luciazephyr | FIC: other things the road to hell is paved with [11/?]

It was a small but much appreciated mercy that the project was almost done. It was a month and a half in, and we'd gone through several iterations of the plans. Rings of copper inlaid into the floor, a mirror ward that would reflect any long distance curses, iron and salt and water incorporated into some uber-feng shui that would give dehabilitating migraines to any magical being that walked in without an invitation. The floor was designed to utilized oak, pine, and maple for maximum positive symbolism, cut into a swirl and inset with thirteen circular discs of silver (which I planned to make myself, etching some protections into each one). Hidden in the complex parquetry was a pentacle, only noticeable to anyone who spotted the thin lines of silver reinforcing it. The doorway had a faux-threshold built on runes carved into some more sarsen stone (not from Stonehenge, he promised me, but similar rock) and once it was built I'd have to do a ritual or two to bind the room to the ley lines in the area, powering the whole thing.

That was just the structure. More protections would be added once it was built, disguised as some funky New Wave interior design. Candles that would react to malicious and friendly presences, symbols of faith, a few artifacts Marcone mentioned being able to "borrow," and others.

I was incredibly proud of the work. Looking at the power harmonizing on the plans was a little beautiful. I hardly believed I came up with it. Tiny details weren't my forte, magically speaking, but this was... It was good. Really good. It'd take the supernatural equivalent of rocket launcher to even dent the defenses. And I had ideas for more improvements, how to make the whole thing sing.

I should have been celebrating what I'd pulled off. Mostly, I was trying very hard to ignore John Marcone.

It was exhaustively difficult. I wanted to just bang out the last details and avoid looking at Marcone at all, but at the same time I was running hot. My mind kept straying back to the dream and the thought of it sent a cold sweat popping up over my skin.

Things got tense when Marcone leaned against my shoulder to look at the plans I had in front of me. I kept my head down and resolutely did not look at him, but he was radiating warmth and his cologne, fuck, it was something musky and a little sweet and some traitorous part of me wanted to turn my head, nose along his neck, and breathe in.

Hell's bells.

"Harry," Marcone said on an exhale. "Are you all right?"

I didn't look at him, just bobbed my head in a nod. "Yeah."

"What've you done to your neck?" I felt him lean in to look and I nearly fell out of my stool in my haste to get away.

"My neck?" I went to the window and checked my reflection in it. There was a red mark flaring up... Oh. I'd been scratching at it. I let out a shuddering sigh as I realized, running my fingertips over the spot. It was sore, and the feeling of it was giving me vivid flashbacks to the feeling in the dream.

I shut my eyes and willed myself calm. It was just a dream. A really teeth-grindingly sexy dream that didn't have the decency to fade from memory like every other dream I'd ever had. But it was just a dream. Probably a side-effect of Marcone's aura messing with mine, mixed with the insight I'd gotten on what made John Marcone tick. The symbiotic thing going on with him and Chicago had been obvious enough even I caught it.

Despite having been very distracted at the time.

That sticky hot feverish feeling skittered over my skin, my body very keen on the whole Marcone concept.

Very, very carefully, I opened my eyes and looked back at him. Marcone was leaning back against the table, watching me with a mask of false disinterest on his face. His face was blank, uncaring, but after so long working with him, I wasn't so easily fooled. The heat and concern were apparent in his eyes, boring right into me, incongruous with his expression.

Nope. I couldn't handle it. I shook my head hard, like I could eject the visions of the dream out of my head with sheer force. "Sorry. I gotta go."

Marcone's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "What?"

"The plans are done, you don't need me until you get the building part. I..." I headed for the door, not quite running, but letting my long legs carry me out of there as fast as possible. Marcone called something after me as I left, but I didn't stop, heading for the elevator.

I pressed the button and found the thing was way down on 32, meaning it had fifty floors to rise before I could get into it. I swore and went to the stairs instead, grabbing the door handle and pulling.

