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Someone wrote something like this, quite a while ago:
http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/395384.html?thread=23968888#t23968888
Close enough?
http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/395384.html?thread=23968888#t23968888
Close enough?
*reads last paragraph*
*snickers*
Not that I mind, but yes. You might want to get some sleep before tackling the next bit. Just saying. XD
*snickers*
Not that I mind, but yes. You might want to get some sleep before tackling the next bit. Just saying. XD
XD I worry about getting writing block if I sleep so I'm gonna keep writing till I am too tired and need sleeep. Hopefully will have next part out sometime tomorrow!
This prompt is Eating My Life. I have like twenty tabs and a bunch of books in front of me right now which really I don't even need. Argh.
Long!fill from this writer is unlikely. More or less sequential drabbles and shortfics are more likely. Okay with OP, y/n?
Long!fill from this writer is unlikely. More or less sequential drabbles and shortfics are more likely. Okay with OP, y/n?
You shouldn't talk this down, it's fabulous. It made me cry big snotty tears, and it earned them honestly.
I would point out every line I love, but I'd be here all night. But yes, Bob brings automatic bonus points to any scene.
And Harry. Not knowing how to deal with being taken care of, not expecting to have anything? I imagine John is gradually realizing just how screwed up Harry/their deal is. When your wizard is bewildered by the simple fact that he's allowed to keep his own belongings, you have to know that something's up.
And Harry. Not knowing how to deal with being taken care of, not expecting to have anything? I imagine John is gradually realizing just how screwed up Harry/their deal is. When your wizard is bewildered by the simple fact that he's allowed to keep his own belongings, you have to know that something's up.
Am loving this so very much. I can't wait to see the mental wall-slam when Sherlock learns about magic. Oh please, please let him learn about magic.
F5F5F5F5F5F5F5
F5F5F5F5F5F5F5
(Posting this and then off to bed! Don't care if doing so is unwise.
Also, the Lea thing is actually Word of Jim.)
Warnings: I can't think of any other then God Mode Gary Stu Harry.
It took me over two thousand years to realize it, but my Godmother really is a kind woman. Well, to me at least. It is just her kindness is framed from her being a Sidhe and therefore doesn't translate to human very well.
It had been a bit over half a year since Dad left to be with Mom. I was sitting outside the orphanage on the sidewalk, waiting.
Oh wait, you need more information for this to make sense. See, Lea had promised my Mom to guard me and keep me safe. To Lea's understanding, until something like Justin trying to kill me, I *was* perfectly safe. So yeah, she never tells me she exists until that type of event happens.
But she does keep watch and see I am unhappy. The problem is Lea doesn't understand why I am crying and tries to fix it with out drawing attention from big nasty creatures whom where stronger then her. Also, Mom's bargain with her means I have to find and ask Lea for help first before she can do anything blatant.
Meaning all the old ladies who kept my hopes up and helped me make it through the years before I could leave the orphanage with random acts of kindness? All Lea under disguise.
Word of warning though. Any one who is not myself or any kids I have? Lea is utterly freezing ruthless with.
But back to the story. I was sitting out on the sidewalk, examining my scrapped knees and sniffling while I waited. The spring sun was keeping the ground from being cold, grass was sprouting from the sidewalks cracks, and the lone stunted tree in the yard was making an effort to produce leaves. A fresh spring breeze was fluffing my hair and other then the sheer and utter crap that was the orphanage, the day was pretty nice.
I grinned to myself when shadow blotting out the sun and looked up at the nice old lady peering down at me. I stood and gave her my best bow, “Greetings fair lady, what an honor it is to met you today.”
Way back when I first discovered Lea had done this, I figured it out because of the eyes. Still her same vivid gold. That was the only clue I ever got, because Lea is, flat out, the very best as glamours among the Fae, par none.
See, you can tell when a Fae is using a glamour because it is *too* perfect. Not even White Court vampires are as stunningly perfect as a Fae glamour. Not even the Queens can really master being imperfect.
But the Leanansidhe can and has.
Oh, granted, her form had aged gracefully, her beauty aged like a fine wine, but plenty of humans do that just as well. Stars and stones, some people even look better when they get older.
But she also has a bit of scarring on her brow from some child hood sickness, her hair was gray and thinning with age, laughter and smile lines wrinkled her face. Shoulders and back, stooped a bit from time. Someone's old grandma, as warm and unchanging as the earth you stand on.
“Well, aren't you just a polite little man,” Lea said ruffling my hair as I beamed back at her.
Even after all my years, this was still hard for me. Verbal dancing is not my preferred mode of interaction. But I had to do so right then to reach my first goal.
I tilted my head and looked at Lea side long before saying, “Honored Elder, I'm feeling hungry. I don't suppose you are open to a bargain for lunch?”
...Yeah that is about as sneaky as I can get when talking. If I want to keep a secret, I pretty much have to just not talk about it.
Lea was a Fae though and though so her attention focused on me like a momma bear hearing her cubs scream. I just kept smiling at her.
“What would you be offering for lunch, my dear boy?” Lea asked me raising an eyebrow.
“Information,” I replied readily, “As long as you promise not to discuss it to anyone who does not know.”
I frowned in thought before adding, “Unless your life is on the line, my life is on the line, or someone I love's life is on the line, then you may tell who ever you think is necessary.”
Lea nodded and offered her hand to shake, “I agree to this bargain.”
“Truly, do you agree to this bargain?” I asked turning my head to look her straight on.
Lea stilled, staring at me, suspicion lurking in her eyes before answering, “I agree to this bargain.”
I spat on my palm and held out my hand, not yet grasping Lea's before winking at her and asking again, “For the third time, do you agree?”
We stood there looking at each other as Lea's expression went from suspicion to surprise to realization and finally to a mix of pride and satisfaction.
“Trice and I am bound, I agree to this bargain.” she declared.
We were wearing matching grins as we shook hands, sealing the deal.
***
Dad could not cook worth a damn, so when he had me, we ate at Burger King a lot. To the point where, no matter how old I got, eating there represented where you ate with family. Or really close friends.
So, of course, that is where I asked my Godmother to feed me. Just because I will never understand her didn't make her any less my family.
Anyway, I wasn't really actually physically starved at the orphanage. But it was still set for really poor kids and it had a horde of them, so I was always hungry. On the other hands, it set great store on the kids being clean so I wasn't really dirty, just scrawny and threadbare.
Lea sat across from me as I dug into my food. Once I finished, I wiped my face with a napkin, steepled my fingers, looked Lea right in the eye and said, “My name is Harry Dresden. I am stuck in a time loop. Every time I die I get sent to my infancy and have to live my life all over again. I am much older then I appear. I am also, really glad to see you again, Godmother. I missed you.”
I watched in admiration as Lea dropped her glamour with out alerting the people around us. No longer did I set across from a golden-brown eyed gorgeous African American grandma, but from a golden cat eyed gorgeous deadly red haired huntress.
The amount of skill it took to do that make it into a work of art.
“My dear Godson,” Lea said softly cupping my cheek in fondness.
I moved my hand to cover hers and smiled at her in equal affection, “I don't have anything worth your aid right now, nor do I require any thing from you currently. But I would enjoy spending time in your company, Godmother. Would just that keep either of us from being in debt to the other?”
Lea pursed her lips in thought before nodding, “I do think it would.”
“Good!” I said clapping my hands together in joy, “As long as you are okay with me not having any food and drink other then the most rough and poorest, would you be free next Saturday?”
Lea gave me a lazy well fed cat smile and nodded her head, “Indeed, I would be.”
I nodded back, already planning how to get ready for it. Weekly times with Godmother would really help deal with the orphanage.
I could make it through four more years. Bob and Elaine were worth it.
Also, the Lea thing is actually Word of Jim.)
Warnings: I can't think of any other then God Mode Gary Stu Harry.
It took me over two thousand years to realize it, but my Godmother really is a kind woman. Well, to me at least. It is just her kindness is framed from her being a Sidhe and therefore doesn't translate to human very well.
It had been a bit over half a year since Dad left to be with Mom. I was sitting outside the orphanage on the sidewalk, waiting.
Oh wait, you need more information for this to make sense. See, Lea had promised my Mom to guard me and keep me safe. To Lea's understanding, until something like Justin trying to kill me, I *was* perfectly safe. So yeah, she never tells me she exists until that type of event happens.
But she does keep watch and see I am unhappy. The problem is Lea doesn't understand why I am crying and tries to fix it with out drawing attention from big nasty creatures whom where stronger then her. Also, Mom's bargain with her means I have to find and ask Lea for help first before she can do anything blatant.
Meaning all the old ladies who kept my hopes up and helped me make it through the years before I could leave the orphanage with random acts of kindness? All Lea under disguise.
Word of warning though. Any one who is not myself or any kids I have? Lea is utterly freezing ruthless with.
But back to the story. I was sitting out on the sidewalk, examining my scrapped knees and sniffling while I waited. The spring sun was keeping the ground from being cold, grass was sprouting from the sidewalks cracks, and the lone stunted tree in the yard was making an effort to produce leaves. A fresh spring breeze was fluffing my hair and other then the sheer and utter crap that was the orphanage, the day was pretty nice.
I grinned to myself when shadow blotting out the sun and looked up at the nice old lady peering down at me. I stood and gave her my best bow, “Greetings fair lady, what an honor it is to met you today.”
Way back when I first discovered Lea had done this, I figured it out because of the eyes. Still her same vivid gold. That was the only clue I ever got, because Lea is, flat out, the very best as glamours among the Fae, par none.
See, you can tell when a Fae is using a glamour because it is *too* perfect. Not even White Court vampires are as stunningly perfect as a Fae glamour. Not even the Queens can really master being imperfect.
But the Leanansidhe can and has.
Oh, granted, her form had aged gracefully, her beauty aged like a fine wine, but plenty of humans do that just as well. Stars and stones, some people even look better when they get older.
But she also has a bit of scarring on her brow from some child hood sickness, her hair was gray and thinning with age, laughter and smile lines wrinkled her face. Shoulders and back, stooped a bit from time. Someone's old grandma, as warm and unchanging as the earth you stand on.
“Well, aren't you just a polite little man,” Lea said ruffling my hair as I beamed back at her.
Even after all my years, this was still hard for me. Verbal dancing is not my preferred mode of interaction. But I had to do so right then to reach my first goal.
I tilted my head and looked at Lea side long before saying, “Honored Elder, I'm feeling hungry. I don't suppose you are open to a bargain for lunch?”
...Yeah that is about as sneaky as I can get when talking. If I want to keep a secret, I pretty much have to just not talk about it.
Lea was a Fae though and though so her attention focused on me like a momma bear hearing her cubs scream. I just kept smiling at her.
“What would you be offering for lunch, my dear boy?” Lea asked me raising an eyebrow.
“Information,” I replied readily, “As long as you promise not to discuss it to anyone who does not know.”
I frowned in thought before adding, “Unless your life is on the line, my life is on the line, or someone I love's life is on the line, then you may tell who ever you think is necessary.”
Lea nodded and offered her hand to shake, “I agree to this bargain.”
“Truly, do you agree to this bargain?” I asked turning my head to look her straight on.
Lea stilled, staring at me, suspicion lurking in her eyes before answering, “I agree to this bargain.”
I spat on my palm and held out my hand, not yet grasping Lea's before winking at her and asking again, “For the third time, do you agree?”
We stood there looking at each other as Lea's expression went from suspicion to surprise to realization and finally to a mix of pride and satisfaction.
“Trice and I am bound, I agree to this bargain.” she declared.
We were wearing matching grins as we shook hands, sealing the deal.
***
Dad could not cook worth a damn, so when he had me, we ate at Burger King a lot. To the point where, no matter how old I got, eating there represented where you ate with family. Or really close friends.
So, of course, that is where I asked my Godmother to feed me. Just because I will never understand her didn't make her any less my family.
Anyway, I wasn't really actually physically starved at the orphanage. But it was still set for really poor kids and it had a horde of them, so I was always hungry. On the other hands, it set great store on the kids being clean so I wasn't really dirty, just scrawny and threadbare.
Lea sat across from me as I dug into my food. Once I finished, I wiped my face with a napkin, steepled my fingers, looked Lea right in the eye and said, “My name is Harry Dresden. I am stuck in a time loop. Every time I die I get sent to my infancy and have to live my life all over again. I am much older then I appear. I am also, really glad to see you again, Godmother. I missed you.”
I watched in admiration as Lea dropped her glamour with out alerting the people around us. No longer did I set across from a golden-brown eyed gorgeous African American grandma, but from a golden cat eyed gorgeous deadly red haired huntress.
The amount of skill it took to do that make it into a work of art.
“My dear Godson,” Lea said softly cupping my cheek in fondness.
I moved my hand to cover hers and smiled at her in equal affection, “I don't have anything worth your aid right now, nor do I require any thing from you currently. But I would enjoy spending time in your company, Godmother. Would just that keep either of us from being in debt to the other?”
Lea pursed her lips in thought before nodding, “I do think it would.”
“Good!” I said clapping my hands together in joy, “As long as you are okay with me not having any food and drink other then the most rough and poorest, would you be free next Saturday?”
Lea gave me a lazy well fed cat smile and nodded her head, “Indeed, I would be.”
I nodded back, already planning how to get ready for it. Weekly times with Godmother would really help deal with the orphanage.
I could make it through four more years. Bob and Elaine were worth it.
Mab isn't ACTIVELY controlling him, since John doesn't want to fuck a puppet, but...it's her prerogative to be in her knight, at least a little. It avoids those pesky rebellions if she knows why her minions are thinking. That being said, I don't think she entirely knew what she was doing, putting Harry in Marcone's hands, even for 12 hours.
As for Harry's eyes, they're such an important part of the Dresden Files, I figured, with his bonds to Winter tightening, it might be an indication of his official allegiance. I played with a couple theories on the whys: Harry's heritage making him more susceptible, his own power manifesting as blue already having mingled with soulfire and hellfire leaving his magic malleable...
Any or all of the above were tested and ultimately left out. John doesn't know -- at the moment he's working out how to speed up his plans to separate Harry from Mab. Then he might care, if they stay blue.
But yeah, this was set after at least one Accords meeting so I didn't have to deal with a lot of extra (so we meet for the first time....again) stuff I didn't have time to really envision in a way that worked for the story.
As for Harry's eyes, they're such an important part of the Dresden Files, I figured, with his bonds to Winter tightening, it might be an indication of his official allegiance. I played with a couple theories on the whys: Harry's heritage making him more susceptible, his own power manifesting as blue already having mingled with soulfire and hellfire leaving his magic malleable...
Any or all of the above were tested and ultimately left out. John doesn't know -- at the moment he's working out how to speed up his plans to separate Harry from Mab. Then he might care, if they stay blue.
But yeah, this was set after at least one Accords meeting so I didn't have to deal with a lot of extra (so we meet for the first time....again) stuff I didn't have time to really envision in a way that worked for the story.
More please, this is so awesome!
"You're a criminal, right? Will you steal me?"
The Baron's grin was electric. "It would be my honor."
Those lines are BRILLIANT! I'm not a fan of sci-fi but as this was by you and only a few chapters I figured I'd give it a go, and I'm glad I did. Awesome fic!
The Baron's grin was electric. "It would be my honor."
Those lines are BRILLIANT! I'm not a fan of sci-fi but as this was by you and only a few chapters I figured I'd give it a go, and I'm glad I did. Awesome fic!
Charity would be the oven. Normally productive and necessary, and completely terrifying when her territory is invaded.
3)
By the time they'd dragged themselves out of the lake, the kelpies were satisfactorily dead and Harry and Murphy were both soaking and chilled.
“Saved you again,” Murphy managed to wheeze, after glaring at her battered, water-soaked cellphone, yet another technological victim of Harry Dresden's Insane Adventures. “I've got to be at least a few up on you by now.”
Harry – who had been trying and failing to dry out his clothes – displayed his maturity by eye-rolling and pulling a face. “Put it on my tab.” Another poke at his jacket failed to render it anywhere near dry. “How'd you know to do that to kelpies, anyway? That's not in most legends.” Poke. Poke.
“Oh. That.” She sounded a little embarrassed, and Harry glanced over to see a faint flush rising. “Actually it was, uh, a bit of luck.”
He arched an eyebrow, because wizards can do that. “That's better luck than we normally have.”
“Fine. I read it in a book.” Murphy scowled, shoved the waterlogged phone into a pocket and stood up, water pouring off her in long streams. “A fantasy novel. Happy?”
Harry opened his mouth to ask what novel would have such a little-known method in it, remembered exactly what book it was (he could, in fact, remember writing it) and shut his mouth. Time to change the subject. “G-”
“I'm surprised it did work, though, if it's not that common,” Murphy added suddenly, wringing out her shirt. “Maybe the author's a wizard.”
“Uh. Maybe.”
“I can't believe a wizard would sit around writing books though.”
“Mhmm. You'd be surprised.”
“I thought they were pretty much like you. All action-oriented and...”
“Charming?”
“Illiterate.”
“... You're a cruel woman, Murph. Cruel and capricious.”
“Do you even know what 'capricious' means?”
“It's a type of fruit, right? … Murph? Hey. Hey! Wait! Don't take the- car. Shit.”
By the time they'd dragged themselves out of the lake, the kelpies were satisfactorily dead and Harry and Murphy were both soaking and chilled.
“Saved you again,” Murphy managed to wheeze, after glaring at her battered, water-soaked cellphone, yet another technological victim of Harry Dresden's Insane Adventures. “I've got to be at least a few up on you by now.”
Harry – who had been trying and failing to dry out his clothes – displayed his maturity by eye-rolling and pulling a face. “Put it on my tab.” Another poke at his jacket failed to render it anywhere near dry. “How'd you know to do that to kelpies, anyway? That's not in most legends.” Poke. Poke.
“Oh. That.” She sounded a little embarrassed, and Harry glanced over to see a faint flush rising. “Actually it was, uh, a bit of luck.”
He arched an eyebrow, because wizards can do that. “That's better luck than we normally have.”
“Fine. I read it in a book.” Murphy scowled, shoved the waterlogged phone into a pocket and stood up, water pouring off her in long streams. “A fantasy novel. Happy?”
Harry opened his mouth to ask what novel would have such a little-known method in it, remembered exactly what book it was (he could, in fact, remember writing it) and shut his mouth. Time to change the subject. “G-”
“I'm surprised it did work, though, if it's not that common,” Murphy added suddenly, wringing out her shirt. “Maybe the author's a wizard.”
“Uh. Maybe.”
“I can't believe a wizard would sit around writing books though.”
“Mhmm. You'd be surprised.”
“I thought they were pretty much like you. All action-oriented and...”
“Charming?”
“Illiterate.”
“... You're a cruel woman, Murph. Cruel and capricious.”
“Do you even know what 'capricious' means?”
“It's a type of fruit, right? … Murph? Hey. Hey! Wait! Don't take the- car. Shit.”
OH HARRY, your life. It is so adorkably insane.
Re: Fill: Island Getaway 2/2 aka Bad Angel III - Public Humiliation prompt
(Anonymous) 2011-03-28 05:03 pm (UTC)(link)Fff. I'll be your second enabler. I am on this like Toot on Pizza.
Translation? MOAR. RIGHT NOW. BECAUSE I LOVE NICODEMUS TORTURING HARRY. AND YOU RIGHT IT SO WELL IT MAKES MY HEAD GO KABOOM.
Pleeease?
Translation? MOAR. RIGHT NOW. BECAUSE I LOVE NICODEMUS TORTURING HARRY. AND YOU RIGHT IT SO WELL IT MAKES MY HEAD GO KABOOM.
Pleeease?
"The Leanansidhe?" Marcone caught my arm, starting to move us forward into the house. I wasn't dragging my feet. Really. I was just tired.
"She's the only one I've got, yeah." My head hurt. It had nothing to do with the baby, or any actual physical illness and I knew it. I did not really want to see Lea. The sidhe woman was...well, the last time I'd seen her she'd been locked up in Mab's tower and crazier than a bedbug. I was going to assume she was 'better', or Mab wouldn't have let her out, but even before she'd slipped a cog she hadn't been the most stable creature I'd ever met.
And she was still the closest thing to family I'd had for years before I found Thomas. As weird as that made some things, it was true.
Right. So maybe I was a little nervous about seeing her.
"Mr. Hendricks, if you could fetch the gift?" I shrugged off Marcone's arm and started walking ahead of him. Gift? What gift? "Harry and I will be entertaining her godmother."
"You can't give her a gift, Marcone. She's sidhe. I thought you knew this stuff. Haven't you been paying attention?"
"I am not supposed to give her a gift that she cannot immediately return a like value for because the sidhe do not like to owe others. However, as she is your godmother and this is my first meeting with her, it is appropriate that I give her a token of appreciation.
"The token must be worthy of her, and display my seriousness in courting you as well as my ability to provide for you. As such, it is not a gift so much as it is something that is owed to her already." He caught up to me, catching my arm again to try and slow me down. "I have been paying attention."
Marcone somehow managed to get in front of me just in time to grab the door and beat me to opening it. I gave him a small frown, but didn't fight him for the door like I usually would have. We were playing it old school I guess.
Gard rose and turned to greet us, nodding to Marcone and giving me a quick smile and a pat on the shoulder. She retreated into the background, not leaving the room but giving us the illusion of privacy.
Lea looked the same as always, perfect. Her dress looked like something out of the Lord of the Rings, sea green and so light that it looked like it might float off on its own any second. I guess she was playing the 'elf' thing to the hilt, in spite of her delicately rounded little ears and the fact that she wasn't an elf at all. Her long red hair was like fire flowing over the dress, beautiful and impractical. There were streaks of white in it now, accents more than something that hinted at age or frailty.
Her golden cat's eyes lit with an inner fire as she rose from her place, setting a little china cup down on the table as she did so.
"Harry! My dear child!" Lea came forward, all grace and power and I moved away from Marcone, let her hug me. It was strangely comfortable, in spite of the sensation of being enveloped in a low level electrical field. I found myself leaning into her, hugging her back and the realization startled me. I didn't do anything stupid like jerk away or scream imprecations at her, I just slowly eased back, ending the hug. Lea was smiling, her sharp little teeth denting her lower lip just slightly. "It is such a pleasure to see you again, my goddaughter."
"And you, godmother. Are you well?" She patted my hand and stepped away, one hand rising to the largest streak of white in her hair.
"Better and better, dear child. My queen has healed me, and what little price I had to pay for it is well worth it. I am able to resume my duties and obligations once more." Her eyes went past me to Marcone. "Especially my duties to you, my sweet." I shifted so that I could see Marcone as well. Time to play hostess. Crap. I sucked at playing hostess.
"Godmother, may I introduce the Freeholding Lord, Baron John Marcone?" Lea's smile got broader, and her teeth seemed to get a little bit longer. I kept a good grip on her arm. If she'd been human, I would have been leaving bruises. As it was, she gave me an indulgent look out of the corner of her eye as Marcone gave her a short bow. "Baron, may I present my godmother, the Leanansidhe." Lea gave Marcone a shallow nod and their eyes never left one another. Stars and stones, it was like watching Murphy and an opponent circling each other on the mat.
"Lady Leanansidhe, it is a great honor to meet you." Marcone had his politician smile on, and it matched Lea's for sincerity. Jungle cats, the both of them. "Harry has told me so very much about you." Like how she tried to turn me into one of her hounds. And the whole sanctuary thing after Justin. Which had pissed Marcone off something fierce, for some reason. "I trust you have found my hospitality to your liking? I apologize for not being here to greet you myself, but we were not informed of your visit before hand."
"Baron. I have been hearing tales of you, as well. Though my goddaughter had not seen fit to mention you at all." Words innocuous, voice purring and it still made me worry. But maybe I was just being paranoid again?
"Hey, maybe we all want to go have a seat? I could use some tea. Yeah." I tugged at Lea, leading her back over to the chairs. Marcone pulled my chair out for me, and we struggled to do the sit and scoot in thing without embarrassment. Lea managed it with feline grace, as she did everything else. I poured some tea and sipped at it, watching the two of them. No one was saying anything, but I didn't doubt there was some sort of communication going on between them. Pheromone scenting or whatever. I wouldn't put it past Marcone.
The door didn't squeak when it swung open, but the click of the handle turning alerted us to Hendricks' entrance. He crossed the room, silent and graceful in spite of his size, a large flat jewelry box held in his hands.
"Sir." He leaned down, handed the box to Marcone and then backed away to join Gard against the wall.
"Lady Leanansidhe, as I said, my Harry has told me much about you." I resisted the urge to kick him under the table, but it was close. "Including the aid you have given her in the past and the great care you showed her when she was young." Marcone had thrown things when he'd first heard about her method of care. I still didn't get it, and he'd stopped trying to explain because it just pissed him off again. But you couldn't see any hint of that in him now. My word, the man was slick. I felt a little fire of appreciation for him in my heart. "It is not much, but I would like to repay your kindnesses to her with a small token. I understand how valuable the gift of your guardianship is to Harry and how much you must care for her, as I do."
Marcone put the box down and slid it across the table toward Lea. She licked her lips, highlighting her teeth once more and then reached for the flat box, placing it in front of her. A genuine smile curled her lips as she opened the box and I leaned around, trying to get a look. Lea chuckled and turned the box so I could see.
"Holy crap!" I was a necklace, a huge gold thing, darkened slightly with age, giving it a pleasant patina. The filigree work was studded with diamonds, just a little hint of sparkle in the darkened metal. But what made it spectacular were the twelve opals set in it. The smallest one was maybe half the size of my thumb. I didn't even really do jewelry, or at least nothing so heavy as this looked, but even I knew it was something special.
"Very nice, Baron, very nice. It is good to see my goddaughter has chosen someone who observes the proprieties. I've long despaired of her habits, but I see perhaps some of my lessons have sunk in." She ran her fingers over the jewels and then shut the case, leaning over to stage whisper at me. "You've chosen well, dear. At least he has an estate and understands your worth. And he is...what is the modern term..." She snapped her fingers idly in the air. It was all a show. Lea knew exactly what she wanted to say. I rolled my eyes, groaning. "A crimelord?"
"I prefer to think of myself as an entrepreneur. 'Crimelord' seems so crass."
"As you like. A robber baron at the least, though. I have heard many, many things about you." Lea settled back in her chair. Her teeth seemed to have gone back to normal. Sharp, but no longer quite so large, though they had never seemed strange on her face. "For the most part, I approve of what I hear. You are clever. That much is clear, to have won your way into the Accords. The first mortal ever to do so. Very nice. You don't lack for courage, and you understand the obligations of a lord to his people. So refreshing. Fierce." Lea was purring, a low rumble that resonated in my chest. "An excellent choice for a mate, my love." Lea trailed the tip of one finger along the top of the table.
"Lea, godmother, I didn't-"
"Hush. I came to see him for myself, and to judge his worthiness. You'll forgive me for saying so, but your judgment is not always the best, around men. You underestimate them all the time. Perhaps it's my fault, though I did the best I could." She sighed, sounding very put upon. "You understand, Baron, that I do love my goddaughter. She is precious to me. Precious for the sake of her mother, with whom I made my bargain, and precious in her own right. I would take it ill, should you not take great care with her." Lea flexed her fingers, idly, and the room's temperature dropped by several degrees.
"I understand, of course. And I agree that Harry is precious. I would give much to be able to protect her from everything. But then I would have to be wary of Harry's retribution. She is...herself."
"Too true. She hardly lets one do a thing for her. And to do otherwise would make her unhappy. We can't have that, can we? It is a delicate line those who love her must walk." Lea leaned forward, eager. "We are family now, are we not? Perhaps one day you will come and see my kennels. I am quite proud of my hounds, Baron. They are keen and swift, and never miss their prey. It's very impressive, watching them bring down their prey. Though perhaps the screaming will disturb you. Those who offend me often seem to lack the strength to remain silent during the hunt. But you wouldn't, would you? Seeing their bright eyes glinting after you, hearing the howls, I think you'd remain silent, wouldn't you?" Her eyes were bright, eager as she met Marcone's gaze. I stared at them, trying to decide whether or not yelling at one or the other would do any good. And which one I should yell at.
"Maybe some day we can come see your kennels. They sound...exciting." Marcone leaned back in his chair, every line at ease and made a small gesture in Hendricks' direction. "We have already eaten, I'm sorry. But perhaps you'd care to join us for desert?"
Lea grinned, delighted. Crap. I think she liked him.
"She's the only one I've got, yeah." My head hurt. It had nothing to do with the baby, or any actual physical illness and I knew it. I did not really want to see Lea. The sidhe woman was...well, the last time I'd seen her she'd been locked up in Mab's tower and crazier than a bedbug. I was going to assume she was 'better', or Mab wouldn't have let her out, but even before she'd slipped a cog she hadn't been the most stable creature I'd ever met.
And she was still the closest thing to family I'd had for years before I found Thomas. As weird as that made some things, it was true.
Right. So maybe I was a little nervous about seeing her.
"Mr. Hendricks, if you could fetch the gift?" I shrugged off Marcone's arm and started walking ahead of him. Gift? What gift? "Harry and I will be entertaining her godmother."
"You can't give her a gift, Marcone. She's sidhe. I thought you knew this stuff. Haven't you been paying attention?"
"I am not supposed to give her a gift that she cannot immediately return a like value for because the sidhe do not like to owe others. However, as she is your godmother and this is my first meeting with her, it is appropriate that I give her a token of appreciation.
"The token must be worthy of her, and display my seriousness in courting you as well as my ability to provide for you. As such, it is not a gift so much as it is something that is owed to her already." He caught up to me, catching my arm again to try and slow me down. "I have been paying attention."
Marcone somehow managed to get in front of me just in time to grab the door and beat me to opening it. I gave him a small frown, but didn't fight him for the door like I usually would have. We were playing it old school I guess.
Gard rose and turned to greet us, nodding to Marcone and giving me a quick smile and a pat on the shoulder. She retreated into the background, not leaving the room but giving us the illusion of privacy.
Lea looked the same as always, perfect. Her dress looked like something out of the Lord of the Rings, sea green and so light that it looked like it might float off on its own any second. I guess she was playing the 'elf' thing to the hilt, in spite of her delicately rounded little ears and the fact that she wasn't an elf at all. Her long red hair was like fire flowing over the dress, beautiful and impractical. There were streaks of white in it now, accents more than something that hinted at age or frailty.
Her golden cat's eyes lit with an inner fire as she rose from her place, setting a little china cup down on the table as she did so.
"Harry! My dear child!" Lea came forward, all grace and power and I moved away from Marcone, let her hug me. It was strangely comfortable, in spite of the sensation of being enveloped in a low level electrical field. I found myself leaning into her, hugging her back and the realization startled me. I didn't do anything stupid like jerk away or scream imprecations at her, I just slowly eased back, ending the hug. Lea was smiling, her sharp little teeth denting her lower lip just slightly. "It is such a pleasure to see you again, my goddaughter."
"And you, godmother. Are you well?" She patted my hand and stepped away, one hand rising to the largest streak of white in her hair.
"Better and better, dear child. My queen has healed me, and what little price I had to pay for it is well worth it. I am able to resume my duties and obligations once more." Her eyes went past me to Marcone. "Especially my duties to you, my sweet." I shifted so that I could see Marcone as well. Time to play hostess. Crap. I sucked at playing hostess.
"Godmother, may I introduce the Freeholding Lord, Baron John Marcone?" Lea's smile got broader, and her teeth seemed to get a little bit longer. I kept a good grip on her arm. If she'd been human, I would have been leaving bruises. As it was, she gave me an indulgent look out of the corner of her eye as Marcone gave her a short bow. "Baron, may I present my godmother, the Leanansidhe." Lea gave Marcone a shallow nod and their eyes never left one another. Stars and stones, it was like watching Murphy and an opponent circling each other on the mat.
"Lady Leanansidhe, it is a great honor to meet you." Marcone had his politician smile on, and it matched Lea's for sincerity. Jungle cats, the both of them. "Harry has told me so very much about you." Like how she tried to turn me into one of her hounds. And the whole sanctuary thing after Justin. Which had pissed Marcone off something fierce, for some reason. "I trust you have found my hospitality to your liking? I apologize for not being here to greet you myself, but we were not informed of your visit before hand."
"Baron. I have been hearing tales of you, as well. Though my goddaughter had not seen fit to mention you at all." Words innocuous, voice purring and it still made me worry. But maybe I was just being paranoid again?
"Hey, maybe we all want to go have a seat? I could use some tea. Yeah." I tugged at Lea, leading her back over to the chairs. Marcone pulled my chair out for me, and we struggled to do the sit and scoot in thing without embarrassment. Lea managed it with feline grace, as she did everything else. I poured some tea and sipped at it, watching the two of them. No one was saying anything, but I didn't doubt there was some sort of communication going on between them. Pheromone scenting or whatever. I wouldn't put it past Marcone.
The door didn't squeak when it swung open, but the click of the handle turning alerted us to Hendricks' entrance. He crossed the room, silent and graceful in spite of his size, a large flat jewelry box held in his hands.
"Sir." He leaned down, handed the box to Marcone and then backed away to join Gard against the wall.
"Lady Leanansidhe, as I said, my Harry has told me much about you." I resisted the urge to kick him under the table, but it was close. "Including the aid you have given her in the past and the great care you showed her when she was young." Marcone had thrown things when he'd first heard about her method of care. I still didn't get it, and he'd stopped trying to explain because it just pissed him off again. But you couldn't see any hint of that in him now. My word, the man was slick. I felt a little fire of appreciation for him in my heart. "It is not much, but I would like to repay your kindnesses to her with a small token. I understand how valuable the gift of your guardianship is to Harry and how much you must care for her, as I do."
Marcone put the box down and slid it across the table toward Lea. She licked her lips, highlighting her teeth once more and then reached for the flat box, placing it in front of her. A genuine smile curled her lips as she opened the box and I leaned around, trying to get a look. Lea chuckled and turned the box so I could see.
"Holy crap!" I was a necklace, a huge gold thing, darkened slightly with age, giving it a pleasant patina. The filigree work was studded with diamonds, just a little hint of sparkle in the darkened metal. But what made it spectacular were the twelve opals set in it. The smallest one was maybe half the size of my thumb. I didn't even really do jewelry, or at least nothing so heavy as this looked, but even I knew it was something special.
"Very nice, Baron, very nice. It is good to see my goddaughter has chosen someone who observes the proprieties. I've long despaired of her habits, but I see perhaps some of my lessons have sunk in." She ran her fingers over the jewels and then shut the case, leaning over to stage whisper at me. "You've chosen well, dear. At least he has an estate and understands your worth. And he is...what is the modern term..." She snapped her fingers idly in the air. It was all a show. Lea knew exactly what she wanted to say. I rolled my eyes, groaning. "A crimelord?"
"I prefer to think of myself as an entrepreneur. 'Crimelord' seems so crass."
"As you like. A robber baron at the least, though. I have heard many, many things about you." Lea settled back in her chair. Her teeth seemed to have gone back to normal. Sharp, but no longer quite so large, though they had never seemed strange on her face. "For the most part, I approve of what I hear. You are clever. That much is clear, to have won your way into the Accords. The first mortal ever to do so. Very nice. You don't lack for courage, and you understand the obligations of a lord to his people. So refreshing. Fierce." Lea was purring, a low rumble that resonated in my chest. "An excellent choice for a mate, my love." Lea trailed the tip of one finger along the top of the table.
"Lea, godmother, I didn't-"
"Hush. I came to see him for myself, and to judge his worthiness. You'll forgive me for saying so, but your judgment is not always the best, around men. You underestimate them all the time. Perhaps it's my fault, though I did the best I could." She sighed, sounding very put upon. "You understand, Baron, that I do love my goddaughter. She is precious to me. Precious for the sake of her mother, with whom I made my bargain, and precious in her own right. I would take it ill, should you not take great care with her." Lea flexed her fingers, idly, and the room's temperature dropped by several degrees.
"I understand, of course. And I agree that Harry is precious. I would give much to be able to protect her from everything. But then I would have to be wary of Harry's retribution. She is...herself."
