Feedback?

So I got this bug in my brain while reading the latest Harry Dresden novel.  I've been chewing on it for months now, but I'm not really satisfied with it.  I'd be interested to know what anyone thinks of it.

Title: Anthony (Working)
Fandom: Dresden Files
Status: Not beta'd, not proofed, not really even edited.


The garage was empty except for some of the girls' cars and those of the clients who were were staying the night.   I invest heavily in security, so the parking garage beneath my newest brothel was well lit and heavily monitored.  The only two people left in the lower floors should have been my chief of security and myself.

Which was why I reached for my gun when I felt the presence behind me.  Hand on the butt of my concealed cary -- the legal one -- I spun around.  Hendricks reacted to me, drawing his own weapon, but keeping it pointed towards the ground.

Silence.  The parking garage was empty, but the lack of people only meant that I couldn't see the threat and the lack of cars just meant I had less cover.  I started to move towards the front of the car, wanting cover and the ability to put my back to a wall.  Hendricks' mirrored my movements on the other side of the car without question.

I was focused on external threats, but I still felt the fingers feathering into my pants pocket.  I threw an elbow back, then dropped a hand down to verify that my phone was still there.  I brought my hand back up to my gun.  It took me a moment to see the pale ring of skin on my wrist where my watch had been.

I swore, and looked over at Hendricks as my back hit the wall.  He glanced at me, but kept scanning.  "It's invisible.  And it got my watch."

This time Hendricks turned to face me, his gun pointed just in front of my body.  The 9mm looked like a child's toy in his hands, but that didn't make having it pointed in my direction any less threatening.  I was hoping for a similar effect on my invisible thief.

I counted a few breaths, but the instinctive, hair-raising feeling of another's proximity faded.  I relaxed a little.  This wasn't an attempt on my life or person.  This was a display of power, arrogant, reckless and showy.  It wasn't the first nor the last time that some supernatural being had tried to get my attention by using magic to slip through holes in my security.

I wasn't impressed.  I've seen men with better security than me die; I'd killed several of them.  There are forces out there that could crush me, but they do not because my death would trigger a backlash of destruction and chaos that would simply be more trouble than its worth.  My power is not flashy or showy; it is insidious, buried in the minds of men who believe that I am powerful, ruthless and necessary. 

In my pocket, my cell phone began to play a tinny rendition of Thriller.  Hendricks raised his brow at me.

"Not mine," I snapped.  I dragged the phone out and looked at it.  It shared its generic rectangular shape with my sleek, expensive model -- which was why I hadn't noticed the difference -- but it was pink, worn and cheap.  It looked like it had been lifted off a twelve-year old girl.

The screen said, "Grant Park, 20 min."

Hendricks, having moved to stare over my shoulder, gave a deep sigh.  Quiet tapping told me that he was already scrambling an overwatch team to cover the meeting.

If it had just been the watch, I would have sent a team out to observe and apprehend the thief, if possible.  But cell phones did not survive long in the presence of magic, which meant that whoever had switched my phone had done it with very minimal magic and quick, light fingers.  In my experience, most magical beings never thought outside the power they were born with.

I was interested. 

Hendricks got us to the park in fifteen minutes, but we waited another ten for the security to set.   Between Hendricks and my magical advisor, I had enough raw firepower to walk in and out of most ambushes.  But Gard had fallen unconscious after completing a security upgrade to my home, and probably wouldn't wake for another week.  A half-dozen sniper pairs and a highly trained extraction team made a poor substitute, but I was willing to take the risk.

At the last minute, I texted back, "Weeping Angel fountain.  Your safety is guaranteed for the meeting, my word."

The slight change in location was a security precaution, but also a test.  If my mysterious thief had less than honorable intentions, or didn't know me well enough to trust my word, he would bolt.  If he was confident or desperate, he would show.

Hendricks and I had parked almost in front of the fountain, which gave me a moment to admire it while we waited.  The fountain consisted of a shallow pool with a seven foot stone angel standing in the center.  A steady stream of tears ran down its face and into he pool below it.

Inside the weeping angel was a valve connected to the fire-department's water supply.  Packed around it, were several pounds of sealed explosive.  A well-aimed shot would release a geyser of water that would ground out most magical energies.  The bronze plaque on the side read, "In loving memory of Vincent Vargassi."

It's good to be socially conscious.

When the child arrived, Hendricks stiffened, but I remained leaning against the fountain, as casually as I could manage.  The boy was young -- fifteen at the most -- and razor thin.  His T-shirt was faded and almost see-through, and his arms were crossed tight against his chest.

Hendricks continued to scan the area, assuming the boy was bait for a trap.  It was a good assumption, but I didn't think so.  The boy wouldn't look me in the eye -- of course not, he was a wizard -- but I recognized the bleak determination there.  He was my thief.

