Fic: Kill It With (Gun)Fire! [2/2]

[jade_dragoness]

Title: Kill It With (Gun)Fire! [2/2]
Series: Following the Evil Overlord List, Story #6
Author: J.D. aka jade_dragoness
Rating: R, violence and language
Pairing: Harry Dresden/John Marcone
Spoilers: Storm Front; with some dialogue lifted whole from the book.
Summary: Evil AU. Harry protects what belongs to him.
Word Count: 5,580; Total: 8,046
Disclaimer: Never ever will be mine. *sadness* Nor do I own the Evil Overlord List.
A/N: This is a FEF, aka fluffy evil fic. And wow, this part ran to loooooong. Considering the speed that it got written, I also reserve the right to sneak ninja fix it.
Feedback is hugely welcomed.
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Sequel to: Gather the Minions
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[Part One]
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The seething anger that I’d saved away for later was an inferno by the time I sped down the gravel path leading to the house. It could be argued that I was technically breaking rule 39 by running out ahead without any backup but I couldn‘t afford to wait.- 4 Rain was already falling lightly from the sky. I could feel the power building and building overhead in the black clouds, letting me know that my window of opportunity to act was shrinking.

The FBI car’s engine sputtered and died right as I braked to a stop before the Sells’ lake house. The air around it was heavy with Monica Sells’ dark magic. The feeling of corruption growing thicker and thicker towards the house. Toot-toot had described it perfectly. It was the only house set on a little swampy peninsula. The dewdrop fairy definitely did good work.

I stalked up the walkway, holding my staff before me so I could react if Monica had thought to booby-trap her front door but there were none. Every step that brought me closer to the house also sank me deeper into a miasma of ugly, slimy energy until I could hear the dark magic whispering to me in my head.

It was telling me to embrace it. That I should let it raze the world to ashes; that everything needed to burn. What was the point of goodness, of light, when the dark was better? When the dark meant power, strength and never needing to be afraid again. When it meant being the strongest one in the room - in the world - and everyone had to bow down to you. And no one, absolutely no one could ever hurt you again because you’d be doing the hurting and making people scream in pain and fear.

This was Monica Sells’ magic.

I inhaled deeply and focused on the weight of the pentacle on my chest. The black gem was glowing again as it slid a mental shield between me and the dark call of power, protecting my soul from its corruption. I exhaled slowly as the malignant whispers faded away.

I have mentioned that black magic is dangerous without protection, right? And with my affinity for it, it meant dark power called out to me all the louder, especially when I was so furious I could barely think straight. I took another deep breath and controlled my emotions. The second most important trick to dealing with dark magic - or any kind of magic honestly - other than having protection against its addicting effect, was self-control. A wizard who couldn’t control their feelings had no business dealing with magic. Much less with sorcery. Lack of control meant the power would use the sorcerer, turning them into a puppet for the dark powers.

And no one controlled me. I controlled myself.

Lightning flashed over Lake Michigan, reminding me to hurry. I channeled my anger through my staff and tore off the door with a word, sending it spinning into the lake. The roll of thunder drowned out the sound of splintering wood.

Lightning flashed again as I stepped into the house. Nice. A dramatic entrance. Too bad there wasn’t anyone around to see it. I’d almost pout about it but I had more important things to do. I followed the feel of thickening magic, and a faint purple-black haze of energy began clouding the air. I walked down a hallway, passing a room stacked with wooden boxes containing the glass vials full green liquid.

The entire room was full of ThreeEye, including the ingredients that made up the potion. I recognized glitter, absinthe and a few other things like several Tupperware containers full of peyote mushrooms - I was familiar with them. I took a quick moment to memorize all the ingredients. This was an interesting potion and Bob would want to now what went into it. Then I moved faster to make up for the pause. Soon I began to hear a loud rhythmic beat. The kind of music that was heavy with drums, mimicking a pounding human heart beat.

Both the magical haze and the music grew louder as I stepped into a wide room. There was a platform on the second story and no one around to see me. The source of both music and magic were above me so I focused my power, pointing my staff at the floor. I said, “Veni che” And like a pole jumper, I went up until I landed on the platform with a thump, half-crouched and my coat flaring out.

