FIC: other things the road to hell is paved with [15/?]
My Wonder Beta totally saved this chapter from extreme sucking, like, three times as I was writing it. If you aren't jealous of me for having the best beta in the world, you should be. ♥
Title: other things the road to hell is paved with [15/?]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, potentially R or NC-17 later.
Summary: Another way the Baron rose to power. Another way the wizard became a Knight.
Word Count: This chapter: 5608. So far: 81611..
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen
For someone who was allegedly my equal, John was a bossy son of a bitch. While he made Bianca's life hell on the mortal side of things, I was stuck on a date with Susan and two unwanted guests. Bianca threatening me pissed John off something awful, and we'd had a small fight about putting a protection detail on me. Or, I had a fight at him while he just politely ignored all the really crass names I called him and told him where he could stick his protection detail.
I was pretty sure I'd won the arguement through sheer bloodymindedness. Now, a few days later, I figured I was wrong. I didn't spot any cars tailing me, but I was beginning to think whoever John put on my trail was just better at being inconspicuous. That was the only explanation for the fact I looked over Susan's shoulder and saw two guys I knew from John's private guard in a booth across the room. What were the odds Tweedledee and Tweedledum had dinner in the same place that I took my girlfriend out to?
Susan followed my gaze over her shoulder. "What do you keep looking at?"
"Nothing. What'd your editor say about the vampire article?"
She shrugged and started winding a dark curl around her finger idly. "The usual. It's clever and entertaining. They don't believe a word of it. I even showed them the invite."
I had her hand in mine across the table and rubbed my thumb over her wrist. "There's plenty of people in the know who read your column. They believe it."
"I don't care about them," she said, frustration coloring her words. "I need the poor saps out there who have no idea. I need a bigger readership."
I felt for her, I really did. Mortals who would even read past the title of one of Susan's articles were few and far between. "I know, Susan."
"If I could just get more to read-- they don't even have to believe it, you know? They could just read it and in the back of their minds, they'll have the information for when the time comes." She brought my hand up to her face and I cupped her cheek, caressing soothingly. "Sorry. I know, you already know all of this. I'm preaching to the choir here."
"It's fine. I know you've got to get it all out sometimes." It was hard to squash the feeling that I had an audience. I glanced over at my babysitters again and resolved to really yell at John this time, no getting distracted.
"Okay, what is over there?" Susan turned around in her chair, looking at the goons in the far booth. She stared hard at them for a long moment and I could see one goon duck his head, looking sheepish under the scrutiny. I sighed and waved at them, and one waved back. I flipped him off and he smiled and got out his cell phone, probably to call John to give him an update.
Susan turned back to face me, looking upset. "Friends of yours?"
I tried not to look as guilty as I felt. "It's John. Something happened and now he's all paranoid. I told him to knock it off, but..."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What happened?"
I dropped my gaze to the table. I didn't want to tell her, even if it was kind of a big deal. She'd be less than thrilled to find out how much I did know about the goings-on with Bianca St. Clair, that I was pretty much directly involved, and that I'd told a white lie about it. Hell, I was having a hard time justifying our date. Bianca had her eyes on me personally and Susan had no idea what was going on. I needed to either tell her or back off until things blew over.
See, I can be an adult sometimes, contrary to popular opinion.
"Harry," Susan said, drawing me out of my thoughts. I looked back to her soft, beautiful face. "What aren't you telling me?"
What was the right answer here? Or, what was the answer that would hurt her the least?
I was saved from having to decide when Tweedledee came up to the table and said, "Mr. Dresden."
I winced and looked up at him. "Can it wait?'
Tweedledee shook his head. "Mr. Marcone requests your presence at Executive Priority."
Not the time, John. I shook my head. "I'm busy." I felt Susan's hand tighten around my own. I wasn't going to just up and leave because John called. I didn't work for him anymore. Now he could work with me instead. Turnabout was fair play.
Tweedledee wandered away, getting his phone out again. Susan smirked at him as he retreated. "Going to finally put him in his place, Harry?"
"Something like that. I'm going to go see him later anyway. He can be a little patient."
Susan's smile faded. "You're going tonight?" She trailed her nails over my palm, light and tickling. "I was hoping to have you to myself tonight."
Oh. That sounded nice. It'd been a while since she and I had taken the time to indulge in crazy monkey sex. I'd been so caught up in things. "That sounds..." I sighed. "It sounds great, but I can't, not tonight."
"Fine." Susan pulled away, leaning back in her seat and resting her chin in both hands. "Enjoy your time at the brothel."
"Huh?" I thought over what I said, looking for where she was getting 'brothel' from. "I don't follow."
That earned me a signature, boy, are you stupid look. I get them a lot, not just from Susan. "Executive Priority."
"It's a spa gym thing."
"Yes," she said evenly. "And it's a high-class brothel." She stared at me for a moment, then laughed. "You had no idea, did you? Oh, Harry."
My dawning embarrassment was interrupted when Tweedledee came back. "Mr. Dresden."
"Yeah, what?"
"I informed Mr. Marcone of your response," Tweedledee said dutifully. "He again requests your presence with an added message, sir."
I rubbed my eyes. Pushy, bossy persistent son of a bitch. "What's the message?"
"Please."
I lowered my hand and boggled at the goon. He gave nothing away and said nothing else. That was the message. Just please.
I got a sick feeling in my gut. Something was wrong, I could feel it, like some sense of ill will was vibrating across the city from John to me. I shivered. "Okay. Call him back, let him know I'm on my way."
"Yes, sir." Tweedledee walked away again.
I stood up, and Susan rose as well. "Harry, you're not really going?"
I didn't look at her, because I'm a coward sometimes. "I have to. Something's wrong. He wouldn't call twice if it wasn't important, not when we're meeting up later." I pulled out a few twenties from my wallet and tossed them on the table before shrugging into my duster.
"Something is going on. Why won't you tell me?" She grabbed my arm as I tried to pass, stopping me. "Harry!"
I swallowed my nervousness and that ill sensation, and I looked at her. "I can't, Susan. There is something big happening, but I can't..." I put my hand on her shoulder, along the curve of her neck. I could feel the rapid beat of her pulse, something that usually made me long to stay with her and tell the rest of the world to go hang. Usually. "Let me take care of this. We can talk later."
The eyes were the windows to the soul. But as soon as I spoke, it was like she drew the blinds shut in hers. It was like she took a step away from me without even moving. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Go, Harry." She sat back down, not looking at me.
I left. As soon as I got into the Beetle, I had the feeling I'd just screwed something up irrevocably. I hoped I was wrong, but either way, it had to wait.
Executive Priority had officially opened a little over a week ago and tended to get really busy in the late afternoons and evenings, after office hours. Walking in to find the place empty just made me worry more about whatever happened. I took the stairs by two, heading up to John's office as fast as my crane fly legs could carry me.
