FIC: other things the road to hell is paved with [7/?]

[luciazephyr]

I really am plugging away at this... We might be moving out of the three chapter waltz structure soon. :looks at plot outline and makes hmmmm sounds:


Title: other things the road to hell is paved with [7/?]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, potentially R or NC-17 later.
Summary: Another way the Baron rose to power. Another way the wizard became a Knight.
Word Count: This Chapter: 4185. So far: 36145.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

It was a midsummer night and the shadows hath offended.

I was west of Chicago, somewhere in a cluster of woodland near Lake Katherine and the Cook County forest preserves. It was a hell of a hike, especially since I'd abandoned the trail a while ago. I had no idea where I was or which way lead back to the Blue Beetle. I wasn't built for forest trails and had made more than a few missteps, tripping over the undergrowth and tumbling around in my haste to keep moving.

I had a sheath slung over my back and its weight wasn't helping my progress. The sword inside was heavy. I carried a staff with me on a daily basis, but I couldn't imagine how anyone could do the same with a sword for extended periods.

The fact the sword was acting like a beacon to the nasties that were chasing me didn't help.

I kept running as fast as I could, ignoring the way the sword on my back slammed into my shoulder as I did. Not so easy to ignore was the pixie pulling my bangs like reins. "Mush! Faster! Go, go, go!" Toot-toot crowded from where he was sitting in my hair.

"How... close?" I managed to gasp between breaths.

"Close, close, close! I can see their teeth!" He let out a shrill cry. "Very sharp!"

"Please... don't describe them." I vaulted over a fallen tree and splashed through a shallow creek. Toot gripped my hair hard enough to really hurt, making upset noises until we crossed out of the water. And now my jeans were soaked. Great.

"No more water! Bad enough with the white steel." Toot grumbled, "No amount of pizza is worth this."

I heard something behind me let out an unholy roar of animalistic fury. It was close, and I was slowing down, the rough not-path and overexertion beginning to take its toll on me.

"Toot, fly ahead.... find the car!"

"No amount of pizza in world, Harry Dresden! Too dangerous, teeth too sharp. Hellhounds are hungry." I felt Toot shift around on my head, sliding back to where my dark locks were thicker and hiding himself there. "They can eat you first!"

Useless pixie. In his defense, the beasts chasing us were a lot more than he bargained for when I enlisted his service. He'd done his task well, finding the item I was looking for a lot faster than I would have. As one of the Fae, his supernatural radar was better than mine, letting him feel the sword's power and lead me in the right direction. He didn't deserve to be made into a Hellhound snack just because I hadn't anticipated this kind of resistance.

"This isn't working..." I gritted my teeth and put on a burst of speed, taking a few sharp turns and leaps through the forest. I needed some distance between our pursuers and us. Without looking, I swung my hand behind me and shouted, "Vento servitas!"

I didn't have a focus for the spell, but I didn't need one. I just needed a distraction for a second. The loose leaves and branches along the ground flew up and at the Hellhounds.

While the Hounds snarled and snapped their jaws at the onslaught, I skidded to a halt and bent low to the ground. I seized a sharpish rock from nearby and drew a fast circle in the dirt around me with my left hand, the one with my shield bracelet on it. Toot fluttered out of his hiding spot and watched me with nervous eyes. I snatched the idiot out of the air before he could escape the scope of my circle. "Contego, tutis contego, riflettus contego," I chanted as I poured my will into the circle and felt it snap up around us.

Just in time too. One of the Hellhounds took a massive leap at the same moment. Without my circle, it would have taken my head clean off. With my circle, it slammed into the air a few inches in front of my face and was thrown back with equal force, like it had hit rubber.

"Hell's bells, I'm glad that worked," I gasped and slumped to the ground, letting go of Toot to rub my face. There were a few more dull thwump noises as the Hounds continued to try to get to us. Each time, they were just bounced back.

Toot landed on my shoulder, one tiny hand fisting in my hair. He yanked. "You do not know your own magic, Harry Dresden?"

