BOOK TWO: putting out your fires with gasoline [3/?]
Table of Contents
Title: putting out your fires with gasoline, Book Two of The Matter of Chicago
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 overall, PG currently
Word Count: This chapter: 5,170. This book: 15,170.
Notes: This was supposed to be up a lot sooner, but I got hit with the headcold from hell. Ugh. Still incapable of speech at the moment. Which is fun. But anyway, enjoy, ya'll.
Chapter One | Chapter Two
of restraint
Michael Carpenter wasn't always wielding Amoracchius for the betterment of humanity. He had a day job. Hilariously enough, he was a carpenter. He'd done a little work with me on John's place when I was setting up the wards and the result was as sturdy and reliable as you'd expect from the man.
There was always some home improvement project or another going on at the Carpenter house. This time, it was a big one; Michael was working on an extension to the house. It was in its early stages and the wiring wasn't even put in yet. I asked if it'd be okay for me to set up a temporary lab in the extension, just for this job. Michael and Charity didn't mind.
I had a place to work. Now I needed the stuff to work with. I had that roll of hundreds in my pocket that could help out. But I also wanted Bob's assistance and most of what I needed was back at my real lab.
Michael volunteered to take me back to John's place so I could get the stuff I needed. It wasn't like I could take the Beetle. I made a note to call my mechanic about her tomorrow morning. She took a beating, but she'd keep on ticking.
I wasn't looking forward to facing John after everything. I was still rattled from being in my car as it was thrown into a wall and having one of the Fallen whaling on my shield. Dealing with John took more energy than I had.
That in mind, I had Michael park his truck away from the security gate of the estate and went in on foot. A quiet hex took out the lights over the gates along with the security cameras. I opened the gate with my own key and slipped onto the grounds. Security protocol was to avoid investigating mysterious outages on your own, so whoever was working the gate would have to go find a buddy before looking into things. That would give me enough time to unravel the real protections on the estate-- the interconnected system of wards-- and get in. I hoped.
It was close to two in the morning when I stepped into the mansion. All the lights were out and the house was silent. It felt empty, though I knew the night detail was going to be around. Tulane, the guy who ran house security, happened to spot me on my way to the basement. He was a lean, dark man with a New Orleans accent. When we met, he never doubted the fact I was a wizard. Apparently he'd seen some regional magic down in the Big Easy. He was clued-in.
He watched me pull a duffel bag out of the closet, not moving at all. He didn't make a grab for his radio, just watching. "Mr. Marcone's asleep."
"Uh huh."
"Want I should wake him? Let him know you're back?"
I stilled for a moment. Back, huh. I wished. "No. I'm not staying. Just need to grab a few supplies." I glanced sideways at him to see what he'd do with that bit of info.
Tulane considered, tapping his heavy Maglite against his thigh. "That so."
I sighed and faced him fully. "Yeah. It is. And I'd... if you could hold off on telling John I'm here, I'd appreciate it."
Tap, tap, tap went the Maglite. Those things were essentially mis-marketed bludgeoning tools. I hoped John hadn't set up any orders to have me detained if I came home. I was tired and Tulane was as efficiently violent as any of the Outfit men were.
But he blew out a long breath and said, "I'm going to walk up to his room, tell him myself you're here. May stop to check the second and third floor first though. Make sure there's no more visitors."
I sagged with relief. "Thank you." I didn't waste any more time and headed down to the basement.
A murmured, "Flickum bicus," illuminated the lab. I didn't have long, so I unzipped the duffel and tossed it on the work table. At this point, I wasn't completely sure what I'd be needing, so I tossed a little of everything into the bag, as far as ingredients and components went. I didn't leave my blasting rod this time; if the Denarians came for me again, I needed to be able to deter them with a little more bang. I grabbed a few empty potion bottles and the bunsen burner and other brewing paraphernalia. Figuring out how to safely stash some things took longer than I wanted, but at last I was picking up Bob and a plain linen to wrap him in.
Bob hummed awake. "Mmm, what's going on?" He yawned widely.
"Relocating for a little while," I told him softly. "Go back to sleep." With him tucked into the linen, he went into the duffel as well, and I was all set to go.
On my way out, I realized I needed some clothes. That was one thing that I just couldn't borrow off the Carpenters. I'd end up looking ridiculous. My bedroom was close, so I risked another minute or so ducking in to stuff some clothes into the bag.
Then I was on my way out, moving as quickly and quietly as I could.
In the foyer, I hitched the bag higher on my shoulder before reaching for the doorknob. Just as my fingers touched it, the light came on.
I jumped and turned. Over by the light switch was John, leaning on the wall, dressed in his pajamas with a thick robe over them. He was looking at me with opaque, empty eyes.
We stared at each other for a moment, both of us waiting for the other to make a move.
I steeled myself and opened the door, walking out.
John was right behind me. "Harry, stop."
"It's cold out. You should be inside, John."
"Harry, listen to me."
I turned to face him. "Are you going to tell me what you need the Shroud for?"
His mouth flattened into an unhappy line. "I can't."
I went to leave again. Some hard footsteps behind me, and John seized my shoulder, jerking me back around. "Are you going to tell me what the hell happened to you in Lake View?"
"Don't see why I should."
That angered him. The blankness in his face was giving way to some deep upset. Obviously he thought I was being unreasonable somehow. "As I understand it, something picked up your car and threw it into an apartment complex," he said slowly, filling each word with how unacceptable this all was to him.
"Yeah. So?"
"So? So? Harry--" John made a noise that was eerily similar to a growl. "So you were almost killed tonight and now you're going where?"
I grinned, wide and mirthless. "Touching as that concern is, I'm fine. I'm staying with Michael until we get the Shroud."
John's hand tightened on my shoulder, almost painfully so. If not for my duster, I'd likely have John's fingers bruising my skin. "I have nothing but respect for the Carpenters, but..." He shook his head curtly. "Stay in one of the safe houses instead."