My anxiousness was unwarranted. When I got there, John was standing in front of his desk, facing a man seated in one of the guest chairs. Hendricks had his gun out, along with a few other goons who were lurking in the room, looking a mite jumpy. John looked calm, though, and that in turn calmed me.
After confirming that John was safe, I turned my attention to the guest in the room. He was a very handsome man in a paisley vest and a red shirt, soot-black slacks and shiny shoes, all his clothes showing a man of wealth and taste. He was almost pretty with a striking jawline and dark eyes. His attractiveness was hampered by how damn snooty he looked. He looked at me when I came in, sneered, and turned away again. I was impressed. It was hard to hold onto an air of superiority when you were tied to a chair with rope, zip-ties, and handcuffs.
"Harry," John said. "Close the door, if you please." His eyes didn't leave the man tied to the chair as he spoke to me, focused like a laser. I'd feel twitchy under than kind of attention, but the guy looked cool as a cucumber.
"Who's your friend?" I shut the door and sealed it with a touch of magic. John had asked for a way to shut off the room when we were designing it. It was now Hermetically sealed.
Get it? Hermetic because Hermetic magic?
Well, I thought it was funny.
"I mentioned that several of my employees were absent from work and had not phoned in to say why?" He was still staring at the sharp-dressed man. I took a closer look at John and noticed his hands fisted in front of him, the clipped sound to his words-- oh. John was pissed. The sort of pissed he only got when someone, say, accidentally got his right-hand man nearly killed by a Winter Fae.
"Um, yeah, briefly."
"Mr. Gomez here seems to be the cause of our missing workers." John pulled his crucifix out from his shirt and started to toy with it. He played it low, acting distracted, but the man in the chair-- Gomez, I guess-- watched him do it so carefully, leaning all the way back in the chair, putting distance between himself and the small symbol of faith.
Ah. Vampire.
"But what do the Reds want with a bunch of fitness instru- oh." What Susan said came back to me and it all kind of clicked together. "The girls, right? So this really is a brothel?"
Every head in the room snapped up to look at me.
John opened his mouth, shut it, and then rubbed his face. "Harry, really?"
"Well, how was I supposed to know?" And I saw Hendricks was fighting a grin, the traitor.
John made a soft sound, like my obliviousness physically pained him. His voice was muffled, his hand laid over his mouth. "What did you think the beds were for?"
"I don't know, I thought they were standard for stupidly expensive spas." Stars, self, way to look like an idiot in front of John's private guard, Cujo, and a Red.
The Red in question gave a high, conniving, annoying laugh. "This is the infamous Wizard Dresden? The way milady spoke of him, I expected someone a little more astute."
The humor was sucked out of the room immediately. Hendricks loudly clicked the safety off his gun, and five or so other guns around the room did the same as the rest of the goons followed his lead. The sound was like someone had dropped a lot of pins on the floor. John, without a word, took off his cross, wrapped the necklace around his knuckles, and punched Gomez in the face.
Gomez shrieked in pain, recoiling away and fighting against his bindings. There was an acidic, sizzling sound. Where John had hit him, there was a burn spot in Gomez's flesh mask in the shape of the cross. Gomez kept shifting, obviously pained, and tried to rub the wound against his shoulder.
"I have no patience for you after what you've done, Mr. Gomez. Be silent until you are spoken to," John said coolly, now spinning his necklace around a finger.
I walked over to stand by John, pulling my blasting rod out just in case. "He's behind the girls disappearing?"
John nodded. "Mr. Gomez has been a regular customer since opening apparently. During his time with the women, he's taken to biting them."
I wondered if John would've minded if I punched Gomez too.
What a vindictive, evil thing to do. Vampire venom was easy to get addicted to and was how they tended to calm their prey to make them compliant and to prolong feeding. But the feeding, the bite itself, did something to the victims that was extra nasty. It was some kind of inherent mind control magic that made the victim receptive to the suggestion and commands of the vampire that bit them. From what Bob told me, being bitten was almost like being enthralled temporarily. It worked with the aphrodisiac quality of the venom to snare someone in a drugged sex-haze of obedience.
"Did you get any of them? The girls, are they okay?" Anger simmered in me at the thought of someone doing this to innocent women. Maybe they worked for John, but they weren't a part of this conflict. At least, that's what I thought. Bianca apparently disagreed.
"Some." John shook his head faintly. "Most are with the Margravine. They all left Executive Priority and went to the Red Court House instead of home."
I shut my eyes. "How many?"
"We managed to intercept five before they could reach the House. We think as many as twelve have been taken."
Twelve women. I poured some anger into my blasting rod and leveled it at Gomez.
John put a hand on my arm. "Harry, don't. You'll damage the room and it's new." He was aiming for light and disinterested, but I knew he was just as livid about this as I was. His control was just better than mine. "I think we can dispose of him in a less bombastic fashion."
Gomez snarled. "This is just the beginning, mortal fool. The honorable Margravine will make you regret your arrogance! She will see you on your knees before this is over!"
John sighed. "She's said as much herself. Have you no original threats?" He touched Hendricks' arm. "Mr. Gomez is looking rather pallid. See to it he gets some sunlight before being returned to his House."
I lowered the seal on the room with a muttered word and watched Gomez, chair and all, get lifted and carried out of the room by John's goons. He started screaming in what was probably Spanish, the sound of it fading down the hall.
Good riddance.
John got quiet once Gomez was disposed of. He sat at his desk and made a few phone calls before resting his chin on his hands, his thinking pose. I didn't know what to say exactly, and he didn't start any conversation. Sometimes he looked at me while I wandered the room, checking the ley lines and wards. Sometimes he picked up his pen and jotted a few things down on a legal pad on his desk.
After a while, I meandered back to John and nosily leaned over to see what he was writing. It was a bulletpointed list, some brainstorming on paper.
- Perfume with holy water base.
- In house chaplain? Blessings, holy water supply? Would need to be lacking scruples to work in EP = poorly blessed water.
- Arm the women. Would have to brief them on situation. Also, weapons hard to hide when wearing lingerie.
- UV lights to emulate sunlight in all rooms. (Ask Harry.)
- Level the Velvet Room with C4.
"UV probably won't work," I informed him, moving to sit on the corner of his desk, facing him. "The whole sunlight thing is symbolic. Sunlight brings life and happiness and vitality."
"I assumed as much." He picked up his pen and crossed that option out too. He kept the pen in his hand for a long moment after, his eyes on the page. Then he sighed and set it down. "I can't believe you didn't realize Executive Priority was a brothel," he said quietly.
