It was a pretty nice holding cell, all things considered. They must have splurged when they renovated after the loup-garoup demolished the place the previous year.
"How long will we be in here, you you think?" Michael asked me.
I shrugged. "Murphy will probably show up in the early morning and sort things out, unless Father Forthill gets your message and bails us out first. Longer to get the Beetle out of impound."
"You would be the expert," Michael said, with a gentle humor.
"You bet I am. Last month, helping the cops take down a demon-summoning ritual killer. This month, getting arrested for disturbing the peace." I looked solemnly at him. "I'm giving you the full police tour, Michael. You're a lucky man."
He laughed. "Thank you, Harry. You sure know how to show a guy a good time."
"Hel- uh, heck yeah," I said. "You really never been arrested before? Running around with a big-ass sword, slaying evil things most of the cops don't believe exist? Is this one of those God perks or something?"
Michael shrugged. "Perhaps."
Michael and I had been working a lot together, lately. Taking down Kravos and his pet demon had been a pretty major production, of course, but in the weeks since, there had been an unprecedented amount of ghostly activity in and around Chicago. It started with small hauntings I could handle myself- could probably handle them blindfolded and handcuffed- but they'd been getting nastier and nastier. Tonight's spook, one Agatha Hagglethorn, had been a handful, and it was a damn good thing I had Michael as backup, even before my fairy godmother showed up.
What a night.
"It just bothers me," I said. "I mean, we bust our saving people from things they don't even acknowledge exist, and what thanks to we get? A night in the lockup. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother."
"Because it's the right thing to do," Michael said. "You're a good man, Harry. You saved a dozen innocent lives this evening. Isn't that enough?"
I deflated a bit. That's one of the things I was coming to really appreciate about Michael. I could never stay angry around him long. "Yeah," I said. "I guess that's enough."
Michael and I took turns dozing for the next few hours. It was maybe a couple hours before dawn when an officer let us out of the cell, telling us we'd made bail.
"Thank God," Father Forthill said when we walked out. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and his sunken eyes were filled with fear. "Harry. Did you send a young lady to me last night?"
I'd nearly forgotten about her- Lydia, was it? She'd shown up at my office the previous afternoon, convinced a ghost was after her and that she was in danger. I'd given her a talisman and sent her off to weather the night at St. Mary of the Angels. "Yeah," I said. "Did she make it?"
Father Forthill looked around the waiting room, at the cops and other bystanders. "Maybe I'd better tell you in the car. I understand yours is impounded?"
My muscles ached, I had a splitting headache, and I wanted nothing more than to just fall into my own bed and sleep properly for a few hours, but instead I got into Forthill's car with Michael and got a whole heap of new problems on my plate. The girl, the priest explained, had made it safely to the church just before sundown. And just after sundown, something had tried to get in. Something malevolent, and powerful. He described how they'd heard it destroying things outside, calling her name, rattling the windows.
"It stopped after a few hours," Forthill said as we pulled into the parking lot behind the church. "I left her alone while I checked the doors and windows, and when I returned, she was gone."
"Gone?" I asked. "Left, or just gone?"
"I found one of the doors unlocked. I assume she left, Lord knows why. It was only then that I got your phone message- I'm sorry you had to wait so long at the police station."
"Sounds like it wouldn't have been safe to leave until then anyway," I said as I got out of the car. "Uh, thanks for bailing us out, by the way." Of course he would have bailed out Michael, but I was a little worried about whether he'd help me, as well. Michael was a believer, a church-goer, and Forthill's friend. I was just the weirdo wizard who dropped by begging for holy water.
It wasn't quite dawn yet, and though the sky was beginning to turn from black to purple, most of what light there was came from the streetlights. The spirit, or whatever it was, had done a number on the floodlights that usually lit the parking lot. And the rose bushes outside the church. And the cars. I shivered, and not just because of the chill air.
"Perhaps we should get indoors," Michael said quietly.
"Good thinking," I said. "That thing might come back. I'll check out the damage out here once the sun is up."
Being inside a church like St. Mary's is a little weird for me. I've never been quite comfortable around churches. I might joke with Michael about it, but there's a very real history of people like me being killed by the faithful. Not so much in recent years, but that's mostly because most churchgoers don't believe in magic anymore, not because they've softened their stance. Even now, some of the apprentices of White Council wizards were lucky to get out of their backwater towns or villages alive once they started manifesting their abilities and the local religious authorities (of whatever stripe) noticed. You can't get away with public witchburnings anymore, but that doesn't stop quiet vigilante disappearances.
On the other hand, there's a very real power in faith. It's why places like St. Mary's are safe havens from some of the nastier supernatural creatures out there. Magic is the stuff of life, and if you get enough people together with shared intentions, that can create some very real magical effects even if none of them are practitioners. The effect is particularly powerful in Catholic churches, which baffled me until the first time Michael dragged me to Mass with him. I'm not saying I believe anything about wine turning into Jesus's blood or anything, but it turns out that whatever else it does, transubstantiation raises a hell of a lot of magical energy, energy which then just sits there, supercharging the prayers and faith of the congregation.
The energy itself doesn't bother me- it's actually pretty pleasant, and like most background energy, easy to tune out, like white noise. Still, it feels a little weird to just stroll in. It may feel benevolent, but it's a powerful force that I don't quite understand, and that makes me nervous.
Father Forthill filled in a few more details of the previous night while feeding us coffee and toast. Once the sun was up Michael and I gave a more thorough inspection to the outside of the church- no blood or other signs of some human or animal, even a supernaturally powered one. We were dealing with a spook of some sort, alright.
Michael and I agreed to split up, him to search for Lydia, and me to go consult an expert on ghosts, specters, and other things dead. I did manage to catch Mortimer before he skipped town, and he confirmed what I already knew and a lot more besides. Something was stirring up the ghosts alright, and causing turbulence in the barrier between our world and the Nevernever. I headed home to consult Bob, and was instead whisked off to the house of Micky Malone. After destroying the truly nasty piece of spellwork someone had thrown off of him, I returned home, exhausted, no closer to finding Lydia, and with a whole lot to figure out.
At least I had my car back.
With his usual freaky timing Michael called a few minutes after I stepped through the door. He hadn't had any luck on the Lydia front either.
"I need to ask Bob a few things," I said.
Michael made an annoyed sound, the sort that meant he had just suppressed a remark about how I shouldn't be consorting with spirits and by the way would I like to come to Mass next Sunday.
In return, I sighed in the way that I used as shorthand for "Shut up, Michael, and stop trying to convert me." Weeks of nearly daily association made that sort of efficient communication both possible and essential. "I'll try a tracking spell on Lydia afterwards," I added.
"Do you need me to pick you up?" he asked. He'd seen my tracking spells in action.
"Nah," I said, "Murphy got the Beetle out of impound for me."
His disapproving grunt translated roughly as "I hope you didn't ask that nice policewoman to break the law for you." I ignored it.
"Oh," I said. "Michael. I think... look, whatever is out there, it's nasty, and by looking into it we're probably attracting it's attention. You should probably sleep behind wards tonight." Actually, St. Mary's would probably be even safer, but whatever had gotten Malone had gotten past his threshold. If it could do that, I had no guarantee my wards would protect me. I'd be a lot more comfortable with Michael to watch my back.
Yeah, selfish. So sue me.
"Alright," he said. "I'll head to your place before dark."
"Good," I said, making a mental note to be sure to be back myself to let him in.
"I should go. I still have a few leads myself," he said. "God go with you, Harry."
"You too," I said, and hung up.
Time to talk to Bob and figuring out what the hell I was getting myself into.
I'm not quite sure what you're counting as obvious reasons and what you aren't. But yes, turning a family man into a bachelor who doesn't want to get close to people because they'll DIE omg is having, er, interesting effects on his character. Not to mention throwing a wrench in the gears of Grave Peril starting quite soon, necessitating a Rather Different Series of Events. Though yes, I intend to paralel the rest of Grave Peril, have a bunch of stuff happen in the months following (including Charity showing up!), and then cover Summer Knight, because ZOMG Elaine. Not sure how far I'll continue paralling the books :)
OP here, filled with glee! And of course what's the one thing Harry and Charity have in common (other than magic and trust-issues and mutual liking with Michael)?
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timeasmymeasure
AU Harry/Michael, 2/?
Date: 2011-03-03 06:37 pm (UTC)"How long will we be in here, you you think?" Michael asked me.
I shrugged. "Murphy will probably show up in the early morning and sort things out, unless Father Forthill gets your message and bails us out first. Longer to get the Beetle out of impound."
"You would be the expert," Michael said, with a gentle humor.
"You bet I am. Last month, helping the cops take down a demon-summoning ritual killer. This month, getting arrested for disturbing the peace." I looked solemnly at him. "I'm giving you the full police tour, Michael. You're a lucky man."
He laughed. "Thank you, Harry. You sure know how to show a guy a good time."
"Hel- uh, heck yeah," I said. "You really never been arrested before? Running around with a big-ass sword, slaying evil things most of the cops don't believe exist? Is this one of those God perks or something?"
Michael shrugged. "Perhaps."
Michael and I had been working a lot together, lately. Taking down Kravos and his pet demon had been a pretty major production, of course, but in the weeks since, there had been an unprecedented amount of ghostly activity in and around Chicago. It started with small hauntings I could handle myself- could probably handle them blindfolded and handcuffed- but they'd been getting nastier and nastier. Tonight's spook, one Agatha Hagglethorn, had been a handful, and it was a damn good thing I had Michael as backup, even before my fairy godmother showed up.
What a night.
"It just bothers me," I said. "I mean, we bust our saving people from things they don't even acknowledge exist, and what thanks to we get? A night in the lockup. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother."
"Because it's the right thing to do," Michael said. "You're a good man, Harry. You saved a dozen innocent lives this evening. Isn't that enough?"
I deflated a bit. That's one of the things I was coming to really appreciate about Michael. I could never stay angry around him long. "Yeah," I said. "I guess that's enough."
Michael and I took turns dozing for the next few hours. It was maybe a couple hours before dawn when an officer let us out of the cell, telling us we'd made bail.
"Thank God," Father Forthill said when we walked out. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and his sunken eyes were filled with fear. "Harry. Did you send a young lady to me last night?"
I'd nearly forgotten about her- Lydia, was it? She'd shown up at my office the previous afternoon, convinced a ghost was after her and that she was in danger. I'd given her a talisman and sent her off to weather the night at St. Mary of the Angels. "Yeah," I said. "Did she make it?"
Father Forthill looked around the waiting room, at the cops and other bystanders. "Maybe I'd better tell you in the car. I understand yours is impounded?"
My muscles ached, I had a splitting headache, and I wanted nothing more than to just fall into my own bed and sleep properly for a few hours, but instead I got into Forthill's car with Michael and got a whole heap of new problems on my plate. The girl, the priest explained, had made it safely to the church just before sundown. And just after sundown, something had tried to get in. Something malevolent, and powerful. He described how they'd heard it destroying things outside, calling her name, rattling the windows.
"It stopped after a few hours," Forthill said as we pulled into the parking lot behind the church. "I left her alone while I checked the doors and windows, and when I returned, she was gone."
"Gone?" I asked. "Left, or just gone?"
"I found one of the doors unlocked. I assume she left, Lord knows why. It was only then that I got your phone message- I'm sorry you had to wait so long at the police station."
"Sounds like it wouldn't have been safe to leave until then anyway," I said as I got out of the car. "Uh, thanks for bailing us out, by the way." Of course he would have bailed out Michael, but I was a little worried about whether he'd help me, as well. Michael was a believer, a church-goer, and Forthill's friend. I was just the weirdo wizard who dropped by begging for holy water.
It wasn't quite dawn yet, and though the sky was beginning to turn from black to purple, most of what light there was came from the streetlights. The spirit, or whatever it was, had done a number on the floodlights that usually lit the parking lot. And the rose bushes outside the church. And the cars. I shivered, and not just because of the chill air.
"Perhaps we should get indoors," Michael said quietly.
"Good thinking," I said. "That thing might come back. I'll check out the damage out here once the sun is up."
Being inside a church like St. Mary's is a little weird for me. I've never been quite comfortable around churches. I might joke with Michael about it, but there's a very real history of people like me being killed by the faithful. Not so much in recent years, but that's mostly because most churchgoers don't believe in magic anymore, not because they've softened their stance. Even now, some of the apprentices of White Council wizards were lucky to get out of their backwater towns or villages alive once they started manifesting their abilities and the local religious authorities (of whatever stripe) noticed. You can't get away with public witchburnings anymore, but that doesn't stop quiet vigilante disappearances.
On the other hand, there's a very real power in faith. It's why places like St. Mary's are safe havens from some of the nastier supernatural creatures out there. Magic is the stuff of life, and if you get enough people together with shared intentions, that can create some very real magical effects even if none of them are practitioners. The effect is particularly powerful in Catholic churches, which baffled me until the first time Michael dragged me to Mass with him. I'm not saying I believe anything about wine turning into Jesus's blood or anything, but it turns out that whatever else it does, transubstantiation raises a hell of a lot of magical energy, energy which then just sits there, supercharging the prayers and faith of the congregation.
The energy itself doesn't bother me- it's actually pretty pleasant, and like most background energy, easy to tune out, like white noise. Still, it feels a little weird to just stroll in. It may feel benevolent, but it's a powerful force that I don't quite understand, and that makes me nervous.
Father Forthill filled in a few more details of the previous night while feeding us coffee and toast. Once the sun was up Michael and I gave a more thorough inspection to the outside of the church- no blood or other signs of some human or animal, even a supernaturally powered one. We were dealing with a spook of some sort, alright.
Michael and I agreed to split up, him to search for Lydia, and me to go consult an expert on ghosts, specters, and other things dead. I did manage to catch Mortimer before he skipped town, and he confirmed what I already knew and a lot more besides. Something was stirring up the ghosts alright, and causing turbulence in the barrier between our world and the Nevernever. I headed home to consult Bob, and was instead whisked off to the house of Micky Malone. After destroying the truly nasty piece of spellwork someone had thrown off of him, I returned home, exhausted, no closer to finding Lydia, and with a whole lot to figure out.
At least I had my car back.
With his usual freaky timing Michael called a few minutes after I stepped through the door. He hadn't had any luck on the Lydia front either.
"I need to ask Bob a few things," I said.
Michael made an annoyed sound, the sort that meant he had just suppressed a remark about how I shouldn't be consorting with spirits and by the way would I like to come to Mass next Sunday.
In return, I sighed in the way that I used as shorthand for "Shut up, Michael, and stop trying to convert me." Weeks of nearly daily association made that sort of efficient communication both possible and essential. "I'll try a tracking spell on Lydia afterwards," I added.
"Do you need me to pick you up?" he asked. He'd seen my tracking spells in action.
"Nah," I said, "Murphy got the Beetle out of impound for me."
His disapproving grunt translated roughly as "I hope you didn't ask that nice policewoman to break the law for you." I ignored it.
"Oh," I said. "Michael. I think... look, whatever is out there, it's nasty, and by looking into it we're probably attracting it's attention. You should probably sleep behind wards tonight." Actually, St. Mary's would probably be even safer, but whatever had gotten Malone had gotten past his threshold. If it could do that, I had no guarantee my wards would protect me. I'd be a lot more comfortable with Michael to watch my back.
Yeah, selfish. So sue me.
"Alright," he said. "I'll head to your place before dark."
"Good," I said, making a mental note to be sure to be back myself to let him in.
"I should go. I still have a few leads myself," he said. "God go with you, Harry."
"You too," I said, and hung up.
Time to talk to Bob and figuring out what the hell I was getting myself into.
Re: AU Harry/Michael, 2/?
Date: 2011-03-03 09:13 pm (UTC)Also, as a lapsed Catholic I particularly appreciated that detail about transubstantiation.
Re: AU Harry/Michael, 2/?
Date: 2011-03-04 03:51 am (UTC)authornon Re: AU Harry/Michael, 2/?
Date: 2011-03-04 12:06 pm (UTC)Not to mention throwing a wrench in the gears of Grave Peril starting quite soon, necessitating a Rather Different Series of Events. Though yes, I intend to paralel the rest of Grave Peril, have a bunch of stuff happen in the months following (including Charity showing up!), and then cover Summer Knight, because ZOMG Elaine. Not sure how far I'll continue paralling the books :)
Re: AU Harry/Michael, 2/?
Date: 2011-03-04 07:28 pm (UTC)Michael knows they can take care of themselves!