"Hell's fucking bells, do you-- do you get what's happening here?" I grabbed his hand and shoved it off me, stepping away from him. "I'm leaving, you scumbag! You think I'm going to walk out of here and just settle into someplace where you can spy on me--"
"Harry, you were just attacked," John cut in over me, his voice... unsteady. Just slightly. He reached out like he wanted to grab me and shake me, but refrained, his hands held out inches from me. "I want you to go to the safe house so you'll be safe." He stopped, eyes a little wild, running his hands through his hair. "Harry, please."
Silence settled over us as we took each other in. I knew I looked like hell and could see John was worried in that contained, desperate way he got sometimes. I just wished--
I couldn't think like that. John was a master of whittling someone down, making it so you wanted to let him handle things. Placing yourself in his care was so easy. I'd gotten used to it. Old habits died hard.
"John," I said. "Why won't you tell me what's going on?"
He recoiled, looking pained and... ashamed. There was shame in his eyes. It took me this long to recognize it because John Marcone didn't do shame. He had no remorse for anything, but this, whatever this was made him feel the kind of shame that killing people and dealing drugs never did.
Whatever this was, it was big.
I stepped close to him, letting the duffel slide off my shoulder and onto the grass. "John. Tell me."
With great reluctance, he shook his head. "No. It's not for you to know. It's not for anyone to know."
It was so frustrating. I'd given him everything and he wouldn't-- what more did he need from me? "You know everything about me. Everything worth knowing. I trusted you with that. Can't," I stopped, cleared my throat. "Can't you trust me?"
"I... trust you more than any other person alive, Harry." He met my gaze, staring hard and imploringly. "Believe me."
I did. I really, really did. I had no doubt that he put more trust in me than he did anyone else in the world.
But...
"That's not enough," I told him, feeling myself go cold even as I said it. The words hurt coming up, like knives in my throat. And they seemed just as sharp to John, whose body tensed to suppress a flinch. "You swore to me. Remember that, John? You swore that I had the right to go against you. That when you were wrong, I was going to call you out?" My tone was flat, dead, but getting loud. "You remember that night? You swore to me on Chicago!"
"This isn't about Chicago, Harry!"
I rocked back, shocked. Wasn't about-- everything about John was about Chicago. His vision for it, the White City, it was his whole life. I couldn't even be jealous because it was who John was. He was meant to be lashed and bound to the city, it was in his nature as magic was in mine.
John was breathing hard, an angry flush splashed over his cheeks. It suited him, that little loss of control. I wanted to rub my thumb over it, to see if it'd smear like paint or fade or transfer through touch to me until I lost control too and gave in.
That wasn't an option though.
I bent down, picked up the bag. "I'm going to stop you. I'm getting the Shroud first and keeping it safe from you and the Denarians."
"Who are the Denarians?"
We weren't on the same side, so I wouldn't answer. I just turned and walked towards the gate across the lawn.
John didn't follow, but I could hear him calling me. "Harry. Harry! Harry, wait!"
Then,
"Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden!"
I froze, breath catching in my chest. The sound of my Name twanged through me like a plucked string, lacking power but filled with enough intent that it echoed in my ears.
It was a threat. It'd always been a threat, that John had my Name. I never thought he'd use it, but I was always aware that he had that power over me. He could give my Name to any number of creatures that would use it against me. I could be conjured, controlled, bound. And John knew it.
I looked back at him, waiting. He looked torn, unsettled, surprised like he didn't know he was going to invoke my Name until he said it. There was anger in his eyes, almost disguising the helplessness. He had never planned for this, had he?
It took a long minute, but at last he backed down, his posture slipping into something tired and drawn. He looked so exhausted... "Be careful, Harry. Please."
My throat was too tight to say anything, so I simply nodded and walked away. I glanced back at him a few times on my way out, but John didn't move. He stood in the yard, watching me leave.
Michael was waiting for me outside the estate and I wordlessly climbed into the truck, not looking at him, just staring at my shoes.
"Harry?" Michael ventured cautiously. "Are you all right?"
"No," I said. "Not really." I shut my eyes tight and focused on keeping my breathing steady for a moment. "Let's just go."
I put my stuff away in the extension, sealing it in a magic circle just in case before heading back to the house proper.
Michael was pulling linen out of the closet, passing spare blankets to Shiro and dragging out two bedrolls. "Charity's gone to sleep already. We'll move the younger kids to her mother's house in the morning. They'll be safer there for the time being."
I claimed a bedroll and moved the coffee table to make room on the floor. "Hopefully those Shroud fragments will show up tomorrow. Sooner we get it, the better."
"How will we find the Shroud?" Sanya asked, grabbing the other and setting up next to me.
"I'm an old hand at tracking spells. Give me a piece of the Shroud and I'll find the rest of it." I tapped my nose. "Magical bloodhound, basically."
Sanya laughed, a low, warm sound. "I look forward to seeing that."
My smile was wan, but genuine. "You like magic tricks, Sanya?"
"Not usually." His tone implied he could make an exception for me.
... Oh stars and stones, that's where I'd heard his name before. When I accidentally, well, came out to Molly, she wanted to set me up with Sanya and had asked her father if he was gay.
Suddenly, sleeping next to the man was weird. I mean, he was attractive and I thought maybe he was flirting with me. I got self-conscious about stripping down in front of him, even if it was just to my tee and shorts. I climbed into the bedroll quickly.
Shiro settled on the sofa as Michael turned off the light and bade everyone good night. In the moonlight from the window, I could see Sanya taking off his shirt and pants, dark skin almost luminescent in the night. And... I was bi now. So I could look and admire a bit. I wasn't leering, just watching him from the corner of my eye as I settled down for sleep. If I wanted, I could let my mind wander and think about...
There I hit a wall, and that wall called itself John. As soon as I tried to think about it, I became painfully aware that I was in a sleeping bag on the floor of my friend's house when I wanted to be home in that dark room deep in the mansion. I wanted to go to sleep on that stupidly large bed with John's warmth next to me, ignoring all the extra space as he curved around me, his quiet exhalations against my neck or my shoulder or chest. I didn't want to be wearing my boxers and shirt, I wanted that skin-to-skin with the soft sheets around us.
But I'd just basically walked out on John, hadn't I?
It just made me madder. That he did this, that he didn't trust me and ruined everything. I'd gotten so used to the easy comfort of sharing a bed and all the benefits that went with it.