"Hey, it's a new one. Been working on upgrading my spells." This one had been Bob's idea, tweaking a protective circle to reflect any force against it. It made it harder for something to get close and try to break the circle. Not that these monstrous magical dogs could-- breaking a circle required an act of Will that was beyond them. But either way, it bounced back any advances from them, and that was good enough for me.

I scrubbed my face with both hands, exhausted and weary from my big getaway and the events of the evening. My hands came away covered in light blue dust that looked like a mix of talcum powder and glitter. Groaning, I glared at Toot. "Did you have to get pixie dust all over me?"

Petulant faerie that he was, Toot threw a cloud of the stuff in my face. "You didn't speak of the dogs! You just told me to find the sword and you'd give me pizza!"

"I will! When we get back to safety, I will buy you five pizzas!" I rubbed the dust off my skin. I probably looked like an idiot with it smeared all over my face.

Toot put his hands on his hips, arms akimbo. "You think I can eat five pizzas at once?"

"You could share with your pixie buddies!"

"You want me to share pizza?!" He said this like I had suggested he grind up some iron pills into Queen Mab's dinner.

"Toot, I will buy you five pizzas over the course of a month if you stop pestering me. I'm trying to focus on my circle."

That kept Toot quiet for a while. It was a deep, dark night and the Hounds paced around us growling, waiting for my spell to run out of juice. Thankfully, I just had to keep it going until morning light, when the dogs would back off as their binding spell would run out. It wouldn't last past dawn; I'd gotten a look at the kid who sicced the dogs on me. He was a warlock with plenty of raw talent, but not enough finesse to make a binding survive the sunrise.

I settled down into a lotus position on the grass and tried to relax, mediating a bit. Toot flew back up on top of my head, and I could feel him drop into a similar fold on my hair. Whether he was mocking me or showing a bit of solidarity, I had no idea. I shut my eyes, felt the humming energy of the circle around me, and waited.



The skin around Michael's eyes crinkled into well-worn laugh lines as he smiled at me. I was standing on the porch of his cosy house on the South Side. The Carpenters lived in one of the nicest patches of suburbia hidden in the city. They were planted in prime real estate, walking distance from a school, two churches, and a nice public park. They had a lawn and a backyard, which I found a little overwhelming. It was one of those places that felt like a real home. I tried not to be jealous.

"Harry." His eyes alighted to the sheath on my back. "I cannot thank you enough for doing this for me."

"Hey, what're friends for if not busting up some newbie cult to save a holy artifact for the local Fist of God?" I pulled the sword off my back and handed it over to him.

Michael drew Amoracchius out. The sword started to glow in his grip, like it was happy to be back with him again. "I hope it wasn't any trouble."

"Nah. All in a day's work." The sword had been swiped a day earlier by some new age magus brats who wanted to pawn it off to some Fae in return for a big favor. I hadn't caught the details, mostly because I didn't care. The kids clearly had no idea what they were doing, Hellhounds notwithstanding. I figured their Fae benefactor had loaned the dogs out.

I went to get the sword back so Michael didn't have to. He didn't want to miss his daughter Alicia's softball game. It was the last game of the season for the church league she was a part of and he'd missed several of the previous games because of me, so I was glad to lend a hand. Not only did it help out one of the kindest men I knew, but I hoped it got me some points with his wife, Charity. Honestly, I had no idea why Charity had such a mad-on against me. Maybe I wronged her in another life, I don't know.

Or she knew about my employer. Some days, I wanted to punch Marcone in the face, once for every time someone heard my name and reacted with trepidation or hostility. 'Harry Dresden' was now whispered in the same breath as 'Gentleman Johnnie,' and while plenty of people never made that connection, a few did and that was enough.

Michael hadn't judged me back when we met five or six years ago and since my recruitment into the mob, he never mentioned Marcone or the Outfit. It wasn't a factor in our friendship. To him, I was just another clued-in guy, someone who could help him do some honest occult crimefighting. Since then, we'd collaborated on a few jobs. When I needed some divine muscle, I called him, and when he needed some magic, he called me.