Marcone's palm slammed into the door as it started to open, and he pushed it shut again. "Harry, stop, what happened?"

I took a step away, blindly trying to get some distance from him. Half of me was close to panic mode at his presence. Half of me wanted to tackle him to the ground and see if I could provoke him into biting me again. It was a very jumbled feeling, basically.

Marcone put his other hand on my shoulder lightly. "As loathe as I am to admit it, you're starting to worry me, Mr. Dresden."

I kept my head down, staring at our feet to avoid looking at him. I had this sneaking feeling he'd look into my eyes and know everything I was thinking and then I'd have to throw myself out the window or something. "Marcone, you can't keep me here."

"Well," he murmured dryly, "I think that's a matter of opinion really--"

"John, back off. Please."

The effect was immediate. Marcone took a step away, dropping his hands. I stole a glance at him, seeing surprise and disquiet in his face as he watched me. Something about the dark color of his eyes then, it reminded me of that night looking at Chicago through the windows. That intensity, that...

The elevator dinged and I didn't waste my chance, darting into it and jabbing the lobby button repeatedly until the doors closed. When they did, I leaned forward, resting my forehead against the doors, and tried very hard not to think.

It wasn't until leaving the building that I remembered my car was halfway across town, sitting in my driveway. One of the Outfit guys had picked me up and now I was stranded in the Gold Coast. There was a Red Line station nearby though, so I decided a little walking wouldn't kill me. I needed the time to think anyway.

That had been a minor freak-out in Marcone's office, I could admit. I'd put the dream aside before I'd shown up, but the moment I laid eyes on Marcone, it'd all come flooding back. A part of that was the heterosexual panic-- I put that aside for the moment, not prepared to explain that madness-- but a lot of it was the fact that I could see where my subconsciousness was coming from. I wasn't any fan of Freud, but I could see what was going on. Chicago and Marcone holding me down, Marcone leaving a brand on me...

Twenty-four hours ago, if Marcone had asked me about the Red Court, I'd have said yes. If my dream shook me up a bit (a bit? Okay, maybe more than a bit), that was a small price to pay for the wake-up call.

In hindsight, I could see what had happened. I mean, Gentleman Johnnie beat out the Vargrassi for control of Chicago in a few short years. A man who could do that without much bloodshed had to have amazing powers of persuasion. Having me close by and willingly working with him had been the perfect opportunity to endear me to his cause. Hell, he admitted that he was shielding me from certain parts of his empire. He was manipulating me, what parts of him I saw and what parts I didn't.

Stars, maybe there wasn't a genuine moment in all our interactions. Of course he'd joke about killing my car, to soften my image of him with wry humor. And standing at the window with him and seeing his devotion to Chicago, I hadn't thought that was an intentional slip, but if it was, it worked. I could chalk everything up to being a calculated risk on his part to turn me to the dark side.

I really hated when people did that. I was no saint, but I had a code of morals I live by and I took them seriously. I had seen firsthand what happened to wizards who strayed too far. I wasn't about to give John Marcone the satisfaction of turning me.

As for the... the rest of it, it didn't matter. I was straight as they come. I mean, I would know, right? I've been me for almost thirty years, I know me pretty well. I was attracted to women and had a steady girlfriend who I really enjoyed sex with. If you put all the evidence on a scale, the side with all the Gay wouldn't hold a candle to the side with all the Not Gay.

The dream kiss was probably just a manifestation of Marcone's power over me. God, that made so much sense. He had me so figured out, he was screwing with my head and making me think I was attracted to him. It was all a sort of mortal glamour, brought on by spending too much time with Marcone and his intricately crafted charm.

I slumped down on a bench and smiled up at the sky, dyed purple and red by the setting sun. Identity crisis adverted, sexual orientation reaffirmed, emotional turmoil settled. Not bad for a evening stroll.

I noticed a black, nondescript sedan idling along by where I was sitting. In a fit of pique, I got up and tapped on the tinted window.

