Chapter 1: Eavesdropping
Chapter Text
Harry’s POV
The evening was winding down and I couldn’t wait to escape the farce that was my engagement party. Lara and I were both taken aback by Mab’s decision to declare marriage as the way to create closer ties between House Raith of the White Court of Vampires and the Winter Court of Faerie. From the moment we found out, Lara and I started looking for ways out of the arrangement. Mab originally granted us a one-year reprieve to allow me to grieve Murphy’s loss, and for us to participate in a more appropriate courtship. Molly was responsible for organizing both the courtship and the wedding and she innocently assumed that meant she should not start planning anything until a year had passed. The grasshopper always had my back.
Six months passed before Mab put her foot down and forced us to sign a contract stipulating a one-year engagement to begin with an official announcement at a gathering among the supernatural community, which generally did not concern itself with human proprieties such as mourning and courtship. A public announcement of the vanilla variety would follow sometime later at the discretion of the Winter Lady. Now here we were, at Marcone’s mansion, engagement officially announced and the one-year clock ticking.
I don’t know why Mab asked Marcone to host the engagement party, but he kicked off the event with his usual slimy businessman platitudes for Lara and his thinly veiled contempt for me and disappeared from the room. It was unlike him to ignore his guests and miss out on an opportunity to rub elbows with the supernatural elite. I made a mental note to track him down before the end of the night to figure out what he was up to.
I stood by the buffet, sulking, and pretending to contemplate the food while I surveilled the room. I observed the other guests, and I wasn’t sure if it was the mantle of the Winter Knight or just my own paranoia that had me ranking them by threat level. As I scanned the room, my eyes found Mab, looking as beautiful, cold, and deadly as always. The look she gave me suggested my ruse was not fooling anyone and that it would be in my best interest to stop brooding and rejoin the party. I went back to Lara’s side, attempting to be on my best behavior.
Lara wore a long white gown with off-the-shoulder sleeves to emphasize the pale, creamy skin of her decolletage. Her raven hair was in an elegant updo, accentuating the long, elegant line of her neck. The dress fit her curves perfectly, with thigh-high slits on each side exposing lithe legs that ended in a pair of shoes that likely cost more than a year’s rent in my old apartment. She was absolutely stunning, and I had less than zero interest in her. I held out my arm to her, and she took it, her long white gloves allowing her to avoid direct contact with my skin, which was still marked by Murphy’s love.
Lara and I made our way from table to table, greeting various members of the supernatural community. Lara, as always, was gracious and charming, chatting with guests and doing her best to create the illusion that we were a happy couple, excited about celebrating our upcoming nuptials. She had been the one to request the alliance in the first place and she was not about to give Mab a reason to believe she was anything other than thrilled with the situation. I, on the other hand, was surly, but it wasn’t particularly out of character for me these days and no one commented on it. The White Council, who had been silent after my excommunication, sent Carlos Ramirez as their representative. I was probably being petty, but after his words to me at Murphy’s funeral I refused to even look in Carlos’s direction. He stayed long enough to formally greet Lara, refusing to acknowledge me, and then left.
As soon as I had the opportunity, I broke away from Lara and searched the halls, looking for a place to step out of the limelight for a while. My patience was wearing thin, and the more time I spent with Lara, the more I felt like I was betraying Murphy. At first that feeling of betrayal was because I loved Murphy and missed her like crazy. It was impossible to think about being with anyone else. It was like there was a gaping wound in my chest and I was bleeding out, but you just couldn’t see it. As the months wore on, the ache in my chest eased a bit. I still felt guilty about the idea of being with someone else, but I felt more guilty that I had allowed myself to be put in this situation and wasn’t doing a whole hell of a lot about it. Before we were lovers, Murph had been my best friend, and she had always called me out on my bullshit. She would hate the idea of my letting myself be Lara and Mab’s toy and would have challenged me to fix it.
I found an open door to what appeared to be a study. Or was it a library? I didn’t know the technical difference between the two. Either way, I was in a room with walls of books, a conference room table with seating for six, and a fireplace with two armchairs that looked like a cozy place for reading. The overhead lighting was off, and the room was lit by wall sconces and a low fire in the fireplace. It was by far the most welcoming room I had seen in this place. I doubted that Marcone had ever taken a moment to relax with a book by the fire. That would require him to stop working and plotting long enough to behave like a normal human. Then again, Marcone wasn’t really human anymore. He was a Denarian. I tucked that thought back into the “problems for future Harry” portion of my brain and went to take a closer look at the bookshelves.
I was reading through the strange mix of philosophy, fantasy, and military history titles that had no discernable organization method that I could see when I heard voices in the hall. I quickly threw up a veil. I was in no mood to talk to anyone, and I hoped whoever it was would pass by without coming in. So of course, the door opened seconds later. Marcone walked into the room carrying a half-empty bottle of expensive scotch in one hand and a rocks glass in the other. He made his way to the conference table, not quite walking in a straight line, and then bumping into the chair before he collapsed into it. He made a small noise of disgust as if the chair had offended him. Marcone was normally so self-assured and graceful in an almost preternatural way that it took me a moment to understand that this was probably his version of being staggering drunk. Gard and Lara followed him into the room, with Gard taking up a position inside the door to ensure there were no interruptions, and Lara joining Marcone at the table.
“Out of sorts tonight, Baron?” Lara chided him in a flirtatious way and put her bare hand on his arm. I guess she ditched the gloves once she was away from me. I could see her eyes starting to shine silver as she turned up the vampire charm. The sight immediately put me on edge. The last thing I needed tonight was to witness some type of sexual encounter between those two.
It took Marcone a moment to focus on Lara’s hand and then pull his arm away “Your feminine wiles won’t work on me Ms. Raith, no matter how much I have imbibed.” Feminine wiles was an understatement. White Court vampire mojo was damn near a drug. I wanted to laugh out loud. Lara wasn’t used to being so blatantly resisted, especially when she used her powers.
“I’m well aware that your interests lie elsewhere Baron. I assume that’s why you filed six petitions with the Accords to stop my engagement?” I didn’t know what interests she was referring to, but Hell’s Bells, six petitions had probably really pissed Mab off. What did Marcone think he was playing at?
“I have filed six petitions because I have it on good authority that the Winter Knight was not privy to Mab’s plan regarding the method used to secure your alliance. I am assured he is against the idea and is upholding his obligation to Winter under duress. I consider Mr. Dresden’s forced participation in this relationship to be a form of enthrallment, from which every member of the Accords is guaranteed freedom. In addition, I have found that backing Harry into a corner has not traditionally been a good thing for anyone.” Don’t call me Harry, I thought. I debated dropping the veil and telling Marcone off, but he wasn’t wrong, and I didn’t want to admit that I had been eavesdropping. “In addition, I believe that an alliance between Winter and the White Court is bad for the people of Chicago. They have had to come to grips with the existence of the supernatural, the destruction of their city, and the loss of so many they loved. Strengthening ties between supernatural entities will only set them further on edge.”
“Of course, Baron, I am sure those are your only reasons." She smiled at him knowingly, but what she knew, I had no clue. "What was Mab’s response to your petitioning?” Lara was holding her cards close to her chest, but I could tell that she was looking for an angle that might help us end this arrangement. She also seemed to be implying that Marcone had other reasons for wanting to end the arrangement between the White Court and Winter, but I wasn’t certain what those would be.
He polished off the glass of scotch and poured himself another two fingers before replying. “She forced me to host this engagement party as a show of solidarity.” I suppressed the urge to chuckle. Mab did not tolerate insubordination and even though Marcone was a power in his own right under the Accords, she was not about to let anyone challenge her so blatantly without responding.
Lara laughed aloud, a light and sparkling sound that filled the room while Marcone just scowled. “You know Baron, there is nothing in my compact with Winter that requires the wizard and I be faithful lovers. Perhaps we could arrange something.” My number one reason for wanting to get out of the arrangement with Lara was to protect Maggie from exposure to the White Court. The poor kid should never see another vampire again. Well, except for Thomas. The number two reason is that I took marriage seriously, dammit. I couldn’t stomach the idea of being a husband in name only. As much as I didn’t want this arrangement, I would honor it, unlike Lara was already talking about inviting Marcone to her bed after being engaged for less than a few hours.
Marcone took another sip of his drink. “You may not worry about loyalty, but Dresden has shown himself to be a serial monogamist. His relationship with Ms. Murphy, while short-lived, still offers him protection against you, does it not?” I didn’t like this line of questioning from Marcone or the gleam I saw in his eyes. I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but it couldn’t be good. Even drunk he was a clever son of a bitch.
“He is, and it does,” Lara shrugged. “A minor inconvenience that will be rectified before we consummate the marriage.”
Marcone smirked. Dammit. That definitely wasn’t good. “And yet,” he mused “I have assurances that you and Mr. Dresden were seen in the throes of passion on the night before the battle, in the midst of his relationship with Ms. Murphy.” He paused to pull something from his pocket and throw it on the table. I edged closer to get a better look and nearly gasped in shock. It was a small, burnt, wooden plaque, roughly the size of a domino. The same runed plaque that Freydis had used to create the illusion of Lara and I having sex to act as a distraction and create an alibi while we rescued Thomas. Gard must have recognized it for what it was and saved it. I could see Lara visibly tense as she took in the object. “I’m sure it’s just coincidence that your brother went missing during that same timeframe.” Well shit.
Lara’s previously polite demeanor became something harder and her eyes flashed silver. “What do you want from me Marcone?”
“What I want Ms. Raith is for you to end your engagement. Do that, and I will keep your secret. If you find another way to ally with Winter, I will not object. Use a nuclear option if you must but end it. I will be gracious and give you the year, but I will not allow the marriage to occur.” The nuclear option? I had my own nuclear option involving Demonreach, but I was trying not to think about that. What was hers? Was he suggesting that Lara kill me? Why did he care so much if he didn’t mind Lara finding another way to ally with Winter? I know that I had sort of stolen The Eye and claimed his castle as spoils from the battle, but did he really want me dead? When it really mattered, we had been on the same side. Hells bells, we had taken down Titan together. Even if he was a Denarian now, he had still chosen to fight for Chicago, to fight with me for Chicago. I thought we had a mutual, if grudging, respect.
Lara hissed. “You can’t prove anything, and my brother is nowhere to be found. Making Mab or Erti aware of your suspicions about Thomas’s disappearance won’t accomplish anything and would only serve to put the wizard in danger. Or do you want him to be yours so badly that you would risk his life to keep him from my bed?” I didn’t understand what Lara was implying. I had made it clear to Marcone long ago that I would never work for him. Now that I was on Mab’s payroll, it was a moot point. Also, I didn’t think he would risk his relationship with The Queen of Air and Darkness by making the Svartalves aware of her Knight’s involvement in the disappearance of their prisoner. Marcone valued their alliance far too much. It’s why I had taken the risk to keep The Eye and take the castle. Well that, and because I loved pushing his buttons any chance I got.
Marcone ignored her jab. “You misunderstand me Ms. Raith. If you do not end your engagement, I will inform the members of your Court and other Accorded members that your father is nothing more than a puppet and that you pull his strings. Many are already suspicious of his lack of appearance during the battle. I can either help allay those suspicions or exacerbate them. Cross me and you will lose your alliance with Mab and most probably your Court. I’m sure House Malvora would be very interested in the information I can provide.” I wasn’t sure how Marcone had come by his information, but Lara had been controlling her father since our battle in The Deeps. He had long been weakened, unable to feed after my mother cast her death curse upon him. Lara was hoping to maintain the illusion of his role in the White Court until she had secured her alliance with Winter, making her a power in her own right. As a mobster, I was certain that Marcone participated in more than his fair share of blackmail threats, but this was one hell of a ballsy move.
Lara stood, back ramrod straight, and fists clenched. She was clearly holding back her fury and fear. “If you’ll excuse me Baron, I must be leaving. Thank you for your hospitality.” Marcone stood, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, ever the Gentleman. She looked like she wanted to eat him and not in the fun way.
“One year Ms. Raith. I’ll be sure to keep abreast of your progress.” Gard opened the door, and Lara stalked out. I was hoping Marcone would follow Lara out, but he stayed in the room. As Gard was closing the door I saw a small light zip in through the remaining crack and I recognized one of the tiny dew drop fairies that served as lookouts in my private guard. It flew up onto one of the bookshelves and settled in, presumably instructed to keep an eye out and report to Toot-Toot if anything bad was happening. The door clicked shut and Gard joined Marcone at the table where he had sat back down. He picked up the Scotch and offered her a drink. She pulled a drinking horn from God only knows where and poured herself some.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, the Valkyrie sounding uncharacteristically gentle. “I know that I am not the philosopher Nathan was, but I can lend a willing ear.” Nathan Hendricks. Marcone’s bodyguard and friend, who he was probably missing as much as I missed Murph. I hadn’t stopped to think about what Marcone’s life would be like without that constant grounding presence in his life, especially with Namshiel’s voice in his head.
He shrugged, a gesture that was so different from Marcone’s normal demeanor. One that made him look completely human. “What’s there to talk about? Harry Dresden has always been bad for business.” I scowled. So I had raised his insurance premiums? I had been an ally too. And I had kept his deepest secret. What was his problem with me now?
They were both silent as they sipped their drinks. After a moment Gard said, “I can see the appeal. He is quite handsome in an untamed kind of way. Plus, the man's balls practically drag on the ground.” She snorted. “From what I heard of his knighting ceremony, his dick isn't far behind.” I almost choked out loud. Having my encounter with Mab broadcast to all of Faerie was bad enough. I didn’t like the idea of Gard knowing about it too. At least maybe she heard something complimentary. “There’s just something about his stubborn audacity that is compelling to watch. I can only surmise it’s the reason that he has been continually able to get away with upsetting beings that should squash him like a bug.” She smirked at Marcone. “Is it the power that attracts you or the legs?” Gard was implying that Marcone held some sort of attraction for me. I was beginning to wonder if this room was a portal to a different dimension.
“In the beginning it was his power. I knew very little of the supernatural community and I thought having a magical enforcer would give me an edge over my competition. After the incident with the loup-garou, I knew there was no convincing him to accept my offer of employment. Then there was the incident with the shroud, that should have destroyed any tentative peace we may have had, and yet somehow it led to Dresden understanding me in a way I would never have expected. It drew me in. I watched him, engaging with him whenever I had the opportunity. During the incident in the Raith Deeps he asked me to be a better man and, in that moment, despite all the chaos around us, all I could think of was that I wanted to be, for him.”
I remembered that moment, when I had begged him to help me save everyone. It’s the first time I could recall calling him John, the first time I voluntarily said please to him. That moment had felt significant to me, and apparently, I wasn’t the only one.
Marcone went on. “I felt my fascination growing and after the incident on the island I found myself much too attached for my liking. I pulled back trying to create distance and objectivity. When he asked for my help with the girl, I rejected him. I told myself that the venture wasn’t profitable, that I was protecting my personnel. In reality, I was protecting myself emotionally.” His voice got quiet, “I didn’t know the girl was his daughter. I would have helped him. I should have anyway.” His face twisted in anguish and his breathing became harsh. “And then he died.” Marcone choked up and stopped speaking. "I always thought one day we would have to face one another, and I was prepared for that, but I couldn’t stand the thought of something as simple as a bullet taking him from this world. From our city.” I was having trouble forming coherent thoughts at this point. It didn’t surprise me at all that Marcone had prepared for a showdown between us. Hell, we had even discussed it on the beach after we defeated Ethniu.
Gard nodded. “You went to Italy to try to find a way to bring him back.” I was floored by that revelation. I knew Marcone had gone to Italy while I was busy trying to solve my own murder, but I hadn’t known why.
“I went to Italy, but it was futile. Then, improbably, he came back, only to be owned by Mab. I attempted to negotiate his release, but as you know, she is quite unwilling to let him escape her clutches. I dreaded watching Dresden morph into a creature of Winter under the influence of the mantle, and yet, somehow, he has borne that power in a way that has made him more human. He is somehow more himself than ever.” I felt myself blushing at his words and the emotion behind them.
“Much as you maintain your will despite bearing the coin. The two of you are well-matched. I know that you believe some day you will be forced to face off against one another, but perhaps there is another path forward.” Marcone hmm’d. Hearing Gard’s assessment of Marcone’s relationship with The Fallen gave me a sense of relief. I knew he was a strong-willed bastard, but I had lived with Lashiel’s shadow and knew what that temptation was like. That he had not succumbed already, despite his impressive mastery of sorcery, suggested that he may have found some type of balance with Namshiel in the way I had with Lash. “Plus, I am quite certain that he is attracted to you.” I wanted to object. I had always known that Marcone was a handsome man, but that wasn’t the same as being attracted to him.
“Perhaps. I know that he is unlikely to ever feel for me as I do for him, but I cannot abide by his being forced to marry against his will. I have just risked my biggest bargaining chip with the White Court to ensure that doesn’t happen.” Marcone sighed, “What would Nathan say if he could see me now?” My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. I reinforced the veil around me to ensure no sounds were escaping and I was incredibly glad that Molly had been teaching me how to veil my emotions as well. Marcone had feelings for me? Stars and Stones, what was I supposed to do with that?
Gard put a hand on his shoulder. “He would probably tell you that now, more than ever, it's important for you to embrace your humanity and that there's nothing more human than love.” They drank in silence for a moment. “Perhaps when the engagement is over, you can try another grand gesture to court him. I believe it is your turn.”
He raised an eyebrow at her and I echoed the expression, “My turn?”
“You had a centuries-old magic castle imported brick by brick and re-built it on his home as an epitaph when he died. He came back from the dead and destroyed the enemies that robbed your vault, after which, he gave you diamonds, which I believe is the contemporary tradition for proposing marriage. You battled a Titan together during which you saved his life and let him claim the glory. He then fought for reparations for the people under your Baronry. Then you let him make a ridiculous arrangement in the Tripp Gregory incident.”
“You and I both know that worked out well for all of us. Mr. Gregory was a liability, despite his loyalty.” Marcone stood and pushed in his chair. He was smiling now. It was the most genuine expression I had ever seen on Marcone. It made him look younger and annoyingly even more handsome. Some guys had all the luck. “Dresden did take my castle from me.”
She stood and rolled her eyes. “And you loved it. The two of you take foreplay to a ridiculous level.” I bit back a retort. Gard opened the door for him, and he left the room. As she was following him out, she looked directly at where I was standing and winked. Hell’s Bells.
Chapter 2: No Appointments on Sundays
Summary:
In the aftermath of the engagement party, Marcone receives several visitors. It seems he's not the only one interested in ending Harry's engagement. Each conversation is more revelatory than the last.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Marcone’s POV
The morning after the engagement party, I sat at the desk in my home office, slightly hungover, with Ms. Gard seated in a nearby chair perusing one of Nathan’s philosophy books. I was reviewing progress reports from the supervisors of my various construction projects around Chicago. The devastation caused by Ethniu and The Eye had created some unforeseen real estate opportunities that I had been quick to capitalize on in the aftermath of the Battle. While my rise to power had been primarily through organized crime channels, I had long since diversified into more legal endeavors where I could amass wealth and power more openly. Despite the change in my status, my desires stayed true to my original intent; I wanted to protect Chicago and the people in it. I would use whatever means were available to me to achieve that end.
There was a knock at the open door and my new assistant Gregory stuck his head in. He looked nervous, and I assumed he was afraid of reprisal for interrupting my morning. “Your first appointment is here, sir.”
I frowned and exchanged glances with Gard. “It’s Sunday Gregory, and I am at my home. I do not take appointments on Sunday or in my home.”
I heard Gregory’s voice from the hall. “I’m sorry sir, he is not taking visitors—”.
A gravelly voice with a unique blend of a Scottish brogue and Southern drawl that could only belong to one man cut him off. “Young man, you best get out of my way”. Ebenezer Blackstaff McCoy shouldered his way into my office, staff aglow, with Gregory close at his heels. Gard jumped to her feet, her hand on the handle of her battle axe.
The young man’s face looked panicked, perhaps fearing my retribution but I wasn’t going to fault him for not trying to fight an experienced wizard. “It’s alright Gregory, please leave us. Ms. Gard, please relax.” Turning to The Blackstaff I summoned up my best boardroom expression and offered “Wizard McCoy, I was unaware that we had an appointment. What can I help the White Council with today?” He scowled and it somehow reminded me of Harry. I wondered if that particular expression was part of the wizarding education curriculum.
“Baron Marcone. You know damn well we don’t have an appointment, but I am not here on Council business.” He did not appear happy to be here, but he let the light seep out of his staff. McCoy let out a deep breath. “I need a favor.”
“I see. Please sit.” I motioned to the chair in front of my desk. I sat and steepled my fingers in front of me. It was a favorite grounding technique that allowed me to focus my thoughts and hide any turmoil I may be feeling under the guise of contemplation. I had to admit, I was incredibly curious about what this favor would entail. I wanted to assess what I stood to gain from this opportunity before I heard his request. “And what would you offer me in return for this favor?”
“If my suspicions are correct, the favor will be its own reward, however I am willing to provide information in trade.” Information had always been my life’s blood, which I expected McCoy knew. “If I were to provide you this information, you and your Valkyrie would have to swear thrice, you on your Baronry, and her on her power, that you would not share the information with anyone else. Nothing I say today can leave this room.” Evidently, Dresden had not shared my status as a Knight of the Blackened Denarius with the White Council. He had made Mab aware, but not his own people. Interesting.
I used my most dismissive tone, hoping to disguise my intrigue. “What good is having information if I am unable to use it?
He gave me the smile of a man with the upper hand and said simply, “The information is about Dresden. So is the favor.”
There was a moment of silence while we took measure of one another. Beside me Gard said, “I swear. I swear. I swear.” and I wondered if her employer might have an interest in this situation somehow.
“Very well then. I swear on my power as Baron of Chicago that I will retain the information you provide. I swear. I swear. I make no promises to agree to the favor until you provide detail.” The old man nodded, seeming to expect this outcome. I needed to find a way to gain more control of this situation.
McCoy took a deep breath and let it out, as if centering himself for what he said next. “I need you to find a way to end Harry’s engagement to that White Court demon.”
I tried to keep the shock from my expression. “As I am sure you know, I have already petitioned for its dissolution. If there is an objection, why is the White Council not stepping in?”
“The White Council voted months ago. Harry is out. They did it during the Battle so the Senior Council members were not there to object. He is no longer recognized officially as a Wizard and therefore no longer has any sort of protection. He is considered a warlock. The Merlin already given me the order to execute his death warrant and suspended it, but any wrong move and they will send me after him.”
I felt a burst of pure and utter rage and leapt to my feet; fists clenched in an uncharacteristic display of emotion that I typically worked hard to avoid. I was too incensed to keep up appearances. I found myself grateful that Namshiel’s coin was in the safe. Otherwise, I don’t think I could have prevented myself from drawing power. McCoy stayed seated, but his staff was glowing again. He watched me closely. I took several deep breaths and sat back down, trying to maintain an even tone, “As an ally under the Unseelie Accords, that information should have been provided to me during the last Accords meeting. As the Baron of Chicago, where Dresden resides and where the White Council will certainly attempt to execute a potential warrant, I should have been notified immediately. So, I ask you Wizard McCoy, why was I not informed of Dresden’s status change?”
He sighed. “Despite how much you poke and prod one another, you and Dresden are known to have a history of cooperation, and as you pointed out, he lives in your domain. The Merlin was afraid that you might react poorly to the news and didn’t want to risk dealing with potential retribution during a rebuilding period.”
“The Merlin was afraid I might react poorly? He thought that I might not appreciate a group of cowardly academics threatening the life of the most courageous and selfless man that I know? A man who has time and time again put himself in harm’s way to protect the people of this city, and this planet, all while trying to abide by the rules the Council set forth? The man who battled necromancers? The man who ended the Red Court? The man who bound a Titan?” I was all but yelling at this point, but clearly, I had already given up on my typical decorum, so what was one more outburst? I took a calming breath, trying once again to regain my composure. “If The Merlin was indeed wise, he would recognize that the reason he fears retribution is because he is in the wrong. Harry Dresden is no warlock. I don’t give a damn about the White Council’s designation; he is the Wizard of Chicago. He is under my protection.” Harry Dresden was mine and there was no scenario in which I would let the White Council take him away from me against his will.
I expected anger, but McCoy smiled, seemingly pleased at my response. “I was hoping you would see it that way. Although I am a little disturbed at how much you know about him.”
I ignored the comment. The news of Dresden’s status change would have made it to me eventually and judging by my reaction, perhaps it was best that I heard the news in private. It was time to get to the heart of the matter. “If the White Council does not object to the engagement, why do you? I know that you have supported Dresden in the past but why seek me out? Why risk it?”
“The Council does not object to the alliance between the White Court and Winter. Not officially at least. But they see the engagement to Lara as more evidence that Harry is a warlock.” The White Council’s hit man slammed the end of his staff into the floor, the runes and sigils lighting up once again. “The White Court vampires are already responsible for the death of my daughter, and I will not let them have my grandson or cause the White Council to come after him.”
Grandson. I was quickly reshaping past interactions with this new information. It certainly explained the matching scowls. No wonder McCoy had required us to swear on our power before revealing something of this magnitude. “Does the White Council know? Of your relationship?”
