dresdenforhire | For lilorphanmaggie - Take Your Daughter To Work Day

For lilorphanmaggie - Take Your Daughter To Work Day

When you're a wizard that used to be on retainer with the Chicago PD you don't get called in for the fun cases. It's never, "Dresden, someone has delivered a bunch of cute puppies at the all you can eat buffet during a supermodel luncheon and we need you to investigate". No, it's always something that's gone really horrible. Not just weird but usually violent and gory. When that happens I put on my wizard hat and go earn my paycheck. Only I don't actually have a hate. Well, I do but it's a Cubs hat so not really all that magical.

I haven't been on retainer with the Chicago PD for a while, though that doesn't mean I still don't get asked to look at cases on the down low. The down low comes with considerably less cash but as the Winter Knight I don't have the cash flow problem I used to have. It's not exactly a job but seeing as how Mab shudders at the idea of her Knight being homeless and half starved unless it's because she wants them to be I get something of a stipend. I'm not sure what the limit is because my needs are pretty simple. Clothes, a vehicle, and a place to heat up SpaghettiOs on the stove.

I kind of wish I'd forgone the SpaghettiOs this time though since the scene was a particularly gruesome one. A lot of people don't know how much mass a human body has, especially when you spread it all out. And someone spread these bodies out all over the 16th hole of a golf course in the suburbs. I feel bad for the foursome that was the first to run into it because they clearly didn't know what they'd found until they'd taken several steps into the muck.

The police wouldn't have even had any way to identify the victims until DNA came back except they found a few phones among the remains. They hadn't given me the names exactly but I just happened to overhear what they were saying when I'd planted a magical bug (it was spider) by the command tent that relayed what they were saying. I'd recognized the names instantly as a gang of magical bullies that lived in the surrounding areas. Kind of like the Alphas only the opposite. The Omegas maybe? Bad Alphas? Assholes? Yeah, I was going to go with the Assholes. They were small time, too small time to ping the White Council but still trouble. Not so much trouble that they deserved whatever happened to them. I can think of only a few people that I'd wish a fate like that on and even then I'd feel a bit bad about it.

I needed to find out if everyone in the Assholes had been killed though but I wasn't exactly sure where they'd go to ground after this. People tended to not be particularly open when talking to the Winter Knight/Warden/Rogue Wizard/Me. Fortunately I knew someone that just might know something like that.

I had one of the members of the Za-Lords army send a quick message to Molly (I refused to think of her as the Winter Lady because she deserved to be remembered as a person) and asked her to phone my daughter. Cell phones don't play very nice with me but Molly and Maggie can handle them just fine. Once that was done I headed to Mac's to have a drink and wait for Maggie to show up, assuming she would.

We had a complicated relationship. Really complicated. If they could keep the cameras from exploding we would have been on the E! network with the Kardashians. But I loved her more than she might ever understand, even if I was terrible about showing it, and hoped that she wouldn't resent me for asking her to come along. Selfishly I hoped she would take it as a sign of faith that I thought she could handle this sort of thing.

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"Well it's good to know that your decision making is flawless and you won't fall into the sort of trap that all other people who have uttered that statement have fallen into," I said with a nod. I'm pretty sure that she doesn't want any sort of morality lesson - or any lesson at all - from me but I couldn't not say anything. I remembered what it was like to be that age and seeing all the injustices in the world and knowing that if you were just in the right position you could fix all of them. And I would never want to take that passion away from her because I know that she could do good. I know she does do good. I just want her to be careful.

"Good. If she hates you then that's a familiar target for her anger. You're a known quantity which will hopefully help her feel more comfortable."

Her question caught me off guard because... well because that's a hell of a career path to start inquiring about. And even if she said it had nothing to do with anything I can't help but wonder if talking about being an absolute arbiter of justice and asking about becoming a Warden isn't connected.

"Well... you become a part of the White Council. You get yourself recognized... then a bunch of politics happen and maybe you get chosen. The circumstances are often different each time. Or... a bunch of Wardens die and they get desperate and ask kids to do it."

And that way? That way hurts. Because those kids died because of me and the war I started. I did the right thing, I know I did, but that doesn't mean that some of that blood isn't on my head. And I hope no more of that blood falls on Maggie.