Michael drew me into his house. Crossing the threshold was like walking through water, it was so thick. It held a healthy majority of my magic, to the point I would have trouble lighting a candle. That just reinforced the homeyness of the house. Two of the Carpenter kids were sprawled out in the living room, taking shelter from the summer heat. "Where's the rest of the brood?"

"Charity took the older ones out shopping. School's starting up again soon," Michael explained, nudging me towards the living room. "Sit, I'll get you something to eat."

"No, that's fine, Michael--"

"You had breakfast?"

"Yes," I said, then winced. There was something deeply wrong about lying to a Knight of the Cross. "Okay, no. I was busy bribing faeries this morning."

Michael vanished into the kitchen. "Sit, Harry."

As soon as I folded myself up on the sofa, little Hope crawled up next to me. Hope was a shy little thing with moments of the sort of straightforward boldness that were common in children. She stood on the cushion next to me and rubbed her little hand over my face. "You have blue on you."

Dammit, Toot. "Mm," I nodded gravely. "Pixie dust."

"Really?" She stared at the smudged blue on her hand in wonder.

"Yep." While she was preoccupied with that revelation, I grabbed the hem of my tee and tried to scrub my face free of the dust.

Hope tapped me on the shoulder and I straightened. She poked my pendant. "What's that?"

I tugged my necklace loose and held it up for her. "It's a pentacle."

"What's that?" She gave me a stern look for daring to use words she didn't know.

I smiled apologetically. "It's a symbol for magic."

Hope sat down with a plop, half on my lap as she took my pendant in her hands and looked at it. "My friend Joyce says circle stars are evil."

I rolled my eyes and barely reined in the urge to say this Joyce girl was an idiot. "Pentacles are protection from evil. They keep magic contained and safe so it can help people."

"Are you a magician?"

"No, I'm a wizard." She gave me another annoyed look. I didn't want to get into the differences between magicians and wizards (thus having to explain illusions and thereby ruining Hope's chances of ever enjoying a magic show) so I whispered, "Watch," and willed a little power into my pentacle.

It glowed silvery-white in her palms, and Hope's eyes went wide and her mouth opened into a little shocked 'o'. She waved a hand at her younger sister, who was on the floor with a box of crayons. "Mandy. Mandy, come here, come here!"

Amanda bounced up on the sofa with us and got a similarly stunned look as she laid eyes on my tiny display of magic. She yanked the pendant away from Hope and I squawked as the motion pulled me forward. "Careful with that, kiddo."

Michael walked in to find me pinned under his children, their faces lit up with awe and the light of my magic. He smiled wryly at me. "Showing off, Harry?"

"You know me," I said and withdrew my will from the necklace. Both girls let out twin "awwwww"s as the light went out. "Don't be like that, your dad's way cooler than I am anyway."

Michael chuckled and shooed the girls off me before handing over a plate. There was a tall sandwich and a pile of sweet potato fries there, smelling amazing. He set a tall glass of lemonade on the table next to me. "Don't let Charity see you using magic," he murmured quietly.

"I know, I know. I just wanted to be the cool adult for a moment." I munched on some fries, washing them down with the lemonade. "Hell, I don't want to let Charity see me at all."

Amanda and Hope in unison turned and pointed at me, making accusatory, "oooooh" sounds.

I winced. "Sorry, sorry. Mea culpa." I glanced up at Michael sheepishly. "You got a swear jar? I have a quarter on me somewhere."

"Might have to get one just for you, Harry," Michael mused, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Could use it to take the kids out for I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M."

There was something so relentlessly normal about that, I started laughing. Michael could smite demons with a holy sword, but he feared saying 'ice cream' aloud near his kids. I leaned back on the sofa and slowly ate my sandwich, letting that normalcy seep into my skin and soothe me. It was a nice feeling.



The warm fuzzies faded as I pulled the Beetle into my usual spot in front of my apartment and found a black luxury car in the next spot over. As I clamored out of my Bug, Cujo climbed out of Lincoln. He didn't stop to open the back door, which meant that once again Marcone wasn't with him.

"Don't you get tired of playing errand boy, Cujo?"

That was the closest I was going to get to asking where the hell Marcone had been. The last I'd seen of him in person was that morning when he seemed to be about to elope with his latte. That was back in December. Somehow the time had just slipped by since then. I hadn't heard from my employer since. Well, not directly. Hendricks continued to come to me on Saturdays, his day off. Not every Saturday, but often enough I'd worked in more lessons for the big guy.

I noticed some of the effects of his new knowledge as he stood there. It was too hot for him to wear any jackets and I could see that next to the holster for his concealed handgun (which he proudly wore on his hip as if there wasn't a handgun ban in the city) was a long rod of steel attached to a loop on his belt, just as ready to draw as the firearm. Cujo had a thing about faeries, probably thanks to his ordeal with the Nix.

"You busy?" He grunted at me. We'd moved past the open contempt part of our relationship, but Cujo still didn't say too much.

"Nah." I waved him along, heading to my apartment with him in tow. A murmured word lowered my wards and got us inside, out of the heat. One of the benefits of my basement bachelor pad was that it stayed fairly cool in the summertime. Small comfort, considering it was freezing in the winter months. It wasn't like I could get an A/C unit after all. "Beer?"

"No. On the clock."

"On a Saturday? At this hour?" I had no such issues, so I grabbed a beer out of my icebox. Before taking a sip, I just held the bottle against my forehead, enjoying the cold. "You should unionize, show Marcone who's boss."

"Mr. Marcone wants a report on vampires," Hendricks said, ignoring my snark. "Their characteristics and any viable defense strategies, short and long term.

This was how Marcone had been using me lately. Hendricks would show up and mention something Marcone needed. So far it'd been mostly information: magical defenses, types of wards, a rundown of how rituals worked and how to recognize them. All the topics so far lined up with Marcone just wanting to protect himself by being able to recognize magical danger and avoid it.

Vampires, though, that set off alarm bells in my head. "Why?"

"Not for you to ask."

"Uh, yeah, it is, Cujo." I leaned back against my kitchen counter and sipped my beer. "Vampires around here keep to themselves. You'd have to go out of your way to get involved with them."

Hendricks narrowed his beady eyes at me. "Just write the report, Dresden."

"Okay, sure." I grabbed the legal pad I kept near the phone for when I needed to take fast notes. I wrote something down, ripped out the page, and handed it to Cujo.

He took it and read aloud, "Hit beehives and you're going to get stung." He lifted his gaze to mine. I looked away as I felt the tug of a soulgaze. I didn't want to see the soul of a mobster. Once was enough, thanks. "You want Marcone to beat your ass again?"

I went from calm to flustered in a second's time. "Where did you hear that!?" Okay, I shouldn't have been surprised Cujo heard about that. He and Marcone were thick as thieves. God, I hoped it wasn't common knowledge around the Outfit.

Hendricks shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You gonna write the report or not?"

"Not until I know why he wants it. Hey, maybe he can actually come by my damn office and talk to me sometime. Or is the Don too good for such plebeian practices?"

He looked around the room surreptitiously, like Marcone would be slinking in the shadows, listening in. "Look, Dresden, you got to learn how the game works."

I stood up straighter at Cujo's quiet, honest tone. Was the big guy giving me advice? I had no idea he had... thoughts and opinions and stuff. O brave new world that has such people in it. "Okay," I said slowly.

"Mr. Marcone hasn't come to see you and hasn't put you on any real jobs, right? Why do you think that is?" He spoke slowly, giving me a heavy, exasperated look. I got the impression that the fact he had to explain this to me was painful to him on some level. Like it was my fault I didn't quite get it. I failed the Understanding Mafia Communications part of my GED, what can I say.

I kept my voice pitched low. "I dunno. Figured he was busy."

"You're his pet wizard. He's the king of Chicago." Pet wizard?! "You think he can't make time?" He gave me a look that reminded me of the one Marcone used whenever I said something stupid. The resemblance was uncanny.

I squashed the urge to complain about the 'pet wizard' remark because, what? Really? "I... Okay." I thought about it, something I had carefully avoided for the past few months. "Last we talked, he was angry at me. Then he started sending you. So... he's still mad?" Hendricks shook his head. I tried again. "He's... keeping away from me for some reason. I don't know, throw me a line here, Cujo."

"You're a moron, Dresden," Hendricks helpfully informed me. "Last time he asked you directly, you lied to him. So far, you ain't lied to me. 'Cos you aren't as scared, or you don't have as much to prove, whatever, but things have worked out just fine this way. Until now."

Stars and stones, that actually made sense. I hadn't realized Marcone's trust in me was that damaged, that he felt the need to set up another way to deal with me so he'd know I was telling the truth. And Cujo figured this out while I was left in the dark. He clearly missed his calling in politics.

I thought on that for a moment, working my way through the rest of my beer. Something occurred to me, a little belatedly, but I was still reeling from Chatty Cujo Advice Hour. "No offense, but why're you telling me this?"

Hendricks shrugged on shoulder. "You're helping me. Returning the favor. Don't like to be in people's debt."

I nodded. "Smart. Keep that in mind if you ever deal with the Fae, it'll save your life."

"So you going to do the report?"

"No. Vampires are serious stuff." So long as we were gossiping, I figured it was worth it to try just asking. "You know why he wants to know?"

Hendricks stared at me, face suddenly very blank. I recognized the motion. Asking about Marcone's business matters got that reaction from Hendricks usually. He was tight-lipped about what Marcone actually did.

"I'm not asking what he wants it for, just if you know, Cujo."

Reluctantly, Hendricks shook his head. "No. Hasn't said. He's been working on a lot of private projects lately. That's all I know."

"Alrighty then." I tossed out my empty bottle and clapped my hands together. "This lack of communication isn't good for our relationship. You can tell Johnnie I'm feeling neglected and unappreciated, so if he wants anything from me, he can stop using you as a go-between. Office appointment or he gets nothing out of me."

Hendricks gave me the thousand-yard stare. "Want me to say that?"

"Oh yeah. Word for word, buddy. Need me to write it down?"

He shut his eyes, looking pained. "No. After Mr. Marcone kills you for giving him lip, I'm going to laugh at the funeral."

"Well, I'll be dead, so I don't think I'll care either way." I twiddled my fingers at him. "Bye-bye, Cujo. Give Johnnie my love."

Hendricks sighed deeply and lumbered back to the door. As his hand touched the handle, I called out, "Hey, Cujo. Uh. Thanks. I'm kind of out of my depth with the Mob thing, so..."

He didn't look back at me, but nodded. "Try not to piss Marcone off, Dresden. Don't want to have to vanish you."

"Oh, like you could."

"Don't get cocky," he warned before shutting the door behind him, leaving me to my thoughts.

My thoughts went something like this: Marcone wanted to get involved with the vampires. That made sense, since Bianca St. Clair happened to be a big player in the Red Court and also ran a profitable escort and prostitution business. Everyone knew Bianca and Marcone were the big names in the business, the only competitors. It made sense that Marcone would know that she was a vampire-- Bianca wasn't quite subtle if you knew what to look for. It also made sense that he might want to muscle her out and take her share of the business. When you monopolized a specific trade, you didn't have to price that trade competitively; you had total control of prices and could make a killing. There was nowhere else for the customers to go.

But Marcone also knew the benefit of being informed. Stars, I had the feeling that if he knew about Bob, he'd just kill me and claim my Spirit of Air and Intellect by right of conquest. Gentleman Johnnie wouldn't make a move until he knew what he was getting into. So he needed me to fill him in on the Courts and the dangers of each.

Like hell was I just going to give that information over to him, especially when he was keeping so far away from me. If he was desperate to get rid of Bianca, I probably couldn't stop him, but if things came to that, I needed to be closer to the action so I'd know what was really going on.

I gave Marcone an ultimatum. He couldn't stay away if he wanted my help. I'd make him come to me.

And maybe in return, he'd fit me for some nice cement shoes and toss me into the Lake. But I had to try. Never let it be said I took things lying down.

Chapter Eight (coming soon)