy is the best part of the game." Harry thumped his arm, laughing. Bob sobered. "We will have to be very careful," he warned. "We can't let ourselves become publicly discredited, or there will be nothing left to hold off the vultures."

Harry fought off a chill and nodded. "They've been circling for years," he said. "I'm used to keeping an eye out." Bob looked dubious, but made a great show of deciding that changing the subject was the greater part of valor.

"So, breakfast?" he asked.  "I'll cook." Harry glared at him, but it bounced off his back as he rose and began to rummage though the 'fridge. That was okay. Harry could get him back for that later.

***

Harry shuffled uncomfortably, fidgeting with the bottom edge of his jacket.  As scruffy and unkempt as dealing with the Council always made him feel, he refused to let them see how much it bothered him by changing one damn thing. He glared at Bob, standing beside him all cool and impeccably dressed, with mild resentment.  It really wasn't fair that some people hogged all the poise.

Bob caught the look and smiled with a certain amount of sympathy; they both knew that Harry was just trying to distract himself.  This whole situation hit far too close to home for comfort, on multiple levels. He fought off a chill as he remembered how close he'd come, of how near a thing it had been to him kneeling there in a circle of the powerful, a sword at his neck.

Johnny was struggling sullenly, without seeming to have any real expectation of getting free.  His hands were tied behind his back, but the customary black hood was missing.  Harry didn't even have a good guess as to why; maybe the trial was such a forgone conclusion they didn't want to bother.  Maybe they knew he wasn't talented or powerful enough to be a threat with his eyes unbound.  Maybe they just weren't worried that his petulant expression would engender pity in anyone there.  On one level, Harry was kind of glad.  Even with everything Johnny had done.... He still remembered the way that thing had felt.  The way it had smelled, pressing against his nose and mouth. It made his skin crawl even now, thinking about it.  Johnny was going to die, there was nothing to be done about that, and frankly nothing Harry wanted to do about it, but the least someone deserved was to look his killer in the eye.

Johnny turned toward him, and Harry looked away.  He wasn't there for him.  He was there for Warrick Roberts.  For the security guards.  For William Tanner. The look of betrayal written so clearly across Johnny's face wasn't his problem. He couldn't let it be his problem, no matter how much his conscience was telling him that if he'd paid more attention, noticed what was going on sooner, that he could have prevented this. Prevented all those deaths.

A sharp nudge to his side shook him from his thoughts, and he cast a sidelong glance at the source of his distraction.  Bob was watching Johnny intently, completely unconcerned by mental conflict.  This was a lot simpler for him; he felt no pity for Johnny, not even grudgingly, had no what-ifs and if-I'd-onlys running around in his head. For Bob, Johnny had done terrible things, had tried to hurt Harry, and was going to be appropriately punished for it.  Bob had few, if any, problems with that. If anything, he probably wished he could do it himself.

Harry envied him, a little. It sounded like it was a lot less stressful.

"Johnathan Howard Dolan," the Merlin intoned, making Johnny twitch uncomfortably.  His Name had probably been used liberally over the last few days, to force him into honesty and truth. "For the crimes of which you stand accused, the penalty is death. Are there any here that would speak against it?"

There was silence. Harry kept his head ducked toward the floor, feeling Johnny's pleading eyes on him even without looking.  He didn't say anything.

"I can't fucking believe this!" Johnny wailed, struggling against his bonds and being shoved back to his knees. "It's bullshit! Just because I'm not part of your little club, you're pissed off because I've done the same damn things all of you have done too!"

"No," Morgan said flatly, his voice a crack of doom.  "Any who had committed your crimes would be treated the same. Without exception."

The room went momentarily still. Even Johnny didn't dare argue against or contradict the tone in Morgan's voice.  Harry snuck a peek at Mai, who was watching from her usual place near the Merlin, her face an expressionless stone mask.  Good call, Bob.

"Judgment has been passed," the Merlin said, clearly trying to get control of the proceedings back.  "So shall it be carried out.  Morgan, if you would?"