MARGARET DRESDEN KNOWS SARCASM WHEN SHE HEARS IT, HARRY. "It most certainly is, and I am happy and appreciate that you are acknowledging it." She's not going to win this sarcasm battle, but goddammit she is going to not go down without a fight. And being eighteen doesn't lend itself to seeing his point, or considering that she might be wrong, it's the way the brain is wired. Even Margaret's generally self aware brain.

On the plus side he doesn't generally have to worry about her actually becoming an absolute arbiter of justice. Unless the White Counsel takes an interest in her of course.

"You think so? You don't think that she won't just be more suspicious or come out swinging?" Behind dark frames, eyes narrow in thought, better her than some random stranger - they do have some common ground on which to stand. Even if that ground was an after school fight.

At a red light Margaret gives a glance over at Harry and then back at the road, thumb lightly tapping on the wheel. "Huh, that's kind of cool. They go through training, right? A boot camp maybe? Though the way they seemingly arbitrarily swing those swords around maybe they don't." Because of course Margaret has an issue with the gray cloaks, their zero tolerance policy is questionable.

"I'm sure the White Council... actually any of the Councils, would be glad to rate you among their number with that sort of thinking," I told her pleasantly. And that's all I was going to say on that subject and just let her stew on that for a while. Or completely ignore it as the moralizing of her old man. Either way I'm not too worried about her becoming some sort of vigilante or despot.

"No, you're a known quantity enemy. There's been what... verbal barbs and maybe some pranks exchanged between you two? You're a low-grade enemy and she might lash out at you as a convenient target at worst she'll think you've come by to gloat about the death of her friends. One last turn on the right up here."

By now I figure she'll probably get that we're headed to the library. It is the place where we'll have access to all of our questions. Well, at least about where to find our quarry.

"There is a boot camp. I ran it for a while. It was... whatever you think about the Wardens, most of them want to do good. They want to keep people safe from bad magic. They don't always get it right but their hearts are in the right place. At least when they start out."

"Wow," a glance, a double glance. "The temperature dropped like ten degrees over here with that shade, brrrr!" A fake shiver, but like, for real though. Damn Harry Dresden.

Do not mention the time you egged her house. Do not mention that one time you trashed her car and drive way. "Yeah, something like that." Nice job, brain, no need for details now, just do the driving and listening. "I suppose you're right, I mean she could also be tits out crazy, so, you know." The turn signal clicks on: "though I never saw her as one to go mad. Too col, a reptilian brain that focused doesn't have the capacity for it, going mad takes imagination."

Ah, indeed, the library, the fount of all knowledge and questionable smells. Already the hunt is on for a parking spot.

"You ran it? Really?" Another set of double glances at least she isn't giving him a semi-obscured hard look this time. "What was it like?"

I couldn't really respond to the shade comment because... well, I was absolutely throwing some shade. So I'm glad she caught it and can now choose to completely ignore it but I've done my part. Planted the seed and all of that. Now it's up to the universe to pile a bunch of crap on the seed to fertilize it so that it can grow.

I really hope that "tits out crazy" is just an expression and not something literal because I cannot deal with that right now. I have had enough circumstances where that has been literal and that has never been a pleasant experience. A cool, reptilian brain sounds equally dangerous, just in a different way. But I can use that to our advantage, I do have a bit of experience with that sort of thing. That's for later though.

"It was awful. It was- it was during the fight with the Red Court. We were desperate. A lot of them weren't any older than you and they were- they were targeted. Better to face a Warden when they're young and new, right? Don't let them get good at the job. It was mostly on-the-job training."

Oh man. Ever noped so hard out of a conversation that you just basically shut down?

It feels like every part of her just sort of loses consciousness. A cold and blank tangle of parts: the darkest sea on a moonless night. It would be startling if such a feeling could be felt, just how powerless she was against it. Like a hypnosis victim on stage acting out the suggestion that he or she is a chicken on stage she allows this shut down to take her over.

How she parks the car properly is a goddamn miracle because she doesn't remember any of it. Thank god it wasn't a parallel spot because she wouldn't have been able to handle it. At all.

But here they are. In park. Margaret Dresden the only absolutely still item on a constantly spinning rock in a constantly spinning universe. The sun is shining.

If I had thought that Maggie would have accepted me brushing off her request I would have done so. But I know she's relentless and I didn't think she would let it go. She may not believe it but I watered it down some for her too. Apparently not enough though with the way she practically went catatonic. I didn't say anything though, I didn't know what I could say to make it better. Maybe I should have handled it better from the start and just said that the Red Court was involved. I'm reminded once again that I'm really no good at this at all.

