Strange Devices 9 and 10
+Title - Strange Devices chapters 9 and 10-don’t miss 7 and 8. (Was called Untitled. Prequel: Abandon, Chapters 1 and 2, Chapters 3 and 4, Chapters 5 and 6).
+Author - Shiplizard
+Pairing - Harry/Bob established relationship
+Rating - PG-15 for boy-kissing
+Book or TV-verse - Book
+Summary - Harry does not throttle his brother; Robin hasn’t been sleeping; Life is the answer; Incubing is now a verb
+Warnings - Spoilers for White Night.
+Word count - 4569
+Betas - edana_ni_emer and gehayi
9.
I glared at my brother over a scone and a coffee. I’d ambushed him during work-again--and now we were speaking in hushed tones. We had a crowd of perfumed, manicured onlookers-I tried not to think of them as rich gossips. I really tried. But they were hanging on our every muted gesture.
I could do lover’s quarrel.
"Thomas, I should throttle you," I whispered. "That pain in the ass tried to blackmail me, did you know that?"
"Harry, um." Thomas had had to drop his accent, and he whispered so that the customers wouldn’t hear. "I’m sorry. I am. He’s... he’s crotchety."
"Crotchety? He’s a menace. He was going to sell us out if I didn’t let him help."
"Well... he’s... opinionated."
"He’s a jackass. And he knows way too much about me."
"I’m sorry. But I know he can help." Thomas shot a sideways glance at our audience and reached up to touch my cheek.
I leaned closer. "Can he turn it off? Or is he doing it to piss me off?"
Thomas’ eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"The incubus thing."
"Um. He... can’t turn it off. He just affects some people that way," Thomas said, giving me a strange look. He pulled back, with a hesitant smile.
"I’m not convinced," I said, loudly enough to be heard. "But I’ll try. Okay?"
Thomas’ face softened into one of his super-model smiles. "Darling ‘Arree, you are so good to me."
Our audience sighed and relaxed. Roll credits.
Robin was staying with Thomas. I could call him, ask him to come over to the office. Thomas was at work, and I liked the idea of him on the bus.
But hey, Harry the Drama Queen was already out. Why not use him?
I drove to Thomas’ apartments-his extremely beautiful, extremely expensive apartment-and stalked through the door with my head held high. The doorman didn’t blink.
Thomas had put me on the guest list after an unfortunate incident with security-the first time I’d ever had to don Harry the Drama Queen’s stylish hat. Like the women at the Coiffure Cup, the security here knew me as Thomas’ high-strung, emotional boyfriend.
I certainly wouldn’t take advantage of that to embarrass and otherwise bother Robin Raith. Not in the slightest.
Deep sigh, strut through the door with my spare key-
Robin Raith looked up, startled, from his seat on the couch. He immediately dropped his eyes away from mine. I slammed the door, and he winced.
I realized that he looked exhausted. He was drooping visibly, and his eyes were bloodshot. I wonder if he’d even slept since I saw him yesterday. He’d been tired then, but this was full exhaustion. It could have been faked, but...
"Wizard Dresden," he said, after a long pause. He moistened his lips and made a motion to rise.
"No, sit," I said gruffly. "I was going to ask you to for help. But if it’s a bad time, it can wait."
He shook his head and stood up, looking a little like a puppet with tangled strings. "Been having trouble sleeping," he said, voice rough under his liquid Tennessee-or-parts-nearby accent. "I can stay here and not sleep, or I can go help you and not sleep."
"All right," I said grudgingly. I’d been planning to play the horrible jealous boyfriend, tossing Robin out onto the street in a huff. I might have tripped him down the front stairs in the interests of accuracy. It wouldn’t be much fun now. "You want to help. Respectable. But I was going to ask for your help in the lab; Thomas says you know potions."
"I do," he said, jaw lifting.
"Two problems. One, we’d be working in my lab. Lots of glass bottles. Two, my lab is in my home. And I’m not planning on inviting you in. You think you’re tired now..."
"This is physical, Wizard Dresden. I can cross your threshold; it won’t do me much worse." He straightened, and I saw the effort of will it took to stand tall. He set his shoulders back.
"Right. I should tell you," I said, clearing my throat. "We may have to put on a little show leaving here."
"Because you’re Toe-moss Raith’s catty lover." Robin’s mouth quirked up, amusement showing over the exhaustion. "And he’s obviously been swayed away by my good looks and imagination."
"You know too much," I told him, feeling a renewed willingness to shove him down the stairs.
He just shrugged, and gave me a little smile that was almost perfectly smug. Almost; the bottom fell out of it a little when he yawned.
I led him out of the building and into the Beetle, giving him a little shove on the way out the door for the benefit of building security, and pulled into traffic.
He relaxed, but didn’t fall asleep again. I watched him make the effort out of the corner of my eye; he tensed his jaw, moderated his breathing, held off sleep.
"So what’s the big problem sleeping?" I asked. "Is this magical? Should I know about it?"
"I don’t think that it is." He shook his head and blinked. "It’s just some recent stress, you know how it goes-" Yes, I did. "-and it’s been hard sleeping away from home."
I was starting to have serious second and third thoughts about this. Even if he wasn’t a plant, he wasn’t going to do me much good exhausted. One slip of a sigil or misremembered ingredient and I could blow a hole in something. Especially since what I wanted him to work on was a solvent for those circles; I imagined a super-acid eating through my worktable, the sub-basement floor, the earth below it-
"So if it’s not magical, try a Benadryl," I suggested.
"...I should have done that, shouldn’t I have." It seemed to amuse Robin; he shook his head, giving a self-deprecating little smile. "Sorry. I’m not quite on the ball yet."
I rolled my eyes. "Great. Working the knowledge, there, Robin."
He chuckled, resting his head against his arm. "I never promised common sense." He’d loosened up-from exhausted and strained to more punchy. He was smiling, again, showing uneven teeth.
It was cute, dammit.
We wound up parked in traffic, and I leaned back with a sigh. I watched Robin slip fitfully in and out of sleep; his eyes would flicker shut, then slit open a moment later with a look of disappointment. It almost hurt to watch.
"I have allergy stuff at home. Antihistamines. It will knock you out."
"Thanks, Harry," Robin murmured. "Because this? Sucks."
I gave him an odd look, which he didn’t notice. He was trying to sleep again.
When we finally got to my apartment, he was back on his feet, looking a little farther from the brink of death. I opened my apartment door and gave him an expectant look.
He stepped over the threshold and gave me a wry look. "I’m melting," he drawled. "Oh, what a world." My wards didn’t twitch.
The floor started to rumble, a cascade of thumps. Not unlike a cattle stampede, really.
"Did I mention the dog?"
Robin took Mouse in stride, staying very still while he was sniffed and examined. Mouse, examined him, sniffed him, and then gave me a puzzled look. But he didn’t growl. And Robin Raith didn’t seem phased by being in the presence of a dog whose shoulders were somewhere around his waist.
So I gave Robin a puzzled look, too.
"Mouse doesn’t usually like vampires. At all."
"Good with animals?" he said with a shrug, and very gingerly offered Mouse a hand. I could see his eyes fixed on the big mouth full of teeth. Mouse sniffed it, and looked up at me, tail drooping.
"You don’t have to play friendly," I told the dog, and he eyed the vampire for a moment before offering his head for a scratch.
"His fur’s soft," Robin murmured, and bent down, entranced.
I stifled a groan as Mouse licked him, and butted forward for a hug. I was kind of hoping for an assist by the dog in this one. But at least Mouse didn’t think he was a threat. And I damn sure wasn’t going to let him bring any bookbags into the house.
"Robin. Any time," I said, and he looked up.
"Right. Right, I’m coming." He straightened up, brushing half-heartedly at the shaggy fur clinging to his suit jacket.
"Quick tour of the lab. Touch nothing until you’ve had at least four hours’ sleep," I said shortly, and waved him back to the trap door down to the sub-basement.
"Yes, boss," he muttered, and I looked up sharply. He dropped his gaze immediately.
My eyes narrowed. On the one hand, he couldn’t know how fresh the wound he was poking was. On the other hand, to hell with him. "Maybe you shouldn’t talk until after the sleep, too."
"Maybe I shouldn’t," he said, his smile fading again. He wouldn’t look at my face; he’d misplaced all that confidence he’d come into my office with.
Good.
He was almost penitent as I led him down to the lab. "Fliccum Biccus," I said, waving a hand, and the candles sprang to life.
I heard footsteps stop on the stairs behind me, and turned.
Robin was rooted where he stood, eyes focused on the shelf where Bob’s skull still sat. I hadn’t known what to do with it. I could barely bring myself to touch it, and discarding it or packing it away was out of the question.
"Cowl did that," I said, my voice calmer than I felt.
There was a struggle playing out on the vampire’s face, but he forced himself into composure before he spoke. "A spirit of intellect. You ... inherited it. From Justin du Morne. There are records."
"Him," I said sharply, and Robin blinked.
"What?"
"Him. Not it. His name was Bob. He was my friend," I said, trying to stay calm, forcing the words out in short, chopped little sentences. "He saved Chicago, and Cowl killed him."
Robin stared blankly at the sad little heap of bone for long seconds, and the candlelight made the moisture in his eyes glitter. He put a hand up to his face, and seemed startled when it came away wet.
I remembered that Cowl had tried to kill him, too, that somewhere out there he had a friend in danger. I wanted to hug him.
I hate White Court vampires.
"There are things I want to tell you, Harry-" he started, his voice hoarse.
"I don’t want to hear it," I said, turning away. "And let’s stick with Wizard Dresden, okay?"
He flinched, but nodded.
"Obviously you can’t handle the lab tour right now. Go upstairs; I’ll get you something to help you sleep."
Robin went back up the stairs and closed the door behind him. I heard the reassuring thump of Mouse’s feet; he’d be supervised. Me, I sat on the steps and looked at Bob’s skull for a while.
When I came back upstairs, Mouse was sitting by the couch watching Robin sleep. It wasn’t the fitful in and out I’d seen in the Beetle; it was nearly a coma. He didn’t even stir when I dug out a spare blanket and dumped it unceremoniously on top of him-he just lay there, with all the signs of life you’d expect out of a large rock formation.
Someone pounded at the door-I jumped. Not so much as a twitch from Mount Robin.
I glanced back at him, and then hurried to the door, looking through the peephole.
My brother’s face looked back, pale with an artistic, attractive panic.
"Thomas?" I greeted him.
"Harry. Listen, I just got off work, and Robin’s missing, and I-"
I held up a hand to stop him stepped aside. "Sorry. Maybe I should have left a note."
Thomas stared at the lump under the blanket. "He’s sleeping."
"Yeah," I said, with a certain air of ‘well, duh’. "He was exhausted."
Thomas blinked, and a look of relief settled over his face. "Harry, that’s because he wasn’t sleeping. Like, at all."
"Apparently my couch has the right feng shui," I said with a sigh. "He just passed out. I think maybe Mouse could wake him up, but short of that..."
"Wow. I was getting worried about him." Thomas paused, then opened his mouth and I cut him of immediately.
"No. No, no, no. You can move my couch into your house, but he’s not staying here."
10.
At least having Robin Raith spending every night on my couch meant that I could drag him down to the lab and make him work right away. Which I had, every day for the past week, as we researched the spell that had stained Cowl’s circles into the streets of Chicago, until we could start trying to remove them.
"Life," the white-haired vampire said, steepling his fingers and looking at nothing in particular. He was perched gracefully on a stool on my lab, all legs and angles and charm: sleeping regularly had brought him back to the proud, confident jerk who’d showed up to my own damn office to blackmail me. And done wonders for his control over that aura of his-- I hardly wanted to kiss him at all, most of the time.
Being on my turf, in the lab, had settled down his domineering aspect a little. He was still too comfortable with lecturing me, though.
I was leaning across my lab table, glaring at the base for the potion that was going to scrub Cowl’s circles right off the streets. It was one of the most complicated things I’d ever made, and not even Robin was sure what needed to go into it.
"The base has to be the essence of life, to cut through what Cowl’s made."
"Sunshine?" I suggested, frowning. I used to be able to save sunshine in a handkerchief. But the thing about that? You have to be happy to pull that one off. You have to have joy in you. And the last time I’d tried it, there just hadn’t been any joy to pull from. Maybe I could again. Maybe knowing I had a brother had restored some of the happiness that losing the love of my life had done to me.
"Bigger. Better. Sunshine’s a good start."
"Hasn’t anyone done this before?" I asked, looking at my shelves of potions ingredients and trying to figure out ‘life’. Life to be seen, life to be heard, life to be smelt-all five senses, then an element for the spirit, and an element for the mind.
"They have. But they usually take a different approach."
"And we aren’t taking that approach because-"
"Because you can either cut through Cowl’s stain with life, or dilute and smudge it with more death. Do you want to know the death potion? That’s the one they’ve always used," Robin drawled. "The base is the heart’s blood of a sacrificial victim. For sight, a scrap of the skin from a hanged man. For smell, fairly predictably, decay. For mind, they have to get really nasty-"
"STOP." I glared at him. "I take your point. Hasn’t anyone tried life?"
"A few have tried. And failed. And gone on to death, making the right noises about the end justifying the means."
I felt my lips thin out.
"They weren’t as good as you. They certainly didn’t have your resources." Robin’s expression shifted as he thought, his mouth shifting; I could almost see the idea forming on his face. "If it’s true you’ve got friends in the Summer Court, I’d start contacting them right now."
"Would knowing the Summer Lady help?" I said, deadpan.
Robin never reacted like I hoped he would. He just smiled, warmth spreading across his face. "It would be a very good start."
Suddenly, it didn’t seem so hopeless after all. I felt my own slow smile break out. "I guess I have to make a few calls, then."
"I guess you do." Robin cracked his knuckles, looking satisfied. "There are parts of the potion you can make now, and save. In fact, if you bottle some of it now and let it sit in the sun, it will only help the cohesion."
"Hit me," I said, grabbing for a notepad.
"I’ve got a few," Robin said, drumming his fingers on one thigh. He seemed to be in the swing of things. "Sight-just go with sunshine. Smell-a plant, definitely, maybe grass? Something very green and very hardy. I’ll have to think about the mind, the sound-um, get some holy water."
"For spirit?" I asked, scribbling a few notes in the margin with my own ideas for sound and mind.
"For spirit," he confirmed. "Use a heartbeat for touch."
"I don’t know if I have one."
"Of course you do, it’s-" Robin stopped, blinking. "It’s ridiculous that you wouldn’t have one or two lying around."
I scowled; I hadn’t missed the way his arm had come up, as if he was about to point to something. "Bullshit that’s what you were going to say." I crossed my arms. "You’ve been snooping around my lab."
Robin’s mouth quirked into a hesitant, sheepish smile. "I wanted to know what we had available."
I sneered and rolled my eyes. "I’m putting a bell on you. And a padlock on this damn door." But I had a niggling feeling that I’d missed something important. Should I be worried?
...no. It didn’t feel worrying. Just important. I got that sometimes with Robin-as if there was something I should be figuring out. But I hadn’t had time, and it hadn’t felt like something that was threatening me; the feeling generally passed.
"How about Chicago for the sound?"
Robin’s eyebrow lofted. "Chicago?"
"The traffic. The talking. Any streetcorner."
"That’s... not a bad idea. And since it’s going to protect Chicago, the resonance might give it an extra punch," he said. "And there’s a lot of energy in it."
"Now-shouldn’t anything written work for the mind? I mean, language is proof of life."
"No. More punch than that. I’ll have to think." Robin glanced around the lab, frowning. "You’re going to have to make a lot of these potions. And each one has to be a decent size. One for each circle. That’s going to take a while."
Thirteen potions, total. "You could get off your ass and help," I suggested sweetly.
The suggestion seemed to surprise him. I saw his gaze flicker, and the expression on his face was bizarre, at least. It was like he’d never seen his own hands before. "Oh. I-" He shook his head, sounding startled. "I’m sorry, Wizard Dresden. I’m.... it’s.... old habit."
I snorted. "Is that what they’re calling it these days? Because the word I learned was ‘lazy.’"
It didn’t seem to bother him much-he shook his head and grinned. "Don’t you have phonecalls to be making?"
"You think I’m leaving you alone in here?" I shook my head. "Unlikely. Here." I presented him with an empty glass bottle. "Get out of here and get me the voice of Chicago."
"Sure thing, b-Wizard Dresden."
Sometimes Robin’s accent seemed to waver. I wondered where he’d lived before Tennessee and for how long. He sauntered up the stairs with surprising speed-Wodehouse might have said he ‘shimmered’. (Hey, I like vintage comedy, too. We wizards aren’t all spell books and Tolkien.)
"Back soon," he promised, and shut the door behind him. I felt a comfortable smile on my face.
I called the friends who could put me in contact with the Summer Lady. I only hoped she’d help. Lily was a friend, but she couldn’t involve the Summer Court in struggles just on my say so. But I was hopeful; the Black Council hadn’t come out and declared war on anyone. So this wouldn’t be stepping into a political mess. But they might attack Summer, if they figured out Lily had helped me, she’d have to take that into account…
I could only ask. And I did; I got through to Fix, the Summer Knight. He wanted to help right away, show up as fast as a car could bring him and start the legions of death. I made him promise to ask Lily.
Then all there was to do was wait and try to relax.
Yeah, there were just circles springing up like toadstools all over the city, to summon the things from beyond the Outer Gates. Just a necromancer who wanted me dead. That was all. Just relax.
I did busywork all day-banished Robin to the lab to make a weight loss potion so I could spend some time upstairs with Molly. Then at bedtime I relaxed myself right into acid stomach and a nasty case of insomnia.
I paced my bedroom for a while, and then went out to grab some Pepto and a bottle of beer.
The apartment seemed a little too empty, but it took two passes to catch it: I was tired, and not so quick on the uptake. But the heap of blankets on my couch was smaller than usual, and there was no shock of white hair on the pillow crammed against the arm.
I frowned, and very thoughtfully crossed back to the kitchen for another bottle of beer. Then I lifted the trap door to the subbasement. Candle-light spilled out, lighting my way down the stairs.
Robin was wrapped in a blanket, sitting against the wall and staring at Little Chicago with his lips pursed. He looked up and frowned at me.
"I didn’t touch anything," he said warily, in a very familiar tone of voice. It’s the same one I use when Morgan’s come to accuse me of poisoning all the wells and making the cattle die.
"I believe you," I said, and handed him the second beer. He looked gratified, and moved aside so I could have my own patch of wall.
We stared at the little model in companionable silence, both working our way through the bottles of beer, him in his blanket and me in my flannel robe.
About halfway through my bottle, I had to make the obligatory comment. It’s a time honored ritual, and it goes like this:
"So. Can’t sleep, huh?"
Robin didn’t seem irritated. "I don’t need that much sleep. And it feels like a waste when there’s work to be done," he said.
"We can’t do much more with the potion until the Summer Queen gets back to me."
"I could work on this. I’ve seen models like this before-there’s energy flow problems in this one. It looks like it was damaged."
"It was," I said with a nod. "Cowl. Blew a hole in it."
"Bastard," Robin said simply, and took a drink of his beer. I nodded in agreement.
"So. I might have something for the mind element of the potion," I said. "It came to me at about one am."
Robin looked expectant.
"How about a riddle?"
He frowned, his whole face furrowing in thought. "Make it a joke. It’s a little lighter."
"What’s black and white and read all over?"
Robin rolled his eyes. "You’re an idiot, Har-Wizard Dresden."
"I’m actually getting tired of that," I mentioned. "Mostly people I don’t like call me that. Harry’s fine."
"Careful, Harry. I might get the impression that you don’t entirely hate me."
"I’d like you better if you’d stop doing the succubus thing at me."
"Incubus," Robin said, lifting his chin.
"I’m a guy; succubus. Succu… bi… feed on men."
"Incubi are male entities. It doesn’t matter who they feed on," Robin told me firmly. "It’s not entirely intentional, I’m afraid."
"No?"
"No." He gave me a look through his lashes. "You’re cute, Harry."
"I thought I was an idiot."
"You’re a cute idiot." Robin seemed to be considering something; eyeing his beer dubiously as if the answer was hidden somewhere in the liquid.
I snorted and settled back against the wall. Robin finished his beer and pulled his blanket a little tighter around him.
"This friend of yours," I said, shutting my eyes. "A lover, right?"
"Hmm. Sort of. Mostly just a friend. Sort of a clueless friend. He means well. Bless his heart," Robin added scrupulously.
"So what did he do to get Cowl ticked off?"
"More morals than brains," Robin said. "People were in trouble, so he threw himself right after them. He’s not very bright that way," he added with fond disapproval.
"Good for him," I said firmly.
As we sat there, I started to get more and more aware of Robin sitting next to me. There were places where we were pressed together through my robe and his blanket, and they were warmer than where I touched the wall and floor. It was pleasant, not particularly urgent knowledge.
"Can I work on the model, Harry?" Robin asked quietly, and I forced my eyes open. My eyelids were heavier than they’d been a minute ago, I was sure of it.
"Under supervision."
He shuffled away from me, and I lost the warm-spots against my shoulder and thigh. I sighed, and supervised.
Tried to supervise. Unfortunately, I rested my eyes for a minute-when I opened them again, Robin was standing over the model, and his blanket was covering me. I felt a little more rested, and he didn’t seem to be doing anything horrific to it. I’d check it over in the morning and make sure he hadn’t sabotaged anything.
I shut my eyes and listened to him work. Every so often I’d open my eyes and see him bent over the model, eyes shut and lips parted, running his fingertips over the contours of the skyline and through the tiny streets.
"Robin?"
His eyes snapped open, and he looked over.
"I do like you. Don’t…. don’t turn out to be a spy, okay? Because I get really ugly when I’m betrayed."
He dropped his eyes. "This one I can promise-I’m on your side. That’s the truth."
"And everything else you’ve told me?" I asked.
"Has been the truth. Technically."
"…right. I’m going to bed." I pushed myself to my feet, muscles protesting-there was a cold stiffness where the chill had seeped into my legs. "You can stop working when you’re tired. I’ll check it in the morning."
"Thanks," Robin said, his mouth set in a tight line.
I padded over to him, stooped a little, and pressed my lips to his forehead. "And stop Incubing at me."
He turned against me, worming into the blanket and sliding a hand up to tug me an inch or two lower. Warmth spread where our lips met-slow and steady as a banked fire. It was actually pretty chaste; just the movements of lips, soft and dry and slow.
I pulled back, and shrugged the blanket off my shoulders.
As I draped it over him, I asked, "Is that out of your system now?"
His muddy hazel eyes caught the candle light, almost glowing. "Not hardly. But I’ll try to keep a leash on myself."
"Goodnight, Robin."
"Goodnight, Harry."
I shuffled up the stairs, thinking. I’d never kissed a man before. Funny thing; I didn’t think Robin Raith had, either.
+Author - Shiplizard
+Pairing - Harry/Bob established relationship
+Rating - PG-15 for boy-kissing
+Book or TV-verse - Book
+Summary - Harry does not throttle his brother; Robin hasn’t been sleeping; Life is the answer; Incubing is now a verb
+Warnings - Spoilers for White Night.
+Word count - 4569
+Betas - edana_ni_emer and gehayi
9.
I glared at my brother over a scone and a coffee. I’d ambushed him during work-again--and now we were speaking in hushed tones. We had a crowd of perfumed, manicured onlookers-I tried not to think of them as rich gossips. I really tried. But they were hanging on our every muted gesture.
I could do lover’s quarrel.
"Thomas, I should throttle you," I whispered. "That pain in the ass tried to blackmail me, did you know that?"
"Harry, um." Thomas had had to drop his accent, and he whispered so that the customers wouldn’t hear. "I’m sorry. I am. He’s... he’s crotchety."
"Crotchety? He’s a menace. He was going to sell us out if I didn’t let him help."
"Well... he’s... opinionated."
"He’s a jackass. And he knows way too much about me."
"I’m sorry. But I know he can help." Thomas shot a sideways glance at our audience and reached up to touch my cheek.
I leaned closer. "Can he turn it off? Or is he doing it to piss me off?"
Thomas’ eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"The incubus thing."
"Um. He... can’t turn it off. He just affects some people that way," Thomas said, giving me a strange look. He pulled back, with a hesitant smile.
"I’m not convinced," I said, loudly enough to be heard. "But I’ll try. Okay?"
Thomas’ face softened into one of his super-model smiles. "Darling ‘Arree, you are so good to me."
Our audience sighed and relaxed. Roll credits.
Robin was staying with Thomas. I could call him, ask him to come over to the office. Thomas was at work, and I liked the idea of him on the bus.
But hey, Harry the Drama Queen was already out. Why not use him?
I drove to Thomas’ apartments-his extremely beautiful, extremely expensive apartment-and stalked through the door with my head held high. The doorman didn’t blink.
Thomas had put me on the guest list after an unfortunate incident with security-the first time I’d ever had to don Harry the Drama Queen’s stylish hat. Like the women at the Coiffure Cup, the security here knew me as Thomas’ high-strung, emotional boyfriend.
I certainly wouldn’t take advantage of that to embarrass and otherwise bother Robin Raith. Not in the slightest.
Deep sigh, strut through the door with my spare key-
Robin Raith looked up, startled, from his seat on the couch. He immediately dropped his eyes away from mine. I slammed the door, and he winced.
I realized that he looked exhausted. He was drooping visibly, and his eyes were bloodshot. I wonder if he’d even slept since I saw him yesterday. He’d been tired then, but this was full exhaustion. It could have been faked, but...
"Wizard Dresden," he said, after a long pause. He moistened his lips and made a motion to rise.
"No, sit," I said gruffly. "I was going to ask you to for help. But if it’s a bad time, it can wait."
He shook his head and stood up, looking a little like a puppet with tangled strings. "Been having trouble sleeping," he said, voice rough under his liquid Tennessee-or-parts-nearby accent. "I can stay here and not sleep, or I can go help you and not sleep."
"All right," I said grudgingly. I’d been planning to play the horrible jealous boyfriend, tossing Robin out onto the street in a huff. I might have tripped him down the front stairs in the interests of accuracy. It wouldn’t be much fun now. "You want to help. Respectable. But I was going to ask for your help in the lab; Thomas says you know potions."
"I do," he said, jaw lifting.
"Two problems. One, we’d be working in my lab. Lots of glass bottles. Two, my lab is in my home. And I’m not planning on inviting you in. You think you’re tired now..."
"This is physical, Wizard Dresden. I can cross your threshold; it won’t do me much worse." He straightened, and I saw the effort of will it took to stand tall. He set his shoulders back.
"Right. I should tell you," I said, clearing my throat. "We may have to put on a little show leaving here."
"Because you’re Toe-moss Raith’s catty lover." Robin’s mouth quirked up, amusement showing over the exhaustion. "And he’s obviously been swayed away by my good looks and imagination."
"You know too much," I told him, feeling a renewed willingness to shove him down the stairs.
He just shrugged, and gave me a little smile that was almost perfectly smug. Almost; the bottom fell out of it a little when he yawned.
I led him out of the building and into the Beetle, giving him a little shove on the way out the door for the benefit of building security, and pulled into traffic.
He relaxed, but didn’t fall asleep again. I watched him make the effort out of the corner of my eye; he tensed his jaw, moderated his breathing, held off sleep.
"So what’s the big problem sleeping?" I asked. "Is this magical? Should I know about it?"
"I don’t think that it is." He shook his head and blinked. "It’s just some recent stress, you know how it goes-" Yes, I did. "-and it’s been hard sleeping away from home."
I was starting to have serious second and third thoughts about this. Even if he wasn’t a plant, he wasn’t going to do me much good exhausted. One slip of a sigil or misremembered ingredient and I could blow a hole in something. Especially since what I wanted him to work on was a solvent for those circles; I imagined a super-acid eating through my worktable, the sub-basement floor, the earth below it-
"So if it’s not magical, try a Benadryl," I suggested.
"...I should have done that, shouldn’t I have." It seemed to amuse Robin; he shook his head, giving a self-deprecating little smile. "Sorry. I’m not quite on the ball yet."
I rolled my eyes. "Great. Working the knowledge, there, Robin."
He chuckled, resting his head against his arm. "I never promised common sense." He’d loosened up-from exhausted and strained to more punchy. He was smiling, again, showing uneven teeth.
It was cute, dammit.
We wound up parked in traffic, and I leaned back with a sigh. I watched Robin slip fitfully in and out of sleep; his eyes would flicker shut, then slit open a moment later with a look of disappointment. It almost hurt to watch.
"I have allergy stuff at home. Antihistamines. It will knock you out."
"Thanks, Harry," Robin murmured. "Because this? Sucks."
I gave him an odd look, which he didn’t notice. He was trying to sleep again.
When we finally got to my apartment, he was back on his feet, looking a little farther from the brink of death. I opened my apartment door and gave him an expectant look.
He stepped over the threshold and gave me a wry look. "I’m melting," he drawled. "Oh, what a world." My wards didn’t twitch.
The floor started to rumble, a cascade of thumps. Not unlike a cattle stampede, really.
"Did I mention the dog?"
Robin took Mouse in stride, staying very still while he was sniffed and examined. Mouse, examined him, sniffed him, and then gave me a puzzled look. But he didn’t growl. And Robin Raith didn’t seem phased by being in the presence of a dog whose shoulders were somewhere around his waist.
So I gave Robin a puzzled look, too.
"Mouse doesn’t usually like vampires. At all."
"Good with animals?" he said with a shrug, and very gingerly offered Mouse a hand. I could see his eyes fixed on the big mouth full of teeth. Mouse sniffed it, and looked up at me, tail drooping.
"You don’t have to play friendly," I told the dog, and he eyed the vampire for a moment before offering his head for a scratch.
"His fur’s soft," Robin murmured, and bent down, entranced.
I stifled a groan as Mouse licked him, and butted forward for a hug. I was kind of hoping for an assist by the dog in this one. But at least Mouse didn’t think he was a threat. And I damn sure wasn’t going to let him bring any bookbags into the house.
"Robin. Any time," I said, and he looked up.
"Right. Right, I’m coming." He straightened up, brushing half-heartedly at the shaggy fur clinging to his suit jacket.
"Quick tour of the lab. Touch nothing until you’ve had at least four hours’ sleep," I said shortly, and waved him back to the trap door down to the sub-basement.
"Yes, boss," he muttered, and I looked up sharply. He dropped his gaze immediately.
My eyes narrowed. On the one hand, he couldn’t know how fresh the wound he was poking was. On the other hand, to hell with him. "Maybe you shouldn’t talk until after the sleep, too."
"Maybe I shouldn’t," he said, his smile fading again. He wouldn’t look at my face; he’d misplaced all that confidence he’d come into my office with.
Good.
He was almost penitent as I led him down to the lab. "Fliccum Biccus," I said, waving a hand, and the candles sprang to life.
I heard footsteps stop on the stairs behind me, and turned.
Robin was rooted where he stood, eyes focused on the shelf where Bob’s skull still sat. I hadn’t known what to do with it. I could barely bring myself to touch it, and discarding it or packing it away was out of the question.
"Cowl did that," I said, my voice calmer than I felt.
There was a struggle playing out on the vampire’s face, but he forced himself into composure before he spoke. "A spirit of intellect. You ... inherited it. From Justin du Morne. There are records."
"Him," I said sharply, and Robin blinked.
"What?"
"Him. Not it. His name was Bob. He was my friend," I said, trying to stay calm, forcing the words out in short, chopped little sentences. "He saved Chicago, and Cowl killed him."
Robin stared blankly at the sad little heap of bone for long seconds, and the candlelight made the moisture in his eyes glitter. He put a hand up to his face, and seemed startled when it came away wet.
I remembered that Cowl had tried to kill him, too, that somewhere out there he had a friend in danger. I wanted to hug him.
I hate White Court vampires.
"There are things I want to tell you, Harry-" he started, his voice hoarse.
"I don’t want to hear it," I said, turning away. "And let’s stick with Wizard Dresden, okay?"
He flinched, but nodded.
"Obviously you can’t handle the lab tour right now. Go upstairs; I’ll get you something to help you sleep."
Robin went back up the stairs and closed the door behind him. I heard the reassuring thump of Mouse’s feet; he’d be supervised. Me, I sat on the steps and looked at Bob’s skull for a while.
When I came back upstairs, Mouse was sitting by the couch watching Robin sleep. It wasn’t the fitful in and out I’d seen in the Beetle; it was nearly a coma. He didn’t even stir when I dug out a spare blanket and dumped it unceremoniously on top of him-he just lay there, with all the signs of life you’d expect out of a large rock formation.
Someone pounded at the door-I jumped. Not so much as a twitch from Mount Robin.
I glanced back at him, and then hurried to the door, looking through the peephole.
My brother’s face looked back, pale with an artistic, attractive panic.
"Thomas?" I greeted him.
"Harry. Listen, I just got off work, and Robin’s missing, and I-"
I held up a hand to stop him stepped aside. "Sorry. Maybe I should have left a note."
Thomas stared at the lump under the blanket. "He’s sleeping."
"Yeah," I said, with a certain air of ‘well, duh’. "He was exhausted."
Thomas blinked, and a look of relief settled over his face. "Harry, that’s because he wasn’t sleeping. Like, at all."
"Apparently my couch has the right feng shui," I said with a sigh. "He just passed out. I think maybe Mouse could wake him up, but short of that..."
"Wow. I was getting worried about him." Thomas paused, then opened his mouth and I cut him of immediately.
"No. No, no, no. You can move my couch into your house, but he’s not staying here."
10.
At least having Robin Raith spending every night on my couch meant that I could drag him down to the lab and make him work right away. Which I had, every day for the past week, as we researched the spell that had stained Cowl’s circles into the streets of Chicago, until we could start trying to remove them.
"Life," the white-haired vampire said, steepling his fingers and looking at nothing in particular. He was perched gracefully on a stool on my lab, all legs and angles and charm: sleeping regularly had brought him back to the proud, confident jerk who’d showed up to my own damn office to blackmail me. And done wonders for his control over that aura of his-- I hardly wanted to kiss him at all, most of the time.
Being on my turf, in the lab, had settled down his domineering aspect a little. He was still too comfortable with lecturing me, though.
I was leaning across my lab table, glaring at the base for the potion that was going to scrub Cowl’s circles right off the streets. It was one of the most complicated things I’d ever made, and not even Robin was sure what needed to go into it.
"The base has to be the essence of life, to cut through what Cowl’s made."
"Sunshine?" I suggested, frowning. I used to be able to save sunshine in a handkerchief. But the thing about that? You have to be happy to pull that one off. You have to have joy in you. And the last time I’d tried it, there just hadn’t been any joy to pull from. Maybe I could again. Maybe knowing I had a brother had restored some of the happiness that losing the love of my life had done to me.
"Bigger. Better. Sunshine’s a good start."
"Hasn’t anyone done this before?" I asked, looking at my shelves of potions ingredients and trying to figure out ‘life’. Life to be seen, life to be heard, life to be smelt-all five senses, then an element for the spirit, and an element for the mind.
"They have. But they usually take a different approach."
"And we aren’t taking that approach because-"
"Because you can either cut through Cowl’s stain with life, or dilute and smudge it with more death. Do you want to know the death potion? That’s the one they’ve always used," Robin drawled. "The base is the heart’s blood of a sacrificial victim. For sight, a scrap of the skin from a hanged man. For smell, fairly predictably, decay. For mind, they have to get really nasty-"
"STOP." I glared at him. "I take your point. Hasn’t anyone tried life?"
"A few have tried. And failed. And gone on to death, making the right noises about the end justifying the means."
I felt my lips thin out.
"They weren’t as good as you. They certainly didn’t have your resources." Robin’s expression shifted as he thought, his mouth shifting; I could almost see the idea forming on his face. "If it’s true you’ve got friends in the Summer Court, I’d start contacting them right now."
"Would knowing the Summer Lady help?" I said, deadpan.
Robin never reacted like I hoped he would. He just smiled, warmth spreading across his face. "It would be a very good start."
Suddenly, it didn’t seem so hopeless after all. I felt my own slow smile break out. "I guess I have to make a few calls, then."
"I guess you do." Robin cracked his knuckles, looking satisfied. "There are parts of the potion you can make now, and save. In fact, if you bottle some of it now and let it sit in the sun, it will only help the cohesion."
"Hit me," I said, grabbing for a notepad.
"I’ve got a few," Robin said, drumming his fingers on one thigh. He seemed to be in the swing of things. "Sight-just go with sunshine. Smell-a plant, definitely, maybe grass? Something very green and very hardy. I’ll have to think about the mind, the sound-um, get some holy water."
"For spirit?" I asked, scribbling a few notes in the margin with my own ideas for sound and mind.
"For spirit," he confirmed. "Use a heartbeat for touch."
"I don’t know if I have one."
"Of course you do, it’s-" Robin stopped, blinking. "It’s ridiculous that you wouldn’t have one or two lying around."
I scowled; I hadn’t missed the way his arm had come up, as if he was about to point to something. "Bullshit that’s what you were going to say." I crossed my arms. "You’ve been snooping around my lab."
Robin’s mouth quirked into a hesitant, sheepish smile. "I wanted to know what we had available."
I sneered and rolled my eyes. "I’m putting a bell on you. And a padlock on this damn door." But I had a niggling feeling that I’d missed something important. Should I be worried?
...no. It didn’t feel worrying. Just important. I got that sometimes with Robin-as if there was something I should be figuring out. But I hadn’t had time, and it hadn’t felt like something that was threatening me; the feeling generally passed.
"How about Chicago for the sound?"
Robin’s eyebrow lofted. "Chicago?"
"The traffic. The talking. Any streetcorner."
"That’s... not a bad idea. And since it’s going to protect Chicago, the resonance might give it an extra punch," he said. "And there’s a lot of energy in it."
"Now-shouldn’t anything written work for the mind? I mean, language is proof of life."
"No. More punch than that. I’ll have to think." Robin glanced around the lab, frowning. "You’re going to have to make a lot of these potions. And each one has to be a decent size. One for each circle. That’s going to take a while."
Thirteen potions, total. "You could get off your ass and help," I suggested sweetly.
The suggestion seemed to surprise him. I saw his gaze flicker, and the expression on his face was bizarre, at least. It was like he’d never seen his own hands before. "Oh. I-" He shook his head, sounding startled. "I’m sorry, Wizard Dresden. I’m.... it’s.... old habit."
I snorted. "Is that what they’re calling it these days? Because the word I learned was ‘lazy.’"
It didn’t seem to bother him much-he shook his head and grinned. "Don’t you have phonecalls to be making?"
"You think I’m leaving you alone in here?" I shook my head. "Unlikely. Here." I presented him with an empty glass bottle. "Get out of here and get me the voice of Chicago."
"Sure thing, b-Wizard Dresden."
Sometimes Robin’s accent seemed to waver. I wondered where he’d lived before Tennessee and for how long. He sauntered up the stairs with surprising speed-Wodehouse might have said he ‘shimmered’. (Hey, I like vintage comedy, too. We wizards aren’t all spell books and Tolkien.)
"Back soon," he promised, and shut the door behind him. I felt a comfortable smile on my face.
I called the friends who could put me in contact with the Summer Lady. I only hoped she’d help. Lily was a friend, but she couldn’t involve the Summer Court in struggles just on my say so. But I was hopeful; the Black Council hadn’t come out and declared war on anyone. So this wouldn’t be stepping into a political mess. But they might attack Summer, if they figured out Lily had helped me, she’d have to take that into account…
I could only ask. And I did; I got through to Fix, the Summer Knight. He wanted to help right away, show up as fast as a car could bring him and start the legions of death. I made him promise to ask Lily.
Then all there was to do was wait and try to relax.
Yeah, there were just circles springing up like toadstools all over the city, to summon the things from beyond the Outer Gates. Just a necromancer who wanted me dead. That was all. Just relax.
I did busywork all day-banished Robin to the lab to make a weight loss potion so I could spend some time upstairs with Molly. Then at bedtime I relaxed myself right into acid stomach and a nasty case of insomnia.
I paced my bedroom for a while, and then went out to grab some Pepto and a bottle of beer.
The apartment seemed a little too empty, but it took two passes to catch it: I was tired, and not so quick on the uptake. But the heap of blankets on my couch was smaller than usual, and there was no shock of white hair on the pillow crammed against the arm.
I frowned, and very thoughtfully crossed back to the kitchen for another bottle of beer. Then I lifted the trap door to the subbasement. Candle-light spilled out, lighting my way down the stairs.
Robin was wrapped in a blanket, sitting against the wall and staring at Little Chicago with his lips pursed. He looked up and frowned at me.
"I didn’t touch anything," he said warily, in a very familiar tone of voice. It’s the same one I use when Morgan’s come to accuse me of poisoning all the wells and making the cattle die.
"I believe you," I said, and handed him the second beer. He looked gratified, and moved aside so I could have my own patch of wall.
We stared at the little model in companionable silence, both working our way through the bottles of beer, him in his blanket and me in my flannel robe.
About halfway through my bottle, I had to make the obligatory comment. It’s a time honored ritual, and it goes like this:
"So. Can’t sleep, huh?"
Robin didn’t seem irritated. "I don’t need that much sleep. And it feels like a waste when there’s work to be done," he said.
"We can’t do much more with the potion until the Summer Queen gets back to me."
"I could work on this. I’ve seen models like this before-there’s energy flow problems in this one. It looks like it was damaged."
"It was," I said with a nod. "Cowl. Blew a hole in it."
"Bastard," Robin said simply, and took a drink of his beer. I nodded in agreement.
"So. I might have something for the mind element of the potion," I said. "It came to me at about one am."
Robin looked expectant.
"How about a riddle?"
He frowned, his whole face furrowing in thought. "Make it a joke. It’s a little lighter."
"What’s black and white and read all over?"
Robin rolled his eyes. "You’re an idiot, Har-Wizard Dresden."
"I’m actually getting tired of that," I mentioned. "Mostly people I don’t like call me that. Harry’s fine."
"Careful, Harry. I might get the impression that you don’t entirely hate me."
"I’d like you better if you’d stop doing the succubus thing at me."
"Incubus," Robin said, lifting his chin.
"I’m a guy; succubus. Succu… bi… feed on men."
"Incubi are male entities. It doesn’t matter who they feed on," Robin told me firmly. "It’s not entirely intentional, I’m afraid."
"No?"
"No." He gave me a look through his lashes. "You’re cute, Harry."
"I thought I was an idiot."
"You’re a cute idiot." Robin seemed to be considering something; eyeing his beer dubiously as if the answer was hidden somewhere in the liquid.
I snorted and settled back against the wall. Robin finished his beer and pulled his blanket a little tighter around him.
"This friend of yours," I said, shutting my eyes. "A lover, right?"
"Hmm. Sort of. Mostly just a friend. Sort of a clueless friend. He means well. Bless his heart," Robin added scrupulously.
"So what did he do to get Cowl ticked off?"
"More morals than brains," Robin said. "People were in trouble, so he threw himself right after them. He’s not very bright that way," he added with fond disapproval.
"Good for him," I said firmly.
As we sat there, I started to get more and more aware of Robin sitting next to me. There were places where we were pressed together through my robe and his blanket, and they were warmer than where I touched the wall and floor. It was pleasant, not particularly urgent knowledge.
"Can I work on the model, Harry?" Robin asked quietly, and I forced my eyes open. My eyelids were heavier than they’d been a minute ago, I was sure of it.
"Under supervision."
He shuffled away from me, and I lost the warm-spots against my shoulder and thigh. I sighed, and supervised.
Tried to supervise. Unfortunately, I rested my eyes for a minute-when I opened them again, Robin was standing over the model, and his blanket was covering me. I felt a little more rested, and he didn’t seem to be doing anything horrific to it. I’d check it over in the morning and make sure he hadn’t sabotaged anything.
I shut my eyes and listened to him work. Every so often I’d open my eyes and see him bent over the model, eyes shut and lips parted, running his fingertips over the contours of the skyline and through the tiny streets.
"Robin?"
His eyes snapped open, and he looked over.
"I do like you. Don’t…. don’t turn out to be a spy, okay? Because I get really ugly when I’m betrayed."
He dropped his eyes. "This one I can promise-I’m on your side. That’s the truth."
"And everything else you’ve told me?" I asked.
"Has been the truth. Technically."
"…right. I’m going to bed." I pushed myself to my feet, muscles protesting-there was a cold stiffness where the chill had seeped into my legs. "You can stop working when you’re tired. I’ll check it in the morning."
"Thanks," Robin said, his mouth set in a tight line.
I padded over to him, stooped a little, and pressed my lips to his forehead. "And stop Incubing at me."
He turned against me, worming into the blanket and sliding a hand up to tug me an inch or two lower. Warmth spread where our lips met-slow and steady as a banked fire. It was actually pretty chaste; just the movements of lips, soft and dry and slow.
I pulled back, and shrugged the blanket off my shoulders.
As I draped it over him, I asked, "Is that out of your system now?"
His muddy hazel eyes caught the candle light, almost glowing. "Not hardly. But I’ll try to keep a leash on myself."
"Goodnight, Robin."
"Goodnight, Harry."
I shuffled up the stairs, thinking. I’d never kissed a man before. Funny thing; I didn’t think Robin Raith had, either.