madimpossibledreamer

I may or may not end up writing this but if not here’s a prompt: Desmond as head of a third Fae faction in Dresden Files (I’m leaning Fall, but maybe Spring). Summer and Winter conspired to take the power of Fall and Spring between them, but enough was left that after their warring and other events weakening the two they could start to return. Dresden has no idea what to do with Desmond—because he’s human, and sometimes acts very human, but he doesn’t always act like any human Dresden’s ever met. He’s a Changeling, but the Lesser Courts have a very different approach to how that works, and tend to be closer to the mortal world (which is one of the reasons they were easier to overpower)...but also they have friends in the mortal world (Shaun & Rebecca) and are barely affected by cold iron (and in most cases actually kind of prefer using some type of iron weapon because they hold a grudge).

        “Will you listen if I beg?  Because I’m not too proud to do it for kids.”
        Marcone does look vaguely amused, but just waits, like he’s having too much fun watching me break down, and I turn away, a snarl on my lips.  I should have realized appealing to his good nature wouldn’t work, because he doesn’t have one, and even my humiliation and protecting kids when they’re outside his jurisdiction don’t seem to be enough motivation.
        “If you have finished with your tantrum…”  He starts strapping on even more knives and guns than his usual, which is a little disturbing.
        “What…?”  I’m having trouble processing.  I’d already started trying to work out a solo strategy that didn’t involve me getting killed in unpleasant ways.
        The mob boss, on the other hand, is the very picture of calm, cool, and collected.  “You came to me as a last resort, which means if I turned you down, you’d go alone.  I have come to the conclusion that you’re better alive than dead.  If I help you, I’d only ask you consider that perhaps the reverse might also be true.  And, of course, I have no intention of dying for you, which means Miss Gard, at the very least, will be accompanying us.”  His smile, while revealing no bloodstained fangs dripping with pain, is a tiger’s, amused and dangerous.  “I’m not entirely certain whether it’s within her contract, but the promise of bloodshed might be just enough of a bribe to win her favor.”
        Hell’s bells, what had I gotten myself into…?

          My phone’s old.  It only works about half the time, which Murphy likes to attribute to the fact that it’s old, and I know to be because I’m a wizard.  It says so on my door, after all.  Honestly, older technology is more likely to work for me on that basis than your newest…whatever the kids are calling them these days.  iSomething, I think.
          Unfortunately for me and a late night clearing out imps from an old warehouse, today was one of the days my fickle phone decided to actually work.  Its ring drilled into my ears, but given that it didn’t stop ringing, whoever was on the other end was willing to wait on my lazy butt, and not likely to go away anytime soon.  The quicker I answered, the quicker I could return to the Dreamlands.
          When I picked up, I wasn’t given a chance to greet my caller.  “Please tell me he’s not with you.”
          I blink.  It’s Murphy on the other end, and she’s ticked.  Which is kind of her usual state of being, not that I’m about to tell her that.  I do actually have some self-preservation instincts, despite what some people will tell you.
          “Who?” I stifle the yawn.  She won’t appreciate it.
          As much as I wish it wasn’t the case, being out of the loop happens more often than I’d like.
          “The ‘exorcist’ I just arrested.  Name of John Masters.”
          I try to think, but I’m still feeling fuzzy.  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him, no.”  This time I can’t keep the yawn in.  It has a mind of its own.
          “Get you up, did I?”  She’s still seething.
          “Hey, I do work more often than you think.”
          That earns a snort.  Which is a better direction, but it’s important to redirect the anger elsewhere.  “What’d this exorcist do?”  He could be legit, I guess, like me, Chicago’s Only Wizard for Hire.  Most of the time they’re in the spotlight or taking pay, though, they’re fakes.  I’m an exception.
          “Petty arson, trespassing—sound familiar, Harry?”  At least I’m back to a first-name basis even if I resent the implications.  “There’s no question that he did it.  The only reason he’s being let go is the head of the family dropped the charges.”
          I yawn again.  “I’ll ask around.  There are other people I can talk to and you didn’t hear that from me.”
          “I wish you would,” she says, and maybe I should remind her about wishes again.  But not now, because I don’t have the brainpower to argue with her about that.  “Letting him go—my instincts are screaming at me this is a bad idea, and I want to know—I suppose I want to know that even if I can’t stop him, your—wizard cops or whatever can.”
          I sigh and reassure her.  “I’ll figure out if he’s legit.  If he’s real, whether or not he’s registered, they’ll be able to deal with him.  But I’ll definitely want to be more awake before I deal with any Wardens.  Surprisingly, I’m no more a favorite of theirs than yours.”
          She laughs at that.  “I’m pretty sure I still like you better.”  She hangs up before I can respond.