I let out a shocked laugh. "I... yeah, in hindsight, it seems obvious, I guess. It's a very swanky house of ill repute." Sadly, John didn't smile like I hoped he would. There was too much tension in his body. It looked like the fury had passed, but he was clearly still unhappy. I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey."
"She came into my domain and took those loyal to me." His voice was barely above a whisper, cold and cruel. "The scorched earth strategy is very appealing right now."
I squeezed a little bit. "I know." I wish I knew what to say beyond that, but the whole situation just sucked no matter how you looked at it. John had fired the first strike, but Bianca had escalated things fast. She wasn't as neat as John was, with his rules and structures. I had no doubt he could play just as dirty as she had, but at the moment...
I just pressed a little harder against the cold jacket of his suit, wanting my warmth and support to penetrate, for him to feel a tangible comfort. John blinked, seeming to come out of his own head somewhat and looked at my hand, then me. "Is Ms. Rodriguez waiting for you back home?"
I shook my head. "Probably not. She didn't seem too happy when I bailed on her."
"I'm sorry if I ruined your date."
"Don't be," I said quickly. "Important stuff was going down. It's fine."
His gaze on me intensified. "Harry..." He trailed off, calculating, his brain ticking away. I waited for him to finish his sentence, but he muttered, "Never mind." Instead, he picked up his pen and added another item to his list.
- Ask Harry if he'll be willing to train some of my men to deal with vampires, similar to what he's done with Mr. Hendricks.
He gave me a questioning look as soon as he was finished. I nodded. "I could do that." It was worth it for the smile I got, weak but undoubtedly there.
I was expecting maybe a handful of John's goons to teach, and was picturing a similar format to my informal discussions with Hendricks. I could do that, that was cake. A few beers and a discussion of magical theory and defenses was my idea of a good time.
But no. Instead, I was in a board room on the upper levels of Executive Priority. John's spa-slash-gym-slash-brothel was apparently also a slash-business office. In a way, Executive Priority was like John himself. A nicely dressed version of the dark side of Chicago and a consummate multi-tasker. Me, I couldn't pat my head and rub my stomach at the same time. More and more, I was relieved John Marcone was on my side.
Or was I on his? Was there a difference?
I sat at the head of a long table in one of those amazing executive chairs, watching a group of besuited made men come in and take the rest of the seats. I recognized a few from the incident with Gomez, so some were John's bodyguards. One guy had walked in while tapping a stylus against some electronic thing in his palm, sat down, and continued to work at it. No one I knew by name.
I glanced past the goons to Hendricks, who lurked in the door, watching with narrowed eyes. He looked at me and nodded. I shook my head right back at him because I'd changed my mind and did not want to be left chairing a meeting with a bunch of strangers from the Outfit. John, I could handle. Hendricks, he and I had an understanding. These guys, I didn't know. This was going to be just like every other time I tried to tell a vanilla human about magic and the things that went bump in the night. Hell, if anything, these guys were going to be an even harsher crowd.
Hendricks shrugged, as if to say, 'what do you want from me?' And then left.
Me and him were so not buddies anymore.
So I looked upon the first initiates of the Harry Dresden Vampire School and thought about how each of them could break me in two with their bare hands.
Then I remembered I was a wizard of the White Council. If they tried anything, I could bend the inherent energy of the universe to sweep them all up into a cyclone and toss them over my shoulder. Which made me a little better.
I set my staff down on the table and rocked my chair left and right idly. "Sooo..." I got everyone except Mr. PDA to look at me. "I'm Harry Dresden. I prefer Mr. Dresden until we've been through a life or death situation or two. I guess I'll be teaching you how not to get yourselves killed in the coming months." I looked up at them, my head kept low, going for enigmatic and dangerous. "How much do you kids know about what you're up against?"
The guy closest to me raised his hand. I automatically dubbed him Franklin 2 in my head. "Vampires, right? That one of the gangs Mr. Marcone wants taken out?"
I shook my head. "No. I don't know anything about that. Not my department." Office of Supernatural Wackiness and Things With Big Teeth. "We're talking real vampires."
A roil of muttering and sideways glances crossed the table. So John had sent them to me without popping their magical knowledge cherry. I wondered why.
PDA Guy snorted and started chuckling under his breath. He kept working at his little toy. "This a joke, Dresden?"
I leaned back and fixed him with my best stormy wizard look. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
He smirked. "You're Mr. Marcone's 'wizard', right? That like a court jester? Mr. Marcone need a funny man to entertain him?"
Quietly, I said, "You're going to want to shut that thing off. Wizards and electronics don't mix well."
PDA Guy scoffed, tossed me a disbelieving look, and returned his attention to his stylus.
Okay. Now I followed John's train of thought. Of course he sent them to me fresh and unmarred by expectations. They needed to take me seriously and there was only so much John could instill in his men. Having the Outfit treat me as a VIP was easy. Making them respect me was harder.
I took hold of my staff, still slouching comfortably in my chair, and pointed my focus at the guy who mouthed off at me. I pulled up one of my favorite tricks, a minor bit of kinetomancy, extending my will along my staff and to the fancy tool in the man's hands. "Hexus."
The PDA exploded in a showy display of sparks and light. The guy yelped and dropped the thing, sliding his chair back and away from the table. His eyes were satisfyingly wide, expression perfectly surprised. Everyone looked similarly surprised, all murmurs and shocked gasps, and one mutter of "Mary, mother of Christ."
I smiled sharply. "It's Mr. Dresden. I am John's wizard. And this is Vampires 101." I let go of my staff, letting it fall back to the table with a loud thunk. The mafiosi all jumped at the sound. "Take notes."
"Not bad, old man," Alex the werewolf said, applauding my handling of my new students. It was game night with Billy and the Werewolves (which really needed to be the name of a punk band) and Billy was GMing a little Call of Cthulhu. Or he would be as soon as everyone settled down and actually broke out the dice. Since Cindy and Kirby weren't playing, working on papers or exams or whatever it was college kids worked on instead, I doubted we'd get around to the Eldritch abominations and sanity checks. Which was a shame, as Alex had mentioned wanting to play a guy with a phobia of books and I was looking forward to Billy tearing his hair out.
"Thank you, thank you." I clinked my beer bottle against Alex's. "I do try."
"How'd they react to that?"
I shrugged. "They shut up and listened to what I was saying. I'm not sure how much of it they believed, but I did my job."
Billy liberated the last slice of pizza with pepperoni from the box. I made googly eyes at him in hopes he'd give it up, but he looked me dead in the eye and took a big bite out of it. "Mmmm...."
"Flea-ridden mutt." I took one of the far inferior mushroom slices, trying not to sulk too much.
"You know, usually," Billy said once he swallowed, "getting you to talk about this stuff is like pulling teeth."
"Well, usually the Chicago Outfit isn't stirring up stuff with the Red Court."