He stopped just inside of speaking distance, just outside the pool of light cast by the lamp pole above him.  He reached inside his pocket -- I shifted my right foot, signaling my snipers to hold fire -- and tossed me my watch and phone.  I threw them both in the fountain without looking at them.  It wasn't worth the trouble of checking them for tampering -- if they even worked after being carried around by a wizard -- and even I am entitled to the occasional dramatic gesture.

The boy didn't gulp, but I could see him take a mental step back.

"So," I said, "You called me here.  What do you propose?"

I already knew.  I'd had about a dozen street-kids with the same look offer themselves up to me in exchange for shelter or safety or relief for a family member that had fallen too far out of my good graces to save.  I walked away from every one of them, but by the end of the night they were safe and had provisions made for their future.  Those who drove them to such measures tended to disappear.

It was one of the few things I did that wasn't good for business.  But what good is being a crime lord, if you cannot indulge in the occasional vice?

The boy finished reconsidering his offer -- he was that easy to read -- and wet his lips.  "A trade.  One lump sum in exchange for a wizard for life."

John raised an eyebrow.  "I have a Valkery at my beck and call."  When she wasn't unconscious from magical overload.  "And I have another wizard who usually works to my benefit." When he wasn't setting fire to my property.

The boy licked his lips again, slower this time.  He uncrossed his arms and looked up at me from under his lashes.  "Do you own them?  Do you obey without question?  Offer up every part of themselves?  Do they--"

"Enough"

The boy cut himself off, eyes still wide and a little glassy.  The boy was too stiff for sensual, but he had most of the details right.  He was used to selling himself, but if he was doing it willingly he'd have been better at it.

I made a mental note to find who had been buying and who had been profiting.  Unauthorized transactions are bad for business.

"How much?"

"Four hundred thousand." 

I felt an amused smile tug at my lips.  "You value yourself very highly.  One hundred."

"It's a one time payment.  And I'm yours until I die.  Four-hundred thousand."

I shook my head.  The kid did his best to stare me down without looking me in the eye.  "You realize that this is not how negotiations generally work."  I couldn't tell in the shadows, but I thought the boy's lips might be turning blue.

"No negotiations.  I need the money.  All of it.  Give me that and I'm yours, I swear it."

"Very well.  My assistant will have the money wired to an account of your choosing.  You will come with me now."

"No."  The child's lips were chattering.  "I need twenty-four hours to make sure the money gets where it's going."

I shook his head.  "I'm not giving you my money and a twenty-four hour head start.  You'll come with me, and I'll assure you that the money will get to its recipient."  I would also find the recipient, and ensure he or she received an appropriate censure for selling a child for profit.  My censures are very effective; they have a recidivism rate of zero. 

The boy looked like he was giving up his whole world, but he offered, "Six hours, then.  And I know better than to run from you."  The recidivism rate for those who stole from me was also zero.  It was a well known fact, just as it would be if I gave this kid a sack of money and he disappeared.  I wouldn't kill a child, but I couldn’t let him steal from me.

"You offered. I agreed.  If you do not like the terms, you should have been more specific."

"No." 

I could feel a current in the air, and taste copper on my tongue.  The boy's magic was crackling.  The boy was coiling in on himself, like a cornered cat preparing to charge for an exit.

I've met enough frightened cats and out-of-control wizards that I realized I needed to offer a graceful exit.  "The terms are set.  I'll give you twenty-four hours to prepare."  I pulled out a business card, the one with my direct line, and left it on the ledge that ran around the fountain.  "Call me when you're ready."

I gave a nodded to Hendricks and walked back to the car without looking back. 

---

I had him followed, of course.  It didn't matter; half way home, Hendricks answered his phone, grunted, and turned to me.  "They lost him." 

I wasn't surprised.  The boy had a good veil, and he lacked Dresden's habit of leaving puddles of ectoplasm and charred corpses behind him like breadcrums.  "Wake up the watchers.  Tell them to get us a location, but not to touch him."  My network of watchers was spread like an invisible net across the city, and there was little they missed. 

I stopped by one of my other offices and dropped off the stranger's phone.  Having the ability to run fingerprints, DNA and background checks in-house can be invaluable when you need an off-the-books investigation.  And given what I payed my researchers and technicians, nobody grumbled about being woken up before light had broken.

There wasn't much more I could do. Hendricks and I split off at the front door.  My bodyguard has his own apartment, but spends most nights -- or days, in this case -- in the guest bedroom that has slowly become his.

---

Hendricks arrived after lunch, rubbing his hand across his bristly red head the way he did when he was trying to wake up.  I looked up from the neat stack of papers on my desk.

"They spotted the boy.  He was crossing into red territory late this morning."

I shouldn't have been surprised.  I wasn't offering the terms the boy wanted, so he'd found a third option.   "How much information do we have on him?"