"Sorry, Maggie. I should have just said it was a lot of dealing with that stuff and let you ask the questions from there."

After a moment or two of silence: "well, we're here." There are things to do, people to find, books to go through. Why are they at the library? Margaret turns her head to look out the window and up at the two story brick building. In Chicago the build up not out, except in the suburbs where land and boredom is plentiful.

When she moves it feels like she is just watching herself move, that someone else is doing the actual actions. Unbuckling the belt, removing the jingling keys. They rest in her palm under her fingers, clutched tight even as she goes for her bag. "What are we doing here?"

I wanted to ask if she wanted to talk about it. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to go back and time and make it so none of this ever happened. But I don't and I can't because she has to be the one to make those overtures. And even I'm not so reckless that I would try and change the past. I figure there's one law of magic that I should try not to break.

"We're going to see the Librarian," I said, hopping out of the Jeep and trying to keep my voice sounding like everything was situation normal. I don't know if I'm trying to convince her or myself though. Maybe both of us. Just pushing things aside and not dealing with them isn't the healthiest coping mechanism but sometimes it's all you've got.

"She owes me a favor and I think she can help us find what we're after faster than just about anyone else. Just remember to keep your voice down."

Margaret might not talk about it, but she would take a hug, she would certainly take a hug. Almost all of the time she would take a hug, she has gotten into the 'hugging' thing lately and it turns out that it's super good for you. People actually need physical touch and comfort in order to thrive and do well.

True story.

"The librarian? Capital T?" Is this any librarian or like, the cream of the crop? The one that is actually a super spy in disguise? It it an occupation or a code name? These things matter. Talking feels good, sort of like the Tin-Man in the Wizard of OZ. First the mouth starts and then everything else sort of follows and the musical number begins. The Tin-Man of course chopped off his own limbs under the curse of the Wicked Witch.

Magic.

"You know, if you need information I've got a guy. And, like, you don't have to keep your voice down." Hands in back pockets she starts off toward the front doors. "No cameras either," because big brother is fucking watching, thanks.

"Capital L," I corrected, glancing at her to make sure that she was doing alright without looking like I was checking to make sure that she was doing alright. I was probably pretty obvious about it but if she got upset because I care about her then she'll get upset a lot. She seemed alright but I wasn't worried about her being able to do the job, I'm worried about the emotional pain.

"But if my information lady doesn't pan out then we'll go to your information guy," I said. The idea of going to talk to someone I didn't know didn't really sit well with me but I had to trust that Maggie knew what she was doing. I almost changed my mind right there to go talk to her person first but decided against it since we were already here and time was of the essence. "And I'll go in front of you to block the cameras if you want."

"Ahhhhh," a slow bob of the head in acknowledgement. "I will make sure to stay extra quiet," surprisingly Margaret is in the library quite a bit. Not generally for long periods of time but it's super for good, cheap entertainment and books on a lot of weird shit: it's useful. Still smells kinda bad, but until we address the homeless situation it is what it is.

Pausing on the sidewalk before the stairs she waits for Harry and then motions for him to go forward first. If he wants to go first he can. Though she's not exactly totally worried about the cameras and surveillance, things like that don't always last the longest when he's around.

I nodded and headed up the stairs and opened the front door for her, old habits dying hard despite my reassurance that I'd go in front of her. If she was hesitant to go in I'd just go in first but I thought I should actually make the effort to be on my best manners. At least for the moment. That promise only lasted so long with me and then things started to go "boom".

Once inside I lead us past most of the desks, doing my best to keep us as far from the computers as possible so that no one's work was ruined just because I wandered through. Thankfully the building and set up was open enough that I could avoid the majority of them and I only saw a few people giving their computers momentarily funny looks out of the corner of my eye.

We got to one of the desks on the far side of the building and I pulled out my library card, showing it to the woman behind the desk. She gave me a very long, hard look like I was exactly the sort of person who she was paid to keep out. I tried to give her a charming smile but the look just intensified. Leaning her head to the side she took a look at Maggie and decided that I must be alright.

Stepping through the door actually lead us into a very small elevator.

"Going down," I said in my most ominous voice and pushed the button with the down arrow on it. A heavy, mechanical noise sounded before we started to descend. "Oh, by the way, don't look at the Librarian with your sight if you're afraid of spiders."

[ooc: Sorry, actually had to work at work today!]

Margaret lends legitimacy to almost any situation. Because she has that young, open, easy face that still clearly says student. Which is why the librarian figures they are all good, despite the fact that the dude next to her is tall and has a rather haunted look and her jacket is weird as fuck. An observation is made and it's probably that the worst they are is Fine Arts students.

Compliment? Insult? You be the judge.

"Oh fucking Christ," Margaret turns her face up toward the top of the elevator, beseeching a higher power. "Please don't let us get stuck in here and die." Out of all the ways to die, plummeting elevator is probably one of the one's she doesn't ever want to experience. And if they get stuck it's SOL because she didn't bring her bag. Dammit.

The response to the spider thing is just a groan. Not cool.

[no worries, no worries, i feel you. last night was dnd for me. sorry about the delay!]

"It's on a pedestal," I explained, seeing at how worried she was. I probably should have checked to see if she was okay with smaller spaces or going underground. Once again I was reminded just how little I know about Maggie in some of the more important areas like what are her triggers. I need to be better at things like this. I have to be. "So what you really have to worry about is going back up and making sure it stops when it gets to the top and doesn't crush us."

I'll be better about things after that comment. I can't resist a morbid joke to help lighten the atmosphere. When the elevator finally stopped and the door finally opened we were in something that looked like it was out of an Indiana Jones movie. It was a large cavern surrounded by shelves that were carved into the rock. They were lined with everything from parchment to books to floppy drives to CDs to memory sticks. If there was a way to accumulate written and oral history, it was down here. The more sensitive items like the floppy drives and memory sticks were at the far, far end of the cavern away from wizards like me.

A few feet in front of us was a large desk with what looked like a pleasant old woman with reading glasses behind it. I'd looked at Grace once with my sight and her actual appearance was spider-like with segmented torso and multiple limbs. I never knew if this appearance was a glamour or some sort of camouflage and I've never felt comfortable asking.

"Oh Harry, it's good to see you again," Grace said, smiling at me. Her eyes then shifted over to Maggie, squinting suspiciously for a moment at her before lighting up. "Oh, and this must be Margaret that you always talk about! I can see the resemblance clearly. Welcome, dear. I'm the Librarian, but you can call me Grace."

"You need the man Jesus, Harry Dresden," is all that she'll say to that, thank you very much. She isn't actually terrified of going flying through the roof (well not really through, just into, hard) but now she is seriously considering it as the little lights flicker from one floor to another and they reach the bottom.

Margaret has never been down here before, but then again she has never been to this branch of the Chicago Public Library before and stepping out of the car she kind of takes a look behind her and considers if they haven't passed through some sort of portal into a different realm. It feels different, the aura, the lights and the long silent shelves and their shadows and knowledge. it has her sort of scanning and prowling like they're about to get ambushed.

But the cutest little old lady ever.

Except Margaret (in her head) swears that she does have spider like qualities and it makes her wonder what is behind and under that desk. Lifted brows and she shoots a glance at Harry. Harry talks about her? To people outside of general Margaret radiation zone? Weird. "It's very nice to meet you, Grace." Normal voice, and then catching herself, library whisper: "Nice place you've got here."

I was proud of Maggie for remembering to keep her voice quiet. Mostly since I had to be reminded about a dozen times before I ever remembered to make sure I kept my voice down. I'm just not a quiet person by nature but I'm conditioned fairly well around Grace to keep my voice down. I pointedly ignore the look that Maggie gave me though because I have no way to interpret what it is she's trying to say with it.

"So polite and well mannered too. I can see why Harry is so proud of you. You don't have to whisper, just don't get too loud if you can help it. The sound vibrations along my webs get confusing," Grace said, giving us a clothed mouth smile. If she had given us a full on grin it would have been more apparently that she had mandibles in her mouth instead of teeth. It wasn't too unsettling unless you watched her eat and I highly suggest you don't do that.

"What have you brought me? A snack? A rare book?" Grace asked, looking expectantly between the two of us.

"Something even better," I told her.

"Oh a challenge," she said, rubbing her hands together. The promise of a challenge seemed to shake off some of the dusty old librarian look from her and her movements became more spry and excited. That was always a good sign with Grace, she hated growing stagnant.

"Grace has invested something called technonecromancy," I explained before Grace cut me off.

"Necrotechnomancy, dear. Try to remember, please. It sounds so much more wonderfully macabre that way. Tell me, Maggie dear. Can you use technology at all?"

Yo. This is gonna sound real kind of dumb but Margaret is having some real strong DnD spider flashbacks right now. Their webs are awful and their bite poisonous and standing here, Margaret is like 98% sure that all of those things apply to this woman and that is actually kind of terrifying. Because that's kind of what happens when you know the actual power and strength of a thing while being just a human. Sure, knowledge on some level is indeed power, and she's got that, but that knowledge generally comes with a pretty massive title page that reads: JUST AVOID.

Harry wouldn't ever bring her to a source that was an active threat, and so she isn't quaking and looking for the nearest exit, but maybe she should start paying more attention to his friends. Look at the kind of people (spiders?) he is hanging out with.

This concern about who he is hanging out with almost has her missing the proud comment that Grace drops. He's proud of her? Why? There isn't a lot about her that someone could take pride in. But she still feels a blush creeping up her throat despite of it.

"Um," swallow, sort of pull yourself together kind of moment. "Yes, for the most part, highly emotional outbursts not withstanding." A lot of fried phones in the middle teen part of her life. "Necrotechnomancy? I'm hoping that has something to do with outdated technology and not undead rifling through index systems at high speeds." Though....

"That's not a bad thing. You should always change your phone at least once a year. And keep a burner, that's just good sense," Grace said, nodding in approval. I was glad that Grace liked Maggie even though I was getting a vibe that Maggie wasn't a huge fan of the woman. I wondered if that was the spider thing or more a me thing, that she was an acquaintance of mine. Oh well, she said she had her own information guy so I guess it's not horrible if Maggie decided to never come back here.

Reaching into my pocket I pulled out a bag that was clearly from police evidence and handed it over to Grace, who took it from me with obvious delight. I purposely avoided looking at Maggie for fear of seeing any sort of judgement from her. Yes I stole from police evidence but to be honest the farther away the police stay from this sort of thing the better for them. They're not equipped to handle this, no matter how much Murphy had worked with them on dealing with the weird stuff.

"Now, as you know, human magic and technology don't get along. But we Fae are different. Normally when you try to track someone down you do so with a piece of them. Hair, bloody, skin, teeth, that sort of thing. But people these days invest so much of themselves into their phones and I've been working on a way to access that," Grace explained as she took the phone out of the bag and set it down in front of her. This sort of magic was way, way out of my wheelhouse and literally impossible for me. But boy did I love watching this sort of thing, the magical nerd in me fascinated despite having heard this sort of thing before.

"Now, what sort of person owned this phone?"

"Teenage girl," I said.

"Oh, that's even better. Would you like to help, Maggie? Harry is too much of... himself for this sort of magic but we can see what you can do."

"Whoa," okay, okay, she is her father's daughter. "That's fucking dope," she has never thought of it before, but Grace was totally right. A phone, for a lot of people is never far from their side. They won't let it out of their grasp no matter what. So much so that there were a series of ads that the CTA put up telling people not to go after their fucking phones if they dropped them on to the tracks.

People would risk getting smashed by a train or electrocuted for a phone.

Fascinated, Margaret just moves right on up to the desk and puts her arms lightly on it, no standing on tip-toe, she can see just fine. "Yeah, I'd be happy to help." And of course maybe learn a thing or two, that would be most righteous.

As for the evidence bag? This is just going away for later when her actions slip into those ethically gray DMs.

I watched as Grace gave a pleased little smile at Maggie's reaction, clearly pleased to have her work appreciated and praised. As much of a spider creature as Grace was she was also a recluse who didn't have many visitors and liked to be told how great she was just as much as everyone else. Plus, when you can make a teenager impressed then you knew you really had something going. Despite all that I still watched Grace carefully. I trusted her, obviously, or I would have told her about Maggie or brought her down here. But I loved Maggie more than I trusted Grace. Heck, I was prepared to blast away complete strangers on the sidewalk if I thought they might hurt my little girl.

"Very good. Now I want you to try and focus on a map of the Chicago area. If you can make an illusion of one that would be best," Grace said. Hands disappearing down behind the desk she brought them back up a moment later with spider's silk tangled into them like cat's cradle. Long, thin fingers moved quickly as they wove the webbing into the shape of magical circle. If you squinted it sort of looked like a doily that a strange grandmother might knit. Once it was done she placed it on the table in front of Maggie and then put the phone in the middle of it. "Now, this is the tricky part. Pay close attention and push a bit of your magic into the circle."

I'd done this once before with her only with a much, much bigger web to keep me as far away from the technology as possible. My illusions were also mostly garbage which meant she had to put that work in as well. If Maggie could manage decent one then Grace could focus on the phone. Their magic combined would reveal... a glowing dot on the map of where the owner of the phone was. Kind of anticlimactic but really useful all the same.

A whole map of Chicago? That would be tough, at least with a lot of detail, it's a big place and Margaret liked looking at maps of it but not so much that she could recreate the whole thing for memory. A general outline, would do, she supposed, though it would remain to be seen until they completed the spell and found out.

A roll of the shoulders and head, a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out, clearing thoughts and filling that space with the noise in between all the other noises. That energy that bound and brought all things together. It takes a moment to find the end of the thread but once she does she holds on to it and brings it forward to her fingertips before pressing them on to the web and releasing. It's a fine conduit, probably by design and under her breath she begins the gibberish that draws the lines of streets and intersections in the rough hue that is Chicago.

It's like a massive etch-a-sketch, and it's not done in a day and it's not always done correctly but the main streets glow black against the slender strands of the web.

I held my breath while I watched, willing Maggie to be able to do this. It wasn't a particularly difficult spell at the core. Illusions aren't really my specialty but even I could have probably managed a workable map of Chicago. The difference was that I knew Chicago intimately, especially from all my time building little Chicago. It wasn't creating the illusion that was difficult but creating one that was detailed enough for our purposes.

People think magic is all about raw power or fineness and that's part of it. Probably the majority of it. But there's another aspect to it that some people don't think about and that's the creativity. Learning how to light a fire and seeing how big you can make it is important but know what to do with that fire besides burn down a building is important. Seeing Maggie make the map as simple as possible so she can make it as detailed as possible made me proud.

"Good, very good," Grace hummed as she surveyed the map, fingers dancing as she wove strands of magic and web together. I watched as a large circle settled over the map of the city before it started to wobble and shrink, shifting this way and that. Gradually the shape got smaller and smaller until it settled into a steady dot on the map.

"Does that place mean anything to either of you?" Grace asked.

It takes her a moment to hear the voices and the questions and bring herself to the here and now. Whoa. They're in a library, what a trip. Her head swims with the scent of paper, the library smell of far off toner and the sound of turning pages. A shake of her head and a deep breath in she sort of shakes off the discombobulation and focuses in on that little red dot.

Does the location look familiar to her? A zoom out to the surrounding area and the breaking down of where it might be in relation to the places she usually spends time.

"I mean, it's like," WORDS MARGARET. "It's a bar, like a real traditional Irish place, the name is like some Irish shit." What a time to space, her fingers dig and rub at her brow as if that would bring the name to life. "It will come to me, anyway they're this weird mix of like radicalized racists in the name of Ireland?" Even Margaret looks and sounds confused when she says this.

"Like they call out the old Gods of Ireland but to like rid the world of people of color in America? I don't know," as she speaks she grows more herself. "I'm not an asshole so I have a hard time relating to their dogma."

I suddenly had way more reservations about my plan of Maggie going in there by herself first. A radical, racist bar was not a place I wanted my little girl to go, especially when she was clearly the sort of person that they wanted out of the country. People like that never cease to anger me. They're not puzzling because I understand where they're coming from. It's small, insecure people who feel challenged by anything that doesn't directly benefit them. They want to grasp and grab on to all of the power they can at the expense of everyone else.

I could feel my anger, at first boiling over into a rage and then an ice cold clarity I recognized as coming from the Mantle. My baby girl. Mine. And they wanted to hurt her and I wanted to make anyone who would even think to lay a hand on her pay for that. It was thoughts like that that made the Winter Mantle so seductive, because they were so close to my own thoughts. Or they were entirely my own thoughts only without any of the restraint I would apply to them. But I was better than that. Not because I was such a great person but because it was wrong. People like that deserved to be punished, yes, but I can't appointment myself judge, jury, and executioner. Not like this.

"Well, that gives us a place to start," I said once I could finally trust my voice again. Even then I don't think I completely hid the lethal, growling edge to my voice.

"Oh good, I'm glad it worked," Grace said, her hands going still as the spell faded away. I watched as she carefully put the phone back into the bad and then slid it across the desk to Maggie. Apparently I wasn't the most favored Dresden anymore. Reaching down behind the desk she pulled out a card and handed it to Maggie. "And this is for you. A library card that will let you come see me whenever you'd like. I'm partial to gifts of giant bugs or interesting books."

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