Billy and Alex exchanged a look. Georgia elbowed Billy under the table. Georgia had one hell of an elbow too, and Billy made a wounded sound, frowning at her. She sighed and looked to me. "How serious is this thing with the vampires, Harry? Because there's been an influx of them in our area lately. Is it safe to say its related?"
I took a bite of pizza to make some time. So this thing with Bianca was blowing back on the Alphas. Bianca was obviously grabbing humans for feeding and converting. College kids would be a perfect target. Hell, with out of state students and those who were away from their families, it could be real easy to snatch them up. By the time their family realized they were missing, Bianca could ensnare them enough to have them call home and say everything's fine. No one would know.
I was willing to bet it wasn't just Hyde Park, either. Dammit.
"It's serious." I washed down my food with a swig of beer, then crossed my arms, leaning in towards the Alphas. "As far as I can tell, John intends to force the Red Court out of town entirely."
A hush fell over the table briefly. "Jesus, really?"
"Yeah."
Billy looked around the apartment at his fellow werewolves. I could see the pack mentality in him, how he was worrying about his clan. Georgia put her hand in his and they held onto each other for a moment. Billy regarded me soberly. "You think he can do it?"
"Yeah." I had to. Things were going to get worse before they got better. I had to believe this was all going to be worth it in the end. The endgame was either going to be hard-won victory for John and, by extension, Chicago, or it was going to be Bianca killing both of us.
Georgia put her head on Billy's shoulder, and he laid his against hers. On Georgia's other side, Alex took her other hand. I could almost feel the familial affection and support humming in the air around them. I was glad. They'd need each other in the months to come.
I tried not to feel left out, sitting across from them all by my lonesome. I shifted in my chair, wanting to excuse myself and go home. I was sort of adopted by the Alphas, an honorary member, as I was with the Carpenters. That said, I was with them, but not of them. Being there was a bit intrusive on my part.
Alex seemed to notice my discomfort and asked, "What about Susan? She hearing anything about this?"
I'd managed to dodge the guilt over keeping her in the dark until then. I'd kept busy, spending more time at Executive Priority, helping out where I could. I hadn't even called her since I bailed on her at the restaurant. And I'd gotten in the habit of dialing my voicemail every evening to check messages, so I knew she hadn't called me. But when Alex brought her up, the guilt hit me like a baseball bat slammed into my gut.
John was starting a goddamn war with the Red Court and Susan had no idea. And Bianca knew Susan was my girlfriend. If Bianca was getting aggressive enough she managed to sneak a saboteur into Executive Priority, Susan could be a target as well. I needed to stop being a coward and tell her. Maybe she'd hate me for making an oath to Gentleman Johnnie. Maybe she'd hate me for keeping it from her for so long. Maybe none of that mattered because I needed to start acting like a halfway responsible adult.
So I gave some vague answer to Alex, bid my young werewolf friends good night, and headed back home. I could call Susan, ask her over-- No, it was night and Bianca's Reds were doubtlessly on the prowl. At the very least, I'd tell her to stay indoors for the night and set up a time to meet her and tell her. I'd come clean about it all. I just needed to be honest and...
I was halfway up the walk to my building when I instinctively grabbed my blasting rod out of my coat and spun around. I was already moving when I realized I felt something powerful behind me. I lifted rod and shield bracelet together, ready for anything.
A Warden's grey cloak shone almost blue-white in the full moon. The urban canyon we stood in sent the early winter air gusting around us. As he approached, Morgan looked like some sort of valiant, dramatic knight, the cloak blowing in the cold Windy City night. Unfitting, but true.
I lowered my blasting rod, but kept my bracelet up. "What do you want?" I didn't spare any pleasantries. That wasn't the kind of relationship we had.
"Wizard Dresden," Morgan growled, one hand on the hilt of his sword. It was still in its sheath, which was always a good sign. Not that he couldn't kill me without it, but Morgan was a stickler for the Laws of Magic and wouldn't go breaking them even to deal with me. The sword was a sign of the Wardens. As long as it stayed where it was, I couldn't be in too much trouble. I hoped.
"Don't take your time, Morgan. It's late and I have more important things to do than shoot the breeze with the magical McCarthy." No love lost, seriously.
"I come with a warning, Dresden," he ground out, and his sword hand tightened into a white-knuckled fist. "You've been consorting with a mortal crime lord." He bared his teeth and took a step towards me.
I threw up a shield, extending it as far out from my body as I could. A wall of pure force held Morgan a good few feet away from me. Maybe he would have liked to get close and growl in my face, but I wasn't in the mood. "I'm expanding my circle of friends. That against the Laws now? Rule Eight, thou shalt not have enough friends to throw a swinging party?"
Morgan went red in the face. "Do not joke so freely about the Laws. You may have wiggled your way out from under the Doom, but that does not prove your innocence. I know a warlock when I see one."
"Yep, that's me. I'm also a member of the Illuminati. And the Freemasons. And the number 23 controls the universe." I grinned maniacally at him. "You ever see the fnords, man?" I could see he now wanted to give me a good old fashioned punch in the face. "Are you just here to vaguely threaten me? Because I get plenty of that already."
Morgan breathed in hard through his nose and exhaled, visibly trying to calm himself. "By the Red Court, I presume?" I said nothing. "You are leaking information to the head of this city's criminal underworld."
"Not leaking. Pouring it on him. In buckets." I lowered my shield and took my own menacing step forward. "Informing vanilla mortals about magic isn't illegal, Morgan."
He glared hard at me. "Always fond of your technicalities, Dresden. You can get away with your yellow pages advert, and your pamphlets. But not with revealing the existence of the White Council. That's treason."
"I've never uttered the words 'White Council' to anyone not in the know. I'm just helping people protect themselves."
"And I should take your word for it?"
"Yeah," I snapped. "You have to. Because, as you said, I'm out from under the Doom of Damocles. You have no right to pull this bullshit." I tucked my blasting rod away and pulled out my apartment keys. "Now leave me alone. Get back to murdering kids or eating newborn puppies or whatever it is you do when you're not spying on me."
Morgan stared me down for a long moment, but there was nothing he could do and he knew it. "I'm watching you, Dresden."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm recommending to the Council that we take measures to censure you."
"Okiedokie, you do that." All he had was grouchy ominousness and I was tired. I turned away and headed back to my home. "Hope that works out for you. Bye now, see ya around."
As soon as I got inside, I pulled up my wards, made sure there were as powerful as they could be, and checked my proximity wards. Only when the candles on my fireplace died back to nominal yellow did I relax.
The Leanansidhe. Bianca St. Clair and her entire Red Court House. And now Morgan. Didn't I have enough problems?
Apparently not. I went to bed, exhausted and tense, hoping tomorrow wouldn't be so damn stressful.