"A pity it can't be done twice," came a sotto voce mutter from somewhere in the room.  Harry caught Bob's calculating look out of the corner of his eye, and it was his turn to nudge Bob, trying hard to be surreptitious. Bob blinked at him in expertly manufactured innocence. Harry sighed and shook his head.  Now wasn't really a good time for a joke like that, even unspoken.  He wasn't sure there was a good time for a joke like that, all things considered.  And if it hadn't been a joke... then Harry was still going to pretend it was, for his own peace of mind.

It was over in less than a minute. Morgan stepped forward, and the sword came down with a gristly noise that turned Harry's stomach, followed by a heavy double-thump as head and body hit the ground separately. There was less blood than he'd have expected. Maybe they used some kind of spell for that, to make the cleanup easier. Morgan moved back quickly to avoid what spray there was, and Harry couldn't help but wonder how much practice he'd had to know how to do it so neatly. He quickly relegated that to the don't-want-to-think-about-it category.

The Merlin nodded, an acknowledgment of a job well done, then turned and left without another word. The rest of the Council melted away as well, leaving a scatter of spectators around a sparse ring of Wardens.  Morgan wiped his sword down with a cloth, tossing it on top of the corpse and beckoning two of them over. Harry leaned his shoulder up against Bob's, glad for the warmth and support.

The other Wardens--one of them was Amber, Harry noticed, formed a triangle around the body with Morgan at its apex. A few quietly spoken words and a bright flare of energy, and all that was left of Johnny was a shapeless mass of fine gray powder.

The whole thing, beginning to end, had taken perhaps half an hour, the largest part by far having been taken up with the recitation of his crimes.  It was oddly anticlimactic, in a way that left Harry a little jittery.  Bob wrapped an arm around his shoulders and he curled into the embrace with a sigh. It seemed wrong, somehow, that such a thing should take so little time.

A glance at Bob showed only satisfaction. Harry bit back on the ill-tempered urge to remind Bob of the results of his own judgment. It wouldn't be any kind of fair to do something like that. Bob had earned mercy and forgiveness in a way Johny probably never could have, and had done it at the price of misery Harry wouldn't wish on anyone.

If he didn't stop smirking like that, though, Harry was not going to be responsible for his actions.

"Let's get out of here," he finally said, giving Bob a nudge toward the door, but before they'd made if five steps they were stopped.

"Dresden," Morgan called.  Harry froze, uneasy.  With a few long strides, the Warden was in front of them, looking somewhat distastefully at the way Bob's arm still lingered around Harry's shoulders. "Bainbridge," he acknowledged coolly.

"Morgan," Harry answered warily. He hadn't been expecting him to even acknowledge them today.  Bob kept silent, for which Harry was grateful.  While Bob would be careful not to say anything Morgan could actually take action over, they really couldn't afford to piss him off too much.

"I did not expect you to be here today," Morgan said, forthright. It was unspoken that Morgan would not have blamed him for his absence. Harry frowned.

"I owed William," was all he said.  To his surprise, Morgan seemed to accept that.  Even respect it.  He nodded fractionally to himself as though confirming a decision.

"The council has decided to give you both the rope to hang yourselves with," he said evenly.  "One mis-step, and you'll be seeing this place again."  He inclined his head toward the center of the room.  "But that time, you won't be leaving."  He turned with a dramatic flare of coat, and was gone.  Harry gaped after him.  The words had been ominous, nothing anyone overhearing wouldn't expect Morgan to say to his least favorite pain in the ass.  The tone, though....

"That wasn't a threat," Bob said, bemused.

"It was a warning," Harry agreed, trying to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.  More than that, he'd been letting them know that they didn't have to keep waiting on tenterhooks too see what the decision was. "I mean, not that we don't  know the Council's gonna be on our asses, but that was... decent of him."

"Perhaps there's hope for him after all," Bob said with amusement, using the arm that was still around Harry's shoulders to guide him toward the door.