“The older members do, but it’s not common knowledge anymore. For those who are against Harry, my role as Blackstaff does not help his case. The Merlin and others like him see it as another strike against Harry. My Maggie, Harry’s mother, challenged the Council. She was my apprentice, and she was strong headed, just like him. She thought we could do better, help more people. She was in agreement with you, that the Council is full of cowardly academics. She drifted away from that life, spending time in the Nevernever, and eventually becoming known as Margaret LeFay. It made it easier to hide our relationship. At some point she became involved with the White Court. I was so angry with her that I wouldn't speak to her. Eventually, she broke away from them and became involved with Harry’s father. She died shortly after Harry was born. I can’t prove it, but I know that bastard Lord Raith was responsible.” He signed audibly. “I never got the opportunity to reconcile with her. I failed my daughter Marcone. I failed Harry by not taking him on as my apprentice before Justin could get his hands on him. I won’t fail him now.”
I didn’t know who Justin was, but it seemed to be related to Harry’s youth. Much of his teenage years were unaccounted for, even with the types of resources I had at my disposal. “I am already pursuing certain courses of action in this matter. What else would you have me do?”
“For starters, I want you to do what you do best Baron. I want you to collect information. I want a copy of the marriage contract. I have some suspicions that I won’t share at this time but get me a copy of that contract and we’ll talk. In the meantime, I want you to protect him. Keep an eye on him, and if possible, don’t let him do anything stupid.” I snorted inadvertently and McCoy chuckled. I already had my people surveilling Dresden day and night, and had for years, but I wasn’t about to admit that. “Believe me Marcone, I understand what a tall order that is. That boy lives and breathes stupid just as much as he does courage. Just don’t put more pressure on Harry. He’s going through a lot right now and doesn’t deserve it.”
In the spirit of cooperation, I gave up my own piece of information. “I will do everything in my power to protect your grandson and his daughter, Wizard McCoy.”
McCoy stared at me gravely for a moment and then nodded. He stood, offered me a hand, and a in a voice gravelly with emotion said, “Thank you, Baron. I’ll be in touch.” I rose and escorted him to the door.
I turned to Gard. “What do you think? It certainly explains much.”
She nodded. “It does, but I believe he is still withholding information.”
“Of course he is. One doesn’t display all one’s cards in the first hand. I want to know everything you can find out about Maragaret LeFay, nee McCoy and her connection to the White Court.” I went to my private gym, needing to work off some energy and to think over the interaction. If my suspicions are correct, the favor will be its own reward. Much to think about, indeed.
Two hours later, I was freshly showered and back in my office. I was finishing a call with Talvi Inverno regarding the marital contract, when I heard Gregory say “Mr. Marcone isn’t taking appointments. Please call during office hours and I can schedule something for you.”
There was something that sounded like a body falling to the floor and a feminine voice said, “Oh la. I forget how weak mortals can be.” The door opened and the Leanansidhe entered the room. She was a striking creature of great power in the Winter Court, second only to Queen Mab herself. “Hello Baron,” she said in a sweet voice, her tone ignoring whatever she had just done to my employee.
I held up my hand. “One moment please.” I picked up my desk phone to call Gard. “Would you please come to my office and bring someone with you to care for Gregory? I believe you will find him lying in the hall outside my door.” I hung up and turned back to the powerful being who was staring me down impatiently. Gard entered the room, handing me a manilla folder with the word “Dresden” on the tab. “Welcome Leanansidhe. What can I do for Queen Mab today? Is she displeased with the party last evening?” I noted that the Leanansidhe made no objection to Gard’s presence.
“My Queen made observation of your early disappearance Baron, but she did not send me here today. I have need of you.” I had a strong sense of deja vu and suspected that if this request was not from Mab, it was somehow related to Dresden. I knew that he had dealings with the Leanansidhe in the past, even though I was not privy to their details.
“I see. And what is it that I can provide that someone as powerful as you cannot achieve herself?” I inflected my voice with a bit of The Gentleman’s savoir faire, creating a respectful but flirtatious tone that had suited me well in past dealings with the Fae.
“La, what a flatterer! It’s no wonder that he likes you.” Did she mean Dresden? I wasn’t certain who “he” was, but I wasn’t about to give that away. “I wish for you to end the Winter Knight’s engagement to the Raith demon.” I was beginning to wonder if I was in some type of Dickensian novel in which I would be visited by three spirits wishing for me to somehow make amends for past atrocities by preventing Dresden’s wedding. “I cannot act against my Queen’s wishes, but this must not be borne.”
“Why do you come to me for this request?” I was beginning to wonder if the entire supernatural community was aware of my affection for Dresden. “And what do you offer as equal recompense?” Balance was crucial when dealing with the Sidhe.
“There are few with the power you yield Baron and fewer who are able to act in this matter. Also, you care for him, and he trusts you.” I was surprised by her perspective on my relationship with Dresden and once again wondered what others truly saw. “As for what I offer, I will have information that I believe will be of interest to you. However, you must swear by your power that you will not share the information with anyone else.”
Once again Gard immediately said, “I swear. I swear. I swear.”
It was likely that the Leanansidhe was aware of my possession of Namshiel’s coin, and rather than mince words I said, “I swear on my power that I will retain the information you provide and do what I can to end the engagement. I swear. I swear.” This was truly turning out to be an odd day. “What do you wish to tell me?”
The Leanansidhe smiled broadly in a way that suggested she might not be completely sane. She gathered her skirts and sat across from me, still beaming. “It’s not about what I wish to tell you Baron, it’s about what you wish to know. You may ask one question.” She stared at me expectantly. I was about to protest the stipulation that I only ask one question when she added. “Come now Baron. You must want to know something about my sweet, sweet Godson?”
Godson. For the second time today, I found myself reshaping my knowledge of Dresden and his world. I needed a moment to focus, and I opened the folder Gard had provided. Inside were two pieces of paper. The first read “Margaret LaFey” and contained a timeline of events and a list of known associates. The second piece of paper simply said “Justin”.
Perhaps it was rash and a waste all things considered, but I could not allay my curiosity regarding the missing years in Dresden’s file. “I wish to know more about Justin and his relationship to Harry.”
“Justin DuMorne was Harry’s guardian and Master after my godson first came into his powers. Justin was of the White Council for a time but became something darker. He wished Harry to follow in his footsteps and groomed him accordingly. In the end, he attempted to enthrall Harry and Harry’s live-in lover, but you know of my godson’s will, he would not allow such a thing. La, I will never understand humans. They would have made a formidable coven. I found Justin’s teachings to be quite effective, but my Godson and I have oft disagreed about the use of pain as a motivator.”
I could feel the fury rising in my chest for the second time in a few short hours. This had been an emotionally tumultuous day thus far and the thought of Harry being abused as a child was making me irrational. The Leanansidhe continued, “When he was sixteen, Harry ran from him and was pursued by an Outsider. He came to me, seeking the power to free his love from DuMorne. I bled him and bed him and gave him what he needed. In return, he was supposed to be mine. He burned Justin alive and the White Council branded him a warlock and nearly killed him for his actions. The Wizard McCoy was able to intervene to save his life. Harry evaded me for many years. Due to some unfortunate circumstances, my Queen took on his debt and I was never able to make Harry one of my hounds.” She sighed. “He would have been so sweet, and I would have made him so happy.”
She rattled off the details as if they were a simple summarization of one’s day and not a description of several different atrocities all rolled into one. I keyed in on one phrase. “Bed him and bled him? When he was a child?” I did my best to remain calm, knowing that I could not afford to start a war with the Sidhe over something that happened decades ago.
“Oh la. You humans are so tedious with your morality. He asked for my help, and I gave it to him. He was delicious. My Queen agrees. You should really try sporting with him if you get the chance. He is quite impressive for a mortal.” She stood and tore a hole from my office to what was presumably the Nevernever. “I have answered your question, Baron. End the engagement. I will be watching.”
I buried my head in my hands for a moment, trying to process it all. I looked up and turned to Gard. “What do you think?”
She smirked, “I also think you would quite enjoy sporting with him.” I found I was suddenly and resolutely trying to focus on what I had learned, instead of thinking about Harry Dresden’s reported endowment. “I believe she told you partial truths, as is common with the Sidhe.”
I hmm’d in agreement, once again opening the file. “See what you can find under the name Justin DuMorne. I want the full picture.”
“Of course. It certainly has been a day for revelations. It seems that the willingness to go to great lengths for one’s loved ones is not just human characteristic.” I nodded and then froze, her words triggered a thought, a potential solution to a puzzle that had been eluding me. I pulled up two photos on my laptop while Gard looked at me inquisitively. I turned the laptop slightly so that she could view the screen.
“We now know that Margaret LaFey lived with Lord Raith for a period of time. Do you believe it’s possible that Thomas Raith was the product of that relationship? Could he be Dresden’s half-brother?” I stared at the picture of the inhumanly handsome vampire, taken by my surveillance team during his time living with Harry. Next to it was a photo of Dresden in a tuxedo, taken by a security camera from the entrance of my home during the engagement party. In the image he looked particularly well-groomed in a way that was contrary to his typical nature. Despite the Svartalf make of the camera, the image was still grainy in the presence of a wizard of his caliber. As familiar as I was with Dresden’s features, the photo was hardly necessary.
Gard examined the photographs. “There’s something in the jawline and the ferocity of the expression that is similar. Dresden may not be as physically striking, but they exude a similar presence. A familial relationship would certainly explain his willingness to cooperate with Lara in Raith’s extraction and subsequent disappearance.”
“Indeed.” The more I thought about it, the more certain I became of the explanation. I had always been jealous of Harry’s paramour, and perhaps that had prevented me from analyzing his appearance closely. They had a physical closeness and a shared trust that I had envied greatly. I knew that incest was common among the White Court, but that Harry’s sensibilities would never allow such a thing to occur. Reframing their intimacy in the context of brotherhood, I found myself pleased. Harry deserved no less from his family than the devotion that Raith had shown him in the past.
While it eased one of my concerns, it raised another. Because of the relationship with Raith, I believed Harry to be bisexual. Now I had no evidence to support that assumption. In the end, it mattered little. I knew that Dresden was not interested in me, regardless of his preferences. I had long since given up on the idea of his ever reciprocating my affection.
When my third visitor arrived, I was alone in my office. Gregory had been sent home to recover from the ordeal with the Leanansidhe and his backup had been told that I would allow visits from any supernatural beings associated with Dresden. The door opened and a winged fairy flew in. He was nearly three feet tall with lavender hair sticking out wildly in all directions. I recognized his attire as military dress and realized that I had seen this creature with Dresden during the Battle. Before I could speak, he addressed me formally. “Baron Marcone, I am Major-General Toot-toot Minimus of the Za-Lord’s Guard.”
Despite my irritation at the intrusion, I found myself amused. “Forgive me Major-General, but I do not believe that we have scheduled business. Did the Za-Lord send you?” Only Dresden would pay wyldfae in pizza and engender so much loyalty that he ended up with his own personal army.
“Harry doesn’t know that I’m here. I have come to request a favor Baron.” He landed on my desk, one hand on the pommel of a miniature sword that looked to be well-made and quite lethal, despite its diminutive size.
I nearly laughed aloud. I had previously pondered involuntary participation in a Dickens novel. Now it felt like something closer to the movie Groundhog’s Day. I was all but certain that this was another request to foil Harry’s engagement. While it seemed like it would be simple to take advantage of this situation, I didn’t want it getting back to Dresden that I had mistreated his associate. “And what would you offer me in return for this favor, Major-General?”
“Ummm.” It appeared he hadn’t thought that far ahead in the negotiation process. “I could give you a slice of pizza or tell you some things about the conomee. The pizza is the frozen kind, so it’s not as good.”
It took me a moment to understand, and I nearly chuckled aloud. “The economy? I’m afraid I already have an economic advisor, and I have all the pizza I could wish for.” His face fell and I quickly tried to reconcile the situation. This was an opportunity to ingratiate myself to someone close to Harry who may not be as politically savvy, and therefore as reserved, as my first two visitors. “Perhaps, Major-General, you would be willing to provide me with valuable information that only your Guard is privy to?”
He looked at me suspiciously. “What kind of information? I’m not supposed to tell anyone about who lives in the castle.” I filed that away for later inspection.
“I would not ask for any information that is not yours to give, and I will not use any information to hurt Harry. I swear, I swear, I swear. I simply wish to be notified when Harry is in danger, so that I may come to his aid.” After the incident with Tripp Gregory, I was looking for an opportunity to get back on Dresden’s good side.
The creature leapt off the desk and zipped around the room, clearly pleased with my request. “That’s easy! The Guard is always on the lookout!”
“What is it you would ask of me?” As I watched, his entire body shivered, ending with a pronounced flutter of his dragonfly wings.
“I want you to stop my lord’s wedding. He cannot be forced to marry the cold lady. He fights the cold of the mantle. He should not have to fight the white demon too.”
I didn’t disagree with him. “I see. And why do you think I would want to do that?
The fairy looked confused. “You are his consort. Why would you not fight for him?”
“His consort?” I was becoming certain that the entire supernatural community was much more clued into my feelings for Dresden than I had imagined.
“Last night, Bramblewine went to the room with the books to watch over the Za-Lord after the cold lady left. You and the warrior lady talked about courting gifts.”
I reflected on what was now a fuzzy conversation and realized it might be construed as a courting discussion by beings with a limited understanding of sarcasm. “Why did Bramblewine stay and listen when she realized that Dresden was not there? That seems like a violation of trust by someone that was not directly invited as a guest.” I had extended guest-right to Harry, knowing his Guard was part and parcel of that invitation, but it had not been specified. The Fae take guest-right very seriously and I was willing to exploit the lack of distinction to get answers.
The Major-General looked confused. “Bramblewine was protecting the Za-Lord! The Guard will not abandon him!”
I had a sinking feeling. “Are you telling me that Dresden was in the room with us?”
“He was! He was hiding from his finansay.”
I translated. “His fiancé?”
The Major-General adopted an air of exasperation. “That’s what I said!”
I bowed my head to the fairy, attempting to disguise some of my trepidation in the gesture. “Major-General. I will do my very best to help Harry dissolve his engagement to Ms. Raith. Please contact me immediately if Harry is in trouble.” The creature nodded and zipped out of the room.
I took a moment to reflect. Dresden had been in the room while I had threatened Raith to end the engagement and discussed my emotional attachment to him with Gard. Has she known he was there? Is that why she prompted me to talk about him? He had listened to our conversation and not revealed himself. I wasn’t certain if I was furious with him or relieved that he knew the truth. I knew Dresden. If he had been too upset by what he had heard, I would have been on fire before I could even call a defensive spell. A day of revelation indeed.
Notes:
This chapter was fun to write. As much as Marcone deals in information, he isn't as in-the-know as he would like to think, especially when it comes to Harry. I also wanted to even the playing field between them a bit. Harry has known about Amanda for a long time and also knows about Marcone and the coin. After the revelation about Marcone's feelings, Harry definitely had the upper hand. Marcone is sworn to secrecy but Harry already knows all of the information, so we'll see how it plays out :)
Chapter 3: Missing Them
Summary:
Harry settles into a routine in the castle. He has an encounter of sorts with Marcone while he is drowning his sorrows at Mac's.
Chapter Text
Harry’s POV
After the party, I tried to put both Lara and John out of my mind as much as possible. Not John, Marcone. I tried to put Marcone out of my mind as much as possible. It didn’t matter what I had overheard, he was still a criminal scumbag, and I still didn’t like him. We were enemies and that was it. A memory of his snarled words on the beach during the battle with Ethniu rang through my head, unbidden. I know it hurts. I know what you’ve lost. I know you’re tired. But you and I are all that stands between that creature and the city. Fine, maybe “enemies” was not the right word for what we were, but I still wasn’t going to think about him now.
As February progressed, things went back to normal, well as normal as anything ever was for me. Over the last several months, the castle had gone from acting as a shelter for families displaced by the battle with Ethniu and the Fomor, to functioning as a community center for children, both magical and non-magical. Maya and the other Sunflower tutors volunteered their time to help kids with their schoolwork, while volunteer Paranetters kept a lookout for those with budding magical talent. I helped provide additional training for those who needed more than the basics of magical study. Saturdays tended to be the busiest of the week, and the last of the volunteers left just after 8 PM, at which point Maggie and I were the only humans left on the premises.
An hour or so later, I tucked Maggie in and kissed her on the forehead. “Goodnight Maggie” I said and then ruffled the fur on Mouse’s head where he lay beside her bed. I turned to the carved wooden skull sitting on the dresser. Bonea’s green eyelights flickered to life and focused on me. I reached up and patted the skull gently, “Goodnight Bonnie.” The young spirit of intellect was slowly beginning to understand the human need for touch and affection, even though she was still primarily focused on absorbing as much information as possible. Her eyes brightened with warmth and then winked out, exhaustion from a day of parental controlled Bob exposure taking over.
I loved these quiet moments with my daughters. I knew it wouldn’t be long before Maggie outgrew this bedtime routine. Most kids her age were well past being tucked in by their parents, but Maggie still needed assurance that everything was ok. I would do it for as long as she needed, and honestly, it was my favorite part of the day. I was just about to walk out the door when her quiet voice stopped me.
“Dad? Can I ask you something?” She sounded sad and a little nervous.
“Of course you can Punkin’. You can always ask me anything.” I tried my hardest to protect Maggie from my world until she was older, but I promised myself that I would never lie to her, no matter what question she asked.
“Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, right?” I never really cared for Valentine’s Day when I was younger. I’m not really a hearts and flowers kind of guy. Maybe that’s because I never really had a lot of spare cash to spend on my romantic partner, on the rare occasions that I had one.
“Right,” I said, not sure where she was going with this. Maggie was twelve years old now. Did a twelve-year-old girl want a valentine? Suddenly I was feeling very unprepared for this conversation. I’d rather talk about monsters than think about the possibility of my daughter dating someday.
“And it’s Uncle Thomas’s birthday, right?” I momentarily relaxed, but then the familiar ache of loss rose in my chest.
I choked up just thinking about my brother. “It is,” I said, and my voice cracked with emotion. Mouse stood up and padded over to me, and I stuck my hand into his warm, shaggy grey fur for comfort.
I miss Thomas like crazy. We usually spent his birthday sharing pizza and beer in my cramped little apartment or celebrating at Mac’s. Now, my apartment was gone, and Thomas was on Demonreach, trapped in a prison to prevent his Hunger from killing him. With my brother’s boat, The Water Beetle, now in Lara’s possession, I didn’t even have an easy way to visit him on the island. It was something I planned to talk to her about on our first “date”, but for now, I was happy to stay away from her.
We were both silent for a minute. “I miss him,” Maggie whispered. “Miss Molly says that he is hurt and that you are trying to help him, but that he has to stay away.” Molly had always known what to say to Maggie to help her understand the darker things in my life. Maggie didn’t know that Thomas was a vampire, and I was not ready to have that conversation, especially not while I was engaged to Lara. Even if I couldn’t find a way out of the marriage, there was no way in hell I was allowing Lara anywhere near my child. Maggie had suffered at the hands of the Red Court of Vampires, and I was never letting anything like that happen to her again.
All I could say was, “I miss him too and I will do everything in my power to help him.”
She nodded, seemingly satisfied with that response. “Goodnight dad.” Mouse settled back by on the floor by her bed.
“Night Punkin’,” I said, and left her room, closing the door behind me.
I continued with my own bedtime routine, making myself a cup of tea and sitting at the kitchen table to review the castle’s finances. In the beginning I had tried to do my own accounting, tracking everything on a paper ledger, since I couldn’t be around computers. After watching me burn out my fifth calculator, Billy took over and left printed reports for my review. This week’s report wasn’t particularly encouraging. I don’t have my Warden’s paycheck anymore, Chicago was too busy recovering from the battle to employ my PI services in a routine way, and being the Winter Knight was an unpaid gig for the most part, so money was usually pretty tight. We had a lot of moral support from the community, but that didn’t always translate to funding.
I was always looking for ways to solicit financial backing. I had been considering asking Marcone for his advice on the topic, since he was the savviest businessman I or pretty much anyone in Chicago knew, but that wouldn’t help the whole “not thinking about him thing”. I thought about asking Lara, but I refused to be beholden to her in any way.
Toot-toot and Lacuna zipped into the room and landed on the table in front of me, standing on my papers. They were here to make their nightly report on the state of the castle's defenses. It wasn’t something I asked them to do, but after the incident with the gremlins, none of us was taking any chances. “The castle’s defenses are active. Maggie and the guardian are asleep. Mister is chasing a mouse in the corridor and your consort is home safe.” That was the first time Toot had bothered to include Lara in his report. As far as I was concerned, it could also be the last.
“Lara is not my consort and I don’t care what she is doing.” That wasn’t entirely true. I hoped she was actively working to find a way out of this engagement, but I didn’t think Toot would understand the concept of an arranged marriage and why I would want out of it. Any information he could provide me was bound to be irrelevant and I didn’t want any of the wyldfae near the Raiths. They had been enslaved by the vampires before, and I wouldn’t let it happen again if I could help it.
Toot shook his wings in a way that I knew meant he was irritated with me for not understanding him. “Not the cold lady my lord, your consort.”
I was totally confused. “Who?”
“The Baron of Chicago! He was hard to get close to, but we did it! He is safe! ” Toot-toot leapt off the desk, circled the room excitedly, and landed again.
I spluttered. “Toot, I already told you that I am not sporting with the Baron, and he is most definitely not my consort. Why would you think that?” The Little Folk didn’t really understand human relationship dynamics, but after Bramblewine overheard the conversation at the party, I had to explain to the Guard that I was not “sporting” with Lara or John or anyone else for that matter.
Toot scoffed as if I was being ridiculous. “Everyone knows that. That’s why he is going to stop the gagement. He swore thrice.”
I shook my head. I don’t even want to know who “everyone” is. “He is not my consort, and he didn’t swear thrice, he just threatened Lara to break things off.” Even though at the time it seemed like he wanted to end the engagement out of some type of romantic feelings for me, I had since decided that it had to be a political move on his part. He wouldn’t want the White Court to have more power than he did in Chicago, and my marriage to Lara could threaten the current balance.
“He did swear thrice my lord. On the day after the party. Once to the Blackstaff, once to the Leanansidhe, and once to me.”
“Are you telling me that you, Ebenezer, and Lea all went to see Marcone about ending my engagement to Lara?” Hell’s bells!
“We did, my lord! He promised to get the contract you signed, try to end the gagement, and not to tell the secrets.” Wait, what secrets?
I said aloud, “Wait, what secrets?” I currently have the upper hand in the knowledge department when it comes to personal information about Marcone. I knew about Amanda, the girl in the coma, and that Marcone was carrying the coin. I had only shared the latter with Mab to put pressure on him and I was certain she wouldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t like the idea of Marcone leveling the playing field.
“First the Blackstaff told him about how the White Council is a bunch of jerks and you are his grandson, and he wouldn’t let the vampires hurt you the way they did your mother. Then your godmother said he could ask one question, and he wanted to know about Justin DuMorne. Your godmother told him about how she was your godmother and then she told him about how she sported with you and then you killed your teacher.”
“Stars and stones!” Of course, Marcone would want information. He collected secrets like other people collected baseball cards. He spent his bargaining chip on Lara, only to earn it back with interest less than 24 hours later. I wasn’t sure if I was angry or impressed. I couldn’t believe that Ebenezar hated the Raiths so much that he would reveal such potentially dangerous knowledge. Lea always had her own motives, but I had faced my punishment for killing Justin and I didn’t think there was much Marcone could do with that information. I sighed, “At least no one told him about Thomas.”
Toot smiled with what looked like a proud expression. “No! He figured that out on his own!”
Lacuna chimed in, “Your consort is very smart, handsome, and has excellent teeth!”
Toot glared at her. “Hush woman! He is the Za-Lord’s consort, not yours!”
“He is not my consort!” I was extremely flustered now. “You should keep the Guard away from him. He is a very dangerous man, and he could have hurt you.” I honestly didn’t believe that Marcone would hurt them, but I absolutely did not trust Namshiel. “Wait, why did you asked him to end the engagement, and what did he want from you in return?” The little fairies that made up my guard had more intimate knowledge of my life than any of my other associates. I trusted them, but they weren’t always the best judge of character when it came to human relationships and what would or would not be appropriate to share. I wasn’t worried about myself, but I would not risk anything happening to Maggie.
“We want you to be free. You won’t have to live with the cold lady and be sad. Maggie will be safe. In return, the Guard will tell him when you are in danger so your consort can help save you.” I clearly hadn’t given Toot enough credit. He may not understand the political dynamics of the situation, but he understood enough. I was grateful to my small friend. I also found myself feeling grateful toward Marcone. He could have asked for something that would stir up trouble in my life, and instead he looked for an opportunity to help me. I said goodnight to Toot and Lacuna and made my way to my room. I stripped off my jeans and socks, brushed my teeth, and climbed into bed. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep any time soon. So much for not thinking about John.
****
On Thursday nights, Maggie and some of the Carpenter kids go to Saint Mary of the Angels to do crafts, play games, and do whatever else kids do at a church sponsored school night event. Charity, Michael, and Father Forthill managed the activities to give parents a chance for a little break, knowing their kids would be safe. As a single dad, it was nice to have a little time to myself. It gave me a chance to think about all of the things going on in my life without having to put on a brave face for Maggie and Bonnie. More than a month had passed since the engagement party, and I still wasn’t any closer to finding a way out of the situation. I was angry, sad, exhausted, and a whole range of other emotions, and I had no one to talk to about it.
On a Thursday evening in early March, I was sitting at a corner table at Mac’s, enjoying his latest brew, and thinking about Thomas and Murphy and what I would give to talk to either one of them. Murphy and I only had a few months together as a couple, but she had been my best friend for years before that. I was used to relying on her strength and her straight-forward approach to whatever I was dealing with. Thomas was more than a friend, he was my brother. Sure, we hadn’t grown up together, but we had become close. He always had my back, and I had his. Until now. I lost them both in such a short period of time and sometimes it still didn’t feel real. I was mostly past the point of tears these days, but tonight I was glad that I was sitting towards the back, in a darker part of the bar where I could be miserable without drawing attention to myself.
I was halfway through my first beer when Gard and Marcone came in. I hadn’t seen him since the night he had basically turned my world upside down and I was definitely not ready for any type of conversation with the man. On the one hand, I was secretly thrilled to know that he was working to end my engagement. I didn’t think for a moment that he was relying on Lara as his only option. I have never met anyone so terrifyingly competent in my life, and if anyone could make it happen, he could. On the other hand, I was doing my absolute best to ignore the idea that he had any type of affection for me. My feelings were so raw right now and processing my grief over Thomas and Murphy, and my fury about Lara was all I could muster.
Marcone moved to a table near the front of the room while Gard made a sweep around the place. I expected her to sit back down with Marcone, but instead she took one of the stools at the counter. As I watched, he took a small, silver object from the pocket of his overcoat and placed it on the table. He took off his overcoat, revealing gray slacks and a navy button up shirt, open at the collar and with the cuffs rolled up a few turns. Everything was tailored to show off his lithe but muscular physique. It was one of the most casual outfits I had seen him in and before I could contemplate what he might be doing at Mac’s dressed like that, the door opened.
A tall, lean man with dark, shaggy hair entered and Marcone flagged him down with a casual wave. The man smiled a little nervously and crossed the room. Marcone stood, giving the man a polite smile, and they shook hands cordially. I put the new guy at 6’4 or 6’5”. Not quite as tall as me, but in the same league. Marcone sat and gestured to the newcomer to do the same. The man took off his coat revealing a sweater and dress pants, not nearly as expensive looking as Marcone’s, but well-pressed. He was clearly making an effort. It was exactly like the sort of outfit you might wear on a night out with your sweetheart. Gard walked over to the table and delivered two beers, murmuring something to the man who I was now pretty sure was Marcone’s date. The date that looked a lot like me. Then she stepped away, moving back to the counter.
The part of my brain that had been trying resolutely not to think about Marcone was suddenly very interested in what was happening at that table. I was just starting to entertain the idea of listening to what they were saying, when Marcone reached out and touched the small silver object he had placed on the table. A veil went up around the two of them. It didn’t completely obscure them visibly, but it was kind of like looking through the wavy glass windows that you could still find in some of the older homes in Chicago. While I could still see some color and movement, I could no longer hear them at all. I felt myself scowling for no justifiable reason.
I was still staring at Marcone’s table when my view was cut off by Gard’s formidable physique. “Hello Dresden. Fancy seeing you here. Mind if I join you?”
As much as I didn’t want company, I nodded and motioned for her to sit. Gard was one of the few that could understand how I felt about Murphy’s death. She had been through something very similar with Hendricks. And now they were both in Valhalla, waiting to return as Einherjar. “Heya Siggy. How ya been?”
“There are good days and bad days,” she said matter-of-factly, taking a swig of her beer.
“I’ll drink to that.” I clinked my bottle with hers. We sat in silence for a few moments.
“Dresden, you’re staring.” I felt the heat rise up my cheeks into my ears. She was right, I was still looking at Marcone’s table, as if I was going to suddenly have a revelation about what was happening under that veil. I turned to face her.
“So, does he know about little show you put on for me in the study or library or whatever it’s called?” I still felt cowardly for not making my presence known. “I was trying to hide from Lara, not eavesdrop on Marcone.”
She nodded, “I assumed as much, and yes he is aware.”
Well shit. “Is he mad at me?”
“He was madder at me, as I am the one who could have easily stopped the conversation. Also, if you hadn’t noticed, he allows you to get away with things that other men would not dare to attempt in his presence.” I had always thought Marcone tolerated my insolence because he wanted my power. Now I wondered if maybe it was because he wanted something else from me.
“So why didn’t you?” I had been dying to know the answer to this question.
She shrugged. “It seemed the right time. The two of you would make an incredibly formidable pairing, you always have, and I think quite possibly you could make each other happy. I meant what I said about the importance of love in retaining one’s humanity. It applies to both of you.”
I contemplated her words. I thought through the times we had worked together, starting with the loup garou. We weren’t on the same side in that encounter, but he had still saved me. We had been through a lot together. I thought of him on the beach with the Titan. “I watched Ehtniu break his neck.” My voice shook a little as I spoke. “It scares the hell out of me that he has a coin. Especially that one. But I’m glad that he is still here.”
Gard looked at her watch and stood. “I should get back to my post. Have a good night, Dresden.”
She went back to the barstool she had been sitting on, and I continued to nurse my drink. A few moments later, the veil dropped around Marcone’s table. He and the other guy stood close together, chatting quietly. Marcone nodded to Gard, and the three of them left together. I was not annoyed at all.
Chapter 4: Why?
Summary:
Marcone confronts Gard about her choice of interview location and receives a visit from a certain Wintery lawyer.
Notes:
This is a short chapter but I wanted to hear Marcone's thoughts on his "date" and to show his progress toward ending the engagement before jumping into the next chapter, which will be fairly long.
Chapter Text
Marcone’s POV
I stepped out of my office into the antechamber where Ms. Gard and my administrative assistants had their desks. “Ms. Gard, would you join me for a moment please?”
I had initially planned to confront her ahead of time about the time, location, and dress code for the interviews for a new Social Media Manager, but I was curious to see what she was up to. I knew that Dresden was likely to be present during the time of the interviews, as each was scheduled for a Thursday evening in March. I knew that Dresden frequented the tavern each Thursday while his daughter spent time at St. Mary of the Angels with the Carpenter family. What I hadn’t expected was a candidate with an appearance reminiscent of Dresden himself and a complete lack of social media experience.
Gard had been mildly contrite about not informing me of Dresden’s presence during my discussion with Lara and subsequent confession of my affections toward the wizard. I suspected she would be even less so in this instance. I had felt Dresden’s eyes on me the moment we entered MacAnally’s last evening. Once the veil was in place, it had taken me only a moment to discern the interview candidate was inadequate for the position, but I used the opportunity to watch Dresden watch me. He had finally looked away when Gard approached his table. I knew it was unlikely she would tell me what they had discussed while I conducted one of the briefest interviews of my career, but I was intensely curious. The interaction was certain to have appeared as a personal meeting and possibly the preliminaries of a date. I wanted to know if his persistent glower had been related to my general presence, my interaction with another man, or something else entirely.
“Please sit.” I motioned to the chair in front of my desk. She took the indicated seat and waited for me to speak. “I’ve noticed that all interviews for my new Social Media Manager have been moved to Thursday evenings at McAnally’s pub.”
She feigned ignorance of the implications of my words. “You said that you wanted someone with knowledge of the supernatural. MacAnally’s is a logical choice of location for such discussions.”
I pushed. “I’ve also noticed that the appointment attire has been listed as ‘date night dressy casual’.” Gard nodded at my words, but as I hadn’t formulated a question, she remained silent. “I see. Can I expect all candidates to be of the same caliber?” Very tall, shaggy brunette hair, and limited knowledge about social media.
She smirked as she responded. “It’s possible.” Clearly, she was more focused on the possibility of getting under Dresden’s skin than my ability to fill the vacancy.
I filed that away to think about later. I raised an eyebrow, “You are aware that I would actually like to fill this position, correct?”
“I’ve hired a temp who I believe will be an excellent candidate for a more permanent position. She will be here in an hour to meet with you.” Gard smirked again and rose, deciding that the conversation was over. “In the meantime, it doesn’t hurt to keep interviewing potential candidates.”
As she walked toward the door I called after her, “Why?”
She knew what I meant without my having to clarify. She said softly, “Because I promised Nathan before the battle that if anything happened to him, I would look after you.” For a moment a pain that had been becoming more dormant rose to the surface and I could focus on nothing else.
****
My office door opened, and Ms. Gard ushered in a well-dressed man with coal-black hair and emerald-green eyes, carrying a briefcase. I shook his outstretched hand. “Mr. Inverno, thank you for coming. Please sit down.” I gestured to the seat opposite mine. “Were you able to obtain a copy of the document?”
“I was.” Inverno placed his briefcase on his lap, popping open the latches with long, dexterous fingers that hinted to his Sidhe heritage. He placed a document containing a few pages neatly clipped together on my desk. “The language used in this contract appears to be a translated form of marriage agreement, possibly belonging to a 9th or 10th century French feudal system. That is all the information I was able to solicit from my contact within Winter.” He shifted in the chair uncomfortably. “I would prefer to recuse myself from this issue going forward. While I appreciate your business, I have no desire to draw Mab’s attention again so soon.”
“Thank you, Mr. Inverno. I understand your reticence to be involved. Rest assured it will not impact our more mundane working relationship.” I stood and escorted him to the door. We shook hands once again and he left.
I reviewed the document briefly and asked, “What do you think Namshiel?”
“I am not familiar with the language of that locale and epoch. Are you certain Dresden is worth this effort? I still do not see the appeal.”
“I am well aware that you are impressed he bound Ethniu and he certainly played his part in our plan to weaken Nicodemus. You are simply still upset that he bested you.
Namshiel scoffed. “He used soulfire! A mortal should not be wielding the power of the angels. He would not have defeated me otherwise. He is brash and arrogant.”
I had heard this argument many times by now. “Be that as it may, yes, I believe that he is worth the effort.”
“Very well, my host. I do believe that ours is a more beneficial pairing than my previous one. Perhaps I should be more appreciative of Dresden in that regard. He’s still too impertinent for my taste, but I suppose it might be fun to teach him some manners.”
“Hush. That will be for me, not you.” I had thought about teaching Dresden some manners for years. I pushed that thought away before it could distract me further. I was already eagerly anticipating my next interview in two days. I turned to find Gard watching me. She was used to these internal conversations at this point. “Ms. Gard, would you please reach out to your employer to determine if he is able to assist with this matter?”
“Of course, Mr. Marcone.”
Chapter 5: Babysitting
Summary:
Another Thursday, another date. Harry helps Gard with a project.
Chapter Text
I was starting to dislike Thursdays at Mac’s. I had only taken a sip of my beer when Marcone and Gard entered. He chose the same table as last time, directly in my line of sight. He removed his long coat, laying it over one of the chairs, revealing an outfit similar to the one he had worn the week prior. Once again, it said “date”, not business meeting. He sat, facing the door, while Gard circled the room, smirking at me as she went by. Not two minutes later, the door opened and a brown-haired man who was at least 6’6” entered the bar. Maybe Marcone’s interest in me was more because I fit his type than anything to do with me specifically. I wasn’t sure why that thought bothered me so much, but it did.
Marcone stood, greeting the man with a smile and an outstretched hand. It seemed like one of his polite business smiles, but from this angle I couldn’t be sure. The newcomer smiled broadly, shaking John’s hand, holding on for what surely was longer than necessary. The Winter Mantle snarled at the contact. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Calm down Harry. He’s Marcone’s date. Dates touch each other. I still didn’t like it. I took a few cleansing breaths to try to center myself.
“Mind if I join you Dresden?” Gard asked and I startled. I had been so busy staring at Marcone and his date that I hadn’t even noticed when she approached my table.
I shook off my distraction and gestured to the seat opposite me. “Go for it. It’s not like I’m on a date.” I was going for sarcasm, but it came out sounding bitter. She raised an eyebrow at me, and I just shook my head. As we watched, Marcone put up the same shield he had used last week. “Is that your work, or is that Prickles’s doing?”
Gard chuckled. “Prickles? I bet they both love that.”
“What can I say? I aim to please.” I didn’t care what Namshiel thought of me and for some reason I had a desire to get under Marcone’s skin more than usual. “Seriously though, is it yours?”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s my work, why do you ask?”
This was a topic that would distract me from whatever was happening under that veil, and I jumped on it. “It’s impressive and I am shit at rune magic. I would love some pointers if you are willing.”
“I’m willing,” she mused. “What do I get in return?”
I was afraid to ask. “What do you want? I can’t give you any money because running the castle takes nearly every penny I have. I can’t give you anything as the Winter Knight because it would be seen as a favor from Mab. I’m no longer a Warden or a Wizard of the White Council so I can’t call in any favors. Hell, technically I’m not even a Wizard anymore at all. I guess I don’t have a lot to offer.” Wow. Laying it all out like that was really depressing. No wonder I wasn’t the one under that veil.
She scoffed, “Dresden, whether the White Council acknowledges it or not, you are one of the most powerful Wizards that I have ever met. They reject you because they fear you. Perhaps you should find less cowardly relations.” She made a not-so-subtle glance towards the table where Marcone was sitting. “I have a project underway that I could use your assistance with. It would be opportunity to review rune construction, and the working would benefit from an injection of your magic.”
Whatever she was working on was likely to be in the service of Marcone and I was surprised to find that I was ok with that. “Sounds good to me.”
She took a business card and pen from the inner pocket of her jacket and wrote something on the back. “Meet me there and don’t be late” she said and went back to her place at the bar. I finished my beer and decided to leave rather than stare awkwardly toward Marcone’s table for another round. As I walked past John’s table, I kept my eyes straight ahead and didn’t look back.
****
On Sunday morning at 7:20 AM, I met Gard at the front door of the Gerald Rather Athletics Center at the University of Chicago. The facility wasn’t open yet and I wondered what exactly we were going to be doing here. She didn’t speak before she turned on her heel and led me through the giant complex into an area containing an Olympic size swimming pool. There was a lone swimmer in the far lane gliding smoothly through the water with competent strokes. As I watched he made an effortless looking flip turn and kicked underwater before surfacing several yards from the wall.
Before I could ask why we were here, a young man of what I guessed was high school age, approached us from the direction of the locker room and gave Gard a somewhat bashful smile. “Good morning Ms. Gard.” He was wearing a cap and goggles and those swim shorts that had become popular in recent years. His physique was long and lean, and I suspected when he had put on some more muscle, he might make a formidable swimmer.
“Good morning, Joseph. As I tell you every week, please call me Sigrun.” It seemed that Gard performed weekly babysitting duty, though I didn’t understand why. “Is today the day?” she asked, and the kid beamed at her, blushing slightly. I could practically see the hearts in his eyes and the little cupids circling his head.
He laughed. “I doubt it, but we’ll see.” Then he seemed to realize I was there, and his expression darkened.
Part of me wanted to give the kid a hard time, but I had vivid memories of my first crush, and I knew the kid was probably suffering enough. Gard broke the tension. “Joseph, this is Mr. Dresden. He’s here to work on a project with me. Harry, this is Joseph, he is training to be on the University’s swim team next year. His father is an associate of Mr. Marcone’s.” So that explained the babysitting duty. Kind of.
I offered my hand to shake. “Hey Joseph.” My natural inclination to be a smartass, I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I behaved myself. “Nice to meet you. Good for you for getting up on a Sunday to put in the extra work.” He shook my hand and gave me a small nod of appreciation. There was no magical energy coming off the kid, so I assumed his father was one of Marcone’s associates of the human variety.
Gard nodded her head to indicate the other swimmer, “Go get him.” He flashed her a broad smile and jumped into the lane next to the one already occupied. She turned to me, “Let’s get to work. He will be done in about an hour.”
I followed her to a spot on the bleachers where a square wooden box about the size of a board game was waiting for us. She pulled a rune-inscribed stone from her pocket and ran it over the front of the box. I heard a click and the top sprung open on delicate looking hinges. Carved into the wood on the bottom of the box was a series of runes in between two concentric circles. Inside the inner circle was a carved symbol made up of 8 runed branches stemming from a central silver disk indented in a way that I figured it was intended to hold some type of substance.
“What do you see Dresden?” Honestly, my first thought was that it was reminiscent of a pizza with 8 slices and the little plastic thing in the middle that keeps the box top from touching the cheese. I opened my mouth to make a joke and Gard held up her hand. “Let’s just assume you’ve already made a smartass remark.” I shut my mouth and looked at the symbols again.
“It looks like a variation on a Vegvisir, a Viking compass, but the runes are different than I have seen. I don’t know what the outer runes say.” I pointed to the few inner runes that I knew. “Day, night, and birth. I don’t know the rest.
“You’re close, it’s a variation on an Aegishjalmur. It’s-”
“Gesundheit.” Sometimes I just can’t help myself.
She ignored the interruption. “The standard Aegishjalmur represents protection and power. This one is about balance. The points on the end of each stave are opposites. Male and Female. Love and Hate. Day and Night. Birth and Death. Together they represent the harmony of the physical, emotional, spiritual, and magical worlds.”
My excitement and curiosity got the better of me and I cut in, “All centered around the vessel in the middle.” She nodded, encouraging me to continue. “This is some kind of detector. It’s designed to register when the contents of the vessel are out of what the device thinks is balance.” There are only so many types of objects that would fit in the vessel, and the most obvious ones are hair or blood. That didn’t give me any real idea how the device would actually work.
“I’m impressed Dresden.” She stared at me for so long it became uncomfortable.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I shifted my gaze back to the swimmers. Joseph was now swimming next to the other man and was matching him stroke for stroke, the pace faster than the other man’s had been previously.
There was a tone in her voice I couldn’t define when she said, “Someday Dresden, I think the White Council is going to deeply regret the way they have treated you.”
I scoffed. “Tell that to The Merlin.” She didn’t say anything in response, so I pointed back to the device. “What does the outer ring of runes say?”
“It says ‘Power is always dangerous. It attracts the worst and corrupts the best.’”
That sounded familiar to me. “Is that an old Norse saying?”
“Actually, I stole it from the TV show Vikings.” She snorted. “It was fitting.”
I followed all the clues provided to a logical conclusion. “This is to detect the balance between Namshiel and Marcone. To ensure he isn’t being corrupted by The Fallen.” I wished that I had one of these when Lash was in my head. While I hadn’t let her take over completely, I hadn’t always made the best choices under her influence, and she was only with me for a few years. “Do you think it’s possible to take up a coin and not be corrupted? Isn’t that kind of the point of the coins in the first place?”
Gard sighed as if the weight of the question was physical. “I honestly do not know. Mr. Marcone is incredibly strong-willed. Moreso than any mortal I have ever met. But like you, he has experienced great tragedy. Emotions can lead to vulnerability. This detector is mostly for peace of mind, but he insisted.” We had both lost our best friends. We had both carried banners in the battle and felt what it was like to have those lives under our protection snuffed out. Those things had taken an immense emotional toll on me and if Lash was still living in my head, it might have been enough to let her gain more control over me. On top of that, Lash was only a shadow, unlike the real deal that Marcone was living with in his head. The fact that Marcone insisted on the detector told me that he was still in charge, for now. I had to admire his mental strength, but I didn’t know how long that would be effective against a being like Namshiel.
We were both silent for a moment, likely lost in similar thoughts. “How does it work?” I prompted.
“The vessel itself is imbued with the essence of his former self. It is his ancestral silver mixed with a blood sample taken before he took up the coin. When a drop of new blood is added, the Aegishjalmur will detect the resonance between the blood in the vessel and the sample, and the runes will glow. Green is good. Red is bad.”
I had to admit, I was impressed. This was a sophisticated working for a bunch to stick figures. “So how can I help?” I suddenly found myself wanting to be part of this project. In part for the enjoyment of using my magic in a new way, but also for Marcone. I thought of Gard’s words in the library the night of the engagement party. I wasn’t trying to court the man, but a gesture of good faith, a recognition of what he was trying to do for me, that’s something I wanted to give him. Also, I hoped it would serve as an apology for my eavesdropping.
“You are a man of fire and ice, balanced in one being. You are also Marcone’s other.” I started to balk, and she gave me a hard stare that shut me up. “Like it or not Dresden, he cares deeply for you. Your feelings for him may be complicated, but they are strong. You cannot be so foolish as to ignore the parallels between your lives.” She wasn’t wrong. We have both grown in knowledge and power over the last decade and a half, but it’s more than that. It’s The Shroud and The Deeps. It’s Mab and Vadderung. It’s Thomas and Amanda. It’s Murphy and Hendricks. It’s the mantle and the coin. It’s the difficult choices we make to protect our people and our city, the reason we come into contact as often as we do, fighting back-to-back instead of against one another. On the surface, we spend our time insulting and irritating one another, but that isn’t our reality. We are no longer the white hat and the criminal. We are the Baron and the Wizard. We are the Knights of Chicago.
For several long moments, I was lost in those thoughts, allowing them to reshape my view of my relationship with Marcone. Finally, Gard cleared her throat, bringing my attention back to the device. “If you suffuse the runes with your magic, I believe you will greatly increase the sensitivity of the detector. This is a delicate working, so please don’t go at it with your usual more is more approach.”
I wanted to be offended by that, but she wasn’t wrong about that either. “Give me a minute to prep.”
I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, slowing my heart rate and focusing my mind. I called upon my fire and ice, feeling them rush to my command, ready to be unleashed in a destructive burst. Using my will, I shaped those forces into something small, but potent. I added in my strong desire for Marcone’s protection as I held my hand over the center of the Aegishjalmur and whispered, “Infriga fuego delicarium”. I opened my eyes. A small, blue flame hovered at the end of my fingertips. I touched my fingers to the outer circle of runes and watched as the flame spread along the symbols, etching them and creating whisps of white smoke. The symbols flared a blazing red, then bright green and then faded back to nothing.
“Well done, Dresden. Thank you.” We spent the next little while talking about the principles of rune magic and how it compared to the types of sigils I used in my staff. Just after 8:30 I heard the low rumble of voices coming from the pool. Joseph was talking to the other swimmer and they both appeared to be wrapping up. He climbed out of the pool with the ease of someone who still had good knees and came toward us. The other man had his back to us, facing the side of the pool. He had broad shoulders and long functional muscles in his back that flexed under his skin as he reached for his water bottle.
Joseph reported to Gard, “I had him for my first ten laps. I can beat him for short distances, but when it comes to longer ones, he’s a freaking machine.” He shook his head and laughed, clearly in awe of the older man’s swimming prowess and I chuckled.
Joseph got defensive and asked, “Do you swim Mr. Dresden?”
I tried to make amends for laughing at the kid. “I used to swim in the pond at my mentor’s farm during the time that I lived with him. That was a long time ago and it was nothing like what you can do. The last time I went swimming, it was because I jumped off a train into a river. Gard’s boss saved my life.” I left out the part where he used the Shroud of Turin to do it.
Joseph’s eyes went wide, and I wasn’t sure which part of the story he was reacting to. He turned back to Gard. “My dad is waiting for me but tell Mr. Marcone that next time I am going to keep up with him for fifteen laps.” He smiled and headed toward the locker room.
My head whipped to the other swimmer, who was climbing out the side of the pool, muscles in his back and shoulders flexing. He stood and picked up a towel to start drying off and I could see his face. It was Gentleman Johnny Marcone, his legs long and lean in a pair of swim shorts similar to the ones Joseph was wearing. His muscled chest and biceps rippled as he toweled off his hair as he walked toward us. Marcone wasn’t a young man anymore, maybe a little softer in the waist, but somehow that only added to his appeal.
“You’re drooling” Gard said in a low voice. I snapped my jaw shut and tried to act nonchalant as Marcone approached.
“Dresden” he said in voice that was rougher than usual, and still a bit breathy from physical exertion. The sound of it sent a pleasing shudder down my spine. Get a grip Harry. It’s just Marcone. The voice in my head pointed out that we had never seen this much of Marcone before, and that we might indeed be getting a grip on ourselves later. Clearly my subconscious and I were overdue for a chat.
Normally I looked Marcone in the eyes. He was one of the few I could do that with as we had already taken the measure of each other’s souls years ago. But now, I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze and was looking at his left ear, fully healed after the incident with the Denarians, but still missing part of the flesh at the top. As I watched, a drop of water slid from his hair, down the side of his face, down his neck, and proceeded to make its way over his chest and down his abdomen. My eyes trailed that bead of water, taking in scars, chest hair, dusky pink nipples, and a trail of fine dark hair leading into the waistband of the revealing shorts. Gard cleared her throat, and I realized I had been standing there, blatantly staring at Marcone and not saying a word. He had once accused me of “awkward sexual reconnaissance” and I had just gone and provided a textbook definition of that phrase.
I straightened to my full height, trying to regain my dignity, but I could feel my face and ears burning. “Scumbag.” It came out in a lower register than normal, sounding more like a flirtation than an insult. Before he could say anything else, I turned on my heel and bolted for the door. My legs are long, so I can run away without looking like I am running. I called over my shoulder, “Thanks, Siggy. It’s been fun.”
Notes:
I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I knew when I started this work that incorporating unique magical elements would likely be equally as difficult as writing good smut. I'm happy with my little bit of rune magic and Harry's acknowledgement of the parallels between himself and our favorite mob boss.
Chapter 6: Contract
Summary:
Marcone's POV of the interaction at the pool. McCoy comes to visit and they review the marriage contract.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Marcone’s POV
I finished my workout and turned to a panting Joseph who stopped a few minutes before me. We went through the post swim ritual of removing caps and goggles and taking a deep drink from a water bottle. “Well done, Joseph. You’re getting stronger every week. Pretty soon you will have an old man like me beat.” I didn’t mention that I had already lifted weights and been swimming for some time before he joined me.
The young man beamed. “Thanks Mr. Marcone! I can’t wait to tell Ms. Gard that I hung with you for ten laps this time!” He hoisted himself out of the pool while I completed my post-swim stretch. A man can only be shot or stabbed so many times before there are some residual effects, and I have to stretch often to stay limber. I climbed out of the pool and threw my towel over my head, drying my hair as I walked. Gard would pick up the rest of my gear while I showered.
I looked at her usual spot in the stands and was shocked to find that she and Dresden were chatting with Joseph. I didn’t know why he was here, but I knew this was likely more of Gard’s plan to throw Dresden and I together as much as possible. There was no other logical reason that he needed to be at a swimming pool on a Sunday. As I approached them, I found myself somewhat self-conscious about my state of undress. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my body in any way, but my swim shorts are very form-fitting and my body’s natural reaction to being around Dresden might quickly become a problem in a public setting. Thankfully the water in the pool was quite cold. I only hoped that its residual effects would be enough to get me through this interaction.
As I reached them, I thought I heard Gard whisper something about drooling. I attempted to adopt my boardroom demeanor, but it was ruined slightly by the breathiness still in my voice from my physical exertion, “Dresden.” I was used to Dresden making unwavering eye contact with me, our soulgaze having occurred on the day we met, but he was looking at the side of my head instead, not speaking. As I watched him, his eyes trailed down my neck, across my chest, and down my abdomen to the waistband of my swim trunks. Gard cleared her throat, and he jerked his gaze back to my face, a flush rising from the collar of his shirt to the tips of his ears. It was delightful.
“Scumbag,” he uttered, his standard greeting. The pitch of his voice was lower than normal and his word rumbled through my chest, forcing me to suppress a shiver. I didn’t speak, focusing more on keeping my body in check than offering one of my usual retorts, as I waited for him to say something else. Instead, he turned abruptly and stalked out of the room, offering a casual goodbye to Gard over his shoulder.
I made my way to the private shower within the facility that was available to people like myself, who made large contributions to the school. I stripped, standing under the hot water, and replayed the interaction in my head. It wasn’t the first time I had caught Dresden looking at me, but usually his manner of scrutiny was cataloging and discerning. I often tease him about his lack of perception, but the reality is that he is extremely insightful, but he normally keeps his observations to himself, revealing as little as possible in both word and expression. This time, however, he had outright ogled me and when caught, blushed deliciously in a way that I typically associated with someone of a much fairer complexion. Even the tone in which he issued his usual epithet felt new and exciting. As much as I would have liked the conversation continue, I and my revealing shorts appreciated his abrupt exodus. Overwhelmed with concupiscence, I took myself in hand, once more reliving the weight of his dark gaze, the rosy flush of his complexion, and the gravelly sound of his voice.
Ms. Gard was quiet as she drove me back to the apartment acting as my residence for the week. I suspect she sensed my need for some quiet contemplation. She followed me to my office where I sat at my desk, and she took up the seat across from me. “Now do you believe that he is attracted to you? I thought I might have to stop him from licking you.” She laughed and I was momentarily distracted by the idea of Dresden’s tongue on my body. She went on, “Surprisingly that incredibly awkward conversation is not the most impressive thing that happened this morning.”
She retrieved the Aegishjalmur from her messenger bag and placed it on my desk. I could feel the power humming from it from where I sat. I rarely wore Namshiel’s coin at home, preferring to mitigate the risk of potential compromise from over-exposure. However, since taking up the coin, I found that I was much more sensitive to the presence of magic. Gard thought it may indicate a latent talent on my part. “It wasn’t like that yesterday. What did you do?”
“Not me, Dresden.” She opened the box and turned it towards me. I examined the familiar symbols. They looked the same, and yet I could intuitively tell that they had changed. Touching them, I could feel the power radiating from them, giving me the sense of both his destructive heat and biting cold, a feeling that was singularly Dresden. Every time I was near the aura of his power, my body tingled. My mind flashed back to the flush of his cheeks at the pool, and I shook my head to clear those thoughts, refocusing on the conversation at hand.
“How on earth did you convince him to assist with this working?” Dresden was never anything but reluctant when it came to helping me in any way. Admittedly I had tried to buy him when we first met, and he had never gotten over it.
“He offered a trade for some training in rune magic.” So that was how Gard lured him to the pool. “He seemed quite excited to assist when he figured out what this is for.”
“He figured it out?” I felt an unexpected swell of pride, though I was not truly surprised. My wizard had a clever mind.
She nodded. “He did. When he uses his brain for thinking instead of making idiotic quips, he’s quite capable.”
I chucked and examined the runes again. “This is delicate work. Are we sure that was actually Dresden this morning? The whole interaction seems entirely out of character.” Gard laughed and I could feel a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. I retrieved a lancet from my desk, pricked my index finger, and added a drop of blood to the silver vessel in the center of the runes. They briefly flared the bright green of a traffic light and then faded.
Gard changed the subject. “I heard from Mr. Vadderung this morning. Unfortunately, due to the intended use of the information, he is unable to assist.”
“I suspected as much. Thank you for trying. Would you please reach out to Wizard McCoy and make him aware that I have obtained a copy of the contract?” She nodded and left me to my work.
That afternoon, Gard escorted Ebenezar McCoy into my office. He received Gard’s message this morning and made the trip from Edinburgh to Chicago. Despite my increased exposure to magic over the last several years, I have never traveled the Ways myself and it always surprises me how quickly one could travel across the globe, if needed.
“Welcome Wizard McCoy, please sit,” I said, gesturing to the seat in front of my desk.
“Baron Marcone,” he nodded, taking the proffered seat. “What do you have for me?”
I handed him an envelope with a copy of the marriage contract from Talvi Inverno and the information I had been able to ascertain. “As you can see, I enlisted the University of Chicago Language Center to assist with the translation. Apparently, they have some fascinating new AI tools for learning institutes that can assist with contextual translations of older documents.”
The wizard looked confused, “AI?”
Sometimes I tend to forget how out of touch the wizarding community is when it comes to technology. “Artificial Intelligence Wizard McCoy.” I didn’t bother to explain further as powerful wizards tended to have trouble with any innovation created after World War II. “The White Council is lucky that the less talented members of the human magical community are able to use computers. Otherwise, you would doubtless be left behind in this age of technology, despite your impressive powers.”
McCoy ignored my comment, and we sat in silence while he read over the translation. “This seems to be a fairly standard marital contract with some additions to address the nature of the bride and groom. It’s signed by both parties.” He read aloud, “By breath and bone and blood.”
At this point, I had the information memorized. “As you can see from the annotated notes, ‘breath’ refers to the health of the individuals signing the contract. The assumption is that in feudal times, the groom would want assurance that his bride was healthy, which was likely a euphemism for virginal. The bride’s family would want to ensure that the groom wouldn’t die prior to the execution and consummation of the marriage, leaving them with the burden of caring for her. I don’t believe the word virginal has ever been applied to Lara Raith, but she is in perfect health as long as she feeds regularly. Aside from Dresden’s tendencies to constantly endanger himself, he is also perfectly healthy.”
McCoy grumbled, “The damn Raiths never seem to have any shortage of food.”
I went on. “The term ‘bone’ refers to the individuals’ control over their own bodies, essentially indicating ability to consent, which is ironic, given that the bride was traditionally given away like a piece of property. In the supernatural sense, it’s ensuring that neither party is under any type of mental manipulation. I have already petitioned against this marriage on the grounds that Dresden is being coerced, but Mab has rejected that argument, stating that arranged marriage is well within the duties of the Winter Knight. I hadn’t seen this contract at the time, but I don’t see any new context in this clause that would allow me to re-petition.”
McCoy nodded in agreement. “The White Council has improved its training against mental manipulation after some recent events. Harry was already skilled in that area and is even better now, so even though he isn’t happy with this arrangement, he’s in his right mind.”
“Finally, ‘blood’ refers to the approval of the members of the bride’s family. While Lara brokered this deal with Mab, Lord Raith most certainly approves of a union which continues the supremacy of the Raith clan within the White Court, and it is unlikely that her siblings would openly oppose their father’s will. Also, it could be argued that the original contractual language likely only refers to male members of the bride’s family and since Thomas Raith has been missing since the night of the peace talks, that point is moot.” Since Lara’s father was under her control, there was no point in attempting to convince Lord Raith to have a change of heart. I wondered again where Thomas Raith was and if McCoy knew about his relationship to Harry, assuming I was correct in my deduction.
McCoy only grunted and stood. “I’ll take this information to back Edenborough and see what I can dig up. Discretely of course.”
“I have also hired scholars at the Sorbonne to determine if they can provide any more insight. Many of their oldest records were lost in the fire of 1670, but it’s still worth the attempt.” I extended my hand in an offer to shake his. He grabbed mine and I could feel the tingle of his magic, so potent that it felt like a jolt of static electricity. “I will continue to exhaust all resources available to me.” He nodded and left, and Gard escorted him to the stairwell door. I stared at the contract again. There had to be a way to end this engagement.
Notes:
While Harry is coming to terms with whatever he feels for Marcone, John is well aware of his own attraction to our favorite wizard. He knows that Harry would be skittish if he came on too strongly, but he is perfectly happy to let Gard play whatever games she has in mind. He's good at thinking on his feet and can adapt as needed.
Chapter 7: Dream Chat
Summary:
Harry and Maggie spend the day together. Harry spends the night talking to his subconscious about Marcone.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Harry’s POV
After leaving the pool, I went to St. Mary of the Angels to pick up Maggie. She had gone to the 8:00 AM mass with The Carpenters this morning so I could meet up with Gard. I never understood why they went to church so early on Sunday. I had a hard enough time wrangling one kid out of the house that early, much less a whole carload of them. To each his own, I suppose. Michael and Charity were talking to Father Forthill in the small kitchen that served the clergy that lived onsite. We had been in this very room when I told Michael and Father Forthill that Marcone had Namshiel’s coin.
“So funny story, I battled a Titan with a Denarian.” I was never good at having serious conversations.
Michael frowned in confusion. “Harry, what do you mean that you fought with a Denarian? Did Mab have another agreement with Nicodemus?”
Father Forthill chimed in. “There’s been no intel on Nicodemus since the incident with the vault.” He meant Hades’ vault. The one that contained the religious artifacts I used during the battle.
“Not Nicodemus. Marcone has Namshiel’s coin, which means he’s had it since we all left the island.” When Michael got hurt, but I couldn’t bring myself to say that. “Based on how powerful they are together, I would say that he has been wearing the coin for several years. Honestly, I have never seen anything like it.” I shook my head, remembering Marcone spinning defensive spells off in rapid-fire cadence.
Michael clarified, “Let me get this straight. John Marcone is a Knight of the Blackened Denarius, and he helped you fight Ethniu?”
“He did. We wouldn’t have won otherwise. He also saved me from drowning…again…without using the Shroud this time,” I cracked. Both Michael and Father Forthill winced at the mention of Marcone using the Shroud of Turin like a tow rope. “He was there with me, taunting her to distract her from what I was doing, and she broke his neck.” I will never forget that sound as long as I live. “I went to comfort him in his last moments, and then he got up and those damned purple eyes appeared on his forehead. It scared the shit out of me.”
“Marcone helped you defeat Ethniu,” he repeated but seemed to be contemplating something. “If he has held the coin as long as you suspect, it also means that Marcone had it when he and Mab made their plan to weaken Nicodemus.”
Father Forthill was nodding, also looking thoughtful. “John Marcone is a man of singular will. I’m not sure what exactly this means, but it’s something the Church must keep an eye on.”
“Of course we should keep an eye on the situation, but I think this is something different than we have ever seen before,” said Michael. “I think perhaps it means that we should all have a little faith in John Marcone. Harry, you should reach out to him. You know what it’s like to have the voice of a fallen angel tempting you, and you know the man.”
I shook my head vehemently, “I am the last person John Marcone wants to hear from.”
“Harry,” Michael prodded “the two of you have a history together. You are, well, not close exactly, but important to one another.”
I balked, “We are not! Why do people think that?”
Michael gave me a look that said he thought I was being an idiot.
When he saw me approaching, Michael grinned broadly. He stepped toward me, leaving Charity to talk with Father Forthill. With a tone laden with suggestion, he asked “How was your morning with John?” Michael and Charity hadn’t been even a little surprised when I told them about the conversation I had overheard and John’s feelings for me. I had been expecting shock and indignation or an alternate explanation for what I had heard. Instead, they had just exchanged a knowing look, as if it was a foregone conclusion. This week, I told them about Marcone’s dates at Mac’s to prove there was nothing between us, and they both seemed overly thrilled at my frustration that Marcone was dating.
“I wasn’t with Marcone; I was with Gard. He was swimming almost the whole time. I didn’t even know it was him when I was watching him at first. Lots of swimmers have broad shoulders and muscled backs.” Michael smirked at me and my face heated up. “Oh, shut up.” I quickly changed the subject and explained the detection device that Gard created and how I had helped amplify it with my magic and my will, in order to aid in his protection.
Michael’s face lit up in that fatherly way he has about him. “John Marcone is an impressive man, and that is quite the gift you gave him, Harry.”
“What is? I didn’t make it, Gard did,” I protested.
“No, but you freely gave your power to help a man you constantly characterize as your enemy to ensure he retains his free will. I’m not certain there is a greater gift than the power of choice, which you certainly understand in your current state of betrothal.” He had a point I supposed, but I wasn’t going to acknowledge it.
Instead, I glowered. “Don’t remind me. And I didn’t do it for him. No one wants a man as powerful as Marcone corrupted by the Fallen.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Hmm, and yet you said you imbued the detector for his protection, not for protection from him.”
“Shut up,” I said again, and he laughed.
From the church, I took Maggie to breakfast, and then to the Adler Planetarium. I bought annual passes for the two of us before the battle. We hadn’t used them much and they were set to expire soon. It also felt like it was time to get out of the house and be part of the living again. With repairs continuing on surviving buildings, new skyscrapers being erected, and spring right around the corner, the whole city was beginning to put the battle behind it and focus on future. I felt more hopeful than I had in months.
By the time we got back to the castle, it was time for dinner. We put the industrial ovens to good use and made frozen pizzas for us and The Guard. Toot still hounded me to order from Pizza ‘Spress from time to time and I did when I could afford it. He agreed that frozen pizza was better than no pizza and Lacuna still refused to eat pizza entirely. After everyone was fed, I was feeling the effects of the long day. Maggie and I read quietly on the couch for a while, with Mouse lounging on the floor at our feet. At 8:00 PM, I put Maggie and Bonnie to bed and continued with my own nighttime routine.
I went to the kitchen, making myself a cup of tea and then waited for Toot and Lacuna’s report. “The castle’s defenses are active. Maggie is braiding the Guardian’s fur and she and Bonea are giggling about it. Mister has not returned from his recent explorations. Your consort has been talking to the Chooser about someone named Art.” I wondered if that was the name of the guy from Mac’s on Thursday and scowled. As soon as I let myself think about Marcone, the memories of this morning came rushing back to me. I had made a complete fool of myself and if I was confronted with a half-naked and breathless John again, I’m not sure I could produce any different result. Determined to stop thinking about Marcone, I took a cold shower and climbed into bed, letting the exhaustion of the day wash over me. I drifted off to sleep in no time.
My subconscious was waiting for me. He was looking at himself in a 3-way mirror, the kind that you might see in a department store. Instead of the usual black jeans, black button-up shirt, and duster, he was in a pair of fitted dark-wash blue jeans, a faded blue cotton short-sleeved waffle shirt, tucked in above a wide brown leather belt, and brown leather ankle boots. The shirt was snug, and his short sleeves were rolled up, exposing the bottom half of his biceps. It was unbuttoned almost halfway to his navel, revealing a good amount of chest hair and skin. His belt had a silver belt buckle that complimented his pentacle, shield bracelet, and kinetic rings. His shaggy hair was styled in a way that looked intentionally windblown, and not just messy. Overall, it was something that would be more at home on Thomas than me, but I had to admit that he was pulling it off pretty well. “What the hell are you wearing? Where’s the duster?”
My double turned to me. “I’m just giving you some ideas for your first date with Marcone. The man usually sees you in ill-fitting pants and a stained t-shirt with ridiculous graphics and somehow still wants you.” He looked back over his shoulder into the mirror, clearly staring at his own ass. “It wouldn’t hurt to show off your best features. You’ve got legs for miles, an ass that won’t quit, and what’s in the front of your pants isn’t hurting you any either.” He grabbed the bulge in his jeans in a lewd manner.
I rolled my eyes. “I am not going on a date with Marcone. I don’t even feel that way about him. Plus, I am engaged to Lara and I still love Murphy.”
He looked at me as if I was an idiot. That was happening a lot these days. “Let’s set aside your feelings for Marcone for a moment and address the rest of what you just said. Lara Raith is not even a factor, and you know it. You are doing everything you can to get out of that relationship. If you have to go through with it, you’ve already made the decision to maintain a separate life for Maggie. You’ll provide the appearance of a relationship with her as Mab requires, but beyond consummation you have no intention of spending time with her, let alone touching her.” My double succinctly summarized all the thoughts I had been formulating about a future in which I am permanently tied to Lara Raith. It’s really hard to argue with yourself sometimes.
“Ok, fine. Lara is not really an issue from an emotional standpoint, but I am not the kind of guy who is vowed to someone and dates someone else.” Even though I had never witnessed it, I knew my parents had been truly happy together. My dad used to tell me all the time about how much he and my mom loved one another and how much he missed her. I didn’t want to settle for anything less than what they had.
“Do you hear yourself? ‘Vowed’?” He made air quotes. “You won’t even use the word ‘married’ because you don’t believe that’s what it really is. You will have an arrangement with Lara similar to what you have with Mab, though ironically with more freedom. Mab is your boss and Lara will be your work wife. Neither of those relationships will inhibit your ability to connect emotionally with someone else. You’re just using that as an excuse.” I started to interject but he held up his hand to stop me from talking. “The hardest part would be explaining the whole situation to a potential lover and John is already well aware of the situation.”
My subconscious stared at me in stony silence, as if daring me to refute his argument. I didn’t. I was busy processing everything he had just said. It wasn’t the first time he had presented me with arguments that I had never consciously entertained before. Once again, it made me wonder if these types of dream conversations were normal for wizards or if I was just lucky.
“Let’s move on to your next point, your relationship with Murphy. You miss her, there is no denying that. There’s also the fact that she was your best friend, but let’s examine that a little. In the early years, how many times did she arrest you instead of giving you a modicum of trust? In those days, if she had said something like, ‘I have to follow the rules Harry, but I have faith in you and we’ll figure this out’, I could have respected that, but she didn’t. There was a lot of information she couldn’t share with you because it was police business, and you understood that. She never gave you the same leeway with your role in the White Council. She finally started to trust you after that thing with Kravos and the Nightmare.”
I cut in, “That’s all objectively true, but she always had to work harder and play it straighter to be respected by her male counterparts. Plus, she had trust issues from her ex-husband that affected her both personally and professionally.”
My double shrugged. “I’ll acknowledge that. Eventually, she started to come around when it came to you, started to let you in. What did she do then?”I sighed, knowing what was coming. “She decided to trust you more about dealing with the supernatural, but to keep you in the friend zone, she jumped in bed with the Hellhound.”
“She didn’t want anything serious,” I argued.
“Yup, sure. Nothing serious. But she didn’t have a problem seeing Kincaid on and off for years.” Ouch. It had taken me some time to stop being resentful of their relationship.
I was getting irritated with my double. “Murphy was never obligated to date me, and we did become better friends during that time.”
“Of course she wasn’t obligated to date you, but don’t you think it’s telling that she chose to hook up with someone from your world, not her own? Someone that you would likely interact with in the future? It wasn’t just about a casual fling, it was a way for her to keep you at arm’s length. Plus, when you got shot by a fucking sniper rifle from long range, she didn’t even ask him about it, even though he was the most obvious candidate for the job. Do I have to remind you that he is the one who shot you, even though that is actually your own damn fault?”
Of course he didn’t have to remind me. Those days must have been so difficult for Murphy. “I’m sure it was hard for her to think that Kincaid might be involved in my death.”
My subconscious scoffed. “Right, it was. Despite the fact that he’s a mercenary and an actual Hound of Hell. Yet when you came back from the island, she didn’t have any problem questioning your motives as the Winter Knight. She just assumed the worst, that it would change you and that you couldn’t be trusted.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath. “I am not going to stand here and literally argue with myself. The things you are saying may have some element of truth to them. They’re obviously thoughts that I try to keep locked away, which is why you are making those arguments and not me. Let’s be rational for a moment, just because I have those thoughts doesn’t mean they represent the full reality of the situation. Murph was my best friend. We did have a physical and emotional relationship at the end. I do love her and miss her.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t mourn her; I just want you to be realistic about your relationship.” His voice became more earnest as we spoke, sounding more vulnerable than I usually allowed myself to be. “Don’t let it stop you from taking a chance at happiness, which is the real point of this conversation.”
I looked at him incredulously. “Happiness? With Marcone? Are you kidding me? He is mob boss and a freaking Denarian.”
“And you are an ex-communicated Wizard and the Winter Knight. You took down the entire Red Court, and you did it by slitting the throat of the mother of your child. You have both done things, made choices to protect this city and its people, that others couldn’t fathom.” He was right. Of course he was right, he was me. I had done things that irrevocably changed lives, just as Marcone had. I wasn’t proud of everything I had done, but I don’t know that I would do things differently if I had to face those same choices again. If I really thought about it, the main difference between Marcone and I was that he had chosen to villainize himself early to do as much good as possible, where I had chosen to try and keep the appearance of a white hat for as long as I could to avoid the temptation to do evil. He was stronger than me and the truth was that I admired him for it.
I still wasn’t willing to give in. “Just because it wasn’t always easy with Murphy, it’s not like Marcone and I have some great relationship built on trust.”
He eyed me skeptically, “Don’t you?” I thought about it, calling up the memories of all the times Marcone and I had fought together side by side. He had never questioned my desire to do the right thing. In fact, he had planned around it, knowing I wouldn’t agree with some of his methods. The only time I had ever seen fear in his eyes was when I found out about Amanda, and he thought I had been threatening her, not him. “I know it’s never occurred to you to put a price tag on the support Marcone has provided you over the years because you believe it was all in his best interest. But if you think about the helicopters, hired men, and his own damn willingness to suit up and risk his life for you, I don’t know how you could see it as anything else but a sign of his faith in you.”
For a moment I was stunned. When I pointed it out to myself, it was incredibly obvious. I suddenly wondered how many thousands upon thousands of dollars Marcone had spent to support me in my fights against the White Court and the Denarians, not to mention his increased insurance premiums every time I damaged one of his buildings. He had never once asked me for any type of repayment, other than my willingness to protect the people of Chicago. My double hit me with a different approach. “I noticed that you aren’t objecting to a potential relationship with because he’s a man or that you aren’t attracted to him.”
It was my turn to stare at my subconscious stonily. It was true. I noticed things about other men; broad shoulders and muscled arms for example, but I didn’t think of them in the same way I thought of Marcone. While I often tried to downplay his good looks, I could never ignore his commanding presence. I had wondered on more than one occasion how that would translate to the bedroom. I fought down the mental images that my asshole subconscious was trying to surface. “I’m well aware that I am attracted to him.”
“You are too attracted— huh.” He seemed shocked. “I really thought I was going to have to fight you on this. When did you figure it out? Was it the knife thing with the loup-garou? That was pretty hot.”
“It was attractively competent, but he was still trying to buy me then, so no. It was probably the helicopter thing with the Shroud and the kid.” Marcone had literally swooped with a helicopter and black fatigues like a knight in shining armor. I had told Marcone to blow me during that incident, to get under his skin. Instead, it had gotten under my skin, and I thought about it for weeks later. “You’re me, why don’t you know this? You’re the one who likes to throw an occasional sex dream about that moment my way.”
My double grinned. “You are usually pretty oblivious to anyone’s feelings, including your own. I do the heavy lifting in that department. Case in point, you had no idea he was even attracted to you until you heard him confessing his love for you.”
I sighed but didn’t say anything.
“So, you are attracted to him,” it wasn’t a question, “but you have avoided getting close to him.”
I nodded and sighed. “I don’t want to be attracted to him.” I decided to be honest with myself and quietly mumbled. “And I didn’t think he would be interested.”
My double put a hand to his ear, “What was that?” This entire conversation was happening inside my head, so I knew damn well he heard me.
“I didn’t think he would be interested. It’s part of the reason that I fight with him so much, it lets me keep some distance.” I had never admitted that to myself before, but it was absolutely true. Even if had known that Marcone had an interest in men, I couldn’t fathom a situation in which a sexy billionaire would be remotely interested in a poor, unkempt wizard.
My subconscious shook his head. “You call it fighting, everyone else calls it flirting.”
“Shut up. I do not flirt with him.” Flirting would imply a level of confidence that I could never seem maintain around the man.
“Right. That’s why Lara thought you wanted to make out with him. She can feel lust you know.” He shook his head. “You practically salivated over him at the pool today. Are you telling me you don’t want to get your hands on that? Speaking of getting your hands on things, what’s with the cold shower tonight? Did we get enough of those at the old apartment?”
I flushed, embarrassed, even though this conversation was literally with myself. “You saw what he looked like, what do you think it was? I needed to do something about it, and you should know I don’t find self-pleasure particularly appealing.”
“I know that you think you don’t because a bunch of cranky old men told you that you shouldn’t. But setting that aside, don’t you think you might want to start practicing? I’m sure John has been with men who are a lot more experienced than you are in that department. Shouldn’t you try to develop your sex skills with the resources you have at hand?” He smirked at me.
“Gah!” I did not want to think about Marcone with other men or what skills they might have that I don’t. “I’m not going to date him, and I am certainly not going to be doing things that involve developing new sexual techniques. We are done talking about this.” I woke myself up. I put my pillow over my face and groaned. It was going to be a long night.
Notes:
I love that Harry's double can point out things in a way that doesn't have to be entirely rational. Harry has had a lot of trauma in his life that he largely just ignores. His subconscious must spend a lot of time processing all of that just to keep him functional from day to day.
Chapter 8: Art
Summary:
The Chicago Institute of Art reopens. Marcone gives a speech and makes a friend (sort of).
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Marcone’s POV
The Chicago Art Institute opened this morning for the first time since the battle. I attended a private soiree at the building Sunday evening with other members of the board and Chicago’s elite, but this will be the first event for the public. The board arranged for a group of schoolchildren to be the first visitors, and as one of the most publicly well-known trustees, they asked me to prepare a short speech. The board wanted to make it a big publicity event, but I insisted that we keep the event small. I pitched it as a soft opening. If all goes well, a press conference will be held this afternoon, without my attendance. As one of the main faces of the battle, I don’t want to take the chance that my presence will be a distraction from the work of the Institute.
Today was also the first big challenge for my new temporary Social Media Manager, Miss Avery. Gard and I waited in the Ryan Learning Center, which housed the Institutes children’s programs, while Miss Avery snapped photos and chatted with employees. The group of thirty or so children and three teachers filed into the room, examining the art on the walls and the materials on the tables for the activity they would be working on. The children appeared to be pre-teens, the awkward stage where the girls outpace the boys in growth and maturity while their counterparts wait desperately for their growth spurts to kick in. I can still remember the feeling of growing pains in my legs from my youth.
One dark-haired girl, smaller than the rest of her classmates, stayed close to a teacher and I felt a sudden pang of concern for her. She had a somber expression, and her body language indicated that she suffered likely from anxiety. Many children experienced some type of trauma during the battle or its aftermath, and the evidence could still be seen on a daily basis. I wondered if one or both of this child’s parents had fought under my banner, or Dresden’s. Since the encounter on Sunday morning, I found my thoughts drifting to him more than usual. Bad for business indeed. I pushed those thoughts away. I assumed I would see him Thursday evening at MacAnally’s pub, and I would not allow him to interrupt my focus until then.
The President of the Art Institute stepped forward and introduced me. I pulled the notecards out of my pocket and delivered a short but impassioned speech about the creative arts and their ability to help heal the community. Most of the children listened half-heartedly, looking around or whispering to one another. Not the dark-haired girl. She fixed her umber gaze on me throughout the entire speech, and appeared to be listening intently. It was familiar in a way that made me feel unsettled.
After I finished, I shook hands with a few of my colleagues, exchanging obligatory hellos. I felt a tug at my elbow, and I was stunned to find the dark-haired girl standing close to me. “Are you Baron Marcone?” she asked in a shy, but firm voice. The use of my title told me much. Outside of the supernatural community, only those under my banner called me Baron. I tried to make my posture relaxed and friendly. I wasn’t sure what this child wanted to say to be, but I admired her bravery in approaching me.
I went down to one knee to put myself at her level. “I am. What can I do for you young lady?”
She smiled timidly. I smiled back, a friendly smile and not the one I used in the boardroom, and tried my best to radiate comfort. The child had such a serious demeanor for someone so young. I found myself wanting to protect her from whatever made her feel that way. “I just wanted to say thank you for saving my dad.” I was relieved. The night of the battle was a whirlwind of fighting, death, grief, and triumph. At least whatever had happened with this girl’s father had a positive outcome.
“I’m glad I could help him.” I’m not certain what possessed me to do it, but I took the pin from my lapel. It was a Y-shaped, depicting the city’s municipal device and was inscribed with protective runes. The inscription was designed to act as a subtle repellant for any supernatural creature that might be sensitive to such things. They wouldn’t protect against anything with malevolent intent, but they were a good first line of defense. The pin would also summon Gard if I was in mortal danger. I didn’t know if that applied only to me or any wearer of the pin, and I realized I would have to inform her of my decision to give it away and that I would need a replacement. She was likely to be annoyed, as she often was when I engaged in “impractically human behavior”, but I found that I was willing to suffer the consequence of my choice in order to brighten the day of the young lady standing me before me. The girl wouldn’t need the protection the pin offered, but I hoped perhaps it could act as a talisman for her anyway. I held it out, “This is a good luck charm of sorts. I would like you to have it.”
The child smiled more broadly this time, and it lifted my spirits. She took the pin from me with a slight quaver in her hand, and added it to the lapel of her jacket, displaying it proudly. “Thank you, Baron Marcone.” She paused as if she wanted to say something else. I could see her gather up her courage as she squared her shoulders then she asked, “Can you tell me the story about the concrete teacup? Sometimes, when my dad has tea, he shakes his head and laughs and says ‘concrete teacup’ to himself. I asked him about it, and he said that maybe someday when I am older, you might tell me the story.”
Suddenly, my mind was racing, and I could feel my eyes widen in shock. I barely managed to stop my jaw from dropping. This shy, quiet child was Dresden’s daughter. This was the child stolen by the Red Court. The one I didn’t help save. She was the reason Harry became the Winter Knight. The reason he destroyed an entire species. This child had already been through so many atrocities in her short life. I heard myself say, “You are Harry’s daughter, Miss Maggie Dresden?” Frankly I was impressed that I was still able to speak despite the cacophony of thoughts sounding through my mind.
“That’s me,” she said and blushed shyly, ducking her head. Even though Harry didn’t possess a shy bone in his body, the gesture still reminded me of him somehow.
I recovered a bit and smiled. “Maybe your father and I can tell you that story together some day.” I simply meant that I didn’t think it would be appropriate to share that type of information without Dresden present, particularly about my own magical abilities and their source. However, the way it came out made me imagine Harry and I sitting down together, perhaps after dinner in our own home, telling Maggie the story of the time we saved the world together. Again. I rarely allowed myself those types of thoughts, but I could clearly envision two sets of big brown eyes smiling at me while we shared the tale.
Before I could clear my thoughts and find something appropriate to say, Maggie asked “Do you wanna meet Mouse? He’s just outside the door.” I nodded and followed her to the room’s entrance where I found Ms. Gard having a conversation with Dresden’s monstrosity of a pet. I heard her say something about “lovelorn, thick-headed idiots” before she saw me and stopped speaking. The dog gave her a nod of what appeared to be agreement then turned to face us. Gard had explained the dog’s origin and abilities, so I didn’t doubt that he understood her perfectly. Maggie threw her arms around the dog’s shoulders. He was nearly as tall as she was. “Mouse, this is Baron Marcone. He’s dad’s friend. Michael said he saved dad’s life a bunch of times. He gave me this cool pin.” Mouse inspected the pin, sniffing it thoroughly, and then gave what sounded like a small chuff of approval. “Baron Marcone, this is Mouse.”
I highly doubted that Dresden had ever referred to me as a friend, but I didn’t want to contradict the girl. “Hello Mouse. It’s very nice to meet you.” I held my hand out to him to shake, feeling somewhat ridiculous despite the dog’s intelligence. The dog stared at me for a moment, as if sizing me up. I felt the need to fill the silence. “Mr. Dresden has saved my life on numerous occasions as well. He’s a valuable ally.” Seemingly appeased by my words, the dog placed his paw in my proffered hand and then sneezed. I had no idea what that meant.
“Miss Maggie Dresden, this is Ms. Gard. She is also an acquaintance of your father.” At that moment it occurred to me to wonder how, of all school children in the greater Chicago area, Maggie Dresden ended up at this event. Gard smirked at me all but confirming my suspicions about her involvement in this “coincidence.” I didn’t know if I should be appalled or impressed by the amount of effort she was putting into meddling in my love life, or lack thereof.
“Hello Miss Maggie, it’s nice to meet you. I was just having a chat with Mouse about your father and Mr. Marcone’s friendship.” I swear the dog looked in my direction and rolled his eyes. Maggie laughed at the dog’s antics.
She grabbed the behemoth by his collar. “Come on, Mouse. We’d better get back to class before we get in trouble.”
Gard called after her and said, “Please say hello to your father for me and tell that I will see him on Thursday.” Maggie turned, grinning at Gard and nodding, and she and Mouse went back in to join the other children. Gard turned to me with curiosity in her eyes. “I was going to come in and facilitate an introduction, but it seems you somehow beat me to it. How did you know the child was Dresden’s?”
“I didn’t. Miss Dresden approached me and thanked me for saving her father’s life.” I was still a bit shaken from the encounter. “What were you hoping to accomplish? Dresden will likely be livid that I interacted with his daughter without his permission.”
She smiled widely. “I am hoping he will come and yell at you. It’s been ages since he kicked in your office door and quite frankly, I miss it.”
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “Fine, but if he does, you have to admit to him that you arranged for me to speak to her class.”
Gard nodded, looking pleased. “Deal.”
Notes:
I really just love the idea of Gard totally upending Marcone's life to get him in closer proximity to Harry's world, and him just letting it happen because she is one of the few people that he trusts. Marcone truly cares about children and I believe not helping Dresden save his daughter is one of his biggest regrets.
Chapter 9: The Eyes Have It
Summary:
Harry and Maggie have dinner with the Carpenters. Maggie tells everyone about her field trip. Harry calls Marcone and then asks Molly for a little help.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Harry’s POV
On Tuesday, after I picked Maggie up from school, we drove to the Carpenters’ house for dinner. Charity insisted on feeding us every opportunity that she got. With most of the kids out of the house, I think she missed having a full dinner table. As we drove, Maggie chatted enthusiastically about the field trip her class took that morning, with Mouse chiming in periodically with happy chuffs. It warmed my heart to see her excited about being out in public. While her anxiety still needed to be managed, she didn’t let it get in the way of her enjoyment of life, which was all I could ask for as a parent.
We parked in front of the Carpenter’s house and Mouse let himself out of the car. Maggie and I participated in our usual race to be the first to ring the doorbell. When she was smaller, I let her win most of the time, only claiming victory when she would accuse me of not trying hard enough. Now, she often beats me on her own merit. It isn’t easy for me to climb in and out of vehicles with my height, and she uses that to her advantage.
Maggie made it to the door first, but it opened before she could press the doorbell. She squealed in delight and as I caught up to her, I was surprised to see Molly in the doorway. She scooped Maggie up into a hug. “Oof. You’re getting so big! I’m not going to be able to pick you up much longer.” I grinned at Molly. As the Winter Lady, Molly could kick my ass any day of the week in the strength and magic department, but I appreciated that she tried to create a sense of normalcy for my daughter. Molly set Maggie down and she and Mouse ran inside to find Little Harry, who was starting to be not so little. Molly gave me a side-hug, “Hello Harry.”
“Heya Molls.” Molly was technically my boss, but we agreed to forgo formal titles at family events if at all possible. We headed inside to see Charity loading up the table with enough food for a small army, while Michael poured water from a pitcher into the glasses located at each place setting. Michael set the pitcher down and shook my hand. Charity gave me a hug before taking the seat opposite me while Michael sat at the head of the table between us. Molly sat next to Charity, so the adults were all together, and the kids filled in around the table, with Maggie taking the seat next to me.
We ate dinner, chatting amiably about the latest happenings in our lives and the status of the missing Carpenter kids. Molly and I talked about Winter in only the vaguest terms, knowing that debauchery and cruelty had no place in the Carpenters’ home. As the Winter Lady, Molly was destined to be boyfriendless (she filled me in about the whole incident with Carlos one night while we were drowning our sorrows) and I refused to talk about Lara on principle. After dinner, Michael excused Harry and Hope to go wash dishes. Charity asked my daughter, “How was the field trip to the Chicago Art Institute Maggie?”
“It was so cool. We got to see some Impressionist paintings and then make our own.” She ran to her backpack and pulled out the small painting, holding it out for us with pride. I had to admit, it was pretty good. “And” she said excitedly, “I met Baron Marcone!”
I spit out the water I had just taken a sip of. I didn’t like the idea Maggie being anywhere near a supernatural entity without me. “Don’t worry Dad, I asked him if he would tell me the concrete teacup story, and he said that maybe someday you guys could tell me the story together.” Beside me, Michael chuckled, and I glared at him. Maggie continued on, ignoring the interruption, “I know you said that I should be careful of him, but he was super nice.” Then I watched her cheeks turn pink and she said, “He was wearing a fancy suit, and he has really pretty green eyes. They’re kind of like the color celadon that I learned about in the painting class.” She pointed to one of the green colors in her painting. I had always thought that Marcone’s eyes were one of his best features. In my head, they were the color of faded dollar bills, but I could see Maggie’s point; celadon was a good description.
“Your dad thinks Baron Marcone has pretty eyes too.” Molly said, and I glared at her. Michael and Charity both chuckled this time.
Michael chided me, “Harry, maybe you should finally make your move before Maggie gets to him first. She is a lot sweeter than you.” Charity and Molly both laughed. I groaned and couldn’t help but remember the conversation I had with my subconscious about dating Marcone. I knew Michael was joking, but Molly gave me an inquisitive look. As a wizard, she was a sensitive. She was adept at reading people’s feelings. As the Winter Lady, she was exponentially more powerful than she had been, and I got the impression she knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Ewww. Gross.” Maggie said, but blushed harder. I tried not think about my daughter and I having the same taste in men. Fortunately, Maggie interrupted my train of thought. “He gave me a good luck pin. Do you want to see it?”
I tried not to panic thinking about Marcone giving my daughter something that could be harmful to her. If he tried to hurt her, I would kill him. Doing my best to keep my voice even, I said, “Sure Punkin”.
She went to the front room to get her jacket. Maggie came back and handed me a platinum and diamond men’s lapel pin in the shape of the municipal symbol of Chicago. The power in it was evident at once. Running the fingers of my right hand gently over the surfaces, I could feel the runes engraved on the back of the pin. Reaching out with my senses, I felt a subtle repulsion, not enough to cause harm, but enough to discourage approach. I breathed deeply, calming my initial panic and anger, and the sense of repulsion abated proportionately.
“He just gave this to you?” This was delicate work that must have taken a fair amount of effort. Add that to the value of the pin itself and I didn’t want to think about how much it cost. I guess I could add that to my tab. “Tell me exactly what happened honey.”
“I introduced myself and thanked him for saving my dad. He said he was glad he could help. Then he gave me the pin as a good luck charm.” Despite my fear, I found myself proud that she had the courage to introduce herself to a stranger. Marcone’s public persona was of a handsome, amiable “gentleman”, even if in reality he was one of the deadliest beings I had ever met. I understood why she hadn’t been afraid of him. “Then I asked him if he would tell me the teacup story and his eyes got all big and he asked if I was me. Only he called me Miss Maggie.” She giggled, like she thought Marcone was cute. “He said that maybe you guys could tell me together some day. Then I introduced him to Mouse who was talking to Miss Gard. She says hi and she will see you on Thursday. May I be excused to hang out with Hope and Harry?” I nodded. She skipped out of the room, and it made my heart happy to see her so carefree, even though I was ready to hunt Marcone down and ask him why the hell he was talking to my daughter and giving her gifts.
I looked up and realized everyone at the table was looking at me expectantly. I gritted out, “It’s a protection spell of sorts. Anyone harboring negative feelings will be discouraged from getting close to the wearer of the pin. It’s a subtle working, and unless you were looking for it, you wouldn’t even know it was happening. It would be akin to avoiding a bad smell. It’s not going to repel anything determined to do her harm, but it should give her a greater radius of protection than even Mouse can provide.”
Michael said, “It is quite the gift. You know, there is something in Maggie’s serious nature that just makes you want to help her.”
Molly nodded in agreement, looking thoughtful. “It could be her powers manifesting.” She looked and saw the panic on my face at that comment and followed up with, “or it’s just because she is so stinking cute. I can’t believe he gave that pin her before he even knew who she was. As much as I have disliked him in the past, there are moments when I can’t help but admire him.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered. I still wanted to know how the two of them happened to be in the same place at the same time. I’d bet my staff that it wasn’t a coincidence. “Michael, can I please use the phone in your office?”
“Of course, Harry,” he said. “Just give me a minute to shut down my computer.”
I closed the door to Michael’s office, wanting privacy for this conversation. I sat in the ergonomic chair and took a few meditative breaths before I picked up the phone and dialed the number I memorized years ago but hadn’t used in some time. I wasn’t even sure what I was going to say, but I was going to get an explanation from him.
After two rings, John answered, “Marcone speaking.”
“Marcone” I said, unintentionally inflecting my voice with my will. I had to be careful, or this conversation was going to turn ugly very quickly.
“Mr. Dresden, to what do I do the pleasure?” He sounded wary. That wasn’t a normal John Marcone reaction. It threw me off guard a little bit. I didn’t say anything, letting the silence gather weight between us. After a moment he said in a subdued voice, “I apologize Mr. Dresden. I had no intention of interacting with your child, and certainly not without your presence.”
That confirmed my suspicions that Gard was the likely culprit behind their proximity, but I wasn’t done yet. “Why did you give her the pin?”
Marcone was quiet for a moment and then let out an audible sigh. “Apparently when a Dresden looks at me with their big brown eyes, I want to give them things like my municipal pin or the Eye of Balor.”
I snorted. “Good to know.” I flashed back to that moment on the beach, in the minutes after we defeated Ethniu. You and I will face one another eventually. But for now, I think it best you take the Eye for safekeeping, wizard. Maybe facing each other meant something entirely different than I had been considering. Maybe it meant facing some things within myself first. Against my natural instincts, I opted for sincerity. “Thank you, John, really. Maggie doesn’t have an easy time talking to strangers, and you made her day.”
“It was my pleasure, Harry,” he said, and ended the call.
I hung up the receiver and sat for a moment, contemplating what I should do next. After a few minutes, I left the office and went looking for Molly. I found her in the kitchen where she was putting away some dishes. “Can I talk to you for a minute Molls? I could really use your help with something.”
She looked at me uncertainly. “Sure Harry. You know I might not be free to discuss certain topics, but I will do what I can.” Once again, I was reminded of how much being the Winter Knight and Winter Lady had changed the dynamic of our relationship.
I was embarrassed, but as I tend to do in any uncomfortable situation, I dove in headfirst. “Do you think you could help me do a little clothes shopping? Lara’s stylist has been sending me clothes, probably so I won’t embarrass her out in public, but they aren’t my style. I’m looking for something that is more me, and uh, is maybe flattering” I stuttered and made vague hand gestures towards my torso, “and, uh, maybe a little sexy, but in like a rugged kind of way.” I described the outfit my subconscious had been wearing in my dream.
“I see,” she said with a knowing look. “So, you want my help buying something that might appeal to say, an older man, with good taste, who happens to look at your legs and ass whenever he thinks you aren’t paying attention?”
I spluttered something incoherent.
“To be fair, you’re usually in your duster, so he doesn’t get a chance to check out your ass much. But any time you raise your arms enough that you show a little sliver of skin at your waist, he zeroes in on it like he has some type of Dresden skin radar.” I was making sounds, but wasn’t forming recognizable words, and she laughed. “If you showed up in a pair of well-fitted jeans and something other than a graphic t-shirt, he might swoon on the spot.”
“Very funny, Molls,” I said, but imagining his reaction was what had me asking for help in the first place.
“Ok, he might not swoon, but he will totally be into it. You might be in trouble, and I would pay to see that.” She grinned broadly. “Of course I will help you shop and I think I can even get Mab to foot the bill for it. After the battle, you are more widely known. It’s in her best interest that you represent Winter in an appropriate manner.”
“Thanks Molls. I must be crazy. He’s still Marcone and everything that means. I still miss Murph and this whole thing with Lara is hanging over my head, but I guess I might want to try and impress him a little bit.” She already knew about overhearing his confession at the party, but I filled her in on Marcone’s dates at Mac’s, and seeing him at the pool. I didn’t tell her about trying to get out of my engagement. She needed plausible deniability.
Molly whistled. “Wow, Harry. I mean it’s pretty obvious that he is into you, but this is the first time I have heard you talk about him this way.”
I nodded. “I know, it’s crazy. I’ve spent a decade and a half convincing myself that he’s my enemy and trying to keep my distance from him and now I find myself recalibrating every interaction we have ever had in my head. What’s even crazier is that I like thinking about him that way. My subconscious is a total asshole sometimes, but he isn’t wrong that we have a lot in common. It’s nice, and not something I have had with very many people.”
“And you have an insane amount of chemistry,” she waggled her eyebrows at me, and I felt my cheeks redden. “And you’ll see him again this Thursday? That’s what Maggie said, isn’t it?”
“It certainly sounds that way, which means he has another date. Seeing him with someone who looks like me but isn’t me…I just can’t stand it. I want to him to see that I can look good too, and that these other guys aren’t me.” I sighed. “I blame Gard for this. I was perfectly happy being miserable for other reasons. Now I have to add jealousy on top of everything else.”
She squeezed my hand. “You don’t need to explain it to me Harry. You can’t be part of Winter without coming to terms with the fact that the world is not as simple as black and white. You have always had a connection with him. If you want him, you should go for it. Plus, he’s pretty hot for an older guy. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 10. I am not going to be seen in that ridiculous car of yours.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her. I was grateful that boss or not, Molly was still in my corner. “You’re the best grasshopper.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she said and we went back to the living room to hang out with our family.
Notes:
Harry noticing Marcone's eyes is a constant theme in canon. I wanted to explore the interaction the other way around. I like the idea that Maggie has a bit of a crush on Marcone. Even though it would make Harry wary, it's good for him to know that Maggie thought the interaction was a positive one. Molly would absolutely have to help Harry shop. He's probably never been anywhere but goodwill and the grocery store.
Chapter 10: Frenemies
Summary:
Marcone prepares for his final interview.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Marcone POV
On Thursday evening, as Gard drove us to MacAnally’s, I reviewed my calendar for the next few weeks. “I’ve noticed that there are no additional interviews scheduled after tonight. If this evening’s candidate falls short, I intend to offer the position to Miss Avery. She is proving to be highly competent.”
She replied, “I thought you might approve of her. However, I think this evening’s candidate, Lawrence Mattews, has the potential to be quite a good fit for the role.”
I challenged her, “For the Social Media Manager position, or the role of attracting Dresden’s attention?”
She smirked, “Can’t it be both? Mr. Matthews’ father was a member of your civilian organization who passed away of unnatural causes a few years ago. You arranged for his family’s care. Mr. Matthews himself is a low-level magical talent and member of the Paranet, with relevant job experience.”
“That certainly sounds more promising than the last two candidates.” I shook my head, wondering why I was playing along with this charade, but not able to help myself from seeing it through. “Can I assume he is also a tall man with brown hair?”
“He is.” She met my gaze in the review mirror and I saw the crinkle of her eyes indicating her amusement. “His appearance was my inspiration for finding the other two gentleman. From what I can tell, Dresden’s interest has been sufficiently captured.”
I wasn’t sure that was an accurate assessment any longer. “He was displeased with my interaction with his daughter. You may find that any progress made in your little game has been diminished.”
“It’s no game, it’s a gambit.” Her demeanor became that of the stoic Valkyrie. “Bad things are coming. It will take everything we have to stop them. You and Dresden have already proven to be powerful when fighting together as…what’s the term, frenemies? Were you to join forces as true partners, with loving bonds, you would be extremely formidable. Plus, as I have said before, it would be good for both of you. I believe you can make each other happy. I am merely trying to remove the arbitrary barriers you have created between yourselves, so that you may start an honest dialogue.”
My life is full of barriers that I have created for my own protection and it’s rare for me to let people in. Hendricks’ was my closest confidant; the only one in my world who knew me before I became “Gentleman” John Marcone. When I hired Gard, it was necessary to provide her with detailed information about my life in order for her to fulfill her role. Protective magic is heavily reliant on the knowledge of one’s subject, if it is to be effective. Once she and Nathan began a romantic relationship, it was inevitable that we formed a more personal connection. The only other person in my life that really knows me is Dresden. Our soulgaze on the day we met connected us in a way that I could never have anticipated. He may not know all the details about my life, but he knows exactly who I am as a person, the same way I know him. Maybe it was time to show him more.
Gard spoke, snapping me out of my reverie. “I suggest you enlist Dresden’s help with this interview. His insight will be valuable.”
I sighed but thought she might be on to something. “Fine, but you can ask him. That way if he’s still upset, he can take it out on you first.”
Notes:
This is a very short chapter, but I wanted to show Marcone's mindset about everything that has been happening. It also serves as the setup for the next chapter where Harry gets to show off his new duds.
Chapter 11: Third Interview
Summary:
Marcone asks Harry to help him interview his final candidate for the Social Media Manager position. Harry finds himself vying for John's attention, until his boss shows up and ruins everything.
Notes:
Ok folks, buckle up. This is where we start to go completely off the rails into my imagination. It's a funny, but scary place sometimes. At least I amuse myself. I love the use of meta elements and it's only going to get worse from here.
Chapter Text
Harry’s POV
On Thursday I arrived at MacAnally’s a little earlier than normal, wanting time to relax and let the first beer kick in before seeing Marcone. Gard’s words to Maggie made me certain that he would be coming in for another date. I didn’t really have a plan for tonight, other than making sure to get in Marcone’s line of sight, to remind him that if he was looking for tall, dark, and awkward, I was still around. After the events of the last week and the talk with my subconscious, I was coming to terms with the idea that I have some pretty strong feelings for him. Good ones. Feelings that I have kept at bay for years, going so far as to hide them from myself. Now I felt like the The Little Dutch Boy, holding back the dam of emotions with just my finger, waiting for the whole thing to burst.
I stopped at the counter to get a beer and headed to my usual table at the back. I set the beer down and propped my staff up under a wall hook near Mac’s office, hanging my duster over top of it. I felt naked without them, but the whole point of wearing the new outfit was to be more visible than normal. The clothes were actually pretty comfortable, but I wasn’t used to caring about my appearance or wanting someone else to care about my appearance and it made me a little self-conscious. I straightened my shirt and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to maintain the windblown look Molly had helped me try to achieve. Who knew a little mousse and a carefully directed ‘forzare' was good for styling hair?
I was just finishing my beer when the front door opened, causing the little bell hanging from it to rattle against the glass, and Marcone and Gard came in. As per his routine, he took off his coat, placing it over the back of a table relatively close to the door. Tonight, he was in a pair of jeans that fit him perfectly and a thin celadon green (thanks Maggie) sweater that looked like it was probably made of cashmere. I wanted to run my hands over it to see how the soft sweater would feel over the hardened muscles beneath it. Calm down Harry.
I was trying to figure out how best to approach him. I considered making an entrance by taking down his shield mid-date, but that would be rude to Gard. I could just stand up now and walk over to him before his date arrived. That would be the polite thing to do. Before I could gather my courage to talk to the man, Gard approached my table and handed me another beer. Eyeing me from head to toe, she said “Hello Dresden. Don’t you look nice tonight?”
“Hey Siggy.” I took the beer from her. “What’s this for?”
“It’s an offering. Mr. Marcone would like you to join him for tonight’s interview. This candidate is a practitioner, and he would like to get your take on his abilities.” Interview, not date.
“Interview? Is that what’s been happening?” I tried not to give anything away, but she could tell I was surprised. “Why is he having interviews at Mac’s?
“Mr. Marcone has been interviewing for a new Social Media Manager. After the battle, there are more mundanes clued into the supernatural and it’s necessary for him to monitor his image on many fronts. With his role in both the natural and supernatural worlds, it’s important that any candidate will already understand the landscape they will be stepping into. I thought it would be best to have the interviews on neutral ground, so I arranged for the candidates to meet him here.”
“You arranged for his interviews to be at Mac’s. On Thursday night.” I followed the trail of logic. “With candidates who are all tall with dark hair. And instead of wearing business attire, they look more like they are dressed for a date?”
She adopted a guileless expression. “Hmm. What a coincidence. I hadn’t noticed.” She looked me over. “This is a new look for you, Dresden. It’s quite eye-catching. Are you attempting to capture the attention of someone special?”
I glared at her. She had set me up, trying to garner an emotional reaction from me. Now I was dressed in this ridiculous outfit, trying to take Marcone’s attention away from an interview candidate. “Ugh. Fine. I will listen, but I am not dressed appropriately for a business discussion.”
“Don’t sweat it Dresden. I suspect you are going to get exactly the reaction you were hoping for.” Gard smiled at me. “Maybe there is less competition than you thought, but is that so bad?”
Maybe it wasn’t. With a little more confidence, I got up and followed Gard over to the table with Marcone. “Alright, I’m here. Where do you want me?”
Until that moment, Marcone had been reading something that looked like it must be the candidate’s resume. At the sound of my voice, he looked up. As he took in my appearance, a brief expression of shock crossed his face, and he stood. He looked me up and down several times before he swallowed audibly and uttered some type of Catholic-sounding expletive under his breath. “Mr. Dresden, thank you for joining me.” His voice sounded low and rough, and I tried not to shiver and failed. “Please sit.” He pulled out the nearest chair, offering it to me, ever the “Gentleman”. I sat and he passed behind me to retake the seat to my left and this close, I could smell his cologne. It smelled warm, spicy, and expensive. We continued to just stare at one another, his eyes flicking down to the open collar of my shirt while I was stealing glances at his chest and shoulders in that appealing sweater. Neither of us spoke and the silence became something almost tangible.
“Idiots, the both of you,” Gard laughed, cutting through the tension with the precision of a surgeon. She had taken the seat to my right, and I had been too wrapped up in staring at John to notice. “I would like to go on record right now and say, ‘I told you so’.” I felt my cheeks heat up and John scowled at her. It was rather adorable. She said, “How do you want to handle this interview Mr. Marcone?”
John shook his head, as if trying to clear it, while I basked in the heat I had seen in his gaze. Get it together Harry. “Ms. Gard, I would like you in your usual position, keeping an eye on the room. Harry, I would like to introduce you as my associate, without giving away your identity. I want to see how Mr. Matthews handles the curveball. Ms. Gard assures me that he is well-qualified for the position,” he glared at her, “unlike the last two candidates.” She grinned unrepentantly and left to sit at the counter. John shook his head, “Meddling Valkyrie.”
The door opened again, bell jingling, and a tall man, at least 6’ 6”, with dark brown hair and brown eyes entered. He looked to be somewhere in his mid to late twenties. He was wearing a long black leather coat and used a walking stick that looked suspiciously like it was supposed to be a staff. In our current states, Matthews looked more like me than me. I groaned under my breath, “You have got to be kidding me.” John shushed me and stood, walking over to greet the newcomer. I followed behind him. I couldn’t help glance down at his ass in his perfectly tailored jeans.
“Hello Mr. Matthews.” The young man approached John with confidence and shook his outstretched hand, returning the greeting. Marcone gestured to me. “This is my colleague, Harry Blackstone. He is here to observe this interview only, but you may speak freely in front of him.” I noted John’s use of my first two names. Not technically a lie. Any member of the magical community should recognize my last name immediately and I knew John didn’t give up his advantages without earning something in return. “Harry, this is Lawrence Matthews.”
I stuck out my hand, practicing the veil I had been working on that would mask my power from being felt during casual contact. “Hiya Larry.” I felt a mild tingle from him. He glowered at me, but took my hand, trying to intimidate me with a strong grip. I channeled my best impression of my brother and smiled, trying to appear vacuous and amiable in the way that Thomas did when he wanted to be underestimated. “That’s quite the grip you’ve got there!”
Marcone moved back to the table, holding out the chair across from me and said, “Please sit Mr. Matthews.” Matthews took off the leather coat, laying it over the back of his chair and leaned his stick (I refused to call it a staff) against the empty chair. We all took our seats. Marcone held up the silver object I had seen him use previously to create a veil around his table. Now that I could see it up close, it looked like a pewter model of one of John’s buildings from Little Chicago, the diorama that used to be in my sub-basement before the building burned down and Marcone built a castle over it. I looked into John’s eyes, unsure of how to feel about that, and he nodded. He murmured, “One of many things we need to talk about.”
Without explanation, he set the object on the table, and raised the veil. Larry appeared momentarily surprised but regrouped quickly. He let out a low whistle. “That’s a high-quality veil. Is it soundproof as well?” John nodded and I could tell that Larry had just passed his first test.
I said blithely, “Neat trick!”
John gave me a look that said he was rolling his eyes on the inside and turned back to the kid. “I hope you don’t mind. This conversation may broach some sensitive topics. As you are aware, you are under an NDA related to anything we discuss today. I cannot impose such constraints on our fellow patrons, but the benefits of conducting this conversation on neutral territory is worth the extra precautionary measures.” Larry nodded in acknowledgement and John went on. “Mr. Matthews, I have read up on your background, but please tell us a little bit about yourself.”
“I grew up in Chicago. My dad worked for you, Mr. Marcone, and he died during one of the early encounters with the Fomor.” I was dead when the Fomor first appeared in Chicago and I felt familiar pangs of guilt and cowardice at how I handled that whole situation. Larry was still talking, “I have a degree in Public Policy Studies from the University of Chicago, with a minor in Creative Writing. In my Senior year I was the student president of OutPolitik, which is focused on policy issues pertaining to gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people. Now I volunteer with Paranet+, an organization focused on helping queer kids with magical abilities.” I didn’t even know that organization existed. I really needed to have a talk about Bob about the Paranet and what else I might be missing. Larry took a deep breath and offered a crooked grin. “Growing up gay with magic was a lot to process. I want to provide support to other kids in the same situation.” Damn. I was impressed. I knew what it was like to grow up with magic and attraction to other men. It was apparent that Larry didn’t follow my “just ignore it and everything else that’s uncomfortable” approach.
“Thank you for sharing Mr. Matthews. I can only imagine what that must have been like,” Marcone said sympathetically, and I found myself wondering what it was like for John to come to terms with his sexuality growing up in a Catholic family and then as a member of The Outfit.
“Now, please tell me what you know about me, or think you know about me.” I suddenly felt sorry for the kid. By having Larry provide this narrative, John risked nothing, but the kid could crash and burn any minute. Without meaning to, I let out a small, choked laugh.
Larry eyed me suspiciously but took a deep breath and blurted out. “Well sir, you’re Bruce Wayne, Carmine Falcone, and Batman.” I opened my mouth to explain the Batman reference but John put his hand on my leg under the table, just above my knee, to stop me from talking. I shut my mouth, but he left his hand there, and it felt hot through the denim. Larry continued and I watched the color climb in his cheeks as he spoke, “You’re John Marcone, Gentleman Johnny, and Baron Marcone. You’re the suave and handsome billionaire philanthropist, the crime lord that my dad used to work for, and the knight that suits up to battle the supernatural all in one.”
It became obvious to me that Larry had a crush and hearing him talk about John that way, I can’t say that I didn’t feel the same. Instead of agreeing aloud, I chortled, “Batman! That’s a hell of a compliment Marcone and certainly nicer than anything I have ever called you. I will give you fifty dollars right now to say, ‘I’m Batman’,”
Larry got embarrassed and defensive. “What do you call him Mr. Blackstone?
“I usually call him scumbag,” I said honestly, and John chuckled.
Larry got more defensive and glared at me. “Perhaps you are too narrow-minded or uninformed to understand what kind of man Mr. Marcone is. He is a pillar of both the vanilla and supernatural communities. He’s a born leader. He fought and bled for this city in the Battle for Chicago. I suppose someone like you cares more about their looks than being a man of substance.” I was momentarily shocked. I guess I didn’t look half bad if I was getting called out for my vanity. No one had ever accused me of caring about my looks, and I was trying to process the idea that one new outfit and some hair product could create such an effective disguise. Suddenly it made more sense to me that no one recognizes that Clark Kent and Superman are the same person. I opened my mouth to make a retort, but I felt Marcone’s hand squeezing my knee under the table in warning.
John kept his boardroom expression in place, but I could tell he was amused by the exchange. “Gentlemen, please. Mr. Matthews, I appreciate your coming to my defense, but Mr. Blackstone has known me for a very long time and prides himself on his ability to annoy me, despite being a valuable associate. While he happens to look like sex on a stick this evening, I assure you there is more to him than just his appearance.” He leered at me and then turned back to Larry, while I worked to bring my brain back online. I had never heard John say anything so vulgar and I immediately wanted to hear more. I was also stunned that he was being so open with a stranger about his sexuality. “As you have described Mr. Matthews, I have several different personas within different communities. After recent events, those communities now overlap much more than they did previously. The position we are here to discuss will be responsible for helping create a unified public profile, while also ensuring methods of communication related to my more covert ventures.”
Larry pulled out an iPad and powered it on. Clearly whatever magical talent he possessed wasn’t strong enough to disrupt sensitive electronics. “I conducted an analysis of various media platforms from the last several years, to create a profile of each persona.”
MacAnally’s pub was arranged to dispel wayward magic, but I didn’t think that tablet had a chance with me and my heightened emotions so close to it. “Why don’t I go grab us some beers while the intellectuals look at charts and numbers?”
John nodded, understanding the issue and dropped the veil. Larry looked more than happy to be rid of me for a while. He pulled his chair closer to John, to the point where their arms were almost touching, and placed the iPad in front of him. If he was going to blatantly vie for John’s attention, so was I. I rose, winked at John, and walked over to the counter, where I sidled up next to Gard who was facing the table I had just come from. I bent over so that my forearms were resting on the counter, giving John a full view of how well my new jeans fit. It was time to test Molly’s theory that it was my duster that had prevented him from fully checking me out in the past.
I whispered to Gard, “Is he looking?”
“Dresden, if his eyes were lasers, your ass would be on fire.” I laughed, willing myself not to blush, failing miserably. I signaled Mac for three more ales and handed him my keys, knowing he wouldn’t let me drive for a while. He placed the beers on the bar, and I chatted with Gard waiting for Marcone to signal my return. When he flagged me down, I went back to the table and handed out the alcohol. I took a long pull on my beer while maintaining eye contact with John. It could have been a trick of the light, but I swore I saw his eyes darken. He reached out and reactivated the veil.
“Lawrence was just sharing some very interesting information with me. Apparently, in addition to more widely-known social media platforms such as Instagram, TikTok, and Blue Sky, several members of the magical community have gained a following on a Paranet fan-fiction site: Arcane of Our Own, colloquially known as AO3. Please continue, Mr. Matthews. As an avid reader of fantasy, I am sure Mr. Blackstone will be interested in this topic as well.” I got the distinct impression that this information was not new to John, but he was interested in my reaction. Knowing that the man beside me loved throwing me off balance, I braced myself for whatever I was about to hear.
Larry was clearly excited about the information he was about to reveal. “Well, I would classify most of the stories as romantasy. They contain elements of fantasy but are mostly focused on typical romantic tropes such as ‘fated mates’ and ‘just one bed’, or are just straight up smut without much plot. The most popular subjects are Baron Marcone, Lara Raith of the White Court, the Faerie Queens, and Harry Dresden. He’s the Winter Knight or Wizard of Chicago, if you prefer. There are lots of popular pairings, but Mr. Marcone, you are the most written about central character. I think it’s because you are one of the most publicly accessible members of the Accords in the vanilla world, but no one knows anything about your love life. At least for now.” Larry blushed at his own insinuation.
Instead of commiserating, I wanted to turn Larry or possibly myself into a block of ice. These stories sounded exactly like the type of thing Bob liked to read, only the main characters were people that I knew! And I was one of them! I couldn’t keep the shock off my face. I spluttered, “Are you telling me that members of the Paranet are writing smut about the supernatural community?” Larry nodded with a smug look on his face, seemingly thrilled to catch me off guard and show off his knowledge in front of John. I was still trying to process my thoughts. “I guess I can understand people wanting to write stories about beautiful supernatural creatures having sex with attractive billionaires, but the Winter Knight doesn’t seem to fit the pattern.” I was certain I didn’t want to read stories about John having sex with Lara or Mab, but I couldn’t believe anyone would want to read stories about my surly ass.
“The Winter Knight is one of the most powerful mortals in the world, Mr. Blackstone. He has a sense of vigilante justice that people love, a morally gray character if you will. Plus,” Larry lowered his voice and said conspiratorially, “if the rumors are to be believed, the Winter Knight is very well-endowed. Who wouldn’t be interested in that?” John met my eyes and quirked an eyebrow as if asking for confirmation. I could feel my face flush all the way to the tips of my ears, and I had to look away. Larry seemed to realize what he had said and choked out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. This isn’t the most interview appropriate conversation.”
“Please don’t worry Mr. Matthews. I was the one that asked you to explain the topic to Mr. Blackstone. I too have been curious about the subject of the Winter Knight’s, shall we say, gifts.” Larry looked relieved. Marcone looked at me with mischief in his eyes that wouldn’t be visible if I didn’t know him so well. He asked all too casually, “Out of curiosity, who is my most popular bedfellow in these stories?”
“It’s the Winter Knight, by far, followed by Lady Molly of the Winter Court. You are a popular throuple as well.” I almost choked on my beer. Hell’s bells. I was absolutely not going to think about that. Larry didn’t notice my reaction, but I saw the corner of John’s mouth twitch. Larry continued, “Everyone loves a good ‘enemies to lovers’ story and the two of you are known to have some very volatile chemistry. Plus, as Mr. Blackstone said, you are an attractive billionaire, and not many people know what Harry Dresden looks like, so they can insert their own imagery. He has so much power he tends to break cameras, so most of the supernatural community only knows that he is tall, wears a long leather coat, and carries a staff. It makes him mysterious.” Larry paused for a moment and seemed to gather his courage. He looked at John and said, “If you were to go on a date with him, or maybe someone who looks like him, you would be sure to garner a lot of online activity.”
John seemed to ignore the offer the kid just made him, but the Winter Mantle did not care for it at all. Or maybe it was just me that wanted to put the kid through a wall. John sounded genuinely curious when he asked, “Don’t you think my openly dating the Winter Knight would also draw negative attention from my various associates?” Is that why he was being forthright about his sexuality? Was he thinking about the possibility of us having a relationship? I was suddenly very interested in hearing the response to John’s question.
Larry had an answer queued up for this topic it seemed, “Your position in this city is well-solidified. It would show strong support for the LGBTQIA+ community, which you already contribute to significantly. A continued unified front between the Baron and Wizard of Chicago would do a great deal to soothe a city whose nerves are raw after the Battle. While some of the more traditional members of The Outfit might object, most of the younger members probably would not. You have diversified your portfolio enough that the risk would be minimal if you needed to replace some employees. Most of the supernatural community can’t be bothered with human relationships at all. Your biggest threat might be that the Queen of Winter may not approve.”
My mouth got the better of me and I blurted out, “Or that the Winter Knight might set you on fire.” I had to admit, the kid’s answer was pretty impressive, and I wanted his take on my arrangement with Lara. “Isn’t he engaged to Lady Raith of the White Court though?”
Larry was excited to jump into this topic as well. He lowered his voice, despite the veil, “I have reason to believe that it’s an arranged marriage and that neither of them wants it. One of the popular fan-fiction writers has included several snippets in the past that have turned out to be real. I think it’s someone high up in the Accorded Nations. Lately their stories are about Baron Marcone subverting Queen Mab’s wishes, ending the engagement, and tripping the Winter Knight into bed."
I straightened up and hissed, “Don’t say her name in a place of magic.” Larry looked shocked. “The last thing you need is for her to hear you and show up here.”
The kid’s eyes narrowed, his head tilted arrogantly, and I just knew he was going to do something stupid. “Are you really suggesting that Mab, the Queen of Air and Darkness will come to MacAnally’s pub in Chicago, just because I say her name?” He rolled his eyes and gave John a look that said I was clearly out of my mind. “Mr. Blackstone, you can’t possibly be suggesting that Queen Mab would be remotely interested in anything we are discussing.”
I heard the bell jingle on the front door and the room cooled by a few degrees. John sighed and dropped the veil. Standing in the doorway was a statuesque woman of incomparable ice-cold beauty, who also just so happened to be my boss. We both stood, and Larry smartly followed our lead, looking like he might pass out. Mab approached our table.
“Baron Marcone, what a pleasure to see you.” She held out her hand to him, not sounding the slightest bit pleased.
“Queen Mab. The pleasure is all mine.” John said and he took her snow-white hand and kissed the back of it.
Mab turned her frosty gaze to me. “My Knight. Please explain to me why I am here.” Larry looked at me, his eyes widening in pure horror. It’s one thing to be aware of the supernatural baddies, it’s another thing to meet them in person. Plus, he had been mouthing off to me earlier, as well as speculating about the size of my junk, and I could almost hear him replaying the entire conversation in his head.
“My Queen.” I gave her a small bow. “It was simply a misunderstanding. Our young companion here was telling us of some interesting fictional stories that have been written recently. He had no awareness that he would garner your attention, and I was unable to stop him quickly enough to prevent you from wasting a trip.”
“I see.” She turned and fixed her gaze on Larry. “And you are?”
Larry dropped to one knee, bowing to her. “I’m Lawrence Matthews ma’am. I meant no harm ma’am, I was just telling them about some fanfiction. Please don’t hurt me.” The look on Mab’s face was bemused. I wasn’t about to explain fanfiction to her or that apparently John and I were a hot, smutty item.
“Ah, Arcane of Our Own,” she mused, and my jaw almost dropped to the floor. “Get up Lawrence. Lady Molly has been sharing her favorite stories with me, which are mostly about the Baron sporting with my Knight.” She faced me once again. “Molly assures me there are many of us as well, but I think none could compare to your knighting ceremony. It was the most enjoyable one I have had in centuries.” A dark expression crossed John’s face, and I wanted to melt into the floor. “I will say that the fictional tomes do seem to capture certain aspects of your physique quite well, my Knight.” Stars and stones, I was going to kill Molly the next time I saw her.
Mab turned back to John. “Baron Marcone, does my Knight have any obligation to you this evening? I wish to take him with me, rather than waste this trip.”
“He does not. He was simply assisting me with a personnel interview, which has now concluded.” I retrieved my staff and duster, donning it as I walked back to the table. When I arrived, Larry was in his leather jacket, holding his walking stick and standing very close to John. Using my will, I put a small amount of power into my staff, to make the sigils glow green, just to remind everyone of who originated this look.
Mab rolled her eyes at me. “Come my Knight,” she said and headed toward the door.
I stopped back at the table to say goodbye. “Larry, good luck with the job. John, I guess I’ll see you around.”
As I turned, John’s hand shot out in a blur and grabbed my wrist. He tugged my arm down, forcing my head closer to his, so he could whisper in my ear, his voice husky and his breath hot. “Sex on a fucking stick, Dresden.” He released my wrist. I ducked out the door before I could change my mind.
Chapter 12: Panic and Polaroids
Summary:
In the immediate aftermath of Mab and Harry's departure, Lawrence and John reflect on the incident. John meets with McCoy for a status update and they take measure of one another.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Marcone POV
Mr. Matthews’ face was ashen, and he appeared to be on the verge of hyperventilating. Gard assisted me with settling him back at our table. I was doing my best not to be irritated with the young man. On the one hand, I was quite impressed with his personal background, analytical capabilities, and proposed strategies for my social media presence. His introduction of the fanfiction discussion was unanticipated and too good to ignore. I would normally never discuss potential romantic partners or sexual congress with anyone, much less during an interview, but it was impossible to resist riling Harry up, and Mr. Matthews had unwittingly contributed perfectly to that end. On the other, his faux pas has resulted in Mab’s ire, which didn’t particularly concern me other than she had taken Dresden away from me prematurely.
“Holy shit. That was…” Lawrence panted. “That was…” he tried again but still seemed no closer to completing his train of thought.
“The Queen of Air and Darkness?” I offered.
He shook his head, “That was the fucking Winter Knight.”
“It was,” I confirmed, trying to keep my voice reassuring while internalizing my smirk.
He groaned and laid his cheek flat on the surface of the table, “I’m such an ass. I was trying to show off for you, and I insulted him, talked about his dick, and then got him in trouble with his boss.”
I chuckled. “It certainly was an eventful interview. Rest assured Mr. Matthews, Mr. Dresden is unlikely to take offense to any of it. If you should meet him again in the future, I would expect a ribbing and possible nickname but otherwise have no care that he will hold a grudge. In fact, I believe he was impressed with you, perhaps with the exception of that last part.” Mr. Matthews groaned, but I was sincere in my comment. “Mr. Dresden wouldn’t have broached the subject of his arranged marriage with you, unless he valued your opinion.”
Lawrence righted himself, regaining some of his earlier enthusiasm. “So, it is an arranged marriage? I knew it!” He appeared deep in thought for a moment and asked, “Does he really call you scumbag?”
“He really does. He turns trying to irritate me into an artform.” I found myself holding back a smile. “I’ll let you in on a little secret Lawrence; I quite like it when he does that.”
The young man grinned, seemingly thrilled to be entrusted with that personal detail. “As long as we’re on the subject of the Winter Knight, can I ask one more question Mr. Marcone?”
“You may.” I made no promise that I would answer, but I was curious as to what the young man would ask.
He took a moment to formulate his next words. “Well, it’s just that stories on AO3 about the Winter Night describe him with phrases like ‘brooding and scarred’ or ‘lanky and scruffy.’”
“They do,” I confirmed. I was under the impression that when most people looked at Dresden, they didn’t see past the snarky comments, the ill-fitting clothing and, for a time, the Warden’s cloak. I believe that Dresden leans into their expectations heavily because the truth of who he is at his core, the power and the ferocity he possesses, would terrify most. I’ve seen Dresden’s soul and it’s part of the reason why he is the most attractive man I have ever met.
“I just don’t understand,” he said, looking perplexed. “That man is a smoke show!”
I couldn’t help myself when I said, “Quite literally,” while Gard burst out laughing.
She gave me a knowing look. “Mr. Matthews, you weren’t the only one trying to impress Mr. Marcone this evening.”
***
Gard was in my home office, typing furiously on her laptop. It was after hours, and I knew that meant she was likely working on her latest fanfiction. Mr. Matthews was correct in his observations about an author with potential connections to the Accorded Nations. Gard had been writing stories for me for years, using several different accounts, periodically mixing truth with fiction to expose information about potential threats to Chicago, the hypocrisy of the White Council, and other relevant information I wanted to make available, but could not disclose directly. The young man dubbed Paranoid Gary and the Knight of the Cross, Waldo Butters, were astute at dissecting the data provided and disseminating it through the Paranet.
Despite Mr. Matthews’ misstep with the Winter Queen, I elected to hire both he and Miss Avery as my Social Media Managers. Miss Avery would work from the office, covering the more mundane aspects of my profile, while Mr. Matthews would work from home, handling my supernatural persona, and contributing to Arcane of Our Own. It would benefit me to have additional clued-in writers to reduce any potential focus on Gard. The choice of work location was to maintain the privacy needed for his efforts, and to avoid my being reminded about Dresden on a constant basis. The young man’s apparent crush on me and Winter Knight cosplay had not gone unnoticed and I felt it would be best to discourage him through distance.
“How’s the latest story coming?” I asked Gard. The last we’d discussed, she was working on a piece about corruption within the White Council under the guise of a relationship between Arthur Langtree and Warden Ramirez. Anyone who knew them would be aware that both men were so uptight that they would likely combust at the suggestion of a homosexual relationship. It added a fantastical element to the story that would allow Gard to introduce some of my growing suspicions about the White Council, along with some wilder theories about Wizard Cristos who I believed to be the driving force behind Harry’s expulsion from the Wizard governing body, all while maintaining the guise of fiction.
Without turning her head away from her screen she said, “I’m working on a side project related to a story about Dresden that I believe to be written by Knight Butters or one of his she-wolves.” Mr. Butters’ stories were often transparent, written about a brave city medical examiner who battled evil, solving crimes with clever thinking and forensic expertise. “I will let you know when I have more information.”
The sound of Dresden’s name brought him to the forefront of my mind, where he had been often since my last encounter with him at MacAnally’s pub. It had been three weeks since the incident with Mab and the itch to see him was nearly making my skin crawl. I was still unable to get the image of him out of my mind. When I thought of dressing him up, I had envisioned him in tuxedos or well-tailored slacks and dress shirts, highlighting his long legs and trim waist. It wasn’t dissimilar to the way Lara Raith dressed him, only in my vision I had the pleasure of taking him out of those clothes after I purchased them for him. The look he had chosen for himself, for me, was more cowboy meets male stripper, and it took my breath away. He had looked considerably more like Thomas Raith than I had ever seen, and it cemented my theory that he and the vampire were half-brothers.
Dresden and I had once shared a locker room during the battle, but I had done my best to avoid looking at him, other than to note a ridiculous pair of Star Wars boxer shorts. This time, I had taken a slow and deliberate perusal of his form. He was no longer the gangly young man he was in his twenties. While it was nearly impossible for a man of his stature not to appear somewhat lanky, Dresden had added significant muscle mass to his frame over the years. I knew from my scouts that he often ran the shoreline of Lake Michigan wearing a weighted vest, but it was clear that his routine included more than just cardio.
I replayed that night again in my mind. The electricity between was palpable and as Mr. Matthew’s put it, Harry was indeed a smoke show. His shoulders were broad, and his arms were full of lean, corded muscles. The cut of his shirt highlighted the muscles in his chest and the pentacle necklace he always wore, giving me a glimpse of chest hair that I desperately wanted to run my fingers through. It had been difficult not to reach out and stroke the exposed skin from his jaw, down his long throat to whatever I could reach. When he retrieved beverages for us the fit those jeans had nearly brought me to my knees and I would have been happy to be there. When he sat, his thighs spread deliciously on the chair, and the bulge in his jeans corroborated every rumor I had ever heard about his anatomy. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Wizard McCoy was due soon, and it wouldn’t be wise to be thinking about what was in his grandson’s pants when he arrived.
Gard left the office momentarily and I heard the sound of the printer in the hall. She came back with a big smile on her face. It was disconcerting. “I have something of a gift for you,” she said, placing a piece of paper in front of me. I recognized the format of an Arcane of Own story. The title of the fanfiction was “Polka Will Never Die.” It told the tale of a battle of good wizards against evil necromancers. The main heroes of the story were a tall, lanky wizard who used his powers to resurrect Sue the Dinosaur, and a vanilla mortal who used his polka skills to maintain a steady rhythm on the drum, which helped control the dinosaur while they rode her into battle.
I knew that Dresden had fought against necromancers on Halloween many years ago in an event Gard had referred to as a Darkhallow. I had intervened to save his life that day, but I had few details about the event. At the time, I was not a member of the Accords, and therefore not privy to the types of details I now receive about magical incidents within my demesne. I read through the story, becoming increasingly intrigued.
If I recalled correctly, the remains of Sue the Dinosaur had been taken from the Field Museum and were relocated to a local college campus. It was assumed to be a practical joke perpetuated by college students in honor of Halloween. I completed a quick internet search, finding an article that corroborated my memory. I looked back at the printout and then up at Gard, “Do you think there is any truth to this account?”
From behind her back, Gard pulled two polaroids, one in each hand, and passed them to me. The pictures were of a full-fleshed Tyrannosaur with riders on its back. Both pictures were taken from inside a building, looking out at what appeared to be a college campus. In the first picture Dresden was brandishing his staff in the air, with Waldo Butters seated by his side with some type of one-man-band musical apparatus strapped on his back. In the second photo, Warden Ramirez had taken Butters’ place, and the Knight was standing on the ground nearby. “Mr. Matthews was able to use social media to track an eye-witness account of the events of that evening. A polaroid camera is based on mid-century technology and is likely one of the only devices that could have survived the magical energy at such close range. The price was five figures for the images and the accompanying NDA. I assumed you wouldn’t have an issue with the expense.”
While she spoke, I stared at the photos, slack-jawed in a way that was exceedingly uncommon for me. When I didn’t speak, Gard went on, “I have always wondered how Dresden was able to get close enough to the Dark Hallow without being destroyed by the necromantic energy and without breaking the laws of magic. It seems he found a loophole. It’s impressive.”
I nodded, still stunned. “I need to vocalize this, just to be certain. Are you telling me that Dresden resurrected and rode a Tyrannosaurus rex to fight necromancers to prevent them from achieving something akin to godhood?”
Gard nodded and smiled. “I am. As I said before, they drag on the ground.”
“Didn’t you say, they ‘practically drag on the ground’ before?” I queried.
“He rode a dinosaur.” She said, “Surely that’s worth a few more inches.”
I was still staring at the photographs in amazement when Wizard McCoy arrived. He joined me at my desk and immediately got down to business. “The library in Edinburgh hasn’t yielded any new information. Do you have any updates for me Baron?”
I pushed the photos over to him. He looked them over carefully before letting out a low huff. “That boy is always getting himself in trouble. One of these days he isn’t going to be able to talk or trick his way out of it.”
I had heard this line of thinking from the White Council before and quite frankly, I was tired of it. They questioned Harry at every turn and never gave him enough credit for his wit or bravery. “When I look at those pictures, I see a man who fights with everything he has, body, mind, and soul, and I would never bet against him. Have you considered that he should be having this conversation with us, rather than going behind his back?”
McCoy rubbed at the back of his neck, looking extremely uncomfortable. “I’m not sure he’d want to see me. Right before the battle he gave me some shocking news, and I didn’t handle it very well. I wasn’t happy with the situation, and I said and did some things I shouldn’t have. Haven’t really talked to him since that night.”
Based on the timing, I suspected this falling out was over one missing White Court vampire. “What could be so bad that he wouldn’t want to see his family?”
“Family is what it’s all about, and not something I want to talk about.” He hung his head, looking a bit defeated.
My suspicions all but confirmed, I found myself wanting to defend Harry. Instead, I tried a slightly different approach. “I met your great-granddaughter. She is a brave and beautiful little girl.”
“She is.” He sighed. “We fought about her too. He’s so damn hard-headed, he won’t see that she would be better off somewhere else. Somewhere she could be safe.”
“Hmm,” I said. “I was under the impression that approach was attempted, and it cost the life of her foster family, her mother, and nearly her own life.” I didn’t know all of the details about what happened when Harry destroyed the Red Court, but I had learned a fair few. The wizard before me flinched at my words and looked at me with a haggard face. I took a calculated risk and pushed , “ Perhaps her father is right and she’s safer cared for by her father, her great-grandfather, and her uncle?”
Ebenezar’s gaze whipped back to mine and the runes in his staff began to glow. He growled, “See here Marcone, you may have some kind of infatuation with Harry, but that doesn’t mean you know him or what’s best for him or his daughter. I’ve seen his soul, and I know what’s coming for him.”
“If a soulgaze is a measure of knowing a man, then I have known Harry since the day we met.” In a rare moment of emotional transparency, I allowed my rising anger to show. “I may not know the information the White Council continues to hold over his head about his future as starborn, but I don’t remember seeing you when we fought werewolves, or vampires, or Denarians, or when we vanquished a damn Titan together.”
A look of guilt flashed in the old wizard’s eyes and then his anger flared. “And I don’t remember seeing you in Chichén Itzá even though I know he asked for your help to save his daughter.”
It was my turn to flinch. I didn’t know who the child was at the time, but that is irrelevant. “Despite who I am, and all that I have done, I have few regrets in my life. That happens to be one of them. I don’t intend to fail him again. Ever.”
We glared at each other, and that moment of eye contact was all it took to trigger a soulgaze. Looking into McCoy’s soul, I saw a man of younger years than the wizard in front of me. He stood tall in front of a building I knew to be the White Council Headquarters in Edinburgh, Blackstaff in hand, surrounded by the aura of his power and the absolute surety that he served the greater good. I saw the man who was willing to commit atrocities to preserve the inviolability of the White Council. As I watched, cracks appeared in his staff, and the building behind him crumbled to the ground. He drew his power to him, and the unblemished image returned. I knew that I was witnessing his doubt, and that he was violently clinging to the hope that the organization he had given his life to and tainted his soul for was worth it.
The soulgaze ended and the runes in Ebenezar’s staff faded, and he stood to leave. “It seems we’re both trying to do right for him in the ways we think are proper. I suppose that’s all I can ask for. I’ll be in touch Marcone.” He left my office, and Gard escorted him off the property.
I reflected on what I had seen until Gard came back into the room. “So, soulgaze?” she asked.
I nodded. “My third one.” Harry was the first, followed by an unfortunate incident with Wizard Cristos during a meeting of the Accorded Nations. The man was a sycophant and the soulgaze only served to increase my distrust of the man. “It’s interesting. In principle, all three provided similar types of insight, but the one with Dresden was much more intense. I saw more of him somehow and the feeling was nearly paralyzing.” The memory of that moment came easily to the front of my mind, as it always would.
Gard reflected on that insight for a minute before she said, “It could be because Dresden was young and had less control of his emotions at the time or it could be indicative of his power in some way. I think it’s more likely that it’s because of what he was destined to become to you.”
I scoffed. “Are you suggesting that Dresden is my soulmate or some other such nonsense?”
She still looked pensive. “Not in the sense you are referring to perhaps, but the White Council certainly seems to think his future may be fated in some way. It’s possible that you are an integral part of that future.”
I sighed. “You can stop trying to sway me, you know.” After those few moments at MacAnally’s, I was more than willing to attempt a relationship with Dresden beyond mutual irritation. “It’s him you need to convince.”
She smirked. “I think he’s coming around to the idea.”
Notes:
Did I write an entire chapter just because I wanted to write Marcone's reaction to Harry riding Sue the Dinosaur? I sure did!
Chapter 13: Learning Curve
Summary:
Harry asks Bob to read fanfiction. Harry has a lot of work to do in more ways than one.
Notes:
This chapter took way longer than I expected. I re-wrote it several times and ended up scrapping a large portion of what I wrote to come up with this. I still don't love the way it turned out, but I had to force myself past it. This chapter is my homage to some of my favorite writers and stories within this community. I reference a few stories directly and quote one of my absolute favorites. I have cited the authors and included the links in the footnotes. Let me know if you catch something that I should annotate.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Harry POV
Mab had been running me ragged in the weeks since her unplanned appearance at Mac’s. She had me investigating reported Fomor strongholds in Japan and Madagascar, hand-delivering sealed missives to potential new allies across the world, and providing security for Molly as she acted as a goodwill ambassador of sorts for the Unseelie Accords in the aftermath of the battle. Part of me wondered if the increase in assignments was punishment from Mab for letting a mortal summon her. The rest of me was certain that it was punishment. I just hoped it would let up soon. The only benefit was that all the work kept me out of my own head. I had very little time to miss Murphy and even less time to think about Lara or John.
Despite the globetrotting, I refused to miss tucking Maggie in more than one night a week. To make that work, Maggie, Bonnie, Mouse, and I were all staying at the Carpenter’s house. It meant that Maggie had someone to care for her while I commuted back and forth through the Ways. It also meant that I hadn’t been back to the castle for a while. I needed to connect with Bob about the whole fanfiction thing to see what he knew. If Larry, with his limited exposure to the supernatural world, was able to glean verifiable information from the stories, it was possible there was a lot more to be learned. Butters and Paranoid Gary filled me in when they thought something was important enough to run it by me, but they were limited in their knowledge too and might not recognize subtle messaging. Having Bob monitor things would give me early warning if there was something worth knowing.
Two nights later, I tromped down to my lab in the sub-basement, descending the new stairs Michael helped me install. The room was back to looking like it had when I lived in the boarding house, with wire shelves full of potion ingredients along the walls, my summoning circle at one end, and tables running down the middle. There was a shelf for Bob’s skull that contained a few paperback romances, even though Bob had expanded his presence to the walls of the castle. I still preferred to come down here and talk to his skull. It gave me a sense of normalcy that I needed in my life.
“Bob, you awake?” Orange lights cascaded from the walls of the castle and condensed into the eye sockets of the skull.
Bob made a yawning sound. “I am now. Long time, no see, Harry. What can I do for you, Boss?”
“Are you aware of something on the Paranet called Arcane of Our Own?” As far as I knew, porn sites had replaced Bob’s reading habits. Unfettered internet access was Bob’s one condition for moving back in with me and taking on the additional task of integrating with the castle’s defense system. Will and Butters had set up a computer and peripherals for him in a remote corner of the castle using Svartalf-warded technology that Molly somehow procured. The whole setup worked even around my magic, but I never got too close, just in case. The only rules were that he was not allowed to access any adult content when the girls were around, and he could only use pre-paid credit cards for purchases. There had been a shocking number of OnlyFans subscriptions on my bank card when he first moved back in, which had led to a very embarrassing conversation with Will. Now I had a stash of gift cards that I used to bribe him when I wanted something from him instead of offering a new book or a pass to go outside.
“I sure am Boss. I can’t believe I had to go so long without reading fanfiction. There is some quality smut out there! I especially like the ones about Faeries. They are as hot and horny as the real deal, but far less terrifying. The all have giant dicks or tight p—”.
“Bob!” I really did not want to think about any naked Faeries. Been there, done that, got the mantle. “Can you give me an overview of the kinds of stories that are being written?”
“There are short stories, multi-chapter fics, co-authored stories, poems, just about any format you can think of. They have all the usual fanfiction tropes. The only real difference is that non-Paranet fanfiction tends to be centered mostly around source material like books, movies, TV shows, comics and the like. AO3 is centered around the supernatural. There are stories about Faeries, wizards, werewolves, just about anything. I haven’t seen any about ghouls, which as far as I’m concerned, is a very good thing.” I shuddered. I really didn’t want to think about that.
So far Bob hadn’t added much to what Larry had already told me, and that hadn’t been a lot. “What are the usual tropes?” I prompted.
“There’s Amnesia, Enemies to Lovers, Fake Dating, One Bed, Sex Pollen, Fuck or Die —”
I interrupted, choking out “Fuck or Die?”
“Yup. That’s where the characters are forced to have sex to solve some type of problem, like being cursed or something like that.” It was like the adult version of kissing the frog to turn him back into a prince and I supposed that it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility.
I tried to redirect the conversation. “Have you seen any evidence that some of the authors are including real information in their stories? Like about Lara or the White Council?” I was careful to avoid mentioning John. He already gave me a hard enough time about him after Toot’s reports about my “consort”.
“What kind of real information? Do you mean accurate descriptions of the characters? Your fiancé used to star in porn movies, it’s not all that difficult for someone to describe her having sex.” If Bob had a tongue, it would be hanging out of his mouth. “The descriptions of her partners are probably less accurate but are sure fun to imagine! My favorite stories are the ones with her and the Winter or Summer Lady. Or all three! Yowsa!”
“Bob, focus!” I used my centering techniques to prevent my brain from conjuring up any images at his words. “I meant information that might indicate someone is sharing knowledge about the political goings on within the Accords. For example, have you seen anything suggesting that my marriage to Lara is arranged and that neither of us want it?”
“I haven’t read any stories about you Boss. Butters set up a filter on AO3 for me to avoid ‘perving on my friends’. He’s too sensitive if you ask me, but there’s so much porn on the internet that I didn’t figure I was missing much.” I wasn’t exactly sure how I could sense the air quotes despite Bob’s lack of hands, but I was sure they were there.
I appreciated Butters’ attempt to protect our virtue, and I was not looking forward to the sentence I was about to utter, but there was no help for it. “I need you to read all the stories involving me and my usual allies and see if you can find any useful intelligence.” I braced myself for my next words. “Pay particular attention to the stories about John Marcone and me. I have been led to believe that there is at least one author using them to disseminate information.”
“You and the hot mob boss! Got it!” He chortled, “I don’t usually read MM romance, but I’ll make an exception for you and your consort!”
“Do not call him that! I just barely got Toot and Lacuna to stop. Don’t get them started back up again.” Bob thought he was hilarious. “I’ll give you a $100 gift card if you read all the stories and compile the information without getting too personal about it or giving me a hard time.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal Boss!”
***
By the third week, my schedule was starting to take its toll, and exhaustion was setting in. Today’s itinerary was to accompany Molly to a clandestine meeting including representatives from multiple secret government agencies, as well as several smaller supernatural communities, some of which I had never even heard of. By mid-afternoon we were only halfway through the agenda, and it was clear I wouldn’t make it home in time to see Maggie tonight. I was tired, in a bad mood, and on top of it, the coffee was terrible. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stay focused on the meeting. My mind kept wandering to John and our encounter at Mac’s. I didn’t allow myself to focus on those few intense moments at the table where there the sexual tension between us had been palpable. The last thing I wanted was to stand around with a hard-on all day. Erections aren’t very threatening to most beings in the supernatural community, and some might even mistake one for an invitation.
Instead, I tried to focus on the things I had learned that night. The “dates” that I thought John was going on were interviews and Gard purposely let me believe otherwise to make me jealous. John had ostensibly played along. Did he want me to be jealous? Also, John had a piece of Little Chicago. The fire hadn’t been hot enough in the basement to melt my summoning circle, but pewter had a much lower melting point than copper. It’s part of the reason I used it for the model in the first place, because it was easier to mold. How much of it had survived? Would John give me back what was left or had it been destroyed in the aftermath of my death?
I also thought about the fanfiction and wondered if Bob had found anything. I had known that fanfiction existed for books, but I was still getting used to the idea that creators wrote the same types of stories about people in the real world in general and about me specifically. I acknowledged that I was a key figure in certain supernatural circles, but I never thought that would lead to anyone writing stories about my sex life. I didn’t see the appeal. I had no problem understanding why people wanted to write about John Marcone. He was easy to picture as one of the handsome, rich, morally grey main characters that featured prominently in the books Bob liked to read. But the fact that I was his most common romantic pairing? It seemed ridiculous.
The more I thought about it, the more I was forced to admit that I was intensely curious. I have only dated a few women, and my sexual experiences have all been fairly vanilla. The most exciting encounter I had was the night Susan got pregnant, and that was more about the intense emotional component than anything. After how things ended, it was also something I didn’t want to think about. Ever if possible. I never really considered the idea of two men having sex beyond the basic “Tab A, Slot B” concept. I didn’t have a clue if I wanted to be the Tab or the Slot in that equation. How did I figure that out? What if John had a preference that didn’t match my own? I didn’t even know the right words to describe some of the images that came to mind. How would I have a conversation about it? I was coming to realize that I might need to do some research, but I didn’t even know how to begin. I couldn’t exactly to go to the public library to look up gay sex. Well, I probably could, but I wasn’t going to. I wondered if reading the fanfiction about John and I would help on that front. Bob said the stories on AO3 were smutty. How detailed were they? Would they describe what it felt like to —.
“Harry, did you hear me?” I whipped my head up to make eye contact with Molly and found that the rest of the conference room had emptied while I was lost in my own thoughts.
I grinned sheepishly. “Sorry Molls, what were you saying?”
“I said that I need to talk to you about something. Let’s go back to the castle and have a beer.” Well, that couldn’t be good. If Molly was trying to have a conversation away from her family and plying me with alcohol, I knew I wasn’t going to like what she had to say. We traveled back to Chicago in silence, and I became more anxious as time passed. Soon we were seated on the couch, sipping Mac’s dark ale. Molly squared her shoulders and turned to me with a grave expression. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
“Give me the good news.” I needed something to set me at ease before I heard whatever it was that was putting the sour look on Molly’s beautiful face.
“You only have one more engagement before you go back to your normal schedule, and you and the girls can be back in the castle.” That was a relief. No matter what else she had to say, settling back into our usual routine was something to look forward to.
“Ok, now the bad news.” I clenched all my muscles, waiting for her response.
She sighed. “It’s a literal engagement. You have your first public date with Lara tomorrow and then an announcement will appear in the Tribune on Sunday.”
I grimaced. “Tomorrow? Seriously, you couldn’t give me more of a heads up?”
“I could have, but it wouldn’t have changed anything. It would just mean that you would have been stewing about it and not paying attention to your duties.” She nudged my shoulder with hers. “Not that you were paying attention today.”
“Sorry.” Despite her obvious conflict of interest, Molly was the only person who knew all the details about everything happening with John, and I knew she was as thrilled as I was about my engagement. I decided to tell her the truth of what was going on in my head. “I was thinking about fanfiction, and John, and sex, and how clueless I am.” I slumped back against the couch in exasperation.
Suddenly Bob’s voice joined the conversation. “Speaking of fanfiction, I have the analysis about you asked for.”
“Should I leave?” Molly asked.
I shook my head. “Stay and finish your beer. You probably know most of this stuff anyway. What have you got for me Bob?”
“I think the author you were talking about is Marcone’s Valkyrie babe. The author’s handle is Choosing_Rauðr.”
Gard? Really? I have heard more than one supernatural being call Gard a chooser, referring to Norse mythology in which the Valkyrie choose the fate of fallen soldiers in battle. A memory fought its way the surface; three interlocking triangles, a scorched valknut, deciding Murphy’s fate as an Einherjar. The same fate that had befallen Nathan Hendricks, John’s red-headed lieutenant and Gard’s rumored lover. ‘Rauðr’ was the norse word for red. It made sense, I guess. “Let’s assume it’s her. What kind of stuff does she write about?”
“She identifies potential threats to the Chicago area and details how to recognize or avoid them. You know, the kind of thing the White Council knows about, but doesn’t share with lower-level practitioners because they are giant bag of dicks?” Marcone had made no secret of his disdain for the White Council and many of their secretive tactics. While he hoarded information like a dragon hoarded gold, educating the people of Chicago about how to recognize potential threats to protect themselves seemed like something he would do.
I chuckled, “I would have said they were a bunch of hypocrites, but giant bag of dicks works too.” Molly snickered.
“She also had several stories that hint at potential locations of Nicodemus Archleone.” That also made sense. Marcone had a vendetta against Nicodemus for the kidnapping and torture of both him and Ivy. He had already helped Mab enact her own revenge against Nicodemus for breaking the Accords, and I knew Marcone wasn’t the type to let Nicodemus lick his wounds and regain his strength. “She also floated a theory that Wizard Cristos was in cahoots with the Fomor and was partly responsible for planning the attack on Chicago in order to make himself look like a hero. If the story is true, he didn’t count on the Fomor being in bed with Ethniu and we all know how that turned out.” I could feel my rage building in my chest. Cristos was the primary reason I was no longer a Wizard, and I had long suspected that he was part of the Black Council. Beside me, Molly stiffened but didn’t say anything.
“Anything else?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“She doesn’t specifically mention that you are in an arranged marriage, but she has a couple of stories where Mab forces you into relationships that you don’t want, and Marcone saves the day. The most common themes throughout her stories about the two of you are about how you are both idiots who pine for each other or about how Marcone has wanted you for years, but you are too oblivious to figure it out.” After recent events, neither of those themes surprised me.
Bob’s summary confirmed that Larry was a sharp guy. I needed to talk to John about him. “What about other authors?”
“There are other stories that have a vague ring of truth, but without any specific details that stand out. For example, there are a bunch of stories about Lea cursing you or turning you into a woman, all to help you fall in love with John. That totally seems like something she would do.” I had absolutely no problem imagining Lea doing exactly that if she thought it was for my benefit. She cared, but her methods were dubious at best.
Sighing, I said, “Thanks Bob. Keep an eye out for new stories and let me know if you find anything, no matter how insignificant it may seem.”
“Will do.” Bob seemed to hesitate for a moment and then said, “You know Boss, the hot Valkyrie also repeats certain details about the Baron that seem like they might real, but you told me not to get too personal. You might want to read her stuff if you ever decide to ask him out.”
I was about to lie and say that I had no plans to ask him out and that I wasn’t interested in any such information, when Molly cut in first with “Ooo, tell me!”
Clearly thrilled to share, Bob announced, “According to at least three different stories, Marcone is vers, uncut, and is into rimming and orgasm denial.”
“Oh. My. God.” Molly and I both said at the same time, her voice was full of glee while mine was full of trepidation.
I groaned, putting my head between my knees and taking deep breaths so I didn’t panic. “I am so in over my head here.”
Molly patted my back. “Breath Harry.” Then she stood up. “I’ll be back in a minute Harry,” she said and left the room.
I did as she said and a few minutes later she was standing in front of me, holding a stack of papers. I was no longer hyperventilating, but I wasn’t feeling much better. “Go get ready for bed. Read these, in this order, before you go to sleep.” She leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “It will be ok. Dinner at 7 tomorrow evening with Lara at Mastro’s Steakhouse. Lara’s stylist will send over an outfit in the morning and provide you the rest of the details.” Then she let herself out.
I followed Molly’s instructions and climbed into my bed a short time later with my cup of tea and the papers she had given me. I looked at the first page, my eyes scanning until they found a title. “November First” by SirTaliesin[1]. I began reading. It turned out to be a charming story about how I was supposed to protect Marcone but got bored and ended up having a candy war with him. Then it turned into a wrestling match, and it all happened while I was wearing one of those plastic cauldrons you put candy in as a helmet. It ended with my going on a date with him that I didn’t know was a date only to realize I had agreed to a second date. Was I really that clueless? Honestly it all sounded pretty feasible. Murphy was in the story, unimpressed by my antics. I found that it made me think of her fondly, and I was surprised to find it didn’t hurt as much as I expected it to.
The second story was “Home Brew” by Grenegome.[2] In this story, John and I were an established couple, making a potion in my lab. The story alluded to us having sex, only by saying we’d snapped his belt. My cheeks warmed a little thinking about how that might have happened, but without any detail, it wasn’t overwhelming or intimidating. The crux of the story was that unbeknownst to me, John picked ingredients to make a love potion instead of just saying that he loved me. There was some cursed beer and a near death experience for John, but it still managed to be a sweet story. The way the author described our banter and the closeness between us was nice. That innate comfort is my favorite part about being in a relationship and the story made me see how that might feel with John. I had never really thought about what it might be like to just spend time in each other’s presence without fighting one another or battling an enemy, and I found I really liked the idea.
The final story was titled “80 Floors Up” by Anguisette90.[3] This one was set at the time that gay marriage became legal in Illinois. Pretty much the entire story took place during an elevator ride and started out with me annoying John, as usual. A cut-out newspaper article about the first gay marriage in Cook County was my way of starting a conversation with John about a potential relationship between the two of us. I honestly couldn’t picture myself being that bold, but if I was going to address an issue head-on, I would do it in a round-about way. The story versions of us bickered about whether it would be possible for us to have a public relationship, while keeping our reputations intact. I thought about it for a moment and decided that dating a man was the least likely potential issue where my reputation is concerned.
Pretty soon the story had us groping one another and me bringing John to completion with my hand. I had to admit, that was pretty hot, and it felt like a sex act with another man that was actually within my grasp. No pun intended. I read on. “The man behind the John Marcone mask, my John, had a hunger as strong as any White Court demon or faerie mantle. He’d spent years keeping it on a leash, stuffing it down, never letting it show. And every time we spoke, every battle, every fight, every insult, every single ‘Mr. Dresden’ that had left his lips only made it stronger.” Is that how John felt? If someone asked me to describe John Marcone in one word, it would be “relentless”. I thought of all our interactions over the years after I refuted his initial attempts to hire me…how often John had shown up out of the blue…how easy it was for me to get a hold of him despite how busy he must be…how he dropped everything to swoop in with helicopters or mercenaries to save me when the most I offered him was a ‘pretty please’. Holy shit! He had been pursuing me this whole time. He was relentless and I was just as oblivious as everyone seemed to think!
The next words cause my heart to pound in my chest. “Then he sank to his knees, tugging down my pants and boxers, and he did things with his mouth and tongue that took me to a higher fucking plane of existence. Some things are just too damn good for this world. Who would have guessed Baron Marcone’s hot, eager mouth was one of them?” Fuck. I wanted that. I wanted it bad. Just because I was inexperienced, it didn’t mean John was. My nerves were gone, replaced with determination. If John wanted to pursue me, I was going to let him catch me. I may not have a clue about what I was doing in the bedroom, but I was a Wizard dammit, and Wizards spend their lives studying and perfecting their craft. I could do the same in this situation.
Before I could change my mind, I took the leap. “Bob?”
A faint orange glow appeared in the wall of my bedroom, and I heard a groggy, “Yeah Boss?”
“I need you to print all the stories about John and I on AO3 and have Toot bring them to my room before Maggie comes home.” The last thing I needed was for anyone else to get their hands on those printouts.
The castle lights flared brighter. “Hot damn, Harry! It’s about time!”
***
I woke up to a large stack of papers on my bedside table. I picked up the top piece and examined it. By now I was familiar with the general layout of an AO3 story header, but I hadn’t really inspected the type of information it provided. I examined the fields and found that I could determine the stories rating, length, completion status, and other key tags that might give me some context of what the story was about. By the time Lara’s assistant dropped off my suit for tonight’s “date”, I had all the stories organized by rating and completion status, with pages stapled and multiple chapter fics held together with binder clips. I couldn’t believe how many stories there were and how many different authors contributed them. I saw names like FlitShadowflame, dewdropfae, Jade_Dragoness, Akelios, Willofhounds, CyborgV2, kakaitalover, SmutMuffin, and magnificentbirb. I wanted to know the story behind each one of them.
I made myself a sandwich, grabbed a Coke and my stack of stories, and sat on the couch. Now I just had to read. In the light of day, last night’s resolve had dimmed, and I was feeling more overwhelmed than excited. Molly’s approach of gradually turning up the heat had been a good one and I decided to follow her lead, starting with the stories rated “General Audiences”. The first several that I read featured a bit of flirting, a lot of Murphy and Hendricks being irritated with us, and situations that seemed far-fetched, even for my life. Many of the Harry’s in the stories had a passing resemblance to me at best, but that actually made it easier to keep reading. After a few hours, I was no longer paying much attention to tags and authors when a new story titled “Wrath” gripped me in a way that others hadn’t.
I was in the middle of a board meeting, listening to an update on quarterly projections, when I saw Hendricks check his phone out of the corner of my eye. He stood abruptly and ordered everyone to vacate the premises. Ms. Gard entered the room to usher people out. Confused faces looked my way, waiting for me to negate the order, but I didn’t. I couldn’t speak at all. There was only one reason Nathan Hendricks would interrupt my meeting. Harry Dresden was dead. Whoever or whatever had killed him was already dead too, they just didn’t know it yet.
That was it. That was the entire story. Those one hundred words chilled me. They were visceral. Real in a way the other stories hadn’t been. I looked at the title information, and sure enough, the author was Choosing_Rauðr and the story was published less than a week after my death. Gard had already let it drop that Marcone went to Italy to try and find a way to save me. Did he also try to find my killer? What did he think when I came back? Why did he build the castle over the remains of my home? I needed to talk to him soon and get some answers. My mind in a whirlwind, I gave up on reading for the day and proceeded to get ready for my evening out with Lara.
***
Mastro’s was one of the fanciest restaurants in Chicago and so far out of my price range that I couldn’t afford the water. Fortunately, the only thing required of me was to wear the suit that was delivered this morning and behave myself in public. The car Lara sent delivered me to the front door of the restaurant promptly at 7. I abandoned thoughts of running away and entered the building. I approached the pleasant looking woman at the maître d' stand, and I shortly found myself being escorted to a table near the windows where Lara was already waiting for me.
She stood to greet me. She clasped her hands on my arms and said loudly in a sweet voice unlike the normal tone she took with me, “Harry! It’s so good to see you! I’ve missed you!” Her volume drew attention from those around us, and I remembered that the whole point of this event was to be on display.
After finally being released back to a normal schedule, I was not about to risk Mab’s ire, so I gave Lara my best fake smile and offered, “Lara. You look beautiful, as always.” It was the truth. Poisonous flowers are beautiful too, and I wanted every bit as much to do with them. I held the back of her chair for her while she sat and then took my own seat. Our server came, introduced himself, and took our drink order. Lara opted for sparkling water, and I was thrilled to find out they had Coke.
After a few minutes of awkward silence Lara spoke. “Harry, I know this is not what either of us expected, and I realize that I am the one that asked for a closer alliance. While I have not forgiven you for what happened with Thomas, I wanted to give you something as a show of good faith for our future relationship, whatever that happens to be.” She handed me a key, and I recognized it immediately as belonging to the Water Beatle, my brother’s boat. The last I knew, Nemesis/Justine had abandoned it off the coast of Indiana and Lara’s people were trying to recover it. “It’s docked in the same slip it was always in.”
I stared at the key for a moment, unable to speak, fighting back the tears that filled my eyes. I was going to be able to visit my brother for the first time in months. I thought about Thomas, Justine, and their baby and how much I was letting them all down. I choked out, “Thank you Lara. Have you had any leads? The baby has been born by now.” She shook her head, and we both seemed to be caught up in our own reveries.
Lara broke the silence again. “Let’s change the subject to something happier. Tell me about the work you are doing at the castle. I hear that you have turned it into a community center and have tutors involved.” We spent the next twenty minutes enjoying appetizers and talking about the work being done by all the volunteers that helped keep the castle running on a daily basis. A waiter approached our table holding a tray with two drinks on it.
“What are these?” I asked, confused.
“A ‘True Love’s Kiss’ for the lovely lady” he said, setting a pink cocktail in a martini glass in front of Lara. I worked hard to suppress a laugh knowing exactly what Lara looked like after kissing someone touched by true love. He set a highball glass containing an orangey concoction over ice in front of me and continued, “And a ‘Slow Comfortable Screw’ for the handsome gentleman. Courtesy of the distinguished gentleman in the corner.” Lara and I both turned our heads to see a smirking John Marcone holding up his own glass in mock salute. Lara’s face held a look of barely contained fury, but I couldn’t help the wide grin on my face or the butterflies in my stomach as I raised my own glass in return. We definitely needed to talk.
Notes:
I love the idea of John antagonizing Lara. Harry is normally the one considered to be antagonistic, but two can play at that game.
Chapter 14: It's Just a Little Forgery
Summary:
Marcone meets with the Mayor of Chicago in an effort to help Harry out. It's all happening behind his back...until he shows up.
Notes:
I split this chapter in two so I could capture both character's POV. Marcone's piece is a little more administrative in nature, but I love that he has multiple personas and manages to blend them all seamlessly to get what he wants. Harry knows that John is savvy, sexy, and a little scary, but he usually only gets to see him in extreme situations.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Marcone POV
On Monday morning, I sat at the conference table in my office, with the mayor and two other prominent members of the Chicago City Council. The purpose of the meeting was to discuss the approval of a Special Use zoning permit and tax-exempt status for Harry’s castle, allowing it to continue to function as a community center as well as permitting charitable donations, with no tax implications for the current owner. Donations I intended to provide once said status was procured. I used my connections at City Hall to bypass the city’s zoning laws while erecting the castle in a residential area, but Harry had no such associations. Now that the immediate aftermath of the battle was over, city officials were beginning to refocus on their usual bureaucratic red tape and Harry was facing potential reprisal for zoning violations. With Mr. Borden’s assistance, Harry had submitted a permit application, which was promptly denied. That denial was intercepted by my contacts before he could be notified. Unbeknownst to him despite his signature on the documents, my legal staff submitted a new permit request that was more favorable to him and provided considerably more justification and precedent for approval. I used my influence to delay the city’s enforcement of current violations, but their continued delay in approving the new permit provoked me to call today’s meeting. I wanted this issue to be resolved. Now.
The main sticking point appeared to be the mayor’s unwillingness to acknowledge the reality of past events, despite his having toured the city in the hours after the attack when bodies, human and non-human alike, were still in the streets. “Mr. Mayor, despite your desire to remain willfully ignorant, Chicago is recovering from a major supernatural attack. If not for Mr. Dresden, the city would have been completely destroyed.” My own part in the final showdown with Ethniu was not something I was willing to acknowledge, even in supernatural circles, and it would not benefit me to bring up other Accorded Nations up in discussion. “In addition, Mr. Dresden opened his home as a much-needed refuge in the aftermath of the attack and continues to provide a valuable service to the community. His bravery and dedication to this city should be rewarded. Granting this permit is how you can reward him.”
Mayor Johnson rubbed his temples as if attempting to thwart a headache. “Mr. Marcone, as I have stated repeatedly in our previous communiques, we acknowledge Mr. Dresden’s support of the community in the recent months. However, you cannot possibly expect us to grant a zoning exemption for a community center to a man of Mr. Dresden’s reputation, despite whatever role you claim he played during a terrorist attack. His name has come up in multiple Internal Affairs investigations, including several homicides and an office bombing. There’s even a rumor that he attempted to fake his own death to avoid charges.”
Unbidden, a memory rose to the forefront of my mind.
Karring Murphy barged into my office, her face contorted in anger and her voice full of cold fury. “Did you do it, Marcone?”
In the week since hearing the news of Harry’s death, I had vacillated between voluble rage and stricken silence, and my voice felt like gravel in my throat. “And why would I do that, Ms. Murphy?”
Through gritted teeth she seethed, “You hated him. You have always hated him. As soon as you found out you couldn’t buy him, you —”. Her words cut off as she really looked at me for the first time since entering my office and I could see her eyes registering my appearance. I watched as she took in my pallid skin, my bloodshot eyes with the dark bruises underneath from lack of sleep, and the slump in my shoulders that was uncharacteristic of my usual persona. The fury drained from her face and the only thing left was a mirror of my own grief. In that moment, Karrin Murphy and I developed an understanding with one another that would carry us through the long months when we thought Harry was dead and the years after when he isolated himself on that damnable island. We threw ourselves recklessly into the defense of the people of Chicago and grieved the loss of our wizard. Despite my feelings for Harry, I respected Karrin Murphy and lamented her death both for Harry’s sake and for the city’s.
Back in the present, I addressed the accusation. “And yet, he has never been charged for those incidents. Is he not innocent until proven guilty?” Harry has committed illegal acts. Many of them. He is fighting a war and collateral damage is an unfortunate reality of war that even someone as inherently good as Harry Dresden cannot avoid. For someone such as myself, who does not have that goodness at his core, it’s easier to embrace the criminal from the onset to minimize collateral damage where possible. In my case, that includes making evidence of Harry’s crimes disappear, so he may continue to do good.
Councilman Burnett, Chairman of the Zoning, Landmarks, and Building Standards Committee spoke up. “Mr. Marcone, please be reasonable. First, you built a damn castle in the middle of a Chicago neighborhood and had strange characters coming and going all hours of the day and night, which drew all kinds of questions from the citizenry that we could not answer. Then, you transferred ownership of that castle to Mr. Dresden, for free I might add, including covering the tax debt he incurred for that transfer. Now you are telling us we should allow Mr. Dresden, who is considered to be eccentric at best and dangerous at worst, to run a community center in that castle because you believe that he is a wizard and that he used his wizard powers to help Chicago during an attack that you claim to be supernatural, even though the U.S. Government has admitted it was caused by terrorists and involved the use of hallucinogens. It’s a ridiculous request. Even if such a thing were true, those permits are scrutinized closely and would draw unwanted attention to whoever approved such a thing.”
Now we were getting to the crux of the matter; politicians worrying more about appearances than what was best for their constituency. How unoriginal. I suppressed a shark’s smile and turned back to the mayor. “Mr. Mayor, I am not asking you, as a governmental body, to officially acknowledge the supernatural world, nor Mr. Dresden’s role in it. The reason that I’m not asking you to do so is because it’s clear to me that you have chosen to be both short-sighted and narrow-minded. I, however, am neither. If another supernatural threat should target Chicago, we will need Mr. Dresden, and I, for one, will do everything in my power to ensure he is here and on our side. Approve the permit.” Burnett started to object, and I raised my hand to stop him. “As an alternative, I can tie this matter up in court very publicly and use my power and influence to ensure that I will soon be having this conversation with a different group of elected officials.”
Before they could respond to my threat, Ms. Gard spoke up from her position by the door. “Mr. Marcone, Mr. Dresden has arrived as you requested. Shall I show him in?”
I did not anticipate Harry’s arrival, and I most certainly didn’t invite him to this meeting, but I wasn’t going to deny myself the opportunity to see him. In fact, his presence could prove to be beneficial in this argument. He was likely going to be livid that I was having this conversation on his behalf and behind his back, but I would address that later. I powered down my phone and laptop in anticipation of his entrance. “I’d like to speak to him for a few moments first.” I stood and turned to the officials at the table. “Gentlemen, please take a moment to refresh your coffee, and Mr. Dresden and I will be back shortly.”
I stepped into the antechamber of my office, coming face to face with Harry Dresden, who looked every bit as devastatingly handsome as the time he dressed up for me at MacAnally’s. My eyes trailed over his body from head to toe. His hair was coiffed in the same windblown way as before. He was wearing a fitted black V-neck henley tee that hugged his shoulders and biceps, the right one flexing as he gripped his staff and I tried desperately to ignore the images that euphemism immediately conjured. His shirt exposed a portion of his clavicles as well as a hint of delectable chest hair. He paired the shirt with distressed grey jeans that hugged his thighs, a black leather belt with a silver buckle, and a pair of short black suede dress boots, that I realized were not dissimilar to what I was wearing with my bespoke navy suit. He wore his usual amulet and rings to round out the look. His duster was draped over his left arm, his scarred left hand only partially visible, and I was once again surprised at the rarity of seeing him without his protective outerwear. When my perusal finally reached back up to his face, I realized that he was watching me and smirking.
“Hello to you too, John,” he said, offering me the same smile he had at Mastro’s.
Mustering my composure I said, “Harry, it’s good to see you. This may sound like an odd question, but why are you here?”
He looked confused. “I called Gard yesterday and told her that I needed to talk to you. She told me to be here at 8:30, so here I am.”
I sighed. I had hoped that Harry and I engaging in increasingly friendly encounters would cause Gard to cease her machinations, but no such luck. “I suspected as much. I’m very pleased to hear that you desire to speak with me, although I suspect you may change your mind once you hear about what is happening in my office. I only ask that go along with what I say as if you and I were in previous communication about the subject and hold your questions and anger with me until after the other meeting attendees depart. Then we may talk about whatever you wish.”
With mischief in his eyes he said, “Say please,” and I knew this was payback for the time I had made him beg for help taking on the White Court. His “pretty please” had been on repeat in my mind for years.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the upturn of my lips. “Fine,” I said. “Please.”
He smiled back, knowing I understood. “Pretty please,” he prompted.
I stepped closer to him, lowering my voice. “Pretty please.”
He took in a sharp breath and in his own husky voice said, “With a cherry on top.”
I stepped closer again. We were almost touching now, and I angled my mouth up toward his ear and whispered, “Fuck you.”
He barked out a laugh and I stepped back, turning away from him and opening my office door before I could do something inadvisable. He followed me to the table. “Harry Dresden, this is Mayor Johnson, Walter Burnett, Chair of the Zoning, Landmarks, and Building Standards Committee, and Matt Martin, Chair of the Ethics and Government Oversight Committee. Gentlemen, this is Harry Dresden.” It was amusing to watch the interaction between them as they shook hands. Harry was polite, but completely unphased by the vanilla mortals, as he referred to them, standing in front of him. In his capacity as the Winter Knight, he met with dignitaries and demigods, demons and dragons. While he would always be rough around the edges in what I found to be in both endearing and exasperating ways, he was entirely capable of holding his own with a few elected officials. They, on the other hand, seemed dumbstruck at his appearance. Harry’s towering height and impressive physique alone make him an imposing figure but add in his handsomely scarred face and an aura of power that far exceeds anything that could be obtained through an electoral process, and Harry Dresden was downright alarming to the men front of him. It was delicious.
I motioned for everyone to sit, and Harry laid his duster over the back of his chair, propped his staff against the table, and sat. “Harry, thank you for joining us. Allow me to recap our discussion thus far. As you know, a permit application has been submitted which will allow your home to be rezoned for continued use as a community center, as well designating the property as tax-exempt which will allow prominent individuals and organizations, such as mine, to support your endeavors.” Harry’s eyes widened a bit, but he otherwise gave no indication that the news was a surprise to him. Despite my dread over Harry’s current employment situation, I had to concede that he had learned much under Mab’s oversight. “Our current discord is around the theoretical scrutiny that the approval of the permit and subsequent justification might garner.” I left out their attack on Harry’s character, hoping to avoid an escalation that I could not control.
Harry looked at me thoughtfully. “Thank you, John, for working so hard on this for me.” I detected both gratitude and annoyance in his words and wondered which would ultimately win out. Then he turned to the other men at the table. “So, you don’t want to help your community because you are afraid someone might ask questions about it?”
It was Mr. Burnett who responded. “It’s not about answering questions, Mr. Dresden. It’s about you. You have a reputation in this city. Even setting aside past police investigations, which I duly acknowledge have not resulted in any punitive action, your character is questionable at best. You think you are a wizard for crying out loud. You’re carrying a staff like you’re going to a Lord of the Rings cosplay event and wearing a satanic symbol around your neck. You have obviously lost your connection to reality and can’t be trusted to run a facility where children are in regular attendance.” Burnett turned to me. “Quite frankly Marcone, I’m beginning to question your sanity as well.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Harry beat me to it. I expected anger and defiance, but shockingly, he was calm. He held up his necklace and with an almost bemused tone said, “First, this is a pentacle. It’s a symbol of magic. It represents the forces of air, earth, water, fire, and spirit, all bound by human will. There is nothing good or evil about it. Second, my staff is way cooler than Gandalf’s. It allows me to shape and control my magic. I’m young for a wizard with my level of power and for now, I need tools to help me focus that power if I want to accomplish bigger spells without destroying everything around me and raising John’s insurance premiums. Someday, if I continue to practice, I’ll be able to spin different spells from each hand without even thinking about it.” He had the audacity to look right at me and wink, and I nearly choked out a laugh. I almost wished that I was wearing the coin for Namshiel to hear that. He would never believe that Dresden had paid him a compliment of sorts.
Mayor Johnson stood up. “This is ridiculous. We’re leaving.”
For the first time this morning, I raised my voice, inflecting it with authority. “One more moment gentleman.” They all froze. I turned to Harry, who seemed to be enjoying the show. “Mr. Dresden, it seems our character is in question. Perhaps it would be beneficial to provide some clarity to the situation. Would you agree?”
“I would.” He looked around. “It’s your office, what do you suggest?”
“Perhaps something contained, but memorable.” I gestured to the wooden conference table in front of us. “I’ve been considering an upgrade to this table. It would be more convenient to have one that incorporates wireless charging.” Gard preemptively switched off the overhead lights without being asked and the room was illuminated only by the natural glow of the overcast sky coming through the floor to ceiling windows.
Harry smirked at me. “I can work with that.” He turned back to my guests, who were still standing and had taken a few steps back from their seats. That was probably for the best. Harry sat in the center of the table, and I stood behind him and slightly to the right, indicating my deference and support. He placed his large hands on the table, palms flat, with long ring-covered fingers splayed wide. I was momentarily distracted by the thought of those slender fingers on my bare skin and chastised myself. I was already in a state of partial tumescence simply anticipating Harry’s display of power. I didn’t need to exacerbate the situation with fantasy. Harry spoke in a rough voice, full of his will, and I knew he was gathering power. “Fire or ice, Mr. Mayor?”
The mayor looked concerned. “I don’t understand.”
Without looking at me he said, “Fire or ice, John?”
I didn’t know exactly what he had in mind, but I trusted him to pick the option he thought most appropriate. “Your preference, Harry. I could go either way.”
He turned his head and winked at me, “So I’ve read.” I didn’t have time to formulate a reply before I heard him whispering Latin-esque words under his breath. For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then, as I watched, frost began to form under Harry’s left hand, radiating outward and stretching across the table toward the city officials. Simultaneously, scorch marks spread from the fingers of his right hand, creating fractal patterns on the surface of the wood. Where the two phenomena met, there was an audible sizzle and steam began to rise. Despite now possessing my own ability to conjure magic, there was something magnetic about watching Harry spell-cast. It was both raw and seductive, even in this inhibited display.
I forced myself to look away from him and at the faces of the politicians, and it was clear they were terrified, rather than bewitched. “Let me make something clear. Despite your positions, the only real power you have here is faith. Faith that both Mr. Dresden and I will continue to use our considerable resources to help the people of this city. I expect the permit to be approved today. If not, you will hear from us. Good day gentlemen.”
I escorted the nervous men to the door and Gard followed them out, shutting the door behind her. I turned to face the potentially angry wizard. “So, Harry, what is it you would like to talk about?”
Notes:
When the series starts, Jim portrays Harry and John as White Hat and Black Hat, respectively. The reality is that they are both grey. Harry actually takes bigger risks by allowing himself to be continually backed in to a corner until he has to pyrofuego something, where John is more pragmatic about what he deems are acceptable losses. Did John threaten some politicians to get what he wanted? Yup. What what he wanted in the best interest of the city. Also yup. Also, I love writing John as "formal horny". He's got it bad for Harry, but it's going to take our wizard some effort to reduce John Marcone to sexy grunts and single syllable words.
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