Chapter Sixteen
Originally posted at DW. Comment here or there. DW comments:
Title: other things the road to hell is paved with [15/?]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, potentially R or NC-17 later.
Summary: Another way the Baron rose to power. Another way the wizard became a Knight.
Word Count: This chapter: 5608. So far: 81611..
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen
For someone who was allegedly my equal, John was a bossy son of a bitch. While he made Bianca's life hell on the mortal side of things, I was stuck on a date with Susan and two unwanted guests. Bianca threatening me pissed John off something awful, and we'd had a small fight about putting a protection detail on me. Or, I had a fight at him while he just politely ignored all the really crass names I called him and told him where he could stick his protection detail.
I was pretty sure I'd won the arguement through sheer bloodymindedness. Now, a few days later, I figured I was wrong. I didn't spot any cars tailing me, but I was beginning to think whoever John put on my trail was just better at being inconspicuous. That was the only explanation for the fact I looked over Susan's shoulder and saw two guys I knew from John's private guard in a booth across the room. What were the odds Tweedledee and Tweedledum had dinner in the same place that I took my girlfriend out to?
Susan followed my gaze over her shoulder. "What do you keep looking at?"
"Nothing. What'd your editor say about the vampire article?"
She shrugged and started winding a dark curl around her finger idly. "The usual. It's clever and entertaining. They don't believe a word of it. I even showed them the invite."
I had her hand in mine across the table and rubbed my thumb over her wrist. "There's plenty of people in the know who read your column. They believe it."
"I don't care about them," she said, frustration coloring her words. "I need the poor saps out there who have no idea. I need a bigger readership."
I felt for her, I really did. Mortals who would even read past the title of one of Susan's articles were few and far between. "I know, Susan."
"If I could just get more to read-- they don't even have to believe it, you know? They could just read it and in the back of their minds, they'll have the information for when the time comes." She brought my hand up to her face and I cupped her cheek, caressing soothingly. "Sorry. I know, you already know all of this. I'm preaching to the choir here."
"It's fine. I know you've got to get it all out sometimes." It was hard to squash the feeling that I had an audience. I glanced over at my babysitters again and resolved to really yell at John this time, no getting distracted.
"Okay, what is over there?" Susan turned around in her chair, looking at the goons in the far booth. She stared hard at them for a long moment and I could see one goon duck his head, looking sheepish under the scrutiny. I sighed and waved at them, and one waved back. I flipped him off and he smiled and got out his cell phone, probably to call John to give him an update.
Susan turned back to face me, looking upset. "Friends of yours?"
I tried not to look as guilty as I felt. "It's John. Something happened and now he's all paranoid. I told him to knock it off, but..."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What happened?"
I dropped my gaze to the table. I didn't want to tell her, even if it was kind of a big deal. She'd be less than thrilled to find out how much I did know about the goings-on with Bianca St. Clair, that I was pretty much directly involved, and that I'd told a white lie about it. Hell, I was having a hard time justifying our date. Bianca had her eyes on me personally and Susan had no idea what was going on. I needed to either tell her or back off until things blew over.
See, I can be an adult sometimes, contrary to popular opinion.
"Harry," Susan said, drawing me out of my thoughts. I looked back to her soft, beautiful face. "What aren't you telling me?"
What was the right answer here? Or, what was the answer that would hurt her the least?
I was saved from having to decide when Tweedledee came up to the table and said, "Mr. Dresden."
I winced and looked up at him. "Can it wait?'
Tweedledee shook his head. "Mr. Marcone requests your presence at Executive Priority."
Not the time, John. I shook my head. "I'm busy." I felt Susan's hand tighten around my own. I wasn't going to just up and leave because John called. I didn't work for him anymore. Now he could work with me instead. Turnabout was fair play.
Tweedledee wandered away, getting his phone out again. Susan smirked at him as he retreated. "Going to finally put him in his place, Harry?"
"Something like that. I'm going to go see him later anyway. He can be a little patient."
Susan's smile faded. "You're going tonight?" She trailed her nails over my palm, light and tickling. "I was hoping to have you to myself tonight."
Oh. That sounded nice. It'd been a while since she and I had taken the time to indulge in crazy monkey sex. I'd been so caught up in things. "That sounds..." I sighed. "It sounds great, but I can't, not tonight."
"Fine." Susan pulled away, leaning back in her seat and resting her chin in both hands. "Enjoy your time at the brothel."
"Huh?" I thought over what I said, looking for where she was getting 'brothel' from. "I don't follow."
That earned me a signature, boy, are you stupid look. I get them a lot, not just from Susan. "Executive Priority."
"It's a spa gym thing."
"Yes," she said evenly. "And it's a high-class brothel." She stared at me for a moment, then laughed. "You had no idea, did you? Oh, Harry."
My dawning embarrassment was interrupted when Tweedledee came back. "Mr. Dresden."
"Yeah, what?"
"I informed Mr. Marcone of your response," Tweedledee said dutifully. "He again requests your presence with an added message, sir."
I rubbed my eyes. Pushy, bossy persistent son of a bitch. "What's the message?"
"Please."
I lowered my hand and boggled at the goon. He gave nothing away and said nothing else. That was the message. Just please.
I got a sick feeling in my gut. Something was wrong, I could feel it, like some sense of ill will was vibrating across the city from John to me. I shivered. "Okay. Call him back, let him know I'm on my way."
"Yes, sir." Tweedledee walked away again.
I stood up, and Susan rose as well. "Harry, you're not really going?"
I didn't look at her, because I'm a coward sometimes. "I have to. Something's wrong. He wouldn't call twice if it wasn't important, not when we're meeting up later." I pulled out a few twenties from my wallet and tossed them on the table before shrugging into my duster.
"Something is going on. Why won't you tell me?" She grabbed my arm as I tried to pass, stopping me. "Harry!"
I swallowed my nervousness and that ill sensation, and I looked at her. "I can't, Susan. There is something big happening, but I can't..." I put my hand on her shoulder, along the curve of her neck. I could feel the rapid beat of her pulse, something that usually made me long to stay with her and tell the rest of the world to go hang. Usually. "Let me take care of this. We can talk later."
The eyes were the windows to the soul. But as soon as I spoke, it was like she drew the blinds shut in hers. It was like she took a step away from me without even moving. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Go, Harry." She sat back down, not looking at me.
I left. As soon as I got into the Beetle, I had the feeling I'd just screwed something up irrevocably. I hoped I was wrong, but either way, it had to wait.
Executive Priority had officially opened a little over a week ago and tended to get really busy in the late afternoons and evenings, after office hours. Walking in to find the place empty just made me worry more about whatever happened. I took the stairs by two, heading up to John's office as fast as my crane fly legs could carry me.