It rolled down, revealing Franklin and another bashful-looking mafioso. "You guys are the worst tail in the history of crime," I told them.

Franklin winced. "I'm... not the best at that, the whole tailing thing."

"No kidding. Hey, pass on a message to the Don for me?" I waited until Franklin dug out his little pager and gave me a 'go ahead' gesture. "Stop fucking stalking me, you creepy scumbag. I know where you live and I will hex your expresso machine into oblivion." I watched Franklin's face drain of color. "What? Is that over the character limit? Use that fancy code of yours. Get it done." I patted the top of the car and turned, shucking my hands into my pockets and whistling "Feelin' Good" as I walked away.

It was a bit like I imagined detox to be, getting back to my regular routine after the project. Marcone didn't come after me after I left and I didn't volunteer to show up again, but part of me was used to his company. He had an intensity to him, and now that I didn't have to deal with that presence, it was a little weird. If anything, that reinforced my desire to steer clear of him, just to get my equilibrium back.

This also meant Marcone didn't have the chance to bring up the vampire thing with me again, which left us at an impasse. Frankly, I was okay with that for the moment. It gave me time to get my head together.

I checked up with everyone I'd missed while working on the project. The Alphas bitched at me about how much their college textbooks cost and how unfair it was that crime fighting was cutting into their study time. Oh, the troubles of the young.

When I visited Michael, it happened to be right when he got a call on Knight business. I arrived just in time to babysit while he went out to vanquish a little evil. I didn't really mind that too much as the Carpenter kids were sweet on me. When Charity turned up, she barely even snapped at me, which was an improvement. The day we'd have civil conversation had yet to come, but I still held onto hope.

Susan caught wind of a malk nest that had been settled out of Undertown and too close to the public for me to ignore. It wasn't a large group and a little fire magic chased them back into the depths of Chicago. Susan snapped a picture of the fight, using her camera from over a hundred feet away to avoid wrecking the tech. She got one usable shot, a blurry photo of me fending a malk off with a bloom of flame. I let her use the picture and in return she kept all mention of Undertown out of the column. Fair trade.

Everything was going okay. So obviously that's when I got the invitation.

Susan and I were having another nice night in when a candle on my mantle place suddenly shifted from its normal yellow flame to a green one. "Shit," I said, pushing Susan's shoeless feet off my lap (I'd been massaging them-- Susan's a big fan of my hands and I am always eager to please) and grabbed my staff and blasting rod.

"What? What is it?" She tugged her shoes on and stood up, following me to the door until I held up a hand.

"No, stay back. Something's tripped the wards."

"What is it?"

"Dunno. Gonna find out." I tightened my grip on my blasting rod as one of my proximity wards went off, a low bell tolling in my skull. There was a knock at the door and I called out, "Who is it?"

"Ordained herald of the Red Court," a male voice answered through the steel door. "We wish to speak with Wizard Dresden of the White Council."

'White Council?' Susan mouthed silently at me. I shook my head and went to open the door.

A Red gave me an envelope, careful not to reach across the threshold of my home, and informed me that Bianca St. Clair was having a celebration of her ascension to Margravine of the Red Court. The rumors I heard about her gaining power were apparently true. Sometimes I really hated being right.

I shooed away the herald before locking up again and looking at the invite. "Exactly what we needed, a Red House in Chicago."

Susan took the invite from me and opened it, looking over the expensive, fancy gold lettering on the thick card stock. "What's that mean for us feeble mortals?" she asked, aiming for light but sounding worried. My own unease was too clear for her to joke about it.

"Bloodsuckers are going to get a base of operations around here." I grimaced. "Not great news."

"No kidding..." She tapped the invitation against my nose. "Do you have a tux?"

I shook my head. "No need. I'm not going." I went back to the sofa and flopped back down on it.