"Too true. She hardly lets one do a thing for her. And to do otherwise would make her unhappy. We can't have that, can we? It is a delicate line those who love her must walk." Lea leaned forward, eager. "We are family now, are we not? Perhaps one day you will come and see my kennels. I am quite proud of my hounds, Baron. They are keen and swift, and never miss their prey. It's very impressive, watching them bring down their prey. Though perhaps the screaming will disturb you. Those who offend me often seem to lack the strength to remain silent during the hunt. But you wouldn't, would you? Seeing their bright eyes glinting after you, hearing the howls, I think you'd remain silent, wouldn't you?" Her eyes were bright, eager as she met Marcone's gaze. I stared at them, trying to decide whether or not yelling at one or the other would do any good. And which one I should yell at.
"Maybe some day we can come see your kennels. They sound...exciting." Marcone leaned back in his chair, every line at ease and made a small gesture in Hendricks' direction. "We have already eaten, I'm sorry. But perhaps you'd care to join us for desert?"
Lea grinned, delighted. Crap. I think she liked him.
Thank you!
Lea's reaction is, I think, mostly happy. In a sidhe sort of way.
Exactly. Michael's known and worked with Harry for years. He's not going to jump down her throat, especially when he knows it won't do a damn bit of good. And he strikes me as, while being a believer, not being an asshole about it.
Lea's reaction is, I think, mostly happy. In a sidhe sort of way.
Exactly. Michael's known and worked with Harry for years. He's not going to jump down her throat, especially when he knows it won't do a damn bit of good. And he strikes me as, while being a believer, not being an asshole about it.
The wedding would be awesome! And possibly damaging to property.
:D
You mean like the 'Hetero not so normative' one I have bookmarked? Not that I'm thinking about it or anything...I swear!
You mean like the 'Hetero not so normative' one I have bookmarked? Not that I'm thinking about it or anything...I swear!
Exactly. For me, this bit from part 4 said it all--
Kindness wasn't part of the deal. I hadn't known it was a possibility.
Harry trusts John to keep Maggie safe, to protect her, because she is a child. But he has no expectations for himself, and no concept that he should have expectations.
Kindness wasn't part of the deal. I hadn't known it was a possibility.
Harry trusts John to keep Maggie safe, to protect her, because she is a child. But he has no expectations for himself, and no concept that he should have expectations.
Michael drove. I curled up on on the passenger's seat of his truck, and tried, desperately, to center myself, to escape the mindless terror I kept falling into, to find some shred of power I had left. Turns out that when that dream-demon took a bite out of me, it did some very real damage. And now I was practically helpless. I could barely light a candle, let alone channel the forces of nature into great and powerful weapons.
Michael had called Murph. Funny thing, she'd just gotten off the phone with me. Or rather, with someone pretending to be me, and pretty damn well if Murphy was fooled. Bob said that since the Nightmare manifested as a representation of what it was made of, and it had taken a big bite out of me, it would probably be able to take my form. Wasn't that a pleasant thought. Oh, and those powers I was missing? Yeah, guess where they'd gone.
When we got to the station, Michael slung the big sports bag he carried Amorachius in his shoulder as we got out of his truck. I grabbed my staff, as much to lean on as for it's use as a weapon, and a lunch box packed with a few magical basics, and followed him as quickly as I could into the station.
"Did I come this way?" I asked the greying old sergeant at the desk.
He blinked at me. "What?"
Michael put out a hand to steady me. "Did he come in just a few minutes ago?"
"Yeah," the sergeant said, peering at his clipboard. "Went up to see Lieutenant Murphy."
"Damn," I said. "Okay, I need to see her again. Could you buzz us through?"
He did. "What's going on here, Mr. Dresden?"
"Tell you when I figure it out," I said.
We hurried up the stairs to the S.I. office, on the fourth floor. It winded me more than it should have, but I pushed aside the pain in my lungs and nearly sprinted through the doors and into the big room where most of the officers of SI had their desks.
Murphy and Stallings stood in one corner of the room, in the middle of a crude circle of salt- I could see the reddish brown spot where one of them had closed it with their blood. Murphy had a hand on her gun, and a determined look on her face. In the other corner was Rudolph, being held in a chokehold by-
Myself.
I took a moment to stare at my double. He was dressed like I had been the night we took down Kravos. He had my face. He had used my face, my likeness, to get in here and threaten people. If Michael hadn't warned Murphy...
With a growl of rage I ran towards the thing wearing my body.
I heard Michael telling Murphy to stay where she was, heard his steps following mine, but all my effort was concentrated on taking down my double. I got my staff ready to wield as a simple blunt weapon, not stopping to futility try any magic.
The Nightmare dropped Rudolph and stepped towards me. "Ventas Servitas," he whispered, and I found myself knocked of my feet, pulled towards him. My vision started to go black around the edges, and when I got my bearings again, I was trapped, held in the same way Rudolph had been. Murphy, still in the circle, had gone pale. Michael stood a few yards away, Amorachius drawn and gleaming bright.
"Let him go," he said.
I felt the thin edge of a blade against my throat.
"Drop the sword, Knight," my double said. "Else I will slay him before you take another step."
"Michael, don't," I protested. "Don't trust him, he's-"
Michael, with a haunted look in his eyes, laid Ammorachius on the floor and stepped away from it. "Let him go," he said again.
To my surprise, my double did let me go, and I crumpled to the ground in a disoriented heap. I stared at the floor in confusion, and then looked up at the heavy thump and crash which I realized, after a moment, was the sound of Michael's entire body colliding with a set of metal shelves, followed by the shelves tipping over on top of him, along with the heavy binders they held. I could see him, still conscious but obviously struggling and in pain, trapped beneath the heavy shelves and their contents. The Nightmare stalked towards him.
And was waylaid by Murphy hitting him over the head with an iron crowbar.
He snarled and turned towards her, and I realized with a sick feeling to my stomach that she had broken the circle that had been keeping her and Stallings safe. "Forzare," he growled as he gestured at Stallings, and the officer was also knocked back against a wall. And then he grabbed at Murphy.
She put up a damn good fight. Despite the fact that, having taken my form, the thing had nearly two feet of height advantage on her and more strength, she had the skill to wield his own strength against him. Murphy could take me down easily. But that thing wasn't me. He had an endurance far more than a human would have, or he'd have gone down when she'd struck him with the crowbar. I wondered why he wasn't using magic. Was he tapped out?
And then he grappled her to the floor, pinning her down, and moved his hand into her head.
She screamed, not in pain, but in terror. I tried to summon any strength at all in me, magic or the simple physical ability to stand, but my muscles and mind both seemed entirely drained. My double looked almost blissful, completely absorbed in his task.
"Oh, Godson," a voice murmured into my ear, "what have you done to yourself?"
"Lea," I whispered in horror. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Why," she said with an almost musical laugh, "I've come to help you."
"Help me? You've got to be kidding."
"No, godson. I cannot face this creature for you, but I can give you some of your strength back. I can give you what you need to save these people. And all I ask, is that when you have, you fulfill the bargain you have already made, and come with me."
"You don't want me like this," I said. "Weak, and torn up. Wounded. Don't tell me you can just fix that."
"Oh, you will heal of those wounds in time," Lea said "And while you heal, such care I will take of you, such a pleasant passing of time."
Murphy kept screaming, but each time it was quieter, more muffled.
"Do you accept my bargain?" Lea asked. "You must act quickly, while the lady has mind left to save."
I stared at Murphy's wide eyes, feeling sick. "Yes," I said.
I felt Lea's lips brushing my forehead. "Then go, Godson."
And suddenly, the pain was gone, pain I hadn't even registered until I noticed it's absence. The sluggishness the vampire venom had left in it's wake was gone. I stood, with no weakness, no struggle, and simply having my normal physical strength back made me feel kind of like Superman.
But when I tried to gather my Will, it was as elusive as before. Lea hadn't restored my magical ability. Possibly hadn't been able to.
My eyes fell on Amorachius. I ran to where it lay abandoned on the ground. It thrummed with power in my hands as I advanced on my double.
He looked up just in time to throw an arm in the way as I swung towards him. The glancing blow hit with a flash of brilliant light, and he recoiled with a shrill scream. I readied for another swing as he scrambled away.
And then a cold, awful feeling came over the room, strangely familiar. It felt wrong and twisted, in just the way the barbed wire spell that had tormented Malone felt wrong and twisted. And then, the Nightmare smiled, and melted away into a sickly black fog.
The cold feeling passed. I heard Michael groan, and turned around to see him slowly crawling out from under the falled bookcase. "I'm okay," he said, wincing.
"Good," I said weakly, and turned towards Murphy. She stared up, unblinking, unmoving, lips still parted in a silent scream.
Lea stood next to her, flanked by two of her hounds. "And now, godson, it is time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain."
"Murphy's not safe yet," I protested. "I can't- I have to fix what that thing did to her. And kill it for good, before it comes back."
"You will come with me now," Lea said. "This instant." One of the hounds advanced towards me.
"No," I said, raising the sword again.
"Harry!" Michael yelled. "The sword can't be used-"
The hound leapt at me. I swung the sword wildly, and then-
I felt a jolt of pain and the sword flashed again. My hands went numb, and Amorachius fell from my grasp.
Lea grinned in triumph, but she reached not for me, but for the sword. "You are such a sweet boy," she said. "I must thank you for this, Harry. I could never have touched the sword if you had not betrayed it's purpose."
With that, she opened the barest glimmer of a doorway to the Nevernever and stepped through with her hounds, reality re-forming with barely a ripple behind her.
I stared at the spot she had been standing, unblinking.
"Harry," Michael said solemnly. His hand dropped on my shoulder.
"Oh god, Michael," I said, starting to shake. "What have I done? Michael, I-" I started to say, "I'm sorry," but that didn't even begin to cover it. How could I have been so- so stupid, so-
"Harry," Michael said. "There are people hurt."
Right. I made a quick survey. Stallings was winded and dazed, bruised but otherwise unharmed. Rudolph hadn't fared so well. He gibbered and babbled in terror, and I wondered if the Nightmare had done something to him, but he at least seemed aware of his surroundings. That just left Murphy.
She lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, unresponsive. I braced myself, looked into her eyes, searching for any hint of awareness. No soulgaze started. No response in her face. I felt for any spell like had been on Malone. Nothing. There was that, at least. I didn't think I could pull one of those out of anyone at the moment.
After a few moment's thought, I had Michael help me carry her back into the salt circle. I fixed where it had been scuffed out, and closed it with a tiny trickle of Will. I didn't know how to fix her, but at least I could keep her from suffering while I figured that out. It took several minutes for me to gather up the strength I needed, but I managed it. Murphy fell into a dreamless sleep, and I collapsed in exhaustion.
After some argument, Stallings called for help, with the story that Murphy had had some sort of seizure or fit, and then fallen unconscious. Michael's injuries and the fallen shelves were explained by him trying to restrain her, keep her from hurting herself. I'd rather have taken her somewhere with a good threshold, or to St. Mary's. There was nothing a hospital could do. But Stallings, being more experienced in reconciling the world of the supernatural to the world of bureaucracy, won out in the end.
Michael had called Murph. Funny thing, she'd just gotten off the phone with me. Or rather, with someone pretending to be me, and pretty damn well if Murphy was fooled. Bob said that since the Nightmare manifested as a representation of what it was made of, and it had taken a big bite out of me, it would probably be able to take my form. Wasn't that a pleasant thought. Oh, and those powers I was missing? Yeah, guess where they'd gone.
When we got to the station, Michael slung the big sports bag he carried Amorachius in his shoulder as we got out of his truck. I grabbed my staff, as much to lean on as for it's use as a weapon, and a lunch box packed with a few magical basics, and followed him as quickly as I could into the station.
"Did I come this way?" I asked the greying old sergeant at the desk.
He blinked at me. "What?"
Michael put out a hand to steady me. "Did he come in just a few minutes ago?"
"Yeah," the sergeant said, peering at his clipboard. "Went up to see Lieutenant Murphy."
"Damn," I said. "Okay, I need to see her again. Could you buzz us through?"
He did. "What's going on here, Mr. Dresden?"
"Tell you when I figure it out," I said.
We hurried up the stairs to the S.I. office, on the fourth floor. It winded me more than it should have, but I pushed aside the pain in my lungs and nearly sprinted through the doors and into the big room where most of the officers of SI had their desks.
Murphy and Stallings stood in one corner of the room, in the middle of a crude circle of salt- I could see the reddish brown spot where one of them had closed it with their blood. Murphy had a hand on her gun, and a determined look on her face. In the other corner was Rudolph, being held in a chokehold by-
Myself.
I took a moment to stare at my double. He was dressed like I had been the night we took down Kravos. He had my face. He had used my face, my likeness, to get in here and threaten people. If Michael hadn't warned Murphy...
With a growl of rage I ran towards the thing wearing my body.
I heard Michael telling Murphy to stay where she was, heard his steps following mine, but all my effort was concentrated on taking down my double. I got my staff ready to wield as a simple blunt weapon, not stopping to futility try any magic.
The Nightmare dropped Rudolph and stepped towards me. "Ventas Servitas," he whispered, and I found myself knocked of my feet, pulled towards him. My vision started to go black around the edges, and when I got my bearings again, I was trapped, held in the same way Rudolph had been. Murphy, still in the circle, had gone pale. Michael stood a few yards away, Amorachius drawn and gleaming bright.
"Let him go," he said.
I felt the thin edge of a blade against my throat.
"Drop the sword, Knight," my double said. "Else I will slay him before you take another step."
"Michael, don't," I protested. "Don't trust him, he's-"
Michael, with a haunted look in his eyes, laid Ammorachius on the floor and stepped away from it. "Let him go," he said again.
To my surprise, my double did let me go, and I crumpled to the ground in a disoriented heap. I stared at the floor in confusion, and then looked up at the heavy thump and crash which I realized, after a moment, was the sound of Michael's entire body colliding with a set of metal shelves, followed by the shelves tipping over on top of him, along with the heavy binders they held. I could see him, still conscious but obviously struggling and in pain, trapped beneath the heavy shelves and their contents. The Nightmare stalked towards him.
And was waylaid by Murphy hitting him over the head with an iron crowbar.
He snarled and turned towards her, and I realized with a sick feeling to my stomach that she had broken the circle that had been keeping her and Stallings safe. "Forzare," he growled as he gestured at Stallings, and the officer was also knocked back against a wall. And then he grabbed at Murphy.
She put up a damn good fight. Despite the fact that, having taken my form, the thing had nearly two feet of height advantage on her and more strength, she had the skill to wield his own strength against him. Murphy could take me down easily. But that thing wasn't me. He had an endurance far more than a human would have, or he'd have gone down when she'd struck him with the crowbar. I wondered why he wasn't using magic. Was he tapped out?
And then he grappled her to the floor, pinning her down, and moved his hand into her head.
She screamed, not in pain, but in terror. I tried to summon any strength at all in me, magic or the simple physical ability to stand, but my muscles and mind both seemed entirely drained. My double looked almost blissful, completely absorbed in his task.
"Oh, Godson," a voice murmured into my ear, "what have you done to yourself?"
"Lea," I whispered in horror. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Why," she said with an almost musical laugh, "I've come to help you."
"Help me? You've got to be kidding."
"No, godson. I cannot face this creature for you, but I can give you some of your strength back. I can give you what you need to save these people. And all I ask, is that when you have, you fulfill the bargain you have already made, and come with me."
"You don't want me like this," I said. "Weak, and torn up. Wounded. Don't tell me you can just fix that."
"Oh, you will heal of those wounds in time," Lea said "And while you heal, such care I will take of you, such a pleasant passing of time."
Murphy kept screaming, but each time it was quieter, more muffled.
"Do you accept my bargain?" Lea asked. "You must act quickly, while the lady has mind left to save."
I stared at Murphy's wide eyes, feeling sick. "Yes," I said.
I felt Lea's lips brushing my forehead. "Then go, Godson."
And suddenly, the pain was gone, pain I hadn't even registered until I noticed it's absence. The sluggishness the vampire venom had left in it's wake was gone. I stood, with no weakness, no struggle, and simply having my normal physical strength back made me feel kind of like Superman.
But when I tried to gather my Will, it was as elusive as before. Lea hadn't restored my magical ability. Possibly hadn't been able to.
My eyes fell on Amorachius. I ran to where it lay abandoned on the ground. It thrummed with power in my hands as I advanced on my double.
He looked up just in time to throw an arm in the way as I swung towards him. The glancing blow hit with a flash of brilliant light, and he recoiled with a shrill scream. I readied for another swing as he scrambled away.
And then a cold, awful feeling came over the room, strangely familiar. It felt wrong and twisted, in just the way the barbed wire spell that had tormented Malone felt wrong and twisted. And then, the Nightmare smiled, and melted away into a sickly black fog.
The cold feeling passed. I heard Michael groan, and turned around to see him slowly crawling out from under the falled bookcase. "I'm okay," he said, wincing.
"Good," I said weakly, and turned towards Murphy. She stared up, unblinking, unmoving, lips still parted in a silent scream.
Lea stood next to her, flanked by two of her hounds. "And now, godson, it is time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain."
"Murphy's not safe yet," I protested. "I can't- I have to fix what that thing did to her. And kill it for good, before it comes back."
"You will come with me now," Lea said. "This instant." One of the hounds advanced towards me.
"No," I said, raising the sword again.
"Harry!" Michael yelled. "The sword can't be used-"
The hound leapt at me. I swung the sword wildly, and then-
I felt a jolt of pain and the sword flashed again. My hands went numb, and Amorachius fell from my grasp.
Lea grinned in triumph, but she reached not for me, but for the sword. "You are such a sweet boy," she said. "I must thank you for this, Harry. I could never have touched the sword if you had not betrayed it's purpose."
With that, she opened the barest glimmer of a doorway to the Nevernever and stepped through with her hounds, reality re-forming with barely a ripple behind her.
I stared at the spot she had been standing, unblinking.
"Harry," Michael said solemnly. His hand dropped on my shoulder.
"Oh god, Michael," I said, starting to shake. "What have I done? Michael, I-" I started to say, "I'm sorry," but that didn't even begin to cover it. How could I have been so- so stupid, so-
"Harry," Michael said. "There are people hurt."
Right. I made a quick survey. Stallings was winded and dazed, bruised but otherwise unharmed. Rudolph hadn't fared so well. He gibbered and babbled in terror, and I wondered if the Nightmare had done something to him, but he at least seemed aware of his surroundings. That just left Murphy.
She lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, unresponsive. I braced myself, looked into her eyes, searching for any hint of awareness. No soulgaze started. No response in her face. I felt for any spell like had been on Malone. Nothing. There was that, at least. I didn't think I could pull one of those out of anyone at the moment.
After a few moment's thought, I had Michael help me carry her back into the salt circle. I fixed where it had been scuffed out, and closed it with a tiny trickle of Will. I didn't know how to fix her, but at least I could keep her from suffering while I figured that out. It took several minutes for me to gather up the strength I needed, but I managed it. Murphy fell into a dreamless sleep, and I collapsed in exhaustion.
After some argument, Stallings called for help, with the story that Murphy had had some sort of seizure or fit, and then fallen unconscious. Michael's injuries and the fallen shelves were explained by him trying to restrain her, keep her from hurting herself. I'd rather have taken her somewhere with a good threshold, or to St. Mary's. There was nothing a hospital could do. But Stallings, being more experienced in reconciling the world of the supernatural to the world of bureaucracy, won out in the end.
I was the anon who commented that Lea would be implying to Marcone that "My hounds, they dine on flesh" on another prompt. Lea's little speech here fills me with much sadistic glee. She's wonderfully scary and you show that well.
And she approves of John! Of course, he's nearly as scary as she is. I think, if John were given an extended lifetime, he would rise up in the ranks of the supernatural world like some kind of deity.
And she approves of John! Of course, he's nearly as scary as she is. I think, if John were given an extended lifetime, he would rise up in the ranks of the supernatural world like some kind of deity.
I've read a couple really great Girl!Marcone prompts, but most of them elide the difficulties Marcone would experience getting the underworld to line up behind her if she was a woman. I wanted to take a look at a Marcone who knew she couldn't replace Vargassi, and how she'd manage. So, uh here, strangely gen, near-het, warnings for homophobic hate-speach. There you go?
I sort of knew about her before. I mean, there's rumours, right? And it's not the kind of thing I listen to, but Bob read anything he could get his metaphorical hands on, the trashier the better, which included the kinds of tabloid with headlines like "Mafia Madame walks after 15m private session with judge!" Whenever my job brought me into contact with ladies of the evening, (which happens to me, professionally, more than you might think) Bob wanted to know if I'd run into "The Mrs. I hear she's quite the looker. C'mon, you'd tell me if you did, right, Boss?"
That was apparently what they called her: "The Mafia Mrs," like she was married to the mob. Later on, I found out calling her that was a bad idea, but that came later.
Anyway, it started out as a find-it job, a guy who came to me looking for his great-uncle's accounting records, lost since he died. It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that it wasn't his great-uncle, and the kid was one of several dozen wise guys scrambling to find some documents, "insurance," that a deceased consigliere had stashed with his mistress. Everyone had known about his insurance, and, word was, his insurance was keeping him pretty safe, except that he died in a traffic accident, and no one knew who his mistress was. In the frantic search, someone finally got desperate enough to think of giving me a try. I would have handed the whole thing over without realizing what I was doing, except that when I tracked down the papers (using the deceased's fountain pen) I found out that the reason no one knew who the mistress was was because the mistress was a mister, and the kid was scared out of his mind and hiding out in a twenty-four hour laundromat.
I barely had time to figure out how badly I'd been lied to when the laundromat was suddenly full of large men in suits. "Out," said one of 'em who shaved his head to conceal his receding hairline, who I mentally named 'Curly'. The half-dozen people waiting for their spin-cycles skedaddled. I stayed, since the kid was practically my client, or would have been, if we'd been able to talk long enough for me to make him understand who I was.
"You too," Curly said, when the laundromat had emptied and I hadn't moved.
"I know how it is; I leave here and you're stealing my delicates. You can't trick me," I told him. He and my client both looked at me like I was nuts. I like it when they underestimate me, but my client's lack of faith was a little bit hurtful. What, I can't have feelings?
Curly shrugged. The thugs started opening up the dryers and washing machines that were still spinning. At first I thought they were looking for the insurance in the stupidest possible place, but as the clamour of the laundromat wound down, a large black SUV pulled to a stop, and out got a man who I didn't recognize, but had the sudden unshakeable conviction was Tony Vargassi. A tiny voice pointed out to me that the kid had not actually paid me a retainer, and it might be a good idea to take my lacy unmentionables and depart.
I told the tiny voice that my unmentionables were not lacy, thank you very much.
The laundromat was silent, except for the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, when Tony Vargassi walked in the door.
Vargassi looked between me and my client and scowled. "Which one is Torrio's butt-boy?" he asked Curly, who was apparently the designated talker for the group. I had the brief thought that I could try taking the heat for my client, but Curly nodded at him before I could claim to be Spartacus. My client seemed to shrink under the force of Vargassi's glare.
I want you to know, I was putting together a plan, (or, at least, I was trying to think of a plan) but even a wizard has problems with approximately two-dozen armed men.
"You're in a fuckload of trouble, you little faggot," said Vargassi, when he was interrupted a click.
Take it from me, it takes a hell of a click to interrupt a guy with twenty armed men at his back, and this wasn't the click of a firearm, but rather the click of a woman's shoe. But she made it seem like the hammer of a revolver being cocked. There was a pause, while everyone turned to look.
I've seen white court vampires wield sex appeal like a bludgeon before, but I never knew mortal women could do it until Marcone walked into that laundromat like it was her goddamn boudoir. I don't quite know how to describe it. It was nothing overt; she was dressed like maybe someone's executive assistant, a black skirt of the sort that looked like it might be tricky to walk in, but it went past her knees, and a white blouse that closed at the throat. It should have looked like a piano teacher, but it looked like Lauren Bacall if she were a brunette. As soon as she had the attention of everyone in the room, she fired off her heels again, tack! tack! tack! and approached Vargassi as if he was the only one she saw.
"Mr. Vargassi. I hope our agreement has not changed?" she asked, sounding like a knife tearing through wet silk. It wasn't just me, either; Vargassi looked slightly dazed as well.
"I don't--" started Vargassi, but his voice sagged to a stop when she started talking again.
"Because I believe our original agreement was that if you had trouble with one of my employees you would come to me."
Vargassi seemed to regain his faculties. I felt a little bit of sympathy for him, although I pretty much lost it when he started talking. "Are you saying the faggot is one of your girls?"
She looked pissed, but, like, in a sexy way. "Mr Ferdinand is a professional, working in Chicago. That makes him one of mine."
"Wait a second," said Vargassi, "You knew Torrio was a fag, and you never mentioned it to me?"
"The sexual predilections of your employees are outside of our agreement," said Lauren Bacall. "If you wish to renegotiate, I am at your disposal, of course. Although perhaps not here." Her gaze flicked around the laundromat as if she was only acknowledging its existence under duress.
I kinda wished I had popcorn.
Vargassi visibly recalled the reason he was standing in a laundromat with two dozen thugs with guns. "Your butt-boy is holding onto some things which he shouldn't know about."
Ms. Bacall lowered her eyes momentarily in acknowledgement. "I'll contact you within the hour with their location. Mr Ferdinand, Mr Dresden?" and she spun on her heel and tack! tack! tack!-ed her way out the door.
I was half-way out the door myself before I realized what I was doing. In case you're wondering how she knew my name, let me tell you, I was wondering too. When I say I ran into some ladies of the night in a professional capacity, I mean in the capacity of my profession, not theirs. (Although one of 'em had enquired as to whether she could pay my bill with an exchange of services, I had been forced to explain that I did not think that would help me with getting my phone reconnected. She said she bet she could, but I had held out for cash, despite what Bob called me afterwards.)
So I was starting to guess who Ms. Bacall was, but I still didn't see how she knew who I was. And I hadn't a clue why I was following her out of a laundromat, except that I didn't really want to hang out with Curly and his friends, and didn't think I'd get another exit-line that good.
She walked out to where she was triple parked, after the goons, and Vargassi, and a red-headed line-backer held open the back-seat of a land-yacht. She folded herself smoothly in, Mr. Ferdinand followed, and so help me, so did I.
Inside, it was set up so the passengers could face each other, and I had the terrible suspicion that the vehicle had been used for sordid purposes in the past. I had just gotten around to feeling mighty uncomfortable in this carriage of sin with two ladies/gentlemen of negotiable virtue, when Ms. Bacall suddenly said, in a totally different voice, and in fact, a different accent, "And that, Jimmy, is an example of the sort of thing that does't happen when you keep me in the loop." She pulled off her pearl earrings, and I gaped, realizing that they were't even real: they were clip-ons. It was like seeing the back-side of a painted set piece. The sex appeal was switched off like it hadn't even been there, and she looked like a business woman annoyed at getting frappuccino when she'd ordered a latte.
Jimmy (he really didn't look like a Jimmy) covered his face with his hands, and sounded badly shaken. "Sorry ma'am," he plead, sounding very sincere. "I didn't think it was important. I thought it was, like, presents for his grand-kids, or maybe a nice kiss-off for me, or something. He just said I should hold on to it, and take a look at it if anything happened, he never said it was-- you know."
"You'll make it up to me," she told him, and I wasn't sure how exactly she meant that. Jimmy didn't look like he thought it would be fun for him personally, but he didn't look scared, so I put it down under 'man was not meant to know.'
"Mr Dresden," she said to me, as if we'd just met while lined up at a Starbucks, "I'm pleased to meet your acquaintance at last. Where can I drop you off?"
"Lady," I said, in my incredibly suave way, "Who the hell are you?"
"Genevieve Marcone," she said, and held her hand out to be shook. "I've heard of you from various of my people."
I looked at her hand, and wasn't sure if I should shake it. Not because I thought she had cooties, or anything, just, well. It kind of felt like I might be agreeing to something, and I had no idea what. Her face got a little pinched as I hesitated, but her smile stayed, even if it started looking a bit forced.
I felt like a heel, so I took her hand, and gave it a single pump.
"Harry Dresden," I said. "Always pleased to be able to help a lady."
I sort of knew about her before. I mean, there's rumours, right? And it's not the kind of thing I listen to, but Bob read anything he could get his metaphorical hands on, the trashier the better, which included the kinds of tabloid with headlines like "Mafia Madame walks after 15m private session with judge!" Whenever my job brought me into contact with ladies of the evening, (which happens to me, professionally, more than you might think) Bob wanted to know if I'd run into "The Mrs. I hear she's quite the looker. C'mon, you'd tell me if you did, right, Boss?"
That was apparently what they called her: "The Mafia Mrs," like she was married to the mob. Later on, I found out calling her that was a bad idea, but that came later.
Anyway, it started out as a find-it job, a guy who came to me looking for his great-uncle's accounting records, lost since he died. It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that it wasn't his great-uncle, and the kid was one of several dozen wise guys scrambling to find some documents, "insurance," that a deceased consigliere had stashed with his mistress. Everyone had known about his insurance, and, word was, his insurance was keeping him pretty safe, except that he died in a traffic accident, and no one knew who his mistress was. In the frantic search, someone finally got desperate enough to think of giving me a try. I would have handed the whole thing over without realizing what I was doing, except that when I tracked down the papers (using the deceased's fountain pen) I found out that the reason no one knew who the mistress was was because the mistress was a mister, and the kid was scared out of his mind and hiding out in a twenty-four hour laundromat.
I barely had time to figure out how badly I'd been lied to when the laundromat was suddenly full of large men in suits. "Out," said one of 'em who shaved his head to conceal his receding hairline, who I mentally named 'Curly'. The half-dozen people waiting for their spin-cycles skedaddled. I stayed, since the kid was practically my client, or would have been, if we'd been able to talk long enough for me to make him understand who I was.
"You too," Curly said, when the laundromat had emptied and I hadn't moved.
"I know how it is; I leave here and you're stealing my delicates. You can't trick me," I told him. He and my client both looked at me like I was nuts. I like it when they underestimate me, but my client's lack of faith was a little bit hurtful. What, I can't have feelings?
Curly shrugged. The thugs started opening up the dryers and washing machines that were still spinning. At first I thought they were looking for the insurance in the stupidest possible place, but as the clamour of the laundromat wound down, a large black SUV pulled to a stop, and out got a man who I didn't recognize, but had the sudden unshakeable conviction was Tony Vargassi. A tiny voice pointed out to me that the kid had not actually paid me a retainer, and it might be a good idea to take my lacy unmentionables and depart.
I told the tiny voice that my unmentionables were not lacy, thank you very much.
The laundromat was silent, except for the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, when Tony Vargassi walked in the door.
Vargassi looked between me and my client and scowled. "Which one is Torrio's butt-boy?" he asked Curly, who was apparently the designated talker for the group. I had the brief thought that I could try taking the heat for my client, but Curly nodded at him before I could claim to be Spartacus. My client seemed to shrink under the force of Vargassi's glare.
I want you to know, I was putting together a plan, (or, at least, I was trying to think of a plan) but even a wizard has problems with approximately two-dozen armed men.
"You're in a fuckload of trouble, you little faggot," said Vargassi, when he was interrupted a click.
Take it from me, it takes a hell of a click to interrupt a guy with twenty armed men at his back, and this wasn't the click of a firearm, but rather the click of a woman's shoe. But she made it seem like the hammer of a revolver being cocked. There was a pause, while everyone turned to look.
I've seen white court vampires wield sex appeal like a bludgeon before, but I never knew mortal women could do it until Marcone walked into that laundromat like it was her goddamn boudoir. I don't quite know how to describe it. It was nothing overt; she was dressed like maybe someone's executive assistant, a black skirt of the sort that looked like it might be tricky to walk in, but it went past her knees, and a white blouse that closed at the throat. It should have looked like a piano teacher, but it looked like Lauren Bacall if she were a brunette. As soon as she had the attention of everyone in the room, she fired off her heels again, tack! tack! tack! and approached Vargassi as if he was the only one she saw.
"Mr. Vargassi. I hope our agreement has not changed?" she asked, sounding like a knife tearing through wet silk. It wasn't just me, either; Vargassi looked slightly dazed as well.
"I don't--" started Vargassi, but his voice sagged to a stop when she started talking again.
"Because I believe our original agreement was that if you had trouble with one of my employees you would come to me."
Vargassi seemed to regain his faculties. I felt a little bit of sympathy for him, although I pretty much lost it when he started talking. "Are you saying the faggot is one of your girls?"
She looked pissed, but, like, in a sexy way. "Mr Ferdinand is a professional, working in Chicago. That makes him one of mine."
"Wait a second," said Vargassi, "You knew Torrio was a fag, and you never mentioned it to me?"
"The sexual predilections of your employees are outside of our agreement," said Lauren Bacall. "If you wish to renegotiate, I am at your disposal, of course. Although perhaps not here." Her gaze flicked around the laundromat as if she was only acknowledging its existence under duress.
I kinda wished I had popcorn.
Vargassi visibly recalled the reason he was standing in a laundromat with two dozen thugs with guns. "Your butt-boy is holding onto some things which he shouldn't know about."
Ms. Bacall lowered her eyes momentarily in acknowledgement. "I'll contact you within the hour with their location. Mr Ferdinand, Mr Dresden?" and she spun on her heel and tack! tack! tack!-ed her way out the door.
I was half-way out the door myself before I realized what I was doing. In case you're wondering how she knew my name, let me tell you, I was wondering too. When I say I ran into some ladies of the night in a professional capacity, I mean in the capacity of my profession, not theirs. (Although one of 'em had enquired as to whether she could pay my bill with an exchange of services, I had been forced to explain that I did not think that would help me with getting my phone reconnected. She said she bet she could, but I had held out for cash, despite what Bob called me afterwards.)
So I was starting to guess who Ms. Bacall was, but I still didn't see how she knew who I was. And I hadn't a clue why I was following her out of a laundromat, except that I didn't really want to hang out with Curly and his friends, and didn't think I'd get another exit-line that good.
She walked out to where she was triple parked, after the goons, and Vargassi, and a red-headed line-backer held open the back-seat of a land-yacht. She folded herself smoothly in, Mr. Ferdinand followed, and so help me, so did I.
Inside, it was set up so the passengers could face each other, and I had the terrible suspicion that the vehicle had been used for sordid purposes in the past. I had just gotten around to feeling mighty uncomfortable in this carriage of sin with two ladies/gentlemen of negotiable virtue, when Ms. Bacall suddenly said, in a totally different voice, and in fact, a different accent, "And that, Jimmy, is an example of the sort of thing that does't happen when you keep me in the loop." She pulled off her pearl earrings, and I gaped, realizing that they were't even real: they were clip-ons. It was like seeing the back-side of a painted set piece. The sex appeal was switched off like it hadn't even been there, and she looked like a business woman annoyed at getting frappuccino when she'd ordered a latte.
Jimmy (he really didn't look like a Jimmy) covered his face with his hands, and sounded badly shaken. "Sorry ma'am," he plead, sounding very sincere. "I didn't think it was important. I thought it was, like, presents for his grand-kids, or maybe a nice kiss-off for me, or something. He just said I should hold on to it, and take a look at it if anything happened, he never said it was-- you know."
"You'll make it up to me," she told him, and I wasn't sure how exactly she meant that. Jimmy didn't look like he thought it would be fun for him personally, but he didn't look scared, so I put it down under 'man was not meant to know.'
"Mr Dresden," she said to me, as if we'd just met while lined up at a Starbucks, "I'm pleased to meet your acquaintance at last. Where can I drop you off?"
"Lady," I said, in my incredibly suave way, "Who the hell are you?"
"Genevieve Marcone," she said, and held her hand out to be shook. "I've heard of you from various of my people."
I looked at her hand, and wasn't sure if I should shake it. Not because I thought she had cooties, or anything, just, well. It kind of felt like I might be agreeing to something, and I had no idea what. Her face got a little pinched as I hesitated, but her smile stayed, even if it started looking a bit forced.
I felt like a heel, so I took her hand, and gave it a single pump.
"Harry Dresden," I said. "Always pleased to be able to help a lady."
Page 164 of 177
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