My anxiousness was unwarranted. When I got there, John was standing in front of his desk, facing a man seated in one of the guest chairs. Hendricks had his gun out, along with a few other goons who were lurking in the room, looking a mite jumpy. John looked calm, though, and that in turn calmed me.
After confirming that John was safe, I turned my attention to the guest in the room. He was a very handsome man in a paisley vest and a red shirt, soot-black slacks and shiny shoes, all his clothes showing a man of wealth and taste. He was almost pretty with a striking jawline and dark eyes. His attractiveness was hampered by how damn snooty he looked. He looked at me when I came in, sneered, and turned away again. I was impressed. It was hard to hold onto an air of superiority when you were tied to a chair with rope, zip-ties, and handcuffs.
"Harry," John said. "Close the door, if you please." His eyes didn't leave the man tied to the chair as he spoke to me, focused like a laser. I'd feel twitchy under than kind of attention, but the guy looked cool as a cucumber.
"Who's your friend?" I shut the door and sealed it with a touch of magic. John had asked for a way to shut off the room when we were designing it. It was now Hermetically sealed.
Get it? Hermetic because Hermetic magic?
Well, I thought it was funny.
"I mentioned that several of my employees were absent from work and had not phoned in to say why?" He was still staring at the sharp-dressed man. I took a closer look at John and noticed his hands fisted in front of him, the clipped sound to his words-- oh. John was pissed. The sort of pissed he only got when someone, say, accidentally got his right-hand man nearly killed by a Winter Fae.
"Um, yeah, briefly."
"Mr. Gomez here seems to be the cause of our missing workers." John pulled his crucifix out from his shirt and started to toy with it. He played it low, acting distracted, but the man in the chair-- Gomez, I guess-- watched him do it so carefully, leaning all the way back in the chair, putting distance between himself and the small symbol of faith.
Ah. Vampire.
"But what do the Reds want with a bunch of fitness instru- oh." What Susan said came back to me and it all kind of clicked together. "The girls, right? So this really is a brothel?"
Every head in the room snapped up to look at me.
John opened his mouth, shut it, and then rubbed his face. "Harry, really?"
"Well, how was I supposed to know?" And I saw Hendricks was fighting a grin, the traitor.
John made a soft sound, like my obliviousness physically pained him. His voice was muffled, his hand laid over his mouth. "What did you think the beds were for?"
"I don't know, I thought they were standard for stupidly expensive spas." Stars, self, way to look like an idiot in front of John's private guard, Cujo, and a Red.
The Red in question gave a high, conniving, annoying laugh. "This is the infamous Wizard Dresden? The way milady spoke of him, I expected someone a little more astute."
The humor was sucked out of the room immediately. Hendricks loudly clicked the safety off his gun, and five or so other guns around the room did the same as the rest of the goons followed his lead. The sound was like someone had dropped a lot of pins on the floor. John, without a word, took off his cross, wrapped the necklace around his knuckles, and punched Gomez in the face.
Gomez shrieked in pain, recoiling away and fighting against his bindings. There was an acidic, sizzling sound. Where John had hit him, there was a burn spot in Gomez's flesh mask in the shape of the cross. Gomez kept shifting, obviously pained, and tried to rub the wound against his shoulder.
"I have no patience for you after what you've done, Mr. Gomez. Be silent until you are spoken to," John said coolly, now spinning his necklace around a finger.
I walked over to stand by John, pulling my blasting rod out just in case. "He's behind the girls disappearing?"
John nodded. "Mr. Gomez has been a regular customer since opening apparently. During his time with the women, he's taken to biting them."
I wondered if John would've minded if I punched Gomez too.
What a vindictive, evil thing to do. Vampire venom was easy to get addicted to and was how they tended to calm their prey to make them compliant and to prolong feeding. But the feeding, the bite itself, did something to the victims that was extra nasty. It was some kind of inherent mind control magic that made the victim receptive to the suggestion and commands of the vampire that bit them. From what Bob told me, being bitten was almost like being enthralled temporarily. It worked with the aphrodisiac quality of the venom to snare someone in a drugged sex-haze of obedience.
"Did you get any of them? The girls, are they okay?" Anger simmered in me at the thought of someone doing this to innocent women. Maybe they worked for John, but they weren't a part of this conflict. At least, that's what I thought. Bianca apparently disagreed.
"Some." John shook his head faintly. "Most are with the Margravine. They all left Executive Priority and went to the Red Court House instead of home."
I shut my eyes. "How many?"
"We managed to intercept five before they could reach the House. We think as many as twelve have been taken."
Twelve women. I poured some anger into my blasting rod and leveled it at Gomez.
John put a hand on my arm. "Harry, don't. You'll damage the room and it's new." He was aiming for light and disinterested, but I knew he was just as livid about this as I was. His control was just better than mine. "I think we can dispose of him in a less bombastic fashion."
Gomez snarled. "This is just the beginning, mortal fool. The honorable Margravine will make you regret your arrogance! She will see you on your knees before this is over!"
John sighed. "She's said as much herself. Have you no original threats?" He touched Hendricks' arm. "Mr. Gomez is looking rather pallid. See to it he gets some sunlight before being returned to his House."
I lowered the seal on the room with a muttered word and watched Gomez, chair and all, get lifted and carried out of the room by John's goons. He started screaming in what was probably Spanish, the sound of it fading down the hall.
Good riddance.
John got quiet once Gomez was disposed of. He sat at his desk and made a few phone calls before resting his chin on his hands, his thinking pose. I didn't know what to say exactly, and he didn't start any conversation. Sometimes he looked at me while I wandered the room, checking the ley lines and wards. Sometimes he picked up his pen and jotted a few things down on a legal pad on his desk.
After a while, I meandered back to John and nosily leaned over to see what he was writing. It was a bulletpointed list, some brainstorming on paper.
- Perfume with holy water base.
- In house chaplain? Blessings, holy water supply? Would need to be lacking scruples to work in EP = poorly blessed water.
- Arm the women. Would have to brief them on situation. Also, weapons hard to hide when wearing lingerie.
- UV lights to emulate sunlight in all rooms. (Ask Harry.)
- Level the Velvet Room with C4.
"UV probably won't work," I informed him, moving to sit on the corner of his desk, facing him. "The whole sunlight thing is symbolic. Sunlight brings life and happiness and vitality."
"I assumed as much." He picked up his pen and crossed that option out too. He kept the pen in his hand for a long moment after, his eyes on the page. Then he sighed and set it down. "I can't believe you didn't realize Executive Priority was a brothel," he said quietly.
I let out a shocked laugh. "I... yeah, in hindsight, it seems obvious, I guess. It's a very swanky house of ill repute." Sadly, John didn't smile like I hoped he would. There was too much tension in his body. It looked like the fury had passed, but he was clearly still unhappy. I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey."