My impressive entrance was again unnoticed, drowned out by the loud blasting music. Good.

Monica Sells was chanting in the middle of a circle, a bound white furred rabbit tied in red string before her. Powering her spell, a young couple who I didn’t recognize were having sex, and sitting near them was a grim faced older man with steel grey hair and black pitiless eyes. Two men stood at his side. Bodyguards. But bad ones, their attentions were caught by the live action porn.

The old guy had to be Tony Vargassi. He didn’t look like much but then, he didn’t need to, he just needed to have the money to pay people to do what he wanted. Like killing Marcone with magic.

I scowled and drew out my revolver.

Monica’s chanting went up in speed, and lightning flashed again. The bright light came from a sliding glass door leading to a balcony. Thunder rolled as she raised a knife above her head. With one stroke, she’d kill the rabbit and using the ritual’s power she’d tear out Marcone’s heart. I literally had about a second to act. But all I needed was something physical and without a speck of magic. It would break her circle and all that energy would disperse.

So I shot her.

The kick of the revolver was satisfying. That I missed by a couple of inches so that the bullet slammed into her shoulder was less so. Dammit. I made a mental note to hit up the range for more shooting practice.

“No!” Monica screamed as her ritual fell apart. “No!”

Dark purple light blasted in all directions and wind howled, pushing against everyone. I had to squint against it. I snarled and shot at Monica again but she was already ducking for cover. I aimed and fired at Vargassi but I missed again. One of the bodyguards tackled him just in time. The other one raised his gun and I activated my shield bracelet, catching the bullets. I crouched down to make myself a smaller target. The bullets went over my head or bounced off my shield. I heard a yelp as one of the ricochets caught someone but I couldn‘t see who got hit. I waited a beat then aimed my staff.

“Ventas servitas!” I shouted as I lowered my shield, sending another blast of air screaming toward the shooting bodyguard. He flinched and stumbled away further into the house. I looked around but didn‘t see any sign of Monica. I couldn’t see Vargassi anywhere in sight, either. So… his bodyguards weren’t totally useless. They’d gotten him out of here. Dammit. Well, I’ll just have to kill him later. I ran after where I‘d thought Monica had gone but I barely got a couple of feet when I was jumped by the young naked couple. They’d both gotten a hold of guns from somewhere.

I snarled and smashed the man with the end of my staff, giving myself enough space to say a word and gesture, hitting them both with a blast of force. They slammed hard, cracking the drywall and losing their hold on the guns before they crumbled to the floor. I gestured with my staff and sent the guns skittering away.

I aimed my revolver.

“Wait! Wait,” the young man said, desperately raising his hands. Familiar black eyes stared up at me. There was a familial similarity between him and Vargassi. “We surrender! We‘re unarmed. Don‘t shoot!”

“And you‘re mistaking me for someone who cares,” I said flatly, shooting him in the head. His head jerked back and the body slid to the floor.

The young woman whimpered and held up her hands. “I won’t say anything. I promise. Please, I was just here for my boyfriend. I‘ll do anything.”

I shot her, left her corpse behind and moved after Monica. Oh, don’t give me that look. Gender is no defense. Anyone who thinks that being a woman is somehow a built in excuse to hold back is a freaking idiot. Rule 40 meant no one gets spared.- 5 Anyway, she was participating in the ritual that was going to kill Marcone. Of course, I was going to kill her. I was going to kill everyone involved. They threatened what was mine.

Two down and four more to go.

I looked around again but everyone had scattered. So I went into one of rooms, hoping I‘d find Monica but it turned out to be the kitchen. Unfortunately, I did find one of the bodyguards and I was shot for my troubles.

Pain bloomed in my chest as I staggered back, and then sank to the floor.

Sonuvabitch.

I brought up my shield even as I struggled for breath. My bullet-proof vest had caught the bullets, and my shield caught the rest. But if freaking hurt! My chest ached, and I’d gotten clipped by another bullet along my hip. I could feel the sticky wetness from the blood along my leg, but at least I wasn‘t bleeding enough to create a puddle. I waited until the bullets stopped to drop the shield before I forced myself to gasp out a low, “Fuego.”