And I couldn't even entertain any thoughts of the friendly, handsome Knight of the Cross next to me without thinking about John. It was like I was obsessed with him. Was this how John felt all the time?
I swallowed an infuriated groan and turned over so my back was to everyone. I stared at the wall until sleep mercifully took me.
Meals at the Carpenters' were always a little hectic. As a man with only a bachelor-level cooking ability, it amazed me that Charity and Michael managed to get enough food out of that kitchen to feed five grown adults, two teenagers, four children, and one toddler. If the rumors of the household being protected by an archangel are true, clearly it blessed the kitchen.
Molly sat next to me at the table as I ate my omelet. I groaned internally; it was hard enough to handle Molly when I wasn't sleep-deprived, and I sure as hell didn't get a good night's sleep. "So. You and your boyfriend on the outs?"
I groaned for real. "I don't want to talk about it, Mols."
She nodded and patted my shoulder in what she probably thought was a very understanding, emphatic manner. "Okay. Okay." She munched on some bacon, but I knew there was no way she was done. "So. You've met Sanya." She elbowed me in the side, nodding to the Knight in question, who was listening intently to Hope as she prattled on about something. "What do you think?"
"What do I think of what?"
"Oh, come oooon, Harry," she whined, elbowing me again. "Not interested? At all? Or does he just not compare to John?"
Hell's bells, it sucked being an outlet for Molly's rebellion sometimes. "If you're so keen, you ask him out." At the very least, watching Charity's face turn cherry red with anger would be worth it.
She grinned. "I thought I wasn't allowed to date men."
I gave her a glare over my glass of orange juice. "Molly."
Molly let out an explosive sigh before twisting away from me, turning to talk to Alicia instead.
On my other side, Daniel shook his head. "Sorry about her."
"Nah, it's fine."
"And... Sorry about John," he said quietly. And then he changed the subject, going on about how much quieter the house was going to be with most of the kids shipped off. He made it sound like it'd be a vacation, but his eyes kept straying to each of the little ones in turn, familial affection clear on his face.
After breakfast, the place became a madhouse as everyone ran around, packing overnight bags, being shepherded by Michael as he checked on everyone. I helped Charity pack the bag for Baby Harry as she held him on her hip. He was taking his post-food nap, it looked like, his face smooshed into his mother's side as he dozed.
"Daniel and Molly are staying," she was telling me. "Molly has a written test to do for her permit. Daniel's going with her." One of the rules of the house was that no one went into Chicago alone. There was a buddy system and regular check-ins and everything. "I'll be back by the afternoon."
"Mmhm."
She caught my chin with one hand, turning my face to look at her. "You know I hate when you and Michael work a job together. He always ends up hurt."
I swallowed thickly. I had no illusions that Charity didn't like me or anything, because we got along fairly well these days. But I knew she worried about Michael and, yeah, when I was on a job with him, the number of injuries skewed higher than normal. "I know."
"The Denarians.... just make it all worse. So watch his back, Harry."
I nodded. "Anything happens to him, you'll take it out on my hide. I know."
She smiled faintly. "You learn fast." The curve of her lips fell back to a concerned line. "After this is over, will you need a place to stay?"
"I don't know."
"Well, let me know. We can find something for you. If you need it."
Still didn't want to think about that. Shame it was all anyone else in the house wanted to talk to me about. Stars... "Molly keeps trying to set me up with Sanya."
Charity smirked. "He's a very nice young man. Your type?"
"Hell's bells, Charity, not you too," I moaned.
She laughed and touched my arm as she left the room. "Dollar in the swear jar, Harry. Bring that bag out when you're done."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, saluting only a little sarcastically.
Michael and Sanya went along with Charity to protect the kids, leaving Shiro and I waiting on the Shroud fragments. There wasn't much else to do. We had no leads on where the Churchmice were or where the Shroud was going to be. I tried to call into John's office to get his schedule, but the secretary had shut me out, telling me Mr. Marcone's business was not a matter of public record and that I should call the public line and make an appointment if I wanted to see him.
What a difference two days made.
There had to be another way to keep an eye on John. I just needed to think of it.
I sighed and hung the phone back up. "Don't suppose you got any friends in the mob?" I asked Shiro.
He gave me a level stare and returned to what I assumed was some kind of mediation. He just sat there at the kitchen table, his legs folded, his expression blank and peaceful. From the moment I saw him, he seemed to be a man utterly content with himself and his place in the universe. I was more than a little envious of that. I guessed it was a Knight of the Cross thing. Michael often seemed similarly comfortable and sure of himself and his path in life. Sanya gave off a bit of that vibe as well. But neither of them were close to the stillness and serenity of Shiro. Just being around him made me feel loud and clumsy.
"Maybe I'll go check on Father Vincent, make sure he's okay," I said, standing.
Shiro caught my sleeve as I walked by him. "Patience. Rushing into action when the other Knights will be returning soon is foolish. You have already been attacked once."
"I don't like sitting here doing nothing."
"You are a target of the Denarians." He let go of me, but I didn't move. I felt somewhat chastised and very, very young under his gaze. "You are not doing nothing, you are keeping yourself safe."
I sat back down. "Feels like nothing," I muttered sullenly.
Shiro nodded. as if I'd said something profound. "You're a man of action. At the moment, your life is fraught with confusion and danger. You want to feel like you are doing something about that."
That was freaky. Did Shiro have a sideline in counselling when he wasn't smiting evil? "Maybe, sure." I didn't like that this guy I hadn't said more than a few words to apparently had my number already. "What about you, Shiro? How'd you end up with the Knights?"
For the first time, he smiled, faint but as warm as any of the other Knights. With a crooked finger, he beckoned me to the back porch as he slid out of his lotus position. I followed, watching as he pulled a cigar out of his pocket. He used an old, worn but functional device to snip one tip of the cigar off. Once we were outside, he patted himself down, clearly looking for a lighter or some matches.
"Here." I snapped my fingers, pushing a little bit of my will out as I did. The end of his cigar flared obediently.
Shiro inclined his head. "Thank you." Soon, he was blowing out a long stream of smoke with a satisfied look on his face. Smokers always got that look, at least the long-time ones. I guess that was the nicotine addiction. "Accident."