"Maybe," Harry answered cynically.  "But I won't hold my breath.  It won't be long before he's banging down the door again, more than willing to believe that one or both of us is responsible for the most recent catastrophe."

"Quite likely," Bob nodded. They both ignored the looks and whispers as they continued their interrupted journey out of the building. There were few that recognized Bob, and the ones who did weren't sure they believed what they were seeing, but everyone had something to say about Harry being seen in public with a man he was so obviously... close to. The healers were supposed to maintain confidentiality, but there were always a few gossips, no matter what.  And what Justin had done to him was entirely too juicy a tidbit to keep quiet about.

Just as it looked like they were finally going to be able to get out of there, the door in site, another call stopped them in their tracks.

"Wizard Dresden," came the familiar voice over their shoulders.

"Ms. Spencer," Harry said, forcing a smile. They were never going to get out of here today.  He just knew it.  "I'd say it was good to see you, but considering the circumstances...." he shrugged.  Bob shifted slightly, squeezing his shoulder.  Oh, right.  "Bob, this is Ms. Spencer.  She was taking care of William.  Ms. Spencer, this is Bob."  He didn't offer any further introduction beyond that; Bob's protective grip was probably plenty.

"Charmed," Bob murmured pleasantly, with an incline of his head.

"Pleased to meet you," Spencer said, sounding genuine if somewhat distracted. "I'm sorry to interrupt, and I won't keep you for long, but I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" Harry blinked.  "For what?"

"You've done nothing but try to help from the beginning," she said earnestly.  "And you made sure the man who hurt William was brought to justice.  That's more than a lot of people would have done." She took a deep breath.  "So thank you.  If you ever need my help, for anything, all you have to do is ask."

"I... uh, thanks." Harry said, more than a little mystified.  She nodded at him once and left without another word. Harry looked at Bob a little helplessly.  That sure didn't give him any clues, but the soft smile of affection and pride on Bob's face made his ears heat up a little.

"Come on," he said finally. "I don't think there's anybody else in here that would want to say something, so let's hope we can actually make it out the door this time."

"Let's try," Bob agreed. "It will be good to get home."  The door was only a few steps, and Harry nearly dived out into the late-afternoon sunshine.

"Uh, about that," he said with a grimace.  "I'll drop you off, but Murphy's got to be getting nervous by now.  I need to go ransack the Manor for stuff to sell."

"Today?" Bob demanded, incredulous.

"Might as well get it over with," Harry said with resignation.  "And if I'm going to flush a day down the toilet anyway, it might as well be this one." He sighed, digging his keys out of his pocket. He was looking forward to this about as much as he would having his toenails pulled off with a pair of red-hot pliers, but it had to be done.

"Then you needn't bother heading home," Bob said, getting in and closing the door with a solid *thunk*. "As I'll be going with you."

"It's not that big a deal," Harry protested, starting the Jeep.  If he had his way, Bob would never set foot in the manor again, but after the fight they'd had over him dictating Bob's movements he damn well knew better than to say so.  "It'll take maybe an hour, in and out and I'm gone.  You can--" he bit down hard on 'get some rest' "--get some reading done, or maybe straighten up the lab.  I know that's been bugging you."  He hid his grimace. He liked the way he had the lab set up; everything he had was exactly where he wanted it, and could lay his hands on it at a moment's thought.

"If it's 'not that big a deal', then two sets of hands will do as well as one, and more quickly."  Bob settled back in his seat, the gleam of steel in his eye giving the lie to his blandly pleasant expression.  Harry sighed.  Bob was just as determined not to let him go alone as he was to keep Bob away.  They could sit here and fight about it, and end up with both of them angry and frustrated and Bob going anyway, or he could give in gracefully and save a lot of trouble.  The idea of taking them both home and sneaking out later crossed his mind, but Bob would make his life a living hell for something like that.

"All right, all right," he grumbled, putting the Jeep in gear and pulling away from the curb. "You win."  It was going to make him twitchy as hell, but there really wasn't any way for him to win this one. It was a feeling that was becoming frustratingly familiar.

He glared sourly at the road ahead, his hands tight on the wheel.  Bob glanced at him, sidelong, and rested a conciliatory hand on his knee.  Harry smiled half-heartedly back. It wasn't really Bob he was mad at.  Hell, Bob was one of the few things that was making the universe's general refusal to do what he damn well wanted it to do bearable.  It was just one more thing on a long list that he really wished he didn't have to at least pretend to be an adult about.

It was a bit of a drive to get out there, and they didn't spend much of it talking.  Despite Harry's bad mood, they fell into the comforting silence of two people who had known each other long enough that endless chatter to fill the silence wasn't necessary. The radio had even decided to work, for once, and Harry was endlessly entertained by Bob's attempts to find something that he could bear to listen to. He finally settled on something mutually agreeable, and for a while Harry just soaked in the music and the company, letting himself forget where they were going to steal a moment's peace.

Bob seemed to be enjoying it too, occasionally humming along with the music or keeping subtle time with his head or heel. He was absently running his fingers along the sun-warmed metal of Jeep's door in a way he likely wasn't even consciously aware of.  Harry was struck by how little time had really passed since they'd broken Bob's curse.  It was wonderful to see him getting to bask a little in the sun's warmth, though if he wasn't careful he was going to need sunscreen.  He was a little amused by how much it pleased him, just watching Bob enjoy his surroundings.

His pleasant mood crashed and burned when he saw how close they had gotten.  The entrance to the drive was just ahead, and the pretentiously imposing building was already visible. He bit back the urge to just turn around and go home.  This was something that had to be done. In retrospect, he wished he'd held on to at least a little of Justin's money, if only to ensure that he'd never be driven to this. Done was done, though, and he wouldn't make the same mistake twice, if he were given the opportunity.

He parked and climbed out, walking around to lean against Bob's side of the Jeep with a sigh."Are you sure, Harry?" Bob asked. "I know this place doesn't hold the best memories for you."

"Not for you, either," Harry pointed out, staring grimly up at the gray stone of the Manor. The bright blue sky somehow made it look even more depressing, like the empty husk of what might have been a home, if things had been a little different. Or a lot different.

"Yes, but it's far less personal for me. Justin was simply one more in a long line of people who thought they could master me simply because they could command me." He shrugged gracefully, staring up at the imposing edifice. "Tutoring you was actually one of the brights spots of the previous century or two."

Harry smiled, slinging an arm around Bob's shoulders. "Come on," he said with a certain amount of resignation. "Let's get this over with."

The door opened easily at his touch, the wards doing as good a job of protection and maintainence as any combination of locks and hired help. He averted his eyes when he passed the spot where Justin had died for the first time, Bob's hand at the small of his back a welcome comfort.

"Let's try the master bedroom," Bob suggested. "There will likely be jewelry and such. Possibly even a few more things of your mother's that you might like to keep."

"That would be nice," Harry agreed, running a finger along his shield bracelet. He had an idea of what he'd like to do if they did find something like that, but he decided to keep his mouth shut for now. "Most of what was Justin's I have no problems parting with."

"There was a safe-box under his bed, as well," Bob added as they made their way through the house.  The silent, shadowy rooms had an eerie feel, the white-shrouded furniture only adding to the creepy atmosphere.

"I never knew about that," Harry said, unsurprised. There was a lot Justin hadn't decided to share with him. "Do you know the combination, or where the key is? If not, I'm sure we can get it open anyway."

"It's not a safe of that type," Bob said, shaking his head and opening the door to the bedroom. "It's spelled shut, not locked."

This was one room that hadn't been packed away and covered in drop cloths. Harry suppressed a shudder. It looked almost like Justin had just stepped out, and would be back any minute. The bed was neatly turned back, the top of the dresser dustless and polished.  One of the closet doors was open a bit, and Harry could see hints of fine suit fabrics. They could maybe take some of those to a consignment shop or something, in a pinch. They'd likely fetch a good price.

"You want to get that box?"  Harry asked. "You've got a better chance of being able to figure out how to get it open." He surveyed the room with a sigh. "I'll start looking for sellables."

"Perhaps you should start with the bathroom?" Bob suggested, sinking to his knees at the side of the bed and half crawling under it. Harry eyed the tight curve of his ass appreciatively, but turned away.  They were here for business, not fun, and the idea of starting anything here of all places gave him the willies.  He'd spend the entire time expecting Justin to come in and yell at him for messing up the bed, and if that wasn't a libido-killer nothing was.

The bathroom was just as distressingly tidy, with neatly-folded fluffy white towels, and fixtures polished to gleaming.  Harry was willing to bet that Justin had never made a mess in his life. There were two boxes on the counter that were just solid enough and masculine enough that they probably technically weren't supposed to be called jewelry boxes anymore, and after a moment or two of poking through the neatly arranged rows of rings and cuff-links, he gave up and simply tucked them both under his arm. They could sort through them at home later, just as easily.

"I think Justin had more jewelry than some women I've dated," Harry said, shaking his head as he came out of the bathroom. Bob was crosslegged on the end of the bed, intently examining a foot-locker sized wood and metal-chest that was covered with arcane symbols. He actually kind of looked like he was enjoying himself.

"Justin was like that," he answered absently. "Always more money than taste or sense. A few really good pieces used sparingly is always a better thing to have than piles of mediocre ones.  They'll sell, at least."

"Yeah, some of this stuff probably cost more than I bring in in a month," Harry agreed.  "Having much luck?"

"It's a tricky little puzzle, but I've almost..." he made a small victorious sound and passed his hand over the lid. It sprang open at the brush of his fingers, glowing faintly green, against the sigil in the corner.  Harry made a show of applauding, and Bob shot him an amused look. Plunking the boxes he carried down by the door, he clambered up on the bed next to Bob.

"So what have we got?" he asked.

"Several thousand in small bills, a few bank books for offshore accounts, at least one in Switzerland, and a bit more jewelry.  It looks like our money troubles may be over," Bob answered with a grin. "Most of the jewelry has at least a faint magical aura, so we'll have to be careful, but the money is clean."

Harry grimaced internally at the thought of taking Justin's money, as dirty as it probably was, but while he was fully content to scrape for money for rent and food when it was just him, he wasn't going to make Bob live like that.

"Anything interesting about the jewelry?" he asked, preferring to talk about that rather than the money.

"A few things that belonged to your grandfather, a few amulets that Justin liked to wear when he was on Council business, and one or two things I don't recognize off-hand," bob said, nudging through the small sparkling pile with one finger.

"Like what?" Harry asked curiously.  Bob fished a heavy-looking silvery bracelet out of the tangle and held it up.

"Platinum, I think. And good workmanship," he commented with mild approval.

"I've seen it, I think," Harry said hesitantly, reaching out for it. As soon as Bob dropped it in his hand, a hot spark of purplish energy shot from the bracelet into his fingers, making his arm convulse painfully all the way to is shoulder and sending a spike of agony through his temples. He dropped the bracelet to the bed with a cry, clutching his head. Immediately he felt Bob's hands on his neck and shoulder.

"Harry?  Harry, what's wrong?" Bob's concerned voice helped him shake away the last of the shock and pain, and he took a deep breath.

"Ow," was all he managed.

"Are you all right?" Bob asked anxiously.

Harry massaged his temples gingerly, the sparking remnants of that hot stab of pain already fading.  "Yeah, I think I'm okay," he said with a wince.  Bob glared at the innocent-looking links as they lay on the expensive coverlet.

"It was keyed to you, but why would Justin put something that was trapped so you couldn't touch it away in his safe-box?"

The memory hit Harry like a ton of bricks; the blocks Natalia had dug out had left the memories behind them soft-focused and blurry around the edges, and he mostly had to make himself think of them. This one wasn't waiting to be called, though.

"Not a trap, a trigger," he said, swallowing.  "I guess it went a little haywire because the spell it was supposed to be triggering is gone now."