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Chapter Three “Despite the obvious professional advantage of having the spirit of a very knowledgeable, 1000 year old sorcerer at your disposal 24/7, there’s a downside to everything. Like when the previously off-limits woman you’ve secretly been crushing on for the past two years loses her husband under mysterious circumstances, and your sorcerer’s friendship with the woman in question comes back to bite you in the ass.” Harry’s Apartment January 6, 2007, 7 AM “You look terrible!” Choosing not to open his eyes and dignify Bob’s insult with a response, Dresden rolled over onto his stomach and pulled his wandering ‘guest’ pillow to his chest. Dipping his chin, he pressed his face into the worn, white cotton. Mmm…sweet and spicy. He squeezed tighter. It smelled like a woman, like one particular woman rather than the minor holiday parade of women it typically did. But his mind was submerged too deep in the pre-waking state to recall exactly which ones he’d convinced to visit him last. Well, none since Buffy, of course… Not that he was going to think about her, or her abrupt departure. Of course, the pleasantly scented pillow betrayed him. Rather than reminding him of the many vaguely anonymous women it usually did, it stirred memories of a particular woman. The woman who’d spent one night on his couch rather than in his bed. But he wasn’t going to think about it now. Not ever again. Even though he’d been unsuccessful thus far in not thinking about her when he was awake. Which he wasn’t. No, he definitely wasn’t awake yet and he wasn’t going to think about his recent brush with the only woman he truly wanted in his bed. His home. His life. Which was good, because having her here again under any circumstances just wasn’t going to happen. No sense in feeding the fantasies he’d been plagued with for the past few days. He couldn't be with her. Case closed. Still, with her face now firmly fixed in his mind, a part of Dresden hoped maybe, just maybe, if he could get back to sleep, he might dream of her. Bob’s intrusive voice came closer. “You need to get dressed, go out. Get some fresh air. Go to the funeral.” Dresden explained away his condition in as few syllables as possible, hoping Bob would get the hint. ”Exhausted.” As he muttered the word, his mind remained fixed on his dreamscape target. He could still picture her here in his space, up close, all too well. Sometimes it was a blessing, but mostly that near-perfect recall felt like a curse. He could remember every expression, every word she spoke, every piece of clothing and jewelry she’d worn as she walked out his door, this time for good. If Dresden didn’t know better, he’d swear she wore a love spell on her skin that day. Drawing in the fragrance of her on his pillow and holding it, he tried to break down the recipe of her scent, as it had risen up her sweet little body and burned in his memory: amber on her ankles, frangipani behind her knees, rose on her wrists, sandalwood between her breasts, and jasmine in the tiny hollows just behind her ears. “God,” he sighed aloud. God…damn her for being so…lovely. “The Thorne family is an ancient and venerable line,” Bob stated resolutely, thankfully cutting off Dresden’s maudlin drift. In his mind’s eye, he could almost see the sorcerer crossing his arms stubbornly. “As the last Morningway, you risk damaging your family honor by refusing to attend. Bad move, Harry.” Ah...hell. Bob clearly wasn’t going to drop it. This was not going to be a good day. With a low, growling curse, Dresden got out of bed in one smooth movement and faced his accuser. “I’m risking the family honor?” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I think it’s a little too late for that.” “Surely not everyone despises the Morningways.” Skirting Bob’s disapproving form, Dresden made his way to the bathroom. “That’s true. Some people fear us-er…me.” “Nevertheless, this is a time to remember the life of a wizard with whom you shared an acquaintance. It is your duty to pay your respects.” Turning on the shower, Dresden muttered, “Yeah, pretty sure that ship’s sailed,” as he dug through the musty cabinet under the sink for a clean towel and his dopp kit. “Weddings and funerals are considered appropriate places to make social and business connections, especially in our little community.” Glancing up at Bob from his crouched position, Dresden lowered the toilet seat, set the towel on top, and considered sending the annoyingly nosy spirit back to his skull. He didn’t want to talk about Thorne. He didn’t want to go to the man’s funeral. He didn’t want to waste any more time fantasizing about attending the stupid thing and seducing the woman who would never be his. “I’m still not going.” Bob pursed his lips and nodded. “Fine.” Just before he stepped under the steaming spray, Dresden considered shutting the thing off, diving back under the covers, and spending the rest of his Saturday reading. The powerful, siren pull of his bed and its promised oblivion beckoned from the other side of the wall Bob stood next to, and there were two or three books he hadn’t consumed yet on the nightstand. Whatever self-discipline he had won out and he got into the shower. Just as he finished washing his hair and began lathering his chest, Bob poked his head through the middle of the Chinese red curtain. “Will it be a prolonged mourning period, do you think?” Dresden’s head snapped around. “How should I know?” “Go,” Bob urged. “Find out.” “Why?” Dresden asked, cursing his stupidity as soon as the word was out. Bob withdrew. For a long moment, he said nothing. Which was good. He didn’t want to be talked into going. Not even a little. While Bob mulled the question over, Dresden finished rinsing off. Disappearing from the bathroom, Bob retreated to the hall just outside its door. “She is a kind and gentle lady. To have lost her beloved husband so young... It is such a shame.” His grey eyebrows rose until they almost touched the line of his white Caesar-cut bangs. “Perhaps she needs a strong shoulder to lean on?” Wrapping the towel from the towel bar around his waist, Dresden dried off with the fresh one. “I’m sure she’s got plenty of shoulders, ready and willing.” As it turned out, Buffy did get some prime real estate as a wedding present, just not the square footage he would have expected. She deserved better than an apartment, even if it was great for post-shopping / pre-dinner relaxing with friends, as she’d said. Dresden rolled his eyes. No doubt Thorne’s friends were lined up outside her Art District loft the minute they heard she’d taken up residence there. The lucky bastards. Bob smirked knowingly. “So you’re just going to let her go? Step aside while some other wizard curries her favor?” “That’s the plan.” “Well, you won’t have to wait long. She is a lady of great worth and respectability. True, she’s not magically inclined, but she is esteemed by many wizards in this city,” Bob said coolly, echoing Dresden’s thoughts. Then he went in for the kill. “You are the last of your line, Harry. Like it or not, it is your task—nay, your privilege—to provide the world with the next Morningway.” Shaking his head, Dresden slung on his robe, belted it, and moved toward the stairs. “It’s not going to happen. And by the way, the ‘lady of great worth and respectability’ doesn’t need you to broker her social life.” As soon as he reached the kitchen, Bob was there waiting for him. “No, she doesn’t. However, if you don’t stop waiting for an engraved invitation, someone else will be sampling her delights by the time you decide to get yourself to the burial.” Lighting the back burner on his old gas stove, Dresden set the tea pot on the blue flame and turned around. “We are not talking about Buffy …” Waving his hand in the air for emphasis, he continued, “Her delights. Or the sampling of them. Or anything having to do with her at all.” Bob shrugged complacently. “Very well. Far be it from me to long for a little feminine company, especially from she who not only knows of my existence, but is also counted among my very few friends.” Lifting his chin stubbornly, Bob continued his moaning. “Before Buffy’s visit, do you know how long it had been since you had a woman here with whom I could converse? Do you? Let’s just say global conflicts are usually of shorter duration.” “You just want her here ‘cause you think you have a shot,” Dresden grumbled. “But then...maybe…” “Yes?” Bob inquired, moving around Dresden to stand in front of him, near the refrigerator. Dresden shoved a hand through his hair. “When given the choice, who did she want to sleep beside? You, Bob. Not me. You.” Bob grinned to himself. “Well, the darling girl has always had exquisite taste.” “Which is why I've decided to sit this opportunity for humiliation out.” “She’ll be hurt. If you don’t go.” “Yeah, because we’re such good pals. She calls to check in every day.” “Perhaps if you were a bit kinder to her…” “It’s called professionalism. I was professional at all times.” Bob shook his head. “Cold, you mean. Distant. You treated her as if she were a burden.” “She tried to pay me,” Dresden countered. “For services rendered.” “And you tore up the check in front of her.” Bob smiled mockingly. “You romantic devil, you.” “Bob…” he growled. “Very well. If you’re not going to see her again, and if you won’t do your duty and father an heir, at least put something in writing stating that you want me to go to her when you’ve passed on. I fear what will happen to me, once you’ve succeeded in getting yourself killed.” Dresden smirked, poured himself a mug of tea, and set it down on the table. “You’re not just babbling, you’re drooling now. If you were alive, you’d be making a mess of yourself. You know that, right?” Bob scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. I’ve never drooled, Not even as an infant…” Then, he huffed a deep, dramatic sigh. “Harry, don’t you think I would pursue Buffy to our mutual benefit, if I could? However, I cannot, at least not effectively, so you must.” “Bob—” “It’s time for you to think of her for a change. The lady has always enjoyed your company. She’s vulnerable. Someone less honorable could deceive her. Now is the time to make your move.” “OK, money and fabulous lifestyle aside, Buffy has friends on the Council, friends in business…in the arts…politics...” “Yes, I know that well enough. Influential friends.” “Friends that’ll be turning into lovers any minute now, if they’re not already.” Bob stiffened. “You do her a serious disservice. That comment was beneath you.” Dresden wiped a hand over his face. “Don’t you get it? She’s…good, and comparatively, innocent as a lamb, and I’m…not. My soul was stained by my little trip into the black 5 years ago. Permanently. Stained.” Bob was about balk, but before he could Dresden cut him off. “She just got a master’s degree. I’m a high school drop out. People take her seriously. They ask her for advice and listen to what she has to say.” He pointed at the back door. “To the world outside, I’m either a crackpot, or a very unsuccessful con man. She knows all of this.” “Oh, Harry…” Dresden turned away. His hand fell to his side and he nodded at the floor. “Even if I prostrated myself at her feet and begged, she would never think of me that way. And she would be right.” Bob moved up behind Dresden slowly. “I’ve never known her to play the snob, Harry. It would never occur to her to revile others because of their state in life,” he said gently. “But even if that were true, if you were to go to her husband’s funeral, she would take your hand if you offered it to her.” “No.” “Yes. I know she would.” “Christ.” Dresden’s hands shook and he moved forward blindly. Gripping the back of the closest arm chair, he said, “Don’t…” “If you’re seen with Buffy at the gravesite, her hand joined with yours in friendship, her…sisterly... affection," he said, stumbling over the last words. Dresden flinched, but Bob kept talking, "Which I know she feels for you—would be shown to all, and perhaps your reputation and your fortunes would improve.” “Get in the goddamn skull, Bob,” he bit out, pointing to his lab. Bob lifted his chin indignantly. “You’re a fool, Harry Dresden,” he said, as the flames ignited over his head, and in an angry burst of gold and orange he was gone. Previous Chapter Winter Light Menu Winter Light Notes |