Flames streamed out, not in my usual blast of fire but still big enough to make the bodyguard yelp and duck away. I took that moment to blink away the pain and actually breathe.

Then the bastard of a bodyguard came back after me. And I didn’t have my shield up.

“Freeze!”

I looked up to see Marcone with Hendricks at his side standing at the entrance of the kitchen with both of them pointing guns at the bodyguard.

Damn, the man had impossibly good timing. Marcone was getting more than one grateful kiss from me for this save. Hell, I’d give him a lap dance if he wanted. Err… Cujo could only collect a kiss. On the cheek. Maybe.

“Drop it,” Marcone ordered coolly. The man froze as ordered and slowly set the gun down.

“If I ask you shoot him for me, you won‘t do it, will you?” I said regretfully.

“The man has surrendered, Mr. Dresden,” Marcone said, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “It would be rather unnecessary. And unlawful.”

I gave him a small smile. “What if I promise you a helluva kiss for it?”

“Then I would tell you that it is also illegal to bribe a federal agent,” he said, as he holstered his weapon, walking toward me. He crouched at my side while Hendricks cuffed the bodyguard, reading him his rights. Marcone checked me over carefully but quickly. He found where a bullet had scored my hip leaving a deep furrow, and two bullets imbedded in my Kevlar vest. Right over my heart. “You should have waited for me,” Marcone said grimly.

“Yeah, and then I’d just be twiddling my thumbs as you died,” I said flatly. I pressed my hand to his chest, staring at him intently. “I made it by seconds. Seconds, John. If I‘d been slower you’d be dead.”

“And if I‘d been slower, you would be dead, Mr. Dresden.”

“Damn. That means we‘re even, doesn’t it?” I mock scowled. “And here I was thinking I‘d be able to collect your adoring gratitude for saving your life… in bed.”

Hendricks shot me an annoyed look, interrupting himself from whatever he was saying to the bodyguard.

I ignore him, grinning up at Marcone who helped to my feet. He had the smallest possible smile on his face. “I‘m not a fortune cookie, Mr. Dresden.”

I had a whole host of comebacks to that remark but I was distracted by the sound of several things scuttling closer. I frowned.

“What is that?” Marcone asked with a tilt of his head as he too caught the noise. Hendricks looked up and moved uneasily closer to us. The bodyguard’s face went ghost-white. He knew what was coming.

“Scorpions,” I said flatly. I shrugged out of Marcone’s grasp and hobbled out of the kitchen to see six scorpions scuttling towards us. They were still small, barely the size of my hand but with every step they took they grew bigger, and bigger, and bigger.

Crap.

“Tell me that Murphy‘s right behind you,” I said, moving back into the kitchen to grab my staff from where it had rolled.

Marcone looked out towards the scorpions and backed up. “I‘m afraid not. The lieutenant caught sight of Vargassi making his get-away and decided to give chase.”

I sighed. Of course she did. He’d give her much bigger headlines in the newspaper than solving a couple of mere murders, no matter how grisly. Chicago loves its mobsters. Or at least, reading about them getting thrown in jail.

“Then get ready to run,” I said, and pointed my staff at the scorpions. I shouted, “Ventas servitas!”

The wind that howled out sent the scorpions tumbling head over barbed tail until they slid over the platform and down to the first story.

I limped out, Marcone at my side, and Hendricks at our heels, dragging along the cuffed bodyguard.

“You know, if we tossed him over to the scorpions it would buy us time,” I said. I could hear the scorpions struggling to make it up the stairs but they were too small. That bought us time at least until they grew big enough.

“Mr. Dresden,” Marcone said flatly. “He is under arrest and therefore under my protection.”

I sighed. Stupid heroic and law abiding tendencies. That was one major drawback of chasing after a heroic type even if Marcone was more ruthless than your average hero. The principles he did have? He wouldn’t compromise to save his life. Literally. Dammit.

The bodyguard became whiter. “No wait. I‘ll talk. I‘ll tell you everything you want to know about Vargassi, about ThreeEye, about that crazy woman. Everything!”

“No, you won‘t!” Monica snarled, pointing a wand, made of pale wood or bone as she stepped out from the balcony. So that’s where she’d gone.

Purple flames shot towards us. And I jerked up my shield in time. I made it bigger than usual and tilted it up, sending the flames towards the ceiling beams. The wood had no resistance and caught on fire at once.

“Oh cute,” I mocked. “Fire’s the simplest thing you can do. That’s just pathetic.” I smirked. “And weak. All wizards learn fire in the first couple of weeks. Then we move on.”

“I‘m not weak!” she shouted, glaring at me with mad hate twisting her face. Once, I would have considered her attractive but the dark magic had done more than just destroy her mind and soul, it had leached the vitality from her features. Leaving her eyes sunken, her skin sallow and loose; even her ash blond hair had lost any luster it once had. But even with her decrypt state, there was something familiar about her.

“Right,” I said scornfully, as the clue fell into place. “So are you saying you killed your sister on purpose?” I could feel Marcone stiffen at my words. “And not by accident? What? Was Jessica too close to the real target, Agent Tomm? You just didn’t have enough control, didn‘t you, Monica. Because you‘re weak and useless. Like I said: pathetic.”

My words struck her like physical blows and she flinched even taking a step back.

What? Taunting the bad guy into losing it isn’t just for heroes. Nothing in the rules says I can’t do it too.

“Shut up!” Monica screamed in fury. And she proved the truth of my words, by calling forth her demon. “Kalshazzak,” she whispered. Her ugly feeling magic gathered around her. “Kalshazzak,” she said, louder. The magic began to solidify. And she screamed the name for the third and final time. “Kalshazzak!”

And with a thunderous crack and the sulfurous stench of rotting eggs the demon appeared between us, clothed in ectoplasm. It was the very same toad demon that had attacked my home last night.

I shot her a wolfish smile, because the bitch had let me learn the demon’s Name.

“Hey, Kalshy,” I said, with a toothy grin. The demon looked at me with its glowing blue eyes, and tilted its head to the side. “I have deal for you.”

“What are you waiting for?” Monica yelled. “Kill him!”

“Mr. Dresden,” Marcone warned. He had his gun steadily pointing at the demon. Hendricks mimicked his boss. The bodyguard kept gasping in fear.

“I’ve got this, John,” I said, flickering my eyes at him then back at the demon. “Go.”

“I don‘t believe that‘s a good idea,” he murmured.

“Kill him!” Monica screamed again, backing her words with power.

The demon grunted and took another step towards me.

“Kalshy,” I said cheerfully. “This is the deal: I break the hold this bitch has on you, and you let me, Marcone, his man and that extremely lucky guy under arrest out of here.”

“Whyy ssshould I do thissss?” the demon hissed.

“Because,” I said without any amusement. “I have your Name now. Kalshazzak.” And I slammed my will into the Name.

The demon rocked on his heels. “Annnd if I‘m freeeee whyyy would I let youuu livee?”

“Because I have survived you before, I can survive you again,” I said flatly. “And with your Name what do you think I‘ll do to you? You can‘t tell me you don‘t know who I am, Kalshazzak.” The demon shuddered at his Name, and paused in thought.

“I order you to kill him!” Monica shouted desperately. The demon snarled and fought against her compulsion. Whatever the demon did make Monica go white with strain.

“… I knnoow of youu,” the demon hissed, turning to me. It bowed down low until its froggy face was only inches from the floor. “…The Blackssssstone.”

I didn’t flinch. That was part of my name, but not my Name. It wasn’t right, the pronunciation was off. But then, no one, absolutely no one or no thing, held my Name. I wasn’t going to allow it. But that didn’t mean that beings Down Below didn’t have a title for me: The Blackstone.

I liked it.

“I accccept youuur deaaal,” the demon said. It bowed again.

I smirked, and called his Name a third time. I poured a torrent of power into it. “Kalshazzak.”

The power compelling the demon to obey Monica Sells snapped with the sound of a broken bone. And the demon turned to Monica with hungry, angry toady eyes.

I smirked over at her. “Have fun, dear.”

“No wait,” she said, backpedaling from the demon. “I promised to give you my children. They‘re here! Just in the other room. You can have them now!”

Crap. They were here?

The demon just grinned nastily and grabbed her.

Marcone looked over to where Monica had pointed and ran into the room.

I swore. Why? Why did I have to fall for a heroic type again? Oh yes, because he was sex on stick and dangerous to boot. “Take him out of here,” I snapped at Hendricks, who was still holding up the bodyguard. “Or toss him to the scorpions, I don‘t care.” I pointed at the open door that led out to the balcony. “Just go through there. It’s the only way to avoid them. I‘ll get Marcone out.”

“You better,” Hendricks growled.

And like a total idiot with my own suicidal heroic tendencies, I chased after Marcone. Behind me Monica screamed in terror and in pain.

Ah, just as it should be. I smirked. And no, I’m not breaking rule 125.- 6 There’s nothing elaborate about being eaten by demon.
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Finding the kids wasn’t that hard. They were in one of the bedrooms. The door had been locked, but Marcone had kicked it down. Unfortunately, they were also unconscious. They’d been either drugged to the gills or bespelled. I couldn’t tell.

I found Marcone gently trying to shake a girl awake. She was about twelve or eleven years old, and looked remarkably like her dead aunt, but with her mother‘s blonde hair. Next to her on the sprawling bed was a boy about a year or two younger than her.

“Mr. Dresden, can you wake them?” Marcone asked. Either desperation or smoke was thickening his voice. But I’d bet money it was the former.

“Not unless I knew what had knocked them out,” I said quietly, looking around. There was a window facing the backyard. Smoke was curling in along the ceiling. The fire would soon follow. “I could end up hurting them more.” Especially if their mother had used mind magic on them. I wasn’t really talented in that area. And if I tried to pull them out of that sort of spell? I could end up ripping their minds apart. “Lets get them out of here before the entire house burns down or the demon finishes with Monica. These kids weren’t part of my bargain. Since they were promised to him, it‘ll come after them.”

Marcone nodded sharply and gently picked the girl, cradling her in her arms.

I felt a touch of envy before I stomped it out. I wasn’t about to feel threatened by an unconscious kid. I picked up the boy and slung him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Well… the house was on fire.

“Let‘s go out the window,” I said. Monica’s screams had already faded. I broke apart the glass with a muttered word, sending the sharp shards flying off to the side so we wouldn’t land on them. “Wrap an arm around me,” I said, giving Marcone a grin. “And hold on tight.”

He shifted the girl into a fireman’s carry of his own, and held me around the waist, pulling me close. I gestured with my staff, and tilted us out the window.

“Veni che!” I shouted, gesturing with the staff. Wind flew up, slowing our descent so that we landed gently, like a falling leaf. Inside the fire must have reached the stock of ThreeEye or something equally flammable because a blast blew out several windows. I activated my shield bracelet, and protected us all from the bits of flaming debris and the falling rain. “What do you say we move on out of here?” I asked, as I dropped the shield. The rain began pounding down on us. The children didn’t even react to it. “I‘m running out of arms to hold stuff.”

“Agreed,” Marcone said, letting me go. Damn. He began walking toward the front of house. I limped along to stay at his side. “These two will need an ambulance.”

“Okay, but I hope you have a way to call from you car, because any cell phone you had on you will be dead now, and I kinda… killed the other car,” I said ruefully.

Marcone raised his eyebrows. “Was this the same car you stole from Agent Sharpe?”

“I asked for the car keys,” I said, giving him an innocent look. “He can even tell you he gave them to me.”

“Hmm,” Marcone said.

I eye him. “What?”

“I’m just wondering if you acquired those keys the same way you got me out of your apartment.”

I blinked. “While naked? Sorry, I only have one FBI agent I want strip for.”

The corners of Marcone’s mouth went up. “I meant, with your magic, Mr. Dresden. The same way you bypassed the guard at the home of Ms. St. Claire.”

“Oh, that,” I said. “But I haven‘t used my magic on you, Agent Marcone.” I stared him. “You drank a potion. It had unintentional side-effects.” I wasn’t actually lying. All those words were true. Technically. I was walking a fine line between lying and telling him the truth, but I’ve learned how to do it from a master. Hell, I could dance on that line.

“Is that why I don‘t remember what occurred after I drank it?” he asked, watching me somberly.

We turned the corner, and I saw Hendricks standing by another one of those FBI sedans. He was talking into a phone. I made a mental note to keep a distance. I could also hear sirens in the distance.

“I didn‘t intend to knock you out,” I said. I gave Marcone a rueful grin. “There are such things as teleportation potions, you know.” Also true, after all he didn’t have to know what he’d drunk. “Although my potion? Is still in the beta stage.” Truth is so much easier to twist around than lies. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.

I frowned as I went over his words. “Wait, you remember what happened beforehand?”

“With perfect clarity,” he said.

Damn. That wasn’t the point of the potion. It was supposed to erase memories leading up to the potion drinking. I made a mental note to completely overhaul the potion. That was one recipe that needed to be scrapped.

“Hmm,” Marcone said again. But he seemed to believe my excuse. I think. His expression was too controlled for me to be certain. “That does answer why I woke up on the sidewalk in front of your building. Except…”

Uh oh.

“It doesn‘t explain how I got the taste of spearmint in my mouth,” he said. “Especially when it’s not my flavor of choice when it comes to toothpaste.”

Oops. Damn my adherence to personal hygiene.

“Did you take advantage of me in my weakened state, Mr. Dresden?” The corners of Marcone’s dollar bill green eyes crinkled with amusement as he watched me.

My heart made a glad leap in chest. I grinned at him. “What would happen if I said yes?” I asked cheerfully.

“I‘d have to seriously reconsider whether I‘d want to date a man who would molest me while I was unconscious,” Marcone said calmly.

“Then… I did no such thing,” I grinned, and added a blatant lie. “I‘m sure it was just the potion‘s aftertaste.”

“Uh huh.” And his smile grew a shade deeper.

I was practically whistling by the time I dropped the kid I was carrying into the sedan. And as much as I would have loved to pursue the opening that Marcone had given me I backed off to give him a chance to talk to his people without me killing the electronics. It didn’t take long for several fire engines with an accompanying ambulance to pull up in front the house because even with the rain falling down in torrents now, the fire was still burning.

So I stepped off to the side so I’d be out of the way and watched the house burn down. I took that moment of solitude to appreciate the fire. There’s a reason that fire and heat are considered a method of purifying a place or an object or even a person. Even in today’s scientific minded society, people believed in the power of fire. Fire burns away corruption, and disease, and chases away the darkness. This fire burned hotter than a normal fire because it was fueled by more than normal fuel. It was burning away all signs of Monica’s black magic.

I quickly regretted my decision to get out of the way when Morgan stepped out of a veil at my side.

“Dresden,” he said.

I groaned. “You‘re breaking your restraining order.” Morgan was so quiet that I looked away from the burning house. He had the weirdest expression on his face. I stared at him warily. “Now, what‘s wrong with you?”

He raised his chin and stared at me. “I saw what you did.”

“Yeah,” I said, and prepared to bring up my shield in case he came after me. But he didn’t make any move for the sword at his side.

“You - you saved those kids… you fought that sorcerer.”

“I know I was there.” I rolled my eyes.

I couldn’t tell if it was tears or the rain, but something was making Morgan’s eyes all watery. Okay, now I was getting creeped out.

Morgan flung his arms me. “I‘m so sorry!” he sobbed into my shoulder.

Ack! I may have flailed in panic. But it was totally justified! Oh jeez, get him off!

“All this time, I thought you were a monster! I was wrong. I‘m so sorry,” he sobbed harder. “I never believed that Justin would try to kill you without a good reason, I thought it was because you were a sorcerer. Because you were evil. I never thought that it was Justin that went wrong. I‘m so sorry for not believing you only acted to protect yourself.”

I patted his back awkwardly. “Okay, apology accepted. Let me go. Now.” Wait, I still had my K-bar in my pocket. I dropped my hand into my coat pocket to grab my knife. If he didn’t let me go, I was stabbing him. No matter how many cops were around.

“You‘re a hero,” Morgan said, stepping back from me.

Argh, no. I controlled my expression with an effort and clutched the handle of the hidden K-bar. If he came near me again…

“I won‘t bother you anymore,” he said. “You have my word. I will no longer doubt that you are a good man, Harry Dresden.”

“Err, okay,” I said, edging away from him.

Morgan nodded at me and then vanished behind a veil. I took that time to get back to thick clump of people where I wouldn’t get cried on by gooey Wardens. Yuck.

I was now traumatized. I may never recover.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Dresden?” Marcone asked, as I approached. And here was the cure.

I gave him a beseeching look. “Tell me the sky is still blue and the grass is still green.”

Marcone’s eyes flickered up to the stormy sky and then down to the muddy ground. “At the moment? I doubt that.”

Ugh. I may never feel clean again. I shuddered.

Marcone’s hand caught at my cheek. I blinked at him. “You‘ve been shot. You should get yourself looked at by the paramedics.”

I gave him a small grin as I leaned into his touch. “Or you could kiss it better.”

“Not in public, Mr. Dresden,” he murmured, dropping his hand away.

“So, how about in my apartment, Agent Marcone?”

“I could be persuaded,” he said. Then he looked over at the entire crowed before the house, and the ambulance that had taken the unconscious kids away. “But after I have finished with this case and the paperwork for it.”

“That may take longer than you‘d like, Dresden,” Murphy as she walked to us. Carmichael followed at her side, holding up a black umbrella for her. He didn’t seem to care that he was getting rained on.

“Why?” I asked, sulking at the idea. I’ve waited long enough.

“Because Vargassi got away,” she said.

Marcone frowned, and I could see the professional mask slipping back into place. I scowled at Murphy. Dammit. I was so close to getting him to agree to another date.

“Don‘t forget, Agent Marcone,” Murphy said, pointing a finger at Marcone’s chest. “SI gets the credit for solving the murderers. The FBI can get the blame for this” - she pointed at the burning house - “mess.” She shot me a look. “Your work, I take it, Dresden.”

“I have no idea what you‘re talking about, Lieutenant,” I said, blinking innocently at her.

She snorted derisively and walked away. Carmichael followed her, keeping the umbrella upright.

“Vargassi will find a way to come after you again,” I said to Marcone as I stared after Murphy. She went up to the horde of reporters that had gathered down the street. And through the rain I could see Susan standing at the front of the pack glaring furiously at Murphy. Murphy pointedly ignored her as she took questions.

Those two, I swear. They’ll end up in bed or dead.

“I’m well aware of that,” Marcone sighed.

I was annoyed that Vargassi had gotten away, but not as badly as if it’d been Monica Sells. Marcone had no defense against her magic but as far as I knew Vargassi was a vanilla mortal. Marcone could handle that. Unless… “He‘ll probably use magic again now that he knows that it‘s real.”

“Then it‘s my good fortune that I‘ve run into you, Mr. Dresden.”

Most people didn’t think that when it came to me. I grinned widely and bent down to purr in his ear. “That isn’t the only way you can get lucky with me, Agent Marcone.”

“I‘m well aware of that too, Mr. Dresden,” he murmured.

Murphy gestured at Marcone from where she stood and he left my side to go talk to the reporters.

I smirked after him. Okay, I had yet to pin him down into agreeing to another date with me, but from that little exchange I’d say my chances at getting him to say yes were more than good. Excellent in fact.

And if not, like I said before, there’s always rule 8.

End.

4. Rule #39. If I absolutely must ride into battle, I will certainly not ride at the forefront of my Legions of Terror, nor will I seek out my opposite number among his army.

5. Rule #40. I will be neither chivalrous nor sporting. If I have an unstoppable superweapon, I will use it as early and as often as possible instead of keeping it in reserve.

6. Rule #125. Should I actually decide to kill the hero in an elaborate escape-proof deathtrap room (water filling up, sand pouring down, walls converging, etc.) I will not leave him alone five-to-ten minutes prior to "imminent" death, but will instead (finding a vantage point or monitoring camera) stick around and enjoy watching my adversary's demise.

a/n: So this wraps up Book One in the Following the Evil Overlord Series. \o/