"She came into my domain and took those loyal to me." His voice was barely above a whisper, cold and cruel. "The scorched earth strategy is very appealing right now."
I squeezed a little bit. "I know." I wish I knew what to say beyond that, but the whole situation just sucked no matter how you looked at it. John had fired the first strike, but Bianca had escalated things fast. She wasn't as neat as John was, with his rules and structures. I had no doubt he could play just as dirty as she had, but at the moment...
I just pressed a little harder against the cold jacket of his suit, wanting my warmth and support to penetrate, for him to feel a tangible comfort. John blinked, seeming to come out of his own head somewhat and looked at my hand, then me. "Is Ms. Rodriguez waiting for you back home?"
I shook my head. "Probably not. She didn't seem too happy when I bailed on her."
"I'm sorry if I ruined your date."
"Don't be," I said quickly. "Important stuff was going down. It's fine."
His gaze on me intensified. "Harry..." He trailed off, calculating, his brain ticking away. I waited for him to finish his sentence, but he muttered, "Never mind." Instead, he picked up his pen and added another item to his list.
- Ask Harry if he'll be willing to train some of my men to deal with vampires, similar to what he's done with Mr. Hendricks.
He gave me a questioning look as soon as he was finished. I nodded. "I could do that." It was worth it for the smile I got, weak but undoubtedly there.
I was expecting maybe a handful of John's goons to teach, and was picturing a similar format to my informal discussions with Hendricks. I could do that, that was cake. A few beers and a discussion of magical theory and defenses was my idea of a good time.
But no. Instead, I was in a board room on the upper levels of Executive Priority. John's spa-slash-gym-slash-brothel was apparently also a slash-business office. In a way, Executive Priority was like John himself. A nicely dressed version of the dark side of Chicago and a consummate multi-tasker. Me, I couldn't pat my head and rub my stomach at the same time. More and more, I was relieved John Marcone was on my side.
Or was I on his? Was there a difference?
I sat at the head of a long table in one of those amazing executive chairs, watching a group of besuited made men come in and take the rest of the seats. I recognized a few from the incident with Gomez, so some were John's bodyguards. One guy had walked in while tapping a stylus against some electronic thing in his palm, sat down, and continued to work at it. No one I knew by name.
I glanced past the goons to Hendricks, who lurked in the door, watching with narrowed eyes. He looked at me and nodded. I shook my head right back at him because I'd changed my mind and did not want to be left chairing a meeting with a bunch of strangers from the Outfit. John, I could handle. Hendricks, he and I had an understanding. These guys, I didn't know. This was going to be just like every other time I tried to tell a vanilla human about magic and the things that went bump in the night. Hell, if anything, these guys were going to be an even harsher crowd.
Hendricks shrugged, as if to say, 'what do you want from me?' And then left.
Me and him were so not buddies anymore.
So I looked upon the first initiates of the Harry Dresden Vampire School and thought about how each of them could break me in two with their bare hands.
Then I remembered I was a wizard of the White Council. If they tried anything, I could bend the inherent energy of the universe to sweep them all up into a cyclone and toss them over my shoulder. Which made me a little better.
I set my staff down on the table and rocked my chair left and right idly. "Sooo..." I got everyone except Mr. PDA to look at me. "I'm Harry Dresden. I prefer Mr. Dresden until we've been through a life or death situation or two. I guess I'll be teaching you how not to get yourselves killed in the coming months." I looked up at them, my head kept low, going for enigmatic and dangerous. "How much do you kids know about what you're up against?"
The guy closest to me raised his hand. I automatically dubbed him Franklin 2 in my head. "Vampires, right? That one of the gangs Mr. Marcone wants taken out?"
I shook my head. "No. I don't know anything about that. Not my department." Office of Supernatural Wackiness and Things With Big Teeth. "We're talking real vampires."
A roil of muttering and sideways glances crossed the table. So John had sent them to me without popping their magical knowledge cherry. I wondered why.
PDA Guy snorted and started chuckling under his breath. He kept working at his little toy. "This a joke, Dresden?"
I leaned back and fixed him with my best stormy wizard look. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
He smirked. "You're Mr. Marcone's 'wizard', right? That like a court jester? Mr. Marcone need a funny man to entertain him?"
Quietly, I said, "You're going to want to shut that thing off. Wizards and electronics don't mix well."
PDA Guy scoffed, tossed me a disbelieving look, and returned his attention to his stylus.
Okay. Now I followed John's train of thought. Of course he sent them to me fresh and unmarred by expectations. They needed to take me seriously and there was only so much John could instill in his men. Having the Outfit treat me as a VIP was easy. Making them respect me was harder.
I took hold of my staff, still slouching comfortably in my chair, and pointed my focus at the guy who mouthed off at me. I pulled up one of my favorite tricks, a minor bit of kinetomancy, extending my will along my staff and to the fancy tool in the man's hands. "Hexus."
The PDA exploded in a showy display of sparks and light. The guy yelped and dropped the thing, sliding his chair back and away from the table. His eyes were satisfyingly wide, expression perfectly surprised. Everyone looked similarly surprised, all murmurs and shocked gasps, and one mutter of "Mary, mother of Christ."
I smiled sharply. "It's Mr. Dresden. I am John's wizard. And this is Vampires 101." I let go of my staff, letting it fall back to the table with a loud thunk. The mafiosi all jumped at the sound. "Take notes."
"Not bad, old man," Alex the werewolf said, applauding my handling of my new students. It was game night with Billy and the Werewolves (which really needed to be the name of a punk band) and Billy was GMing a little Call of Cthulhu. Or he would be as soon as everyone settled down and actually broke out the dice. Since Cindy and Kirby weren't playing, working on papers or exams or whatever it was college kids worked on instead, I doubted we'd get around to the Eldritch abominations and sanity checks. Which was a shame, as Alex had mentioned wanting to play a guy with a phobia of books and I was looking forward to Billy tearing his hair out.
"Thank you, thank you." I clinked my beer bottle against Alex's. "I do try."
"How'd they react to that?"
I shrugged. "They shut up and listened to what I was saying. I'm not sure how much of it they believed, but I did my job."
Billy liberated the last slice of pizza with pepperoni from the box. I made googly eyes at him in hopes he'd give it up, but he looked me dead in the eye and took a big bite out of it. "Mmmm...."
"Flea-ridden mutt." I took one of the far inferior mushroom slices, trying not to sulk too much.
"You know, usually," Billy said once he swallowed, "getting you to talk about this stuff is like pulling teeth."
"Well, usually the Chicago Outfit isn't stirring up stuff with the Red Court."