Hendricks held up the folder  he'd been carrying under his arm.  "A lot.  More coming in."

I scanned through the file with Hendricks reading over my shoulder.  I could hear his jaw grinding as I flipped the pages.

The boy's name was Anthony Bremen.  He was the orphaned oldest son of a Canadian couple, mixed Spanish and German ancestry.  His parents died in a car accident, and his sister had lost enough blood to damage her kidneys and her vision.  The boy hadn't been in the car.

Their foster care records were incomplete -- state records tend to go missing, especially when they reflect poorly on the current system.  Anthony and his sister, Anna, had run away from several foster homes, the last one three months ago.  They'd surfaced again when his sister's kidneys had shut down and she'd been hospitalized for dialysis. 

The girl had been approved for a transplant by the hospital, but the state insurance refused to pay for it, citing her poor placement record and the low likelihood that she would be able to maintain the required outpatient treatment regimen. 

And they had the gall to call me heartless.

I looked back at Hendricks.  He was frowning, and the pointed tilt of his chin told me he knew what my next move would be and did not approve.

I picked up my phone and dialed my secretary.  "Donna, please schedule an appointment with Harry Dresden.  Today."

---

I was fifteen minutes early for my appointment with the wizard, but it didn't surprise me to find him alone in his office, curved around a battered guitar.  His damaged hand picked at the strings, producing a melody that was surprisingly complex and sweet. 

He stopped as soon as I crossed his threshold.  He placed his guitar gently on the floor beside his desk, but he didn't stand up and he didn't invite us to sit down.  I lowered myself into one of his over worn chairs anyway, in a most likely hopeless attempt to be non-confrontational.  Hendricks continued to stand, but then confrontational is his job.

"I'd like to hire you, Mr. Dresden," I began.  "I need someone found, Gard is unavailable and the Red Court is involved.  I understand that this presents certain risks and I am willing to pay triple your usual rate, plus fees and expenses."

Dresden was gaunt, his cheekbones cutting harsh lines over the hollows of his face.  He hadn't had time to pull regular work in months, and the warden salary was barely keeping him solvent.    I assumed that was why he didn't pitch me out of his office immediately for offering him tainted money. 

"Who do you want found?"

I laid the file on his desk, and gave him a verbal summery of my encounter with the wizard and his history.  He'd been prepared to listen and then chuck me out, but he reached for a pen when I described our encounter.

When I was done explaining, Dresden set the pen down and met my eyes.  I could see grim determination there.  "You've got plans for this kid.  What are they?"

I gave him my best paternal expression of concern.  "There's nothing wrong with taking steps to ensure the children's future."

Dresden gave me a vicious look.  "I'm not a fucking social worker.  You've got a nascent wizard who's sworn himself to you, body and soul, and you've got his sister as collateral.  I believe that you won't hurt a kid, but in a few years he'll be an adult, fair game and tied to you with no way out."

"He'll have a choice, when the time comes."

"I want to train him.  Twenty hours a week, fees and expenses paid, at my place."

I hid my smile.  "Is that your price, Mr. Dresden?"

"That, and quadruple my daily rate, plus expenses." 

I could hear Hendrick's teeth grinding from where I sat.  Dresden sounded like he was being childish, but he wasn't even asking what I estimated the market value of his services would be.

"Very well.  How long will it take you to locate the boy?  I think before sundown would be ideal."

Dresden looked at his watch.  It was early afternoon; I saw him wince.  "I don't suppose you have any fresh blood, hair or saliva from the boy?"

"If it was going to be that easy, I wouldn't be paying you so much.  Can you work with something from his sister?"

Dresden grimaced.  "It will take a little longer and won't be as accurate, but yes.  Get me some samples and I'll call you with the boy's location when I've got it."  He tilted his head, thinking things through.  "I'm going to need a few hours on top of that to put some things together.  We can go in talking, but I think we're going to leave shooting."

"One does tend to lead to the other with you.  If you'll excuse me, I have my own arrangements to make."

---

The boy's sister was a loose end.  If I left her dangling, the Red Court would eventually find her.  Even if they didn't, my enemies and wary friends would recognize the kind of weapon her brother could become in my hands, and they'd start looking for leverage against him.

I arranged to have fresh samples taken and sent to Dresden, then I made arrangements to have her transferred to my home.  It was easier than it should have been; apparently she was stable enough to go home, but the foster system couldn't accommodate her special needs.  As a result, she was costing the state a fortune in inpatient care.

So they gave her to mob boss.  And they didn't even ask for a bribe.

Dresden called a few hours before dusk.  "I've got a good idea of where he is."  He rattled off an address.   I wrote it down and passed it to Hendricks.  "It's the headquarters building for a small, semi-independent Red Court holding.  He's alive and probably still…unaltered, but he won't be tomorrow morning.  We're going in tonight."

We worked out a few different plans for different contingencies.  It was quick.  We'd done this often enough that we fell into a familiar shorthand, such as, "Do like you're people did on the island, but skip the helicopter this time."  In the end, we had a plan that was inelegant and bloody, but somewhat functional.

I picked Dresden up a mile from the objective.  He climbed in wearing his usual bulletproof duster.  His carved staff rested lightly in his damaged hand.  "Hi, John.  That armor under your suit, or are you just getting fat?"

In fact, I was wearing a suit tailored to the armor under it, but it's hard to hide fifteen pounds of modern chain-mail -- small, imbricated ceramic plates woven through with magical protection spells -- and still maintain a slim profile.  With any luck, whoever we spoke to tonight would mistake the extra girth for blubber, or at least accept the attempt at hiding it as a peace offering.

"Is your team in place?"  I asked Dresden.

"Molly's on the roof with your guys."  His glower indicated his feelings on the matter.  "Mouse is watching their exit route."

There was no more time for talking.  Hendricks pulled up in front of our target building, rolled down the windows and turned off the car.  "We'll be waiting for you, Boss."

When I stepped out onto the street, my hair stood on end.  It took me only a second to realize why:  the street was a shell.  Blank windows stared down at me from all sides, and the build up of trash around the tires of the other cars on the street proved they hadn't been moved in months.  It was a stark illustration of what I already knew:  the vampires had devoured an entire block of my city.

We stood in front of the door, not bothering to knock. In less than a minute, we were greeted by a lean young man, pale except for the bright red of his lips.  He blinked several times in the fading sunlight. 

"My mistress extends her welcome to you, Baron Marcone."  His eyes cut nervously to Dresden, then back to me.  "And thanks you for your generous gift."

Dresden's hand tightened on his staff.

"The wizard is in my employ, representing my interests.  He is not here on behalf of the white council, nor is he a peace offering.  There is a piece of my property in your possession, and I would have it returned."

The boy blinked some more.  "We have nothing of yours, sir.  You should look elsewhere for your property."  He tried to shut the door.

Dresden's staff blocked him.  The boy blanched until his face was grey. 

"I am already aware that you do," I said.  "Please inform someone with the authority to speak to me that I am willing to negotiate for its return."

The boy disappeared with impossible speed.  We waited on the threshold for a few minutes, before the boy came back.  "Please follow me, sir."

We followed the boy through a winding path through endless corridors and stairs.  It was disorienting, and when he finally stopped in a rich, dimly lit parlor, I could only guess that we were in the basement of the townhouse to the left of the one we had entered through.

A beautiful woman of indeterminate age was poised in a velvet, high-backed chair.  Kneeling beside her was Anthony Bremen, looking pale and battered in nothing but his too-tight jeans.  His eyes darted between myself and his mistress, like a mouse caught between a wolf and a hawk.  He couldn't decide which of us was the worse death.

"Good evening, Baron Marcone," said the woman.  Her teeth were white and straight, and her hair was perfectly coiled in an intricate pattern.  "I am Madam Jezebel Zanaib, Mistress of this small holding.  You seem to believe we have business to discuss."

"Indeed."  I gestured to the boy.  "He's mine.  I want him back."

"The boy did not say you had prior claim.  He offered himself to us at terms, and we…renegotiated."

They had taken him and not paid a dime.  Good.  That made him more likely to come with me willingly.  "He offered me his oath and I accepted.  However, he ran off last night, before I could make use of him."

"Indeed.  He's tried to escape several times from us as well.  We seem to have kept a better handle on him.  Are you sure you want him back?"

I smiled, giving me a second to consider my words.  The boy obviously wanted out of the vampire's nest, but if he tried an ill-timed escape attempt during my rescue attempt, it could be fatal.  I needed him to come with me willingly.

"I have already invested quite a lot in the boy," I said.  That, at least, was true.  "When I met him he'd been in a car wreck.  Medical care is very expensive, especially when it's done in-home and off the books." 

The boy stiffened, but the vampire didn't seem to notice.  He looked at me, eyes wide and round with fear, his jaw clenched.

I gave him a slight tilt of the head.  Yes, I have your sister.  Yes, I could have hurt her, but I did not.  You are mine.

The boy shuddered.  The vampire reached down and stroked his back, her long, painted nails leaving read marks on his skin.

"That is unfortunate, Mr. Marcone, but I'm sure you understand that possession is nine-tenths of the law."

"Not magical law," Dresden spoke up.  "He's sworn to Marcone.   That makes him a vassal, not chattel.  You either give him back, or declare war." 

The vampire never looked away from me as Dresden spoke.   There was no soul gaze, but her mind wasn't complex enough to be a mystery.  Behind her eyes lurked the intelligence of a particularly bright poodle.  Left behind as a steward for an isolated and semi-abandoned chunk of red-court territory, she lacked the power to violate the accords, but wouldn't easily let go of a prize pet wizard either.

She finally broke our gaze to look down at the boy, a small frown betraying her disgust.  "Did you swear an oath to this man, and did he accept?"

The kid shivered and looked up at me, his face bleak. "Yes."

I gave him a nod, accepting it for the oath that it was, rather than a lie.  "Thank you, Madam, for taking such good care of my property.  I think we should be leaving now."

Her eyes snapped back to mine, and she gave me a beauty queen smile.  "Of course," she purred, "I wouldn't want any bad blood between our organizations.  Please take the boy with our compliments."

"You're too kind."  I stood up, and Dresden followed suite.  "Anthony," I said to the boy, "Come here."  He came, red-faced and tripping over his skinny legs. 

We followed the vampire through a different path back to the front door.  This one seemed twice as long.  Of course.  Ambushes take time to prepare.

Dresden leaned towards me.  "If she were letting us all go, she'd have negotiated more."

"She's sloppy," I agreed.  "It's unprofessional."

When we finally reached the front entrance, it was empty of people or vampires.  Mistress Zanaib gave us a parting smile and disappeared as well.

We didn't even attempt subtle, as none of our hosts seemed inclined to bother with it.  They had to let us out the door under the rules of hospitality, but they'd given themselves more than enough time to set up an ambush outside.

I took the lead.  With a hand on his shoulder, Dresden positioned the boy behind me, and himself in the back.  We stacked on the door, and I looked over my shoulder at Dresden.  He nodded to me and squeezed the kid's shoulder.  "Kid, when we start running,  you need to keep up.  No matter what."

I put my hand on the doorknob, counted to three, and pushed through the doorway at full speed. 

The first bullet exploded six inches from my face, and Dresden's shield rippled with the impact.  The concrete pitted in front of me as I ran. 

Ours was the only car left on the street.  Hendrick's body appeared slumped across the passenger seat, unmoving.  I veered around it and into the open street to get away from the ricochets coming off the wall.  It didn't do much good; no cars on the street meant no cover.

The world went hazy, and for a moment the only sound I could hear was harsh pants and the ringing in my ears.  Molly Carpenter was using magic to bend light around us, giving us the illusion of invisibility.  This created a moment of confusion in our ambushers, who silenced their guns.

I veered to the side as I heard the firing begin again.  It sounded like very loud popcorn.

The shots were random at first.  I had time to look to my left and see muzzle flashes from inside the third-story windows of the vampire's townhouse.  Then a pattern began to emerge, as each shooter began to fire in rapidly expanding sectors.  They had excellent discipline.  We were half way down the block when three rounds struck Dresden's shield, forming bright, concentric rings.

Then another three rounds.  And another.  Dresden’s shield shuddered and I could hear his harsh breathing behind me.

I pulled a coin from my pocket and tossed it into the air.

On my right, a pair of M240B's -- large caliber, fully automatic rifles still used by the military -- went cyclic as my rooftop team chewed into the brownstone our ambushers where using for cover.  The steady hail of fire forced our attackers to fire blindly over their heads, or risk being decapitated by a steady stream of copper.

I checked my watch.  We were short on time.

I didn't risk looking behind me.  I sprinted forward towards the end of the street with all the speed I could manage, trusting Dresden to keep the kid moving.

It probably saved our lives.  I heard a distinctive clunk of something heavy and metal landing nearby.  Old instincts had me diving towards the asphalt.  Dresden and the kid landed on top of me.

The concussion from the grenade knocked them off as Dresden's shield washed white and collapsed.  My ears were ringing too loudly to hear anything, but I saw an armored vehicle screech around the corner and drive towards us.  The rear hatch opened as the vehicle made a hard stop beside us.

I dove inside, hauling the kid in with me.  Dresden followed, with an ungraceful half-roll, half-dive.  The vehicle rocked with another grenade blast.  I slammed my palm on the button to close the hatch and toggled the radio mounted on the wall of the vehicle.  "Set it off.  Now."

The town car we had driven in had been bought at auction.  The VINs had been seared off with acid, the suspension had been reinforced, and the trunk packed with over a hundred pounds of military-grade C4 wrapped in ball-bearings. 

I felt the explosion before I felt it.  The single window of bullet-proof glass went white, then black as smoke, falling asphalt and charred body parts obscured the view.  Our vehicle rocked sideways, then spun around as the driver made a tight U-turn and sped out the way he'd come.

We took a sharp turn around the block and fell in behind my second extraction vehicle.  We held position for a minute while my rooftop team rappelled off the back of the building and piled inside, followed by Dresden's dog.  When all six of them were in the vehicle, I looked back up at the roof. 

Hendricks appeared, finally, leaning over Molly Carpenter's tiny figure as he checked her harness before helped her over the side.  A second later, he followed, uninjured and moving freely.

Later, I would have to congratulate Miss Carpenter on providing a disturbingly  naturalistic image of a dead Hendricks, and masking his movement out of the car and up the up the knotted rope lowered over the side of the building.

We were moving again when the boy's cries penetrated the ringing in my ears.  I couldn't make out what he was saying -- he sounded like he was speaking underwater -- but I turned around to see him kneeling beside Dresden, hands clamped hard around the wizard's leg.  Bright red blood welled up between the boy's fingers and poured into the grey carpet.

Dresden lay supine, his head thrown back in pain, but his eyes were on me.  I could see his mouth moving and almost make out the words.  Molly?  Mouse?

I nodded.  "They're okay."  Dresden closed his eyes, and pain replaced the fear on his face.

I ripped Dresden's jean's apart in a matter of seconds -- they were so shredded that it didn't take much.  The kid was putting pressure on the worst bleeder, but Dresden's legs looked like they had been inexpertly flayed, from the tops of his boots to just above his knee, where his bullet-proof duster must have protected them.  Blood drained out of dozens of small holes where chunks of flesh had been ripped away, and pooled in the thin carpeting.

Anthony Bremen stared at me, eyes wide with panic. 

The vehicles we were in were designed purely for this purpose.  They looked like a large SUV from the outside, but the passenger apartment was a steel and kevlar cage.  There were no seats, but a spine board and a roll-up medical kit were strapped onto the side.  I pulled a tourniquet out of the kit and slid it under Dresden's thigh.  His hands clenched into fists as I tightened it, but the blood stopped pulsing through the boy's fingers. 

I did a quick assessment to make sure Dresden wasn't injured anywhere but his legs.  The wizard hissed something at me as I raked my fingers under his shirt, but I couldn't quite make sense of it.

I pushed a roll of gauze at the boy.  He took it, a little absently, as if his mind was only just trying to figure out what was happening and how he got here.

I grabbed him under the chin with one hand, then gestured from his eyes to Dresden's legs.  "Watch me!" I said, in a tone of voice that had rarely been disobeyed. 

I started packing gauze into the deeper holes in Dresden's legs.  After a moment of watching, the boy visibly shook himself, and began to copy my movements. 

I was impressed.  Anthony was a little clumsy, fingers tangling the gauze and slipping in the blood, but he was able to work despite his panic.  We finished quickly.  He wiped his hands on a discarded pressure dressing and, hesitantly, squeezed Dresden's hand.

I rolled my eyes.  "The wizard has survived far worse encounters.  Please don't encourage him with needless dramatic gestures."

Dresden, still pale and gasping in pain, gritted out in the boy's direction, "Ignore him.  He's evil."

"Ignore him,"  I instructed Anthony.  "He's an idiot."

Dresden lifted his head and snarled, "Idiot saved your life.  Great plan, by the way.  Next time, you get to be the human shield."

"Acceptable, if you can produce an armored car and a rifle squad next time we walk into an ambush."  I sat back on my heals, wiping my own hands of blood.  I felt the vehicle lurch to a stop.  Outside the window I could see the inside of one of my warehouses.

The hatch opened.  Two paramedics pulled Dresden into the waiting ambulance.  I climbed out, and Anthony followed.  Hendricks climbed out of the other vehicle and stalked towards me.

"Get Miss Carpenter home," I told him, "And make sure the injured get to Doctor Fourchete.  Dresden will need the surgeon.  We'll wait for a car here."

He gave a grunt of assent and turned back to take command of the situation.  I turned back to the boy, who was taking in the warehouse, the men in armor and guns, and the shrapnel scars on the side of our vehicle.  He looked paler than Dresden.

I thought about taking him outside, but this area was not deserted and he was half naked, shivering and smeared with blood.  My lawyers would be very unhappy with me.  Instead, I walked with him to the empty room that would be my office, and sat him down on a pile of two-by-fours.  I took off my bloody jacket and armor and stacked them on the floor.

"You did well today," I said.  The boy looked up, guilt and doubt clouding his features.  Good.  "If you run again, I won't sacrifice more men to come and get you.  I'll kill you."

"I know."  The boy glanced up at me.  "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."  I handed him a water bottle from a cooler on the floor.  "Your sister is at my home.  She's on the transplant list, and I'm soliciting donors through other channels."

The boy clutched the water bottle, but his face lost his soft, submissive expression.  "She is not part of the deal.  You don't touch her."

It was irrational, and a pathetic display, but I apparently have a soft spot for irrational, pathetic wizards.  At least, I continually forget to kill them. 

Nonetheless, I wouldn't have a scrawny fifteen year-old dictating anything to me. 

I took two steps into him, crowding his space and forcing him to lean away from me.  He tried to get up, but I shoved him back with a hand on his shoulder.  I've survived a long time in a world of dominance and hierarchies, and the psychological advantage of looking down on someone is incredible.  Keeping him in an off-balance and awkward position was even better.

"Look at me," I ordered.  He did, instantly.

It was different, than with Dresden.  There was no sense of knowing the whole person,  as if nothing they could do would ever surprise you again.  Instead, I felt like I was standing inside a rotting, abandoned house.  The air was moist and smelled of mold.  Anthony Bremen was there, wearing only a pair of ragged blue jeans and looking very, very lost.  Behind him was a door, and it took me a moment to realize it was the only thing in the house that looked sturdy and dry.  Anthony followed the direction of my eyes and squared his hips and shoulders to me.  He raised his fists and met my eyes in challenge. 

He didn't drop my gaze until my unfinished office had faded back in around us.  Anthony was panting a little, and leaning even further away from me.  "You are mine.  You do not tell me who I touch, who I hurt or who I kill.  It's none of your affair.  You knew what I was when you made this deal."

"She's my sister."

I stared at him.

Anthony clenched his teeth and balled his fists.  I waited.  It took a moment, and considerable effort on his part, but he relaxed and looked away.  When he spoke, his voice was quiet, without challenge.  "I agreed to that.  But I won't let you hurt her.  I don't care what I swore or what happens to me.  I'll be anything you want.  I'll whore for you and I'll break the laws of magic if you tell me to, but if you threaten her I'll destroy you."

"Make that threat when you've done more than pick pockets."  I offered him my hand.  He flinched, then stared at it before getting up on his own.  "Your sister is half-blind and sickly, and a liability to my organization.  She will have her surgery and when she is recovered she will be provided for elsewhere."

I walked him back go the garage, where my usual car and driver pair were pulling up.  

---

Once home, I dropped the boy off in his sister's room and left further instructions with the staff.  Then I showered and fell asleep before my eyes had finished closing.

The sharp cramps in my back woke me a few hours later.  I checked my watch -- not quite ten in the morning -- took some muscle relaxants and showered again, letting the heat and the drugs ease some of the pain.  When I was running around the jungles of South America with an M16 and more patriotism than sense, I had been able to fight for my life all day, drink some water and do it again a few hours later.  I’m not much less physically capable than I was then, but now I feel the consequences.

Hendricks brought in breakfast on a tray for both of us.  As usual, my plate had eggs, toast, yogurt and fruit.  Hendricks had the same, in triple the portions.  Left to feed in the wild, my bodyguard would decimate entire ecosystems.

Hendricks briefed me over breakfast.  “Red Court demanded ‘recompense’ but they got quiet after the lawyers were through with them.  ‘Parently the accords say you got a right to the boss’s head on a pike, but if you leave ‘em they’ll owe you a favor.”  I nodded.  Legal was getting an obscenely  large Christmas bonus this year.  Hendricks continued, “Flew in the vascular surgeon for Dresden.  Finished an hour ago.  Wizard should wake up soon, but he’ll be loopy ‘till dinner.  Everybody else is okay.”

We ate in silence for a minute.  Hendricks stopped chewing and swallowed.  "What's your plan for the kids, Boss?"

"There's some boarding schools in Canada that would be able to care for the girl.  It would allow her to disappear."

Hendricks grunted.  It meant, I know and that's not what I was asking.

"Her brother can't disappear, not after I caused so much trouble to get him.  I'll keep him near, and I'm sure Gard will find a use for him."  I dropped my napkin onto my empty plate.  "We can hire some private tutors for the conventional subjects, and Dresden has already arranged to cover the more extracurricular track."

Hendricks mopped up the last of his eggs with a hunk of buttered bread.  "I could get a teaching credential pretty easy.  English and some philosophy.  Math."  My Irish-bred bodyguard was blushing such that his ears were as red as his hair.

Like many hard men in a violent world, Hendricks had a need to be tender sometimes.  If I let him spend enough time with the boy, he would love him.  The boy would soon be loyal to Dresden and I needed Hendricks to be loyal to me; I did not want them to be loyal to each other.

"He's an investment," I reminded him.  "He's not staying indefinitely.  We're not adopting him and he's not part of the family."

Hendricks wouldn't meet my eyes, but I could see his grimace.  "I know."

I sighed.  If I kept the boy with us -- necessary for his own survival -- Hendricks would probably end up caring for him anyway.  Really, it was a small thing to ask.  "Very well," I said.  Then I added, because it was true, "I can't think of a better teacher."

---


After dinner, I went down to my basement level apartments.  Under my house is a small but well-stocked surgery.  After I acquired Gard's contract, I'd stripped out the non-essential electronics and ensured that the rest had mechanical back-ups.  Across the hall was a well-appointed guest room that included amenities such as an intubation kit and defibrillator. 

Dresden lay sprawled on the bed, one leg elevated in a full-length open cast.  Doctor Kellen was sleeping on the couch nearby.  I shook him awake and sent him out of the room.

Dresden opened his eyes as I approached.  "How's the kid?"  He looked even more haggard than usual, and his voice was as rough as the stubble on his face.

"The boy's fine; he's visiting his sister upstairs."

"Planning on starting your own hospital, Marcone?"

"I should.  It's actually cheaper than paying out of pocket; there's a reason all of my employees have medical insurance."

"Guess you'll have to let me go, then.  We'll skip the two weeks notice and I'll leave right now."

I smiled, showing teeth.  "Dresden, the moment you arrived on the premises all my insurance coverages were voided and my premiums increased.  Trust me when I say I want you off my property more than you do."

Dresden affected a touched expression.  "Nobody's insurance has ever added a clause just for me.  I'm honored."

"They're blood sucking sharks, and that comes from someone with experience in the business.  In any case, I believe the surgeon said you could go home as long as you have continuous medical care there."

Dresden nodded.  "I have people."

"Doctor Butters has already agreed to stay with you part of the time, and Mrs. Carpenter the rest of it.  They'll pick you up after dinner.  Try not to get blood on anything else of mind in the meantime.”

“Like you wouldn’t love to --” Dresden’s face changed as remembered that he’d left half a gallon of it in the carpet of my extraction vehicle.  “Destroy it, Marcone.  Gard can do a lot with blood over distance, but so can I.”

I don’t respond well to threats, but unlike Dresden I’ve grown out of my knee-jerk contrariness.  “You were my ally and in my employ when you were injured.  I won’t allow harm to come to you because of it.”

Dresden scowled.  “Bull.  You don’t have that kind of honor.”

I have him my best patronizing smile.  “Of course not.  But I often hire very powerful freelancers who hold to rather antiquated notions.  They wouldn’t work for someone who betrays his own.  You’re safe, Dresden.”

“And you’re a scumbag.”  Dresden paused.  “Take care of the kid.  I’ll let you know when I’m ready to start the imparting of my wisdom.”

“I look forward to it.”

---

I do not believe children should be harmed or corrupted, which means that I try to keep them as far from myself as possible.  I am extremely careful with my liaisons and I do not have a ‘take your child to work day,’ so my experience with children in the last ten years has been minimal, except for one very specific girl, but she hadn’t opened her eyes in longer than that.

Anthony’s sister was asleep when I opened her door. She looked pale and swollen, fragile in a way that reminded me painfully of Amanda.  But when she stirred at the sound of my feet, eyes fluttering as she turned her head towards the sound, it twisted something in a deep place that I never went.   Such a simple thing, and so beautiful.

“I’m John Marcone,” I said, when she’d recovered her thick glasses and was squinting at me through them.  “You’re my ward until your surgery is done.”

The look in her hazy eyes hardened.  “My brother?”

“I’ll be keeping him for longer.”

Her features twisted.  “I told him not to sell himself.  We were making it.”

“You were dying.”

“I still am,” she sneered, an expression that should not have been so fetching.  “You haven’t changed anything so far but the scenery.”

“In the last twenty-four hours, I rescued him from vampires, initiated a search for your kidney and have arranged a private tutor for the both of you.”  I felt my lips turn up at the corners.  “I’m sorry I haven’t been more use.  Would you like a pony?”

“Don’t try to be charming.  Your kind doesn’t do things for free.”  She softened the scowl into something just a little naughty and far more disturbing.  “Tony’s used.  I can be of more use to you, after my operation.  It’s my debt, anyway, I should be the one paying it.”

I blinked.  “Do you even know what you’re offering?”

“I’ve done it before.  Don’t tell Tony.”

“To protect him.”

“Yes.”  Her face betrayed neither fear nor disgust; in fact, she radiated a sweetness and innocence that made it hard to properly process her answer.

My god.  I think I’d hired the wrong sibling.  “Come back in six years; I have a lot of use for a girl with a pretty face and no remorse.”

“If you let him go--”

“No,” I cut her off.  “Your brother made a deal with me, and I do keep my word.  That was just a job offer, in case you’re still interested when you’ve grown.”

“If you hurt him, I’ll come for you.  I’ll wait until I’m sure I can take you down, but I will.”  Her tone was ice where her brother’s had been steal, but I didn’t doubt her anymore than I did him.

“That won’t be necessary.  I take care of what’s mine and I find abusing those in my household is bad for business.”

The smile on her was too sweet to be believed.  “I won’t be in this bed forever, Mr. Marcone.  And I’ll be watching.”