"Hm?"
"My Christianity. It was an accident."
I blinked. "Hell of an accident to make."
He pointed his cigar over his shoulder. "Swear jar."
"Oh, not you too." I laughed. "I'll get it in a sec."
"When I was younger, I liked Elvis. Had the chance to see him in concert in California. This was before my English had gotten too good. After the concert, a man asked if I'd like to meet the king. I had thought he meant going backstage to meet Elvis." Another inhale, another smoky exhale. "I found out later I'd been baptized."
That struck me as seriously funny, but Shiro's face was as composed as ever and I couldn't tell if it was okay to laugh. Bit like John in a way.
John...
I gave myself a mental slap upside the head. Get ahold of yourself, Dresden, Christ...
"What is it?" Shiro asked.
I winced. I knew I had a terrible poker face. That must have shown through. "Nothing. Just... I'm just dealing with some stuff right now." Badly. "So, Baptist, huh?"
"Yes. Had to learn much to be a good Baptist. This," he tapped the hilt of Fidelacchius, "made things easier. I serve. My fellow man, myself, justice."
"Sounds hard."
"No. It's not. Very simple. People simply forget what it means, to live like that." He got that quicksilver smile again, fleeting but undoubtedly there. "I am content."
It sounded nice. Being a Knight wasn't a path I envied at all, but parts of it, sure. Michael, Sanya, and Shiro, they were all grounded in a way most supernaturally clued-in individuals weren't. With Michael, I assumed it was the whole Christian trust in God's divine plan thing. But Sanya and Shiro hardly fell into that, and yet they still seemed so... serene. Hard not to be jealous of that, when your own life is in the middle of upheaval. Again.
By now, you'd think I'd be used to it.
As I started getting that urge to go and do something, do anything, Shiro put a hand on my shoulder. It was a bit of a stretch for him. "Calm yourself. Running out is the worst thing you can do right now."
"I could set the house on fire and invite this Nicodemus guy out to dinner."
"Fine, perhaps not the worst thing. But regardless."
I gave him a hard look. "If I tried to leave, would you stop me?"
"No. I would go with you. You are Michael's friend."
"You don't know me."
"But I know Michael. That is enough." He put out his cigar, snipped the burnt tip off, and tucked the rest of it away. "You are a wizard. Is there nothing you can do from here?"
Only then did it hit me. Oh. Right. I did manage to get by before I had John Marcone backing me, didn't I?
"Got someone I could call," I said, heading back inside for the phone.
"Who?"
I didn't answer, just dialing. "Hi, yes, I'd like to place an order. Large, pepperoni, mushroom, aaaand... onions. You deliver to Wrigleyville? Great." I rattled off the Carpenters' address. "Thanks."
Shiro looked surprised. "A pizza place is who you can call?"
"No. But I need some pizza to call the person I'm going to call." I flapped a hand at him. "You'll see. Trust the wizard."
The pizza arrived about a half hour later, which was really good time. I still only had a roll of hundreds in my wallet from the fund Cujo had given me. I gave the delivery boy a hundred, and he gave me all his change. He still walked away with a twenty dollar tip. Oh well. It paid to treat pizza places nice. They definitely took note of this kind of thing. I expected the Carpenters would be getting speedy deliveries from now on.
We went out to the back yard and I set up the needed circle and offering. I kept the usual milk but swapped the bread and honey for pizza. I am not above bribery; I just don't like it when I'm the one being bribed.
I didn't bother hiding. The creature I was calling was as close to a friend as a dewdrop faerie could be with a mortal. I paid him well for his services.
Once I started calling his name, it didn't take long for Toot-toot to arrive. He flew high over the Carpenters' back yard, circling slowly before diving down to the offering I'd set out. I watched him spin as he considered the pizza and who had set it out. Paranoid for a dewdrop faerie.
"Toot, I just need a small favor. Nothing too dangerous. Go ahead," I told him.
He didn't need more convincing than that. The plate I'd set the pizza on cracked with the force of Toot-toot divebombing it. He tore a slice in half and started to scarf it down. As he did, I sat on the kids' swingset nearby and waited.
Three slices vanished into Toot's mouth before he drank down the tiny cup of milk I'd set out. "Yes, yes, what do you want?"
I gave him a wide eyed, innocent expression. "What, I can't just want to have my pal Toot over for lunch?"
"In that case," Toot said and took off, soaring up into the air.
"Oh for-- Erazrof!" Toot squealed as my magic grabbed him and jerked him back to earth. I caught him as he tumbled, cupping him in my palms. "I was kidding, Toot-toot."
Toot glared at me, wings buzzing angrily. "What do you want this time, Harry Dresden?"
"Just a little thievery, nothing major." Over at the porch where he was watching, I saw Shiro's eyebrows lift in surprise. "Well, it's more like borrowing anyway. I need you to get something for me from one of the Outfit guys." Toot tilted his head at me. Right. Human organizations didn't mean anything to him. "One of the people who work for Marcone. You know him, he exiled the Red Court."
"Oh! Yes! The Chicago king!"
I winced. "He's... not king, though he'd like hearing you say that. But we'll go with that. Go find his, uh.... squires. They have little black boxes on their belts. About this big," I demonstrated with my hands. "They have buttons and little green screens. I need you to get me one. Try not to be seen."
Toot fluttered in front of me, his arms akimbo, thinking. "What will you give me for this?"
"I gave you pizza!"
"You think simple pizza is due payment for this, Harry Dresden? To send me out to steal from a king!"
I should not have let the king thing slide. Hell's bells. "I will buy you a pizza every week for a month?"
"Two months!"
"Fine, fine. Get out of here," I grumbled. Toot snickered gleefully, evidentially happy with his promised payment, and took off again, flying away to do my bidding.
Shiro walked over to me. "Pizza?"
I shrugged and gathered up my things. "It's like a drug to the Fae. I don't question it." I felt a little better now, having done something. The itch to go and do and take action faded a little, weaned away with a small task. It wouldn't last forever, but maybe it'd keep me out of trouble until the other Knights returned or the Shroud threads showed up.
Shiro asked, "Now we wait."
I picked up the pizza box with the remaining slices. "Yeah, but now we wait with pizza."
Chapter Four
Title: putting out your fires with gasoline, Book Two of The Matter of Chicago
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 overall, PG currently
Word Count: This chapter: 5,170. This book: 15,170.
Notes: This was supposed to be up a lot sooner, but I got hit with the headcold from hell. Ugh. Still incapable of speech at the moment. Which is fun. But anyway, enjoy, ya'll.
Chapter One | Chapter Two
of restraint
Michael Carpenter wasn't always wielding Amoracchius for the betterment of humanity. He had a day job. Hilariously enough, he was a carpenter. He'd done a little work with me on John's place when I was setting up the wards and the result was as sturdy and reliable as you'd expect from the man.
There was always some home improvement project or another going on at the Carpenter house. This time, it was a big one; Michael was working on an extension to the house. It was in its early stages and the wiring wasn't even put in yet. I asked if it'd be okay for me to set up a temporary lab in the extension, just for this job. Michael and Charity didn't mind.
I had a place to work. Now I needed the stuff to work with. I had that roll of hundreds in my pocket that could help out. But I also wanted Bob's assistance and most of what I needed was back at my real lab.
Michael volunteered to take me back to John's place so I could get the stuff I needed. It wasn't like I could take the Beetle. I made a note to call my mechanic about her tomorrow morning. She took a beating, but she'd keep on ticking.
I wasn't looking forward to facing John after everything. I was still rattled from being in my car as it was thrown into a wall and having one of the Fallen whaling on my shield. Dealing with John took more energy than I had.
That in mind, I had Michael park his truck away from the security gate of the estate and went in on foot. A quiet hex took out the lights over the gates along with the security cameras. I opened the gate with my own key and slipped onto the grounds. Security protocol was to avoid investigating mysterious outages on your own, so whoever was working the gate would have to go find a buddy before looking into things. That would give me enough time to unravel the real protections on the estate-- the interconnected system of wards-- and get in. I hoped.
It was close to two in the morning when I stepped into the mansion. All the lights were out and the house was silent. It felt empty, though I knew the night detail was going to be around. Tulane, the guy who ran house security, happened to spot me on my way to the basement. He was a lean, dark man with a New Orleans accent. When we met, he never doubted the fact I was a wizard. Apparently he'd seen some regional magic down in the Big Easy. He was clued-in.
He watched me pull a duffel bag out of the closet, not moving at all. He didn't make a grab for his radio, just watching. "Mr. Marcone's asleep."
"Uh huh."
"Want I should wake him? Let him know you're back?"
I stilled for a moment. Back, huh. I wished. "No. I'm not staying. Just need to grab a few supplies." I glanced sideways at him to see what he'd do with that bit of info.
Tulane considered, tapping his heavy Maglite against his thigh. "That so."
I sighed and faced him fully. "Yeah. It is. And I'd... if you could hold off on telling John I'm here, I'd appreciate it."
Tap, tap, tap went the Maglite. Those things were essentially mis-marketed bludgeoning tools. I hoped John hadn't set up any orders to have me detained if I came home. I was tired and Tulane was as efficiently violent as any of the Outfit men were.
But he blew out a long breath and said, "I'm going to walk up to his room, tell him myself you're here. May stop to check the second and third floor first though. Make sure there's no more visitors."
I sagged with relief. "Thank you." I didn't waste any more time and headed down to the basement.
A murmured, "Flickum bicus," illuminated the lab. I didn't have long, so I unzipped the duffel and tossed it on the work table. At this point, I wasn't completely sure what I'd be needing, so I tossed a little of everything into the bag, as far as ingredients and components went. I didn't leave my blasting rod this time; if the Denarians came for me again, I needed to be able to deter them with a little more bang. I grabbed a few empty potion bottles and the bunsen burner and other brewing paraphernalia. Figuring out how to safely stash some things took longer than I wanted, but at last I was picking up Bob and a plain linen to wrap him in.
Bob hummed awake. "Mmm, what's going on?" He yawned widely.
"Relocating for a little while," I told him softly. "Go back to sleep." With him tucked into the linen, he went into the duffel as well, and I was all set to go.
On my way out, I realized I needed some clothes. That was one thing that I just couldn't borrow off the Carpenters. I'd end up looking ridiculous. My bedroom was close, so I risked another minute or so ducking in to stuff some clothes into the bag.
Then I was on my way out, moving as quickly and quietly as I could.
In the foyer, I hitched the bag higher on my shoulder before reaching for the doorknob. Just as my fingers touched it, the light came on.
I jumped and turned. Over by the light switch was John, leaning on the wall, dressed in his pajamas with a thick robe over them. He was looking at me with opaque, empty eyes.
We stared at each other for a moment, both of us waiting for the other to make a move.
I steeled myself and opened the door, walking out.
John was right behind me. "Harry, stop."
"It's cold out. You should be inside, John."
"Harry, listen to me."
I turned to face him. "Are you going to tell me what you need the Shroud for?"
His mouth flattened into an unhappy line. "I can't."
I went to leave again. Some hard footsteps behind me, and John seized my shoulder, jerking me back around. "Are you going to tell me what the hell happened to you in Lake View?"
"Don't see why I should."
That angered him. The blankness in his face was giving way to some deep upset. Obviously he thought I was being unreasonable somehow. "As I understand it, something picked up your car and threw it into an apartment complex," he said slowly, filling each word with how unacceptable this all was to him.
"Yeah. So?"
"So? So? Harry--" John made a noise that was eerily similar to a growl. "So you were almost killed tonight and now you're going where?"
I grinned, wide and mirthless. "Touching as that concern is, I'm fine. I'm staying with Michael until we get the Shroud."
John's hand tightened on my shoulder, almost painfully so. If not for my duster, I'd likely have John's fingers bruising my skin. "I have nothing but respect for the Carpenters, but..." He shook his head curtly. "Stay in one of the safe houses instead."
"Hell's fucking bells, do you-- do you get what's happening here?" I grabbed his hand and shoved it off me, stepping away from him. "I'm leaving, you scumbag! You think I'm going to walk out of here and just settle into someplace where you can spy on me--"
"Harry, you were just attacked," John cut in over me, his voice... unsteady. Just slightly. He reached out like he wanted to grab me and shake me, but refrained, his hands held out inches from me. "I want you to go to the safe house so you'll be safe." He stopped, eyes a little wild, running his hands through his hair. "Harry, please."
Silence settled over us as we took each other in. I knew I looked like hell and could see John was worried in that contained, desperate way he got sometimes. I just wished--
I couldn't think like that. John was a master of whittling someone down, making it so you wanted to let him handle things. Placing yourself in his care was so easy. I'd gotten used to it. Old habits died hard.
"John," I said. "Why won't you tell me what's going on?"
He recoiled, looking pained and... ashamed. There was shame in his eyes. It took me this long to recognize it because John Marcone didn't do shame. He had no remorse for anything, but this, whatever this was made him feel the kind of shame that killing people and dealing drugs never did.
Whatever this was, it was big.
I stepped close to him, letting the duffel slide off my shoulder and onto the grass. "John. Tell me."
With great reluctance, he shook his head. "No. It's not for you to know. It's not for anyone to know."
It was so frustrating. I'd given him everything and he wouldn't-- what more did he need from me? "You know everything about me. Everything worth knowing. I trusted you with that. Can't," I stopped, cleared my throat. "Can't you trust me?"
"I... trust you more than any other person alive, Harry." He met my gaze, staring hard and imploringly. "Believe me."
I did. I really, really did. I had no doubt that he put more trust in me than he did anyone else in the world.
But...
"That's not enough," I told him, feeling myself go cold even as I said it. The words hurt coming up, like knives in my throat. And they seemed just as sharp to John, whose body tensed to suppress a flinch. "You swore to me. Remember that, John? You swore that I had the right to go against you. That when you were wrong, I was going to call you out?" My tone was flat, dead, but getting loud. "You remember that night? You swore to me on Chicago!"
"This isn't about Chicago, Harry!"
I rocked back, shocked. Wasn't about-- everything about John was about Chicago. His vision for it, the White City, it was his whole life. I couldn't even be jealous because it was who John was. He was meant to be lashed and bound to the city, it was in his nature as magic was in mine.
John was breathing hard, an angry flush splashed over his cheeks. It suited him, that little loss of control. I wanted to rub my thumb over it, to see if it'd smear like paint or fade or transfer through touch to me until I lost control too and gave in.
That wasn't an option though.
I bent down, picked up the bag. "I'm going to stop you. I'm getting the Shroud first and keeping it safe from you and the Denarians."
"Who are the Denarians?"
We weren't on the same side, so I wouldn't answer. I just turned and walked towards the gate across the lawn.
John didn't follow, but I could hear him calling me. "Harry. Harry! Harry, wait!"
Then,
"Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden!"
I froze, breath catching in my chest. The sound of my Name twanged through me like a plucked string, lacking power but filled with enough intent that it echoed in my ears.
It was a threat. It'd always been a threat, that John had my Name. I never thought he'd use it, but I was always aware that he had that power over me. He could give my Name to any number of creatures that would use it against me. I could be conjured, controlled, bound. And John knew it.
I looked back at him, waiting. He looked torn, unsettled, surprised like he didn't know he was going to invoke my Name until he said it. There was anger in his eyes, almost disguising the helplessness. He had never planned for this, had he?
It took a long minute, but at last he backed down, his posture slipping into something tired and drawn. He looked so exhausted... "Be careful, Harry. Please."
My throat was too tight to say anything, so I simply nodded and walked away. I glanced back at him a few times on my way out, but John didn't move. He stood in the yard, watching me leave.
Michael was waiting for me outside the estate and I wordlessly climbed into the truck, not looking at him, just staring at my shoes.
"Harry?" Michael ventured cautiously. "Are you all right?"
"No," I said. "Not really." I shut my eyes tight and focused on keeping my breathing steady for a moment. "Let's just go."
I put my stuff away in the extension, sealing it in a magic circle just in case before heading back to the house proper.
Michael was pulling linen out of the closet, passing spare blankets to Shiro and dragging out two bedrolls. "Charity's gone to sleep already. We'll move the younger kids to her mother's house in the morning. They'll be safer there for the time being."
I claimed a bedroll and moved the coffee table to make room on the floor. "Hopefully those Shroud fragments will show up tomorrow. Sooner we get it, the better."
"How will we find the Shroud?" Sanya asked, grabbing the other and setting up next to me.
"I'm an old hand at tracking spells. Give me a piece of the Shroud and I'll find the rest of it." I tapped my nose. "Magical bloodhound, basically."
Sanya laughed, a low, warm sound. "I look forward to seeing that."
My smile was wan, but genuine. "You like magic tricks, Sanya?"
"Not usually." His tone implied he could make an exception for me.
... Oh stars and stones, that's where I'd heard his name before. When I accidentally, well, came out to Molly, she wanted to set me up with Sanya and had asked her father if he was gay.
Suddenly, sleeping next to the man was weird. I mean, he was attractive and I thought maybe he was flirting with me. I got self-conscious about stripping down in front of him, even if it was just to my tee and shorts. I climbed into the bedroll quickly.
Shiro settled on the sofa as Michael turned off the light and bade everyone good night. In the moonlight from the window, I could see Sanya taking off his shirt and pants, dark skin almost luminescent in the night. And... I was bi now. So I could look and admire a bit. I wasn't leering, just watching him from the corner of my eye as I settled down for sleep. If I wanted, I could let my mind wander and think about...
There I hit a wall, and that wall called itself John. As soon as I tried to think about it, I became painfully aware that I was in a sleeping bag on the floor of my friend's house when I wanted to be home in that dark room deep in the mansion. I wanted to go to sleep on that stupidly large bed with John's warmth next to me, ignoring all the extra space as he curved around me, his quiet exhalations against my neck or my shoulder or chest. I didn't want to be wearing my boxers and shirt, I wanted that skin-to-skin with the soft sheets around us.
But I'd just basically walked out on John, hadn't I?
It just made me madder. That he did this, that he didn't trust me and ruined everything. I'd gotten so used to the easy comfort of sharing a bed and all the benefits that went with it.
And I couldn't even entertain any thoughts of the friendly, handsome Knight of the Cross next to me without thinking about John. It was like I was obsessed with him. Was this how John felt all the time?
I swallowed an infuriated groan and turned over so my back was to everyone. I stared at the wall until sleep mercifully took me.
Meals at the Carpenters' were always a little hectic. As a man with only a bachelor-level cooking ability, it amazed me that Charity and Michael managed to get enough food out of that kitchen to feed five grown adults, two teenagers, four children, and one toddler. If the rumors of the household being protected by an archangel are true, clearly it blessed the kitchen.
Molly sat next to me at the table as I ate my omelet. I groaned internally; it was hard enough to handle Molly when I wasn't sleep-deprived, and I sure as hell didn't get a good night's sleep. "So. You and your boyfriend on the outs?"
I groaned for real. "I don't want to talk about it, Mols."
She nodded and patted my shoulder in what she probably thought was a very understanding, emphatic manner. "Okay. Okay." She munched on some bacon, but I knew there was no way she was done. "So. You've met Sanya." She elbowed me in the side, nodding to the Knight in question, who was listening intently to Hope as she prattled on about something. "What do you think?"
"What do I think of what?"
"Oh, come oooon, Harry," she whined, elbowing me again. "Not interested? At all? Or does he just not compare to John?"
Hell's bells, it sucked being an outlet for Molly's rebellion sometimes. "If you're so keen, you ask him out." At the very least, watching Charity's face turn cherry red with anger would be worth it.
She grinned. "I thought I wasn't allowed to date men."
I gave her a glare over my glass of orange juice. "Molly."
Molly let out an explosive sigh before twisting away from me, turning to talk to Alicia instead.
On my other side, Daniel shook his head. "Sorry about her."
"Nah, it's fine."
"And... Sorry about John," he said quietly. And then he changed the subject, going on about how much quieter the house was going to be with most of the kids shipped off. He made it sound like it'd be a vacation, but his eyes kept straying to each of the little ones in turn, familial affection clear on his face.
After breakfast, the place became a madhouse as everyone ran around, packing overnight bags, being shepherded by Michael as he checked on everyone. I helped Charity pack the bag for Baby Harry as she held him on her hip. He was taking his post-food nap, it looked like, his face smooshed into his mother's side as he dozed.
"Daniel and Molly are staying," she was telling me. "Molly has a written test to do for her permit. Daniel's going with her." One of the rules of the house was that no one went into Chicago alone. There was a buddy system and regular check-ins and everything. "I'll be back by the afternoon."
"Mmhm."
She caught my chin with one hand, turning my face to look at her. "You know I hate when you and Michael work a job together. He always ends up hurt."
I swallowed thickly. I had no illusions that Charity didn't like me or anything, because we got along fairly well these days. But I knew she worried about Michael and, yeah, when I was on a job with him, the number of injuries skewed higher than normal. "I know."
"The Denarians.... just make it all worse. So watch his back, Harry."
I nodded. "Anything happens to him, you'll take it out on my hide. I know."
She smiled faintly. "You learn fast." The curve of her lips fell back to a concerned line. "After this is over, will you need a place to stay?"
"I don't know."
"Well, let me know. We can find something for you. If you need it."
Still didn't want to think about that. Shame it was all anyone else in the house wanted to talk to me about. Stars... "Molly keeps trying to set me up with Sanya."
Charity smirked. "He's a very nice young man. Your type?"
"Hell's bells, Charity, not you too," I moaned.
She laughed and touched my arm as she left the room. "Dollar in the swear jar, Harry. Bring that bag out when you're done."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, saluting only a little sarcastically.
Michael and Sanya went along with Charity to protect the kids, leaving Shiro and I waiting on the Shroud fragments. There wasn't much else to do. We had no leads on where the Churchmice were or where the Shroud was going to be. I tried to call into John's office to get his schedule, but the secretary had shut me out, telling me Mr. Marcone's business was not a matter of public record and that I should call the public line and make an appointment if I wanted to see him.
What a difference two days made.
There had to be another way to keep an eye on John. I just needed to think of it.
I sighed and hung the phone back up. "Don't suppose you got any friends in the mob?" I asked Shiro.
He gave me a level stare and returned to what I assumed was some kind of mediation. He just sat there at the kitchen table, his legs folded, his expression blank and peaceful. From the moment I saw him, he seemed to be a man utterly content with himself and his place in the universe. I was more than a little envious of that. I guessed it was a Knight of the Cross thing. Michael often seemed similarly comfortable and sure of himself and his path in life. Sanya gave off a bit of that vibe as well. But neither of them were close to the stillness and serenity of Shiro. Just being around him made me feel loud and clumsy.
"Maybe I'll go check on Father Vincent, make sure he's okay," I said, standing.
Shiro caught my sleeve as I walked by him. "Patience. Rushing into action when the other Knights will be returning soon is foolish. You have already been attacked once."
"I don't like sitting here doing nothing."
"You are a target of the Denarians." He let go of me, but I didn't move. I felt somewhat chastised and very, very young under his gaze. "You are not doing nothing, you are keeping yourself safe."
I sat back down. "Feels like nothing," I muttered sullenly.
Shiro nodded. as if I'd said something profound. "You're a man of action. At the moment, your life is fraught with confusion and danger. You want to feel like you are doing something about that."
That was freaky. Did Shiro have a sideline in counselling when he wasn't smiting evil? "Maybe, sure." I didn't like that this guy I hadn't said more than a few words to apparently had my number already. "What about you, Shiro? How'd you end up with the Knights?"
For the first time, he smiled, faint but as warm as any of the other Knights. With a crooked finger, he beckoned me to the back porch as he slid out of his lotus position. I followed, watching as he pulled a cigar out of his pocket. He used an old, worn but functional device to snip one tip of the cigar off. Once we were outside, he patted himself down, clearly looking for a lighter or some matches.
"Here." I snapped my fingers, pushing a little bit of my will out as I did. The end of his cigar flared obediently.
Shiro inclined his head. "Thank you." Soon, he was blowing out a long stream of smoke with a satisfied look on his face. Smokers always got that look, at least the long-time ones. I guess that was the nicotine addiction. "Accident."
"Hm?"