"What? Why not?" I watched Susan run her fingers over the calligraphy on the card with interest. Aw, crap.

"Because they're vampires. I mean, by inviting me, I'll be protected by the laws of hospitality from overt attacks, but Bianca hates me. If I give her the chance, she'll kill me."

Susan turned and put a hand on her hip, waving the invite at me. "You're not the only one at stake here if this... Red House, if that means more vampires in Chicago, people need to know about it. We should go, and I'll write a column warning people--"

"No. No, no, no, Susan," I stood up and took her hands in mine, staring into her eyes imploringly. "That is a bad idea. The Reds eat people and this is going to be a big deal for them. A lot of them are going to be there and they'll be hungry."

Susan yanked her hands out of mine and folded her arms. She didn't look convinced. "The rest of the city has no idea what's happening. We have an obligation to inform them!"

"You know I'm more than willing to throw myself into harm's way to save the masses from the baddies, Susan. But preemptively throwing myself to the wolves isn't something I'm willing to do." I cupped her face in my hands. "And I wouldn't bring you. I could never put you in that kind of danger. You're too important to me."

Susan's glare softened a little. "Harry..." Frowning, she tossed the invite on the table, then continued to stare at it with a look of longing as she murmured, "There's that whole world out there and I'm missing it again."

"I know. I'm sorry, but trust me on this one."

She nodded faintly, and I let out a massive sigh of relief. "All right. If you don't want to go, I understand," Susan said and lay her head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her, slight but strong against my body, and let myself calm down.

As far as I was concerned, Bianca St. Clair would have to try harder than that to draw me into her web. I was slowly learning the benefits of ignoring my curiosity and staying out of trouble. I had people to protect. It wouldn't do to throw myself into the fire. I couldn't stop Bianca's ascension and if she found a roundabout way of getting rid of me at her party, I wouldn't be able to help the people she would victimize in the future as she settled into her new rank and power.

Even I could learn that discretion is the better part of valor.

Susan didn't share my thoughts on discretion. After a track and locate job to find a car that'd been lost in one of those multilevel carparks, I came home to find someone had gone through the papers on my coffee table. It'd been a mess before I left, but it was a subtly different mess when I got home. The bills had been stacked on top of my little black book-- yes, I had one, but it was mostly just repeat clients, nothing too interesting-- were tucked under the book instead. I'd been updating the book with Pizza Spress's new location, Michael's new number, and the one that went to Marcone's line. I knew I'd used the invitation as a bookmark.

Now, there was no bookmark.

"Goddammit, no, no, no," I swore as I dived for my rotary phone and dialed Susan. I let it ring five times before slamming the phone back down and dashing right back out the door and to my car.

If I didn't want to go, she'd understand. Dammit, Susan. I took it as a small mercy when the Beetle started up smoothly despite my high stress level. I puttered out of my driveway and turned towards Bianca's manor, hoping against hope I wasn't too far behind Susan. It was only a half hour before the party was due to start. Maybe I'd get lucky and Susan would shoot for being fashionably late?

Yeah, Susan being late to a vampire masquerade ball. Not in a million years.

Speaking of masquerade, I was without an outfit. I had my cowboy boots and my duster though...

I made a very, very fast stop and bought a gallon hat from a streetside vendor. Urban cowboy indeed. The joke wasn't any funnier now than when Marcone made it, but I didn't have time to be picky. I had a vampire party to gatecrash.

I got caught up at the gates.

"My plus-one has my invite," I was telling at the guards. "She was supposed to meet me here to help me in. Hey, maybe you can call for her, do you have one of those little PA intercom things? Ms. Rodriguez, ask for her."

The guards didn't say anything, just continued barring my way into the estate. They were doing a very good job of ignoring me, which I found kind of impressive, considering I towered over them and was almost yelling.

"Not to pull rank, sparky, but I'm a wizard of the White Council. You don't let me in, you could cause a diplomatic incident!" Still no dice. I growled and was about to just say screw it and try to jump the fence when another voice broke in.

"Perhaps if I vouched for Mr. Dresden, that'd be all right?"

I whipped around, one hand in the folds of my coat, wrapped around my blasting rod. A limo had pulled up to the gates and a man was leaning half out one window with a debonair smile on his face. He was handsome in a model way, dark hair curled around a strong face. Hanging out of the window as he was, he was showing off a very fit physique. The only clothes he was wearing were a pair fairy wings attached to his shoulders.

"Do I know you?" I asked archly. It pissed me off when people I'd never seen before knew my name.

"I'm Thomas Raith, of the White Court," he said warmly, smiling with a set of teeth Colgate would love to put in their ads. He turned that sparkling grin to the guards. "This appears to be holding up the line." He tipped his head back to acknowledge the line of fancy cars and limos waiting for entrance. "How about I escort Mr. Dresden in to recover his invitation?"

The guards seemed reluctant to tell Thomas no and I took the opportunity to get into his limo. Not the best idea, climbing into an incubus' car, but I didn't have much room to argue if I wanted to catch up to Susan.

"Thanks," I said to Thomas once we pulled past the gate and into the courtyard. "Want to tell me why you did that?"

Thomas leaned back in his seat and put his arm around his plus-one, an extraordinarily pretty girl wearing a swirl of flower petals and not much else. She snuggled up to Thomas, touching his bare shoulder. Now I could see he wasn't actually naked, but wearing a loin cloth, a sheathed sword, and sandals. Their matching lack of outfits went well together.

"I was always a fan of westerns," Thomas said, grinning up at my hat, which added even more inches to my height. No one would have trouble picking me out in a crowd, that was for sure.

"Uh huh. I suppose you just decided to help me out of the goodness of your heart."

Thomas' smile didn't shift from his face, but something about his gaze got more intense. "Something like that." He shrugged with one shoulder, carefully not dislodging the lovely girl at his side. "If you don't appreciate the help, that's fine since we're here." He slid over to the door and opened it, climbing out before offering his hand to his date. She gave me a dazed, sweet smile before letting Thomas pull her out.

Once she was clear, Thomas extended his hand again for me. I sneered and got out the other side. Thomas shook his head, still grinning, and wrapped his arm around his girlfriend's waist, heading up the steps to the manor.

I had no idea why a White Court vampire would lend me his aid. It was a prospect worth mulling over, but I had bigger fish to fry first.

Bianca's party was packed with all manner of creatures. The masquerade helped everyone feel a little more comfortable blending in; if you were playing dress-up, you didn't have to follow the modern trends. The majority of the attendants were Reds and their consorts, who were mostly young, idiotic kids who got off on being bitten and were now snared in their patrons' control. I tried to stay clear of all of them and focus on finding Susan before she got stuck in a similar situation. With Bianca reaching Margravine, she'd have the power to make new vampires and Susan would be prime conversion material. Like hell I'd let that happen.

I found her after a few minutes of nigh-panic. She was dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood, which struck me as really tempting fate. She was talking to a vampire cheerleader and an older man in a Roman centurion costume. Well, I assumed older. He had an odd timeless quality to his features. I knew just looking at him he wasn't a Red, nor a Fae. He wasn't anything I'd ever seen before. He was watching detachedly as the cheerleader touched Susan's arm, smiling coquettishly.

"I'm fine, really. My date's just a little delayed," Susan said loudly, taking a step backward, pulled herself out of the vampire's grip.

"Oooh, poppet." The vampire brushed a red and black pom-pom against Susan's cheek. "I could keep you company while you waited?"

Susan shook her head. "I'm fine talking to Mr. Ferro, thank you. I'm sure my date'll be along soon."

The Centurion cast a lazy sideways look at the vampire. It instantly shrunk back, like it'd been caught in a sunbeam. "Ssstay out of this," the vampire hissed.

"The lady said no. Respect her answer before I enforce it," Ferro said, blowing out a plume of cigarette smoke.

The vampire glared weakly before vanishing into the swirling crowd.

"Thank you, Mr. Ferro," Susan said and curtsied, not ironically but with actual reverence.

"Ware yourself to danger, girl. I will not aid you again."

I stepped up and wrapped an arm around Susan's waist. Susan inhaled sharply in surprise, then relaxed upon seeing who I was. "No need. Sorry I'm late," I said, grinning. "Honey, can we talk?"

"Oh, Jesus, Harry, you scared me," she breathed.

I tightened my arm around her, looking around nervously at the crowd. "The feeling is mutual," I muttered. "We gotta leave, now."

"I, oh for God's sake, Harry," she said in an exasperated tone as I tried to urge her along. "Don't get all caveman on me." She tipped her head at Ferro and said, "I'm sorry, if you'll excuse me."

The tall urban cowboy idea had been a bad one. I stood a head above everyone else in the room normally and with the hat I stood out even more. I felt nervous watching the vampires and other guests circle lazily around us. Goblets of wine were being passed around, but no one was drinking yet. I assumed Bianca was about to make an appearance and give a speech to get the party going proper. I wanted to be gone before she showed up and spotted me.

"Hey, mister, hands," Susan complained and slid out of my grip with a twirl, her cloak floating up behind her. "Look, Harry, I know you're mad--"

"I'm not mad, I'm just thinking that caveman thing might be the way to go. Throw you over my shoulder and carry you out before you get bitten and what were you thinking?" I couldn't help the anger that slipped into my voice. I never liked using that tone with a lady-- stupid outdated chivalry, I know-- but the many ways Susan could get hurt or worse were crowding my thoughts. She'd been a steady support when my life had been shaken up by Marcone and the thought of losing her now was too much to even think of.

"You know what I was thinking," Susan retorted. "You're always saying 'with great power comes great responsibility,' you nerd. If I know about what's happening, I have the responsibility to protect those who don't, just like you. This is just my way of doing it, learning and informing."

"I know that, but you have no idea how dangerous these creatures are. There's a White Court vamp here, the Reds are everywhere, whoever you were talking to was incredibly powerful, and there's also--"

"The sidhe, godson?"

I froze, a bolt of pure fear shooting down my spine and the purring voice that cut in behind me. I didn't turn around, some scared little voice in my head suggesting that, hey, if I can't see her, she can't see me, right? That was how it worked, right?

Susan's wide-eyed gaze past me said otherwise.

"Don't look in her eyes," I murmured. Then I steeled myself and turned to face the Leanansidhe, my godmother.

She was standing there with a cat's smile on her face, copper hair like fire to the watery, aquamarine dress she wore. Her skin was pale like ivory and her eyes had slitted pupils. Her blood red lips curved into a pleased smile as she looked upon me.

I took a step back, reaching blindly for Susan's hand. Once I found it, I drew her behind me, putting myself between Lea and her.

Lea pouted. "That is the reception I receive from my sweet estranged godson?" She clicked her tongue, disapproving. "Am I something to fear?"

I licked my dry lips and squashed the wave of childish fear that was threatening to bubble up my throat and out my mouth as a hysterical laugh. This was not what I needed right now. "I just want to go my way, Lea."

"But the party has not even officially begun." She snapped her fingers and a domino-masked butler appeared like she summoned him by magic. The butler offered us all goblets of wine. "This place is protected by the laws of hospitality, sweet. Stay a while, let us catch up. It has been so long since I have seen you. Not that I have not tried." She rocked the goblet against her lower lip, voice simpering and cloyingly sweet.

"The Nix," I said.

"Mm, you've been very naughty, godson. Avoiding your godmother, poisoning your blood offerings with iron, trying to run out of a party before the hostess has even appeared. Not introducing me to your lady." Her eyes flickered to Susan behind me.

My hand around Susan's tightened. "Susan, this is the Leanansidhe, my godmother. Lea, this is Susan. Now can we go?"

"You never mentioned you had a... a fairy godmother," Susan whispered against my neck.

"And my car turns into a pumpkin after midnight," I added.

"Susan," Lea murmured, her gaze mischievous and delighted. "What a lovely little thing. Perhaps not powerful like you, sweet, but the fire in her." She laughed, like silver bells. "I see why you were drawn to her."

"Leave her alone," I growled. "Come on, Susan." A quick getaway sounded like a great idea.

The lights went out, and darkness fell absolute for a moment before a dais at one end of the hall lit up. Bianca stood there, regal and gorgeous in a dress made of flame, next to another Red, one with dark Hispanic features. He raised his wineglass and said in a smooth, cultured tone, "A toast, to Bianca St. Clair. The Red Court welcomes such an esteemed member to the title of Margravine. May her House be strong."

Shit, the pleasantries were starting. I stilled, not wanting to draw Bianca's attention.

Lea drew up beside me and wrapped her hands around my left arm, her cool, soft fingers twining with mine. The words of the speech immediately started to blur and meld together into an unintelligible mush. A flush crept over my skin, my godmother's glamour pulling a veil over my senses. I let go of Susan to make a fist with my other hand, hard enough my nails bit into my palm. I could feel the pain, just barely, and held onto it under the assault of the dreamy pleasure that coursed into me.

"My sweet," Lea murmured in my ear. "Have you sold yourself to somebody? Oh, but you lack the right, godson. You are mine by blood, by your broken oath."

"Stop it," I grit out.

"Fulfill our bargain. Come with me. You are so lost, and this deal you have wrought with Chicago's lord, it pains you." She pressed her hand over my heart and I shuddered at the wave of compassion she sunk into my skin. "You're confused, you poor thing. Don't even know who you are, what you're becoming. He breaks you down, hurts even as he helps. He incites your passion even as he leashes you. I can feel how it cuts you." A quiet, sympathetic noise, then, "Come, be mine, and you will see clearly again. It'll be so simple and lovely."

God, that sounded wonderful. I knew she was right, that at her feet, I'd be at peace. No more sleepless nights, lying awake and wondering if I was being turned into some sort of monster, something like Marcone. I never knew what was right and what was wrong anymore, it was all grey. I wanted what Lea was offering, the chance not to think, not to get caught up in moral dilemmas over every aspect of my life.

But while Marcone was taming me to what he wanted, Lea would do the same. Really, the two should have lunch and trade tips. But Marcone, who was a mortal with nothing binding him to honesty, had yet to deceive me, which was more than I could say for the Fae.

I shook her grip off my arm and took a stumbled half-step away. "No, Godmother."

"Oh, child. I will have you. You promised yourself to me."

"You can't take me here. Hospitality laws. Back off." I rubbed my face, trying to break free of the remaining strands of glamour she had webbed me in. There was a burst of polite applause as the speech ended, and I could feel Susan against my side finally. The world around me had been blocked out by Lea, but it was coming back slowly.

I swept my tongue over my chapped lips again and grabbed a goblet off one of the tables, taking a bracing drink of the wine.

"Oh dear, that wasn't a smart move." I turned to look at Thomas, standing behind me with a vaguely worried expression on his face.

"What?"

"Drinking the wine," he went on in a careless tone, apparently more intent on drawing abstract patterns on his date's bare leg. "It's been poisoned."

Chapter Twelve (soon)

Just, yanno, FYI: I'm going to Florida tomorrow to visit family and will be there for 2.5 weeks. I don't intend to lay off the stupidfast writing speed, but I may just be literally unable to get to my computer to get the words written. So, if there is a decrease in update speed, that's why.

we can raise cities or raze them, it whispers

and the only difference is the spelling

FIC: other things the road to hell is paved with [11/?]

Profile

Links

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags