Dead & Damned Part III

[weslyn]

The THIRD part! Thanks for all the lovely feedback. This is my first time writing in Harry's POV and hopefully I do just as good with him as Bob.
Previous chapters: Part I, Part II

Chapter 3
TV!Harry POV
PGish because this one's kinda tame on the language and sexuality.
Disclaimer: Oh right, I don't own them. Tell that to my plot bunnies. What? You can't see them...? They're pink and ravenously chewing on my brain.
Summary: Stuff happens. No really, that's about it.
This is where the plot picks up - there's actually very little Bob in this one, it's mostly Harry's latest case with Murphy, but trust me - it's important.

Minor Pre-slash, Harry/Murphy friendly - it's there if you squint.
Oh... and um... don't drink anything while you're reading this. You might snort it up your nose.



III

I should have crawled right back into bed when I had stubbed my toe this morning. Nope, sorry world, Harry Dresden is not coming out today. Funny thing about toes, you’d forget all about them if it weren’t for the occasions where you randomly bang them into shit. Wouldn’t expect it to hurt as much as it does either.

I burnt my toast in the oven. Figures. I don’t even own a toaster. I’ve tried. The last one I had ended up being doused in Holy Water.  No, for once it wasn’t my mojo to blame - the toaster was cursed.

Who curses a toaster?

Just as I pitched the toast the door rattled in its frame. The loud, pounding knock had a familiar rhythm to it and I wasn’t surprised to see Murphy on the other side. By the way the morning had been going, the scowl on her face wasn’t surprising either.

She gave me a harried once-over before heaving a resigned sigh. “Get changed.” She sniffed the air - assumingly smelling my burnt breakfast. “We’ll go out to the diner.”

I opened the door for her to come in, “Your treat?”

“I offered, didn’t I?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I said exaggeratedly.

“I don’t need your sass, Harry.” She pinched the bridge of her nose delicately. It wasn’t yet noon and she already looked careworn.

“That bad, huh?”

She cracked one eye open at me, “I haven’t gone to bed yet.”

Well that explained it. “Murphy…” I started, not sure exactly what I was going to say. She cut in on my hesitation and waved whatever I was going to say aside. Her features schooled into a more relaxed expression.

“Just go change. I’m hungry.”

I mentally cringed. A sleep deprived and a hungry Murphy was never a happy thing.

Breakfast at the diner, as it turned out, would be the only highlight of the day. Murphy had a case for me - which was usually a positive. It pays the bills and I get to do cool detective things with Murphy. Sure, half those things I’m really not supposed to do from a legal standpoint, and most of the time I end up getting my ass beat and … how was it that I usually viewed cases as a positive thing again…? Oh yeah, bills.

This one was a whopper.

She waited until after we’d finished before she started in on the case. Good thing too. At first I thought she was joking when she started telling me about it. Imagine that - me thinking Murphy’d gone crazy talking about occult, Goth teenage-witch crap. It was almost too Hollywood - which was probably where the kids got the idea anyway. But the more she kept talking, the more nervous I got.

This had the potential of being the proverbial Goliath of the year.

Some teenage girls dabbling in witchcraft, not bad right? There’s a whole religion catering to people who experience something of the sixth sense. There’s even a swarm of black-dressed, dark make-up wearing, wannabe badasses that think a pentagram makes them deviant. I mean, normally that stuff doesn’t phase me, but every once in a while it can get under my skin - and right then I was feeling kind of itchy.

Murphy had spent the night following a wild goose around with a wool blindfold on - or at least that how it sounded to me. All her efforts reaped were three maybe suspects - kids who were gothed-out little punks whose parents’ leniency boarded on negligence.

Well, the best way to explain it had been for Murphy to drive me out to the scene of the crime - which was several hours out to the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t a major crime - no dead bodies, which was a relief … kind of. The police had gotten a call from a grumpy old man who wanted to know why his barn had burned down. When the police got there they found a huge, and I mean huge, occult mark. That landed the case automatically in Murphy’s - and consequentially my - lap.

I slipped under the police tape alone, already feeling the power calling to the Blackness in my soul. Murphy had opted to stay back, and I didn’t blame her.  I could feel the immense malevolence that had levelled the barn all around me. I turned to Murphy: “O.K. Murph,” I said, keeping my voice steady. I held out both my hands, turning a full circle in place. “Where’s this mark?”

Her shoulders slouched and she looked at me like I was extremely dense. “You’re. Standing. On it.”

I am extremely dense sometimes. I looked down.

“Holy mother of-!” I did an odd sort of dance, avoiding the strangely molten looking lines of whatever-the-fuck-symbol I had just hopelessly meandered onto. I guess I’m lucky whatever power it had had worn off enough not to set me on fire. I quickly made my way back to Murphy where she leaned cross-armed against the car.

“What do you think?” She asked me.

I stared out at the large mark still seething in the ground. I hadn’t noticed it at first because the lines were actually carved pretty deep into the earth. The flooring of the barn had been reduced to ashes - as had much of the actual barn. The lines had a flickering sort of glow to them, like the embers of hellfire.

And it was evil.

Problem was, it didn’t feel demonic, or like any sort of nasty from the Nevernever, or any other form of evil I was familiar with.  So why wasn’t the High Council all over this?

“I think I’m going to need a better look.” I replied.

Murphy smiled coldly. “If you think they’re going to let me sign a helicopter to get a bird’s eye view at that thing…”

“Nope, Murphy.” I smiled; she’d given me the perfect solution. “I’ve got it covered.” I patted her arm and headed for the passenger seat.

She stood where she was, her arms thrown out in exasperation. “What? That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” She was practically stomping toward the car. She got in and slammed the door. She slouched and rested her arms across the wheel, staring out at the crispy barn without really seeing it. She looked more tired now than ever.

I hated not being able to give her some sort of reassurance that I really did have a plan of action. Then again, even if I could, telling her that I was going to perform a spell where I could see through the eyes of a bird might not have been that reassuring to her. Still, I kept my smile firmly in place.

She tilted her head, shifting her weary gaze to me. “How soon do you think you’ll be able to give me something to have my superiors chew on?”

“Tomorrow.”

By the look on her face, she had wanted it by today.

“I’m sorry, Murphy - you’ve got this as my top priority, tomorrow might be the best I can do.”

She nodded and started the ignition.

The ride home was quiet. Murphy was too exhausted to keep up conversation and I was too busy cataloguing street names and picking out landmarks to really be bothered. Though I would probably have better luck finding the place again if I could get directions from Murphy. Our silence wasn’t a tense one by any means; it was comfortable. Murphy was good like that. I viewed our ability to sit quietly with each other as a hallmark of our friendship.

She pulled up to my place, and we both broke from our independent thoughts. I gave her a small smile. “Don’t worry about it - I got this one.” Oh gods, I hoped I did. I sure as hell didn’t want Murphy going near that place again. “You go home and get some rest.” That won me a small half-hearted smile, but I’d take what I could get. I unbuckled and got out of the car, but before I shut the door, I poked my head back in.

“Hey, why don’t you park the car and come in and crash on the couch?” The circles under her eyes were starting to bother me. She looked somehow vacant, empty. Alone. I pressed. “Just for a bit, and then I’ll make you some coffee.”

I expected her to brush me off, typical Murphy fashion, but then she nodded and put the car in park and quit the engine. “Sure.” She said softly.

She must’ve known she stunned me because her smile got bigger. She got out of the car and followed me inside. I was taking off my jacket as she headed for the couch. I hung it up and checked around the house for any sign of Bob. None. I mentally checked the wards, not because I was feeling particularly thorough, but because Murphy was on my couch and I’d no idea what to do with myself.

My eyes landed on the thermostat. It was still cold for spring and the heat in my place was crap. My chivalry nudged me to find a blanket for Murphy. I crept up to my bedroom and opened the door to the hole in the wall that served as my closet. I pulled down a light, green-chequered, quilted blanket and tucked it under my arm.

“Hey… Murphy?” I said quietly once I’d gotten close to the couch, “I’ve got you a -“

“Shh.” I whipped around to see Bob pressing a finger to his lips. “She’s asleep.”

I looked down at Murphy’s sleeping form on the couch. That was quick. She hadn’t even bothered to kick off her shoes. I unfolded the quilt anyway and covered her with it. I stepped back and watched her for a bit, letting the concern that I couldn’t show her express itself plainly on my face. Murphy wasn’t the type of girl you could be all worried about with out getting a verbal slap upside the head.

“You’ve a case then?” Bob asked in a hushed voice from behind me. His tone was still guarded from the last time I had talked to him. I could feel his gaze on the back of my neck.

“Yeah.” I replied my tone as weighed-down as I felt. It had been a long morning that had dragged on into the afternoon. I should have been getting hungry, but work never mixed well with my appetite.

I headed for the lab, but paused after a few steps when I hadn’t felt Bob following as per usual. I glanced back. Bob was still standing there, arms folded over his chest and he was openly studying Murphy. His brow was furrowed and his lips pursed, which meant he was thinking hard on something, but he also looked … concerned. He noticed me watching him, but made no move to cover his emotions. His gaze rested back on Murphy briefly and then he walked toward me.

“Shall we?”

I lead the way to the lab, but he was first inside of it. The door closed as I crossed the room, looking for the sea salt I would need to catch the bird.

“How does the case look?”

“Big.” I replied, busy reading labels. Abramelin Oil, nope. Troll hair - not that either. “And nasty.”

“How big and nasty?”

I cocked an eyebrow at him over my shoulder. “Murphy’s asleep on my couch - how often do you see that happen?”

“Touché.” He paused, and I say paused, because I could practically feel that he had something more to say. I found the sea salt, turned back around and he caught my eye. “Murphy is a good woman, Harry.”

I knew that tone. It was meant to imply something other than what he was directly saying. “Where is this going, Bob?”

“She works hard, very devoted … an admirable quality -”

I set down the jar of sea salt a little harder than necessary. “We work together.” If my tone was any indication, then that should have been the end of it, but Bob decided to press the matter.

“She’s alone. You’re alone.” Bob was strolling around the table; he had that smooth little glide to his gate that bumped up his charisma a few notches. It was something he did when he was trying to appeal to me - to get me to see his side. I had no idea if he did it intentionally, or if it was just something inherently Bob.

I glared at him and tried not to think about how lonely I was. “I work with Murphy - just like I work with you, Bob.”

“Yes, but at least she can touch you.” I felt that spine-tingling sensation that shot down my back like a cold drop of water and I realised that Bob had brushed his hand through my hair.

“Bob! Jeez - don’t-” I turned around, but he had already evaporated into his skull. “…do that.” I whispered and ran my hand through my hair, mimicking his gesture. Great. The last thing I needed was for my ghost to be sulking.

I think toes must be like the Bad Day Detectors of the body. Stubbing one of them is a good sign that you should crawl back under the covers and wait it out.