"My Christianity. It was an accident."
I blinked. "Hell of an accident to make."
He pointed his cigar over his shoulder. "Swear jar."
"Oh, not you too." I laughed. "I'll get it in a sec."
"When I was younger, I liked Elvis. Had the chance to see him in concert in California. This was before my English had gotten too good. After the concert, a man asked if I'd like to meet the king. I had thought he meant going backstage to meet Elvis." Another inhale, another smoky exhale. "I found out later I'd been baptized."
That struck me as seriously funny, but Shiro's face was as composed as ever and I couldn't tell if it was okay to laugh. Bit like John in a way.
John...
I gave myself a mental slap upside the head. Get ahold of yourself, Dresden, Christ...
"What is it?" Shiro asked.
I winced. I knew I had a terrible poker face. That must have shown through. "Nothing. Just... I'm just dealing with some stuff right now." Badly. "So, Baptist, huh?"
"Yes. Had to learn much to be a good Baptist. This," he tapped the hilt of Fidelacchius, "made things easier. I serve. My fellow man, myself, justice."
"Sounds hard."
"No. It's not. Very simple. People simply forget what it means, to live like that." He got that quicksilver smile again, fleeting but undoubtedly there. "I am content."
It sounded nice. Being a Knight wasn't a path I envied at all, but parts of it, sure. Michael, Sanya, and Shiro, they were all grounded in a way most supernaturally clued-in individuals weren't. With Michael, I assumed it was the whole Christian trust in God's divine plan thing. But Sanya and Shiro hardly fell into that, and yet they still seemed so... serene. Hard not to be jealous of that, when your own life is in the middle of upheaval. Again.
By now, you'd think I'd be used to it.
As I started getting that urge to go and do something, do anything, Shiro put a hand on my shoulder. It was a bit of a stretch for him. "Calm yourself. Running out is the worst thing you can do right now."
"I could set the house on fire and invite this Nicodemus guy out to dinner."
"Fine, perhaps not the worst thing. But regardless."
I gave him a hard look. "If I tried to leave, would you stop me?"
"No. I would go with you. You are Michael's friend."
"You don't know me."
"But I know Michael. That is enough." He put out his cigar, snipped the burnt tip off, and tucked the rest of it away. "You are a wizard. Is there nothing you can do from here?"
Only then did it hit me. Oh. Right. I did manage to get by before I had John Marcone backing me, didn't I?
"Got someone I could call," I said, heading back inside for the phone.
"Who?"
I didn't answer, just dialing. "Hi, yes, I'd like to place an order. Large, pepperoni, mushroom, aaaand... onions. You deliver to Wrigleyville? Great." I rattled off the Carpenters' address. "Thanks."
Shiro looked surprised. "A pizza place is who you can call?"
"No. But I need some pizza to call the person I'm going to call." I flapped a hand at him. "You'll see. Trust the wizard."
The pizza arrived about a half hour later, which was really good time. I still only had a roll of hundreds in my wallet from the fund Cujo had given me. I gave the delivery boy a hundred, and he gave me all his change. He still walked away with a twenty dollar tip. Oh well. It paid to treat pizza places nice. They definitely took note of this kind of thing. I expected the Carpenters would be getting speedy deliveries from now on.
We went out to the back yard and I set up the needed circle and offering. I kept the usual milk but swapped the bread and honey for pizza. I am not above bribery; I just don't like it when I'm the one being bribed.
I didn't bother hiding. The creature I was calling was as close to a friend as a dewdrop faerie could be with a mortal. I paid him well for his services.
Once I started calling his name, it didn't take long for Toot-toot to arrive. He flew high over the Carpenters' back yard, circling slowly before diving down to the offering I'd set out. I watched him spin as he considered the pizza and who had set it out. Paranoid for a dewdrop faerie.
"Toot, I just need a small favor. Nothing too dangerous. Go ahead," I told him.
He didn't need more convincing than that. The plate I'd set the pizza on cracked with the force of Toot-toot divebombing it. He tore a slice in half and started to scarf it down. As he did, I sat on the kids' swingset nearby and waited.
Three slices vanished into Toot's mouth before he drank down the tiny cup of milk I'd set out. "Yes, yes, what do you want?"
I gave him a wide eyed, innocent expression. "What, I can't just want to have my pal Toot over for lunch?"
"In that case," Toot said and took off, soaring up into the air.
"Oh for-- Erazrof!" Toot squealed as my magic grabbed him and jerked him back to earth. I caught him as he tumbled, cupping him in my palms. "I was kidding, Toot-toot."
Toot glared at me, wings buzzing angrily. "What do you want this time, Harry Dresden?"
"Just a little thievery, nothing major." Over at the porch where he was watching, I saw Shiro's eyebrows lift in surprise. "Well, it's more like borrowing anyway. I need you to get something for me from one of the Outfit guys." Toot tilted his head at me. Right. Human organizations didn't mean anything to him. "One of the people who work for Marcone. You know him, he exiled the Red Court."
"Oh! Yes! The Chicago king!"
I winced. "He's... not king, though he'd like hearing you say that. But we'll go with that. Go find his, uh.... squires. They have little black boxes on their belts. About this big," I demonstrated with my hands. "They have buttons and little green screens. I need you to get me one. Try not to be seen."
Toot fluttered in front of me, his arms akimbo, thinking. "What will you give me for this?"
"I gave you pizza!"
"You think simple pizza is due payment for this, Harry Dresden? To send me out to steal from a king!"
I should not have let the king thing slide. Hell's bells. "I will buy you a pizza every week for a month?"
"Two months!"
"Fine, fine. Get out of here," I grumbled. Toot snickered gleefully, evidentially happy with his promised payment, and took off again, flying away to do my bidding.
Shiro walked over to me. "Pizza?"
I shrugged and gathered up my things. "It's like a drug to the Fae. I don't question it." I felt a little better now, having done something. The itch to go and do and take action faded a little, weaned away with a small task. It wouldn't last forever, but maybe it'd keep me out of trouble until the other Knights returned or the Shroud threads showed up.
Shiro asked, "Now we wait."
I picked up the pizza box with the remaining slices. "Yeah, but now we wait with pizza."
Chapter Four