Billy and Alex exchanged a look. Georgia elbowed Billy under the table. Georgia had one hell of an elbow too, and Billy made a wounded sound, frowning at her. She sighed and looked to me. "How serious is this thing with the vampires, Harry? Because there's been an influx of them in our area lately. Is it safe to say its related?"
I took a bite of pizza to make some time. So this thing with Bianca was blowing back on the Alphas. Bianca was obviously grabbing humans for feeding and converting. College kids would be a perfect target. Hell, with out of state students and those who were away from their families, it could be real easy to snatch them up. By the time their family realized they were missing, Bianca could ensnare them enough to have them call home and say everything's fine. No one would know.
I was willing to bet it wasn't just Hyde Park, either. Dammit.
"It's serious." I washed down my food with a swig of beer, then crossed my arms, leaning in towards the Alphas. "As far as I can tell, John intends to force the Red Court out of town entirely."
A hush fell over the table briefly. "Jesus, really?"
"Yeah."
Billy looked around the apartment at his fellow werewolves. I could see the pack mentality in him, how he was worrying about his clan. Georgia put her hand in his and they held onto each other for a moment. Billy regarded me soberly. "You think he can do it?"
"Yeah." I had to. Things were going to get worse before they got better. I had to believe this was all going to be worth it in the end. The endgame was either going to be hard-won victory for John and, by extension, Chicago, or it was going to be Bianca killing both of us.
Georgia put her head on Billy's shoulder, and he laid his against hers. On Georgia's other side, Alex took her other hand. I could almost feel the familial affection and support humming in the air around them. I was glad. They'd need each other in the months to come.
I tried not to feel left out, sitting across from them all by my lonesome. I shifted in my chair, wanting to excuse myself and go home. I was sort of adopted by the Alphas, an honorary member, as I was with the Carpenters. That said, I was with them, but not of them. Being there was a bit intrusive on my part.
Alex seemed to notice my discomfort and asked, "What about Susan? She hearing anything about this?"
I'd managed to dodge the guilt over keeping her in the dark until then. I'd kept busy, spending more time at Executive Priority, helping out where I could. I hadn't even called her since I bailed on her at the restaurant. And I'd gotten in the habit of dialing my voicemail every evening to check messages, so I knew she hadn't called me. But when Alex brought her up, the guilt hit me like a baseball bat slammed into my gut.
John was starting a goddamn war with the Red Court and Susan had no idea. And Bianca knew Susan was my girlfriend. If Bianca was getting aggressive enough she managed to sneak a saboteur into Executive Priority, Susan could be a target as well. I needed to stop being a coward and tell her. Maybe she'd hate me for making an oath to Gentleman Johnnie. Maybe she'd hate me for keeping it from her for so long. Maybe none of that mattered because I needed to start acting like a halfway responsible adult.
So I gave some vague answer to Alex, bid my young werewolf friends good night, and headed back home. I could call Susan, ask her over-- No, it was night and Bianca's Reds were doubtlessly on the prowl. At the very least, I'd tell her to stay indoors for the night and set up a time to meet her and tell her. I'd come clean about it all. I just needed to be honest and...
I was halfway up the walk to my building when I instinctively grabbed my blasting rod out of my coat and spun around. I was already moving when I realized I felt something powerful behind me. I lifted rod and shield bracelet together, ready for anything.
A Warden's grey cloak shone almost blue-white in the full moon. The urban canyon we stood in sent the early winter air gusting around us. As he approached, Morgan looked like some sort of valiant, dramatic knight, the cloak blowing in the cold Windy City night. Unfitting, but true.
I lowered my blasting rod, but kept my bracelet up. "What do you want?" I didn't spare any pleasantries. That wasn't the kind of relationship we had.
"Wizard Dresden," Morgan growled, one hand on the hilt of his sword. It was still in its sheath, which was always a good sign. Not that he couldn't kill me without it, but Morgan was a stickler for the Laws of Magic and wouldn't go breaking them even to deal with me. The sword was a sign of the Wardens. As long as it stayed where it was, I couldn't be in too much trouble. I hoped.
"Don't take your time, Morgan. It's late and I have more important things to do than shoot the breeze with the magical McCarthy." No love lost, seriously.
"I come with a warning, Dresden," he ground out, and his sword hand tightened into a white-knuckled fist. "You've been consorting with a mortal crime lord." He bared his teeth and took a step towards me.
I threw up a shield, extending it as far out from my body as I could. A wall of pure force held Morgan a good few feet away from me. Maybe he would have liked to get close and growl in my face, but I wasn't in the mood. "I'm expanding my circle of friends. That against the Laws now? Rule Eight, thou shalt not have enough friends to throw a swinging party?"
Morgan went red in the face. "Do not joke so freely about the Laws. You may have wiggled your way out from under the Doom, but that does not prove your innocence. I know a warlock when I see one."
"Yep, that's me. I'm also a member of the Illuminati. And the Freemasons. And the number 23 controls the universe." I grinned maniacally at him. "You ever see the fnords, man?" I could see he now wanted to give me a good old fashioned punch in the face. "Are you just here to vaguely threaten me? Because I get plenty of that already."
Morgan breathed in hard through his nose and exhaled, visibly trying to calm himself. "By the Red Court, I presume?" I said nothing. "You are leaking information to the head of this city's criminal underworld."
"Not leaking. Pouring it on him. In buckets." I lowered my shield and took my own menacing step forward. "Informing vanilla mortals about magic isn't illegal, Morgan."
He glared hard at me. "Always fond of your technicalities, Dresden. You can get away with your yellow pages advert, and your pamphlets. But not with revealing the existence of the White Council. That's treason."
"I've never uttered the words 'White Council' to anyone not in the know. I'm just helping people protect themselves."
"And I should take your word for it?"
"Yeah," I snapped. "You have to. Because, as you said, I'm out from under the Doom of Damocles. You have no right to pull this bullshit." I tucked my blasting rod away and pulled out my apartment keys. "Now leave me alone. Get back to murdering kids or eating newborn puppies or whatever it is you do when you're not spying on me."
Morgan stared me down for a long moment, but there was nothing he could do and he knew it. "I'm watching you, Dresden."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm recommending to the Council that we take measures to censure you."
"Okiedokie, you do that." All he had was grouchy ominousness and I was tired. I turned away and headed back to my home. "Hope that works out for you. Bye now, see ya around."
As soon as I got inside, I pulled up my wards, made sure there were as powerful as they could be, and checked my proximity wards. Only when the candles on my fireplace died back to nominal yellow did I relax.
The Leanansidhe. Bianca St. Clair and her entire Red Court House. And now Morgan. Didn't I have enough problems?
Apparently not. I went to bed, exhausted and tense, hoping tomorrow wouldn't be so damn stressful.
Chapter Sixteen
Originally posted at DW. Comment here or there. DW comments: