Manipulation

[madimpossibledreamer]

Runes used: Thurisaz (danger) Naudhiz (need, unfulfilled desire) Ingwaz (beginning) Uruz (strength of will, in this case magic)
I’ll refer to the Council of Wizards as the High Council, like the TV show did, rather than the White Council for reasons (there’s a couple racism discussions as to why that’s problematic but not as problematic as “Injun Joe” which I’ll leave in the hands of the experts on their story).

Main Points:
Dresden Files AU, M is for Marcone Series
Chapter Summary: Marcone aims to learn what he can, and finds that Vadderung had an agenda when negotiating his particular contract.
Word Count: 3325
Rating: Teen

 

         “Good afternoon, Ms. Gard.”  Pleasantries, too, are their own kind of magic, one that I fear Dresden will never understand.  They are a means of manipulating events to my ends.  Machiavelli stated that it was better to be feared than loved if one could not achieve both, though many, such as my predecessors, misunderstood (to be fair, they had probably never read the original).  It is probably safe to call me an overachiever who endeavors to attain both, as they both have their place.  Fear looks identical to respect in my world, and manners is, generally, a means of achieving love and fear.  Polite treatment enrages and threatens those who wish you to meet anger with anger, both because it is an unexpected outcome and it is widely believed that one can only be polite when one holds all the cards, leaving them shaken and wondering what I could possibly have up my sleeves (the answer, if banal, is usually at least a few knives).  It also can earn love, or some facsimile thereof, as those who are not looking for anger respond well to being treated like an actual human being.  As such, a polite demeanor is my favored method of dealing with the police and other such annoyances, and probably the source of my nickname.
         She nods in return, but is pleased.  And impressed, though undoubtedly I have more work to do in that regard.  I hope some of her other consultees had some manners, but, well.  Most of the time I find the professionalism of other establishments lacking.  “Good afternoon,” she returns.
         “I have another matter that requires your expert opinion.  My office is this way.”  Different than the last time we spoke, and as such there is work to be done to bring it up to standard, but the advantages of being unpredictable in some respects are entirely worth the trouble.
         “So soon?”  Why yes, I do like to make good use of my investments, particularly ones I spend a great deal on, and already I am receiving great returns.  Gard is a professional, and sad to say, that is a rare trait worth cultivating.  Still, she seems intrigued.  A good sign.
         “Can you tell me if I have any residual magic on my person?”  It’s fascinating to see her put the answers together rapid-fire.
         “So Dresden was a wizard after all?”  There’s a slight note of amusement in her eyes, and—
         “…I neglected to ask directly whether he was one, didn’t I?” I ask flatly.  I could have sworn I had, but—no.  I had only asked around the question, not the question itself.  I could have—well, no.  I would have done the exact same thing, albeit on purpose.
         She inclines her head slightly, and I steady my breathing, irritated more at myself than at her.  Hendricks rumbles and shifts behind me, and it’s up to me to take control of the situation before he does anything rash.  “I suppose this is something along the lines of a lesson in dealing with the supernatural, Ms. Gard?”
         “One with minimal consequences.  Being polite but direct is important when dealing with virtually any faction in the supernatural world.”  She is certainly wrong about the consequences part, but, again, nothing would have changed had I planned the encounter knowing he was a wizard, so it hardly matters.
         “Returning to the original question.”  I am hardly going to repeat myself.
         “Of course.”  She eyes me carefully and then shakes her head.  “Nothing.  What made you think there could be?”
         “I did not believe I had seriously offended him.  He seems like the type to be consistently annoyed by the world.  But it pays to be sure.”  The way Gard continues to stare silently indicates she doesn’t believe me, and from the cough Nathan agrees with her.
         It’s a decision.  I’d barely known Gard, and answering her question could be dangerous.  I cannot be vulnerable.  But—
         But a quote Hendricks had used at me flashes through my mind.  Of course, I’d read Sun Tzu myself, when he didn’t stop.  Most would know me as stone, but I had to make careful exceptions.  Calculated vulnerability.  Because I must at least have the appearance of trust in my allies.  I could continue to put off this question.  As a consultant, Gard would never have her utmost loyalty to me.  But she’s testing me already, and if I fail this, I will lose something intangible but equally valuable.  It’s a risk, but as much as I would like to minimize the risk, I have hardly gotten where I am without any.
         “I had…side effects from the soul gaze.  I needed to ascertain whether those effects were mundane or magical in nature.”  I…dislike being looked at as if I am a magical puzzle, but circumstances being what they are, I assume it is inevitable.  My words are vague enough they answer nothing, and I know it.  Behind me, Hendricks shifts, concerned as to my present state.  Fortunately, that sound gives me his precise location, which is what I needed.  “I’ve fallen in love with him,” I continue, only allowing a fraction of my feelings into my voice, and instantly turn to steady Nathan.  I could have asked him to sit for the revelation, but that would merely have concerned him more.
         “You’re wrong,” he insists at Gard, sounding very shaken.  Ah, he’d been under the same belief I was, but then, he’d been here a long time.  It’s a question why I had no romantic feelings for my oldest friend, but I hardly claim myself the expert in this matter.
         And then I answer my question once more.  I had felt, very briefly, not lust but a possessive, jealous feeling that I had since reined in.  I wanted him to be happy, but he was…too close.  It would almost feel incestuous.
         So there were rules.  Excellent.  I could figure it out, if there were rules.  And preferably prevent this mistake from happening again.
         She studies me again and shakes her head.  “I’m not.  Whatever happened, it’s not a magic I can see.  I have other ways to check.”
         I nod.  “Please do so.  Is there anything you require from me?”  I still need to learn everything I can about this new world, the new threats and opportunities.  I won’t learn it in an hour, but the faster, the better.  In my position, it’s safer to assume that I have enemies whether I know about them yet or not.  Perhaps, before today, the supernatural had generally stayed away from my people, but I would be stupid to assume it would remain that way, particularly if I tried to take advantage of any of the opportunities I would find.
         “You’ll be fine if you sit.  I assume you have paperwork.”  She smiles, indicating that my decision was a good one.
         “You assume correctly.”  I sit and try not to react as she busies herself around me, carving runes—ah, the Norse connection.  It makes sense, but I hadn’t wanted to assume.
         “Boss,” Nathan repeats unhappily when we’re both safely ensconced in our chairs.
         I sigh.  I hadn’t wanted this conversation, but then, he’s been pestering me about a personal life (which is impossible, given my position) for a while now, so I might as well make him uncomfortable, too.  “If it’s not a spell, from what I’ve found, it’s perfectly normal to have interest in only one or two people.  I don’t suppose this is a usual response to a soulgaze?”
         Gard’s mouth thins.  So she needs to concentrate for her work.  Interesting.  “No.”  Polite, but short.
         Hendricks’ grunt says he doesn’t believe me.  Probably about the results I’d found.  I just nod in Gard’s direction, concentrating on my own work.  He coughs.  Coward.
         I ignore him for the moment.  Gard settles into her work, carving runes in what look likes an old slab of wood.  It appears to take something out of her—not much, and most would not notice.  They flare when she finishes.
         “What does that mean?” I nod at them, anticipation thrilling through me at the possibility.
         She smiles.  “That the runes are working.  You’ll have to touch them.”
         Oh.  Of course it wouldn’t be that simple.  I do as she asks, reaching out and touching them each in turn.  No glow this time.
         “There’s no magic affecting you.”
         That’s a relief.  It’s an odd realization, but I feel oddly protective of these feelings.  I…want to keep them, as long as they don’t interfere.  That will be more difficult than I anticipate, judging by this morning, but I am nothing if not adaptable.
         “Good.”  I state that in a final tone, before another thought occurs to me.  It hadn’t before because I hadn’t considered Dresden as a wizard, and apparently attraction makes my intelligence malfunction.  “Would he have had the power to kill Tommy and Ms. Stanton?”
         Another nod.  More respect, in her eyes.  “The other wizards of the High Council believe him to be the culprit.  As does Lara Raith, of the Red Court.”
         I close my eyes.  Tommy was one of mine, and a friend.  Not as good a friend as Nathan, obviously, but still.  I didn’t choose people I didn’t like, didn’t trust, to be a bodyguard.  I didn’t make the mistake the Vargassis did, of operating solely on this principle, but then, an aspect of my like was competence, and several key positions require trust by their very nature.  On the other hand, it would, indeed, pain me to destroy the wizard.
         But, perhaps, necessary.  I should look into measures, particularly if his dislike turned to hate.  A good portion of his reaction was, from what I could tell, due to fear, but even so I might need to protect myself, in the eventuality he come for me.  I might need them now, depending on the identity of Tommy’s killer.
         “I see you don’t include yourself among that number,” I observe, and even Hendricks perks up.  Of course, he enjoys a good debate.
         “I don’t think it likely.  Wizard Dresden is powerful for his age, but he would have to draw on far greater power than himself to power a spell to kill two people.  He is largely the suspect to the Council because he suffers the Doom of Damocles, and because no ‘Warlocks’ are trustworthy.”  I knew that feeling all too well.  As I knew that smile, an anticipatory smile looking forward to future violence.  My organization contains no shortage of those who enjoy violence.  Even I do, on occasion, though I make sure the efforts of myself and everyone in my employ are directed correctly. 
         “Warlock is, I presume, an accusation of ‘criminal’, someone who has broken the Laws of Magic.  The Doom of Damocles is…?”  I trail off, letting her fill in the rest, as she does.
         “Two fates await those who break the Laws of Magic.  The first, and most likely, is immediate execution by the High Council.  The second is a stay of execution with a parole officer that has nothing against ending a life for the slightest provocation.”  The smile only sharpens, only by now it’s more a baring of fangs.  Many might mistake Gard for a beautiful woman, even here and now, but it’s clear that she’s a predator longing for the hunt.
         “Guessed from Damocles, Boss.”  I tuck away the amusement in response, but I’m aware that no matter how much he complains, Nathan has some intrigue as well. 
         At the moment, there are more urgent matters.  Such as what precisely could lead to such unholy glee in my consultant.  She seems utterly certain of a bloodbath coming sooner or later, and if I’m meant to have a role it would only be prudent to figure out what it is (and if I have any inclination to play my part).  Something about the sentencing of the Laws of Magic, and the only organization I could set myself against to be called any sort of war would be the High Council.  I have no doubt innocents have been killed, unless the court system is clearly superior to our mundane one, but even then, the death of innocents is an unfortunate consequence of—
         I breathe in sharply.  “Children.  They’ve executed children.”  It’s fortunate that I’m sitting.  There is, however, a snarl on my lips, and my hands itch for my knives.  I tuck that away too, breathing evenly until I have regained control.
         Nathan watches with alarm, but then, he knows of my rule.
         From there, guessing the rest is simple.  “This is the reason I was chosen.  Vadderung wants to destroy the Council, and he wants to use me to do so.”  I hate being used as a pawn.  Simultaneously, allowing this Council to continue…
         Calm.  “But then, I can hardly enforce my rule everywhere.”  Much as it pains me to admit, I am mortal, and have limited means at my disposal.  I’m aware none of my rivals enforce such a rule, and certainly none of them would follow mine in my own territory if not for their ruthless application.
         “No.  But a time might come in which you must act to ensure compliance within Chicago, and the Council suffers no kind of challenge.”  It might be seeing the future or the more simple kind of precognition I use in my own line of work—getting to know people better than they know themselves so I can anticipate their every move.  “See it more as a benefit for a possible future alliance.”
         No.  I would not dissolve a useful contract in a fit of wounded pride.  I would have to take into consideration that Gard would be a biased, though not useless, source of information on the subject, once we got to the point it was a feasible possibility.  Back to the relevant discussion.  “Do you have any more concrete indications that Mr. Dresden was not the killer I seek?”  Before you unleashed me unknowing, just to see if I would die?
         “Clues, nothing concrete.”  She gathers by my narrowed eyes that I want to hear them anyway, and continues.  “Magic of that kind requires hate, the kind of hate most people don’t feel in their lifetimes.  It’s one thing to kill, say, in battle, and another to kill like this.”  If I am not wrong, there is a hint of…distaste about the way she puts it, but then, it’s not the kind of death, or killing she would prefer.  If nothing else, here, too, I am gaining the measure of the woman, and as with all information, it has its use.  “And I knew you were in no danger, since you are not fated to die soon.”  I note she doesn’t mention anyone else.  I would like to learn whether my people are in danger—a canary in a coal mine, as it were—but that, too, can wait.
         Choosers of the slain.  Fascinating.  “Can that change, and if so, how much warning do you get for such a change?”
         “It can, though there are always consequences,” she answers shortly.  So I will not get all the information I seek.  Being aware there are limits is also helpful, in its own way.
         I sit back, steepling my fingers like the stereotypical villain Mr. Dresden no doubt believes me to be, and think.  It is possible that he hates me (and I fight a pang on that front, my little inconvenience making itself known), but I would like to think not.  I may not have the supernaturally heightened senses of a wizard or the other inhabitants of this world of magic, but for merely a mortal I have done very well.  It pays, in my business, to know when a supposed ally is plotting my end, or wishes they could do so but for the fear of failure and the retaliation that would follow.  I would like to think that I would have noticed should Dresden be plotting murder, even in such a brief encounter.  The fear did not seem the fear of the guilty, and also I don’t believe he would have appeared so surprised by the contents of my soul should he have felt that hatred and concealed it somehow.  My instincts said that he was not the murderer I sought, but I would, of course, have to double-check.  I could not take him off the suspect list so easily, never mind my own professional pride, nor my own feelings on the subject.  Beyond the matter of the wizard, I could name a half dozen allies and rivals merely off the top of my head that, if they had the power of magic at their fingertips, would not hesitate to use it.  The choice to go after my bodyguard rather than myself to begin with is an arrogant one, but then, that, too, is an occupational hazard.  It is an old-school threat, meant to intimidate, tell me I was not safe.  If Gard was telling the truth about the time of my death, though, the follow-up would fail.  Unlike Gard, I keep the predator’s smile inside, for the moment.
         But—ah, another catch, another one Gard didn’t mention, because I hadn’t asked.  Jennifer Stanton was also a target, and the killer had to feel the same hatred.  I knew a little about the other players in my city, thanks to Gard’s debriefing, and I knew, now, the reason why St. Claire had been able to stay independent during my moves to consolidate.  I would have to learn more about vampires.  A phrase I never thought I’d say, but then, I’d never considered my future career as the head of organized crime in Chicago.  Life has a way of surprising us all.
         My investigation would take a completely different turn, largely focusing on information.  I needed to look into connections.  Whether it was possible the attack had actually been meant for Tommy and Miss Stanton, rather than hatred by proxy.  Whether Dresden had any connection with me, any reason to hate me unthinkingly.  For others, such as the police, it might have been more difficult—certainly, with his attitude, Mr. Dresden would have difficulty getting such information out of many—but out of respect to the idea that it pays to be well-informed, I had managed to build up quite a network.  I could have a great deal of the information I sought before long, which was excellent as letting this matter sit was hardly an option, even with patience.  It sent the wrong message, and as much as I controlled the impulse so my behavior wasn’t reckless, no one hurt my people.
         I could gain information myself, through some controlled recklessness, letting myself be seen asking questions rather than holing up and waiting for the storm to pass.  Very little gets you suddenly dead in the criminal underworld like the hint of cowardice.  After this, I would have to include a training regimen for my people by my new consultant, but for the moment I couldn’t afford to let her leave my side, assuming no interference from her own company.
         I open my eyes, Gard and Hendricks awaiting my word, and smile.  “We have work to do.”

Outtake because I didn’t quite like it and then realized that Gard wouldn’t care if Dresden was guilty or not and would mostly only care if her employer died and could no longer pay her.
         “You weren’t meant to die.  If he was the killer, you would have pursued him, and he would kill you, by magic or death curse.”
         “…Even if I sent you.”  I assume that death curses don’t work on Valkyries.
         “It’s possible he’d waste it on me if he didn’t learn what I was or thought himself stronger than he is, but that’s less likely.”  She hides it well, but she is, in fact, disappointed by the prospect of a missed fight.