It was stormy and gloomy, just like it had been a week ago when Dresden got the phone call.
One week earlier…
The phone rang and Harry groggily fumbled it to his ear. "Hello?" he slurred.
"Dresden," a horribly familiar voice snapped formally.
"Morgan?"
"Yes, Dresden, I have orders for you."
"Forget it. This is a nightmare, I'm going back to sleep," Harry said as he started to hang up.
"You aren't asleep, Dresden," Morgan growled. "I've got important orders for you; direct from Commander Luccio."
"Oh, well in that case," Dresden said sarcastically. "Shoot."
"Despite my multiple warnings about the possible ends, Commander Luccio has, regrettably, assigned a new Warden to the city. The poor soul will be under your command. You will receive a letter at your office with the specifics. Goodbye, Dresden, and try not to get her killed." And then he hung up.
Present…
And sure enough, there was the letter on his desk the next day. The plain manila folder sat on his coffee table with a picture of Warden Marie Williams laying on it.
The black and white photograph showed a youngish woman with black hair and pale skin; her eyes were an indeterminable color.
It was one of those few nights he was going to allow himself to go to sleep at a reasonable time. He was blowing out all of the candles when there came three knocks at his door.
He walked over to the door as it happened again. He then realized it wasn't knocking on the door; it was knocking on the stairs next to his door. That meant that whatever it was knew about his wards.
That knowledge put him a little on edge.
Clunk, clunk, clunk.
He was suddenly glad he had invested in a door with a peep hole. He looked out, but nothing was there. He frowned.
Clunk, clunk, clunk.
How could that still be happening? Nothing was out there to be knocking.
Clunk, clunk, clunk.
He flung open the door and faced his invisible foe. "Come here and show yourself, coward!" he yelled.
Silence.
There was a slight breeze. It blew a subtle fragrance into his face. It smelled like perfume. Not the overly sweet, fruity, floral scent but the musk and herbs or a practitioner, but the smell of summer rain overpowered all else. Altogether a very distracting aroma.
Then there was a laugh behind him. He whipped around and saw an average height figure draped in a Warden's grey cloak.
"You are?" Harry asked irritably.
"Marie Williams, who else?" the girl said, and then muttered a few words. All the candles in the apartment lit. She flipped back her hood and frowned at the fire place. "Leicht das feuer," she said at the fireplace. It burst into violent flame under her intense glare.
"Her photo did not do her justice. She almost glowed with confidence and poise. Her black hair was so shiny it was almost blue, even under the orange glow of the candles. Her eyes were the same placid grey as in the photograph. He was suddenly suspicious.
"Prove it," Harry said with a frown.
"Pardon?"
"Prove you are Marie Williams," he clarified.
"Ask what you will of me."
"We'll start off easy. Who was your mentor when you were an apprentice?"
"Morgan."
"Seriously?"
She nodded.
"Okay, how many years have you been a Warden?"
She considered this for a moment; she started mouthing numbers and finally looked back toward him. "Seven, I do believe."
She looked him right in the eye; something most people were afraid to do. He felt a sudden fire shoot threw his veins and at that moment he wanted nothing more than her. He stood a little straighter and tried to control his hormones.
She looked away suddenly and the sensation ended. She looked ashamed. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to do that."
"What just happened?"
"I'm sorry, sometimes when I get frustrated, I can't keep a handle on that part of me," she explained without taking her eyes off the fire.
"You're White Court." Harry didn't mean it as an accusation but it certainly sounded like one.
"Kinda," she admitted weakly.
"Kinda? What kind of an answer is that?" Harry asked as he reached for his blasting rod.
"My grandfather was a Raith, yes," she replied little too calmly.
"You're not full Raith?" She shook her head. "No association?"
"Not if I can avoid it."
"Well then," he said as he put down the blasting rod. "If you don't mind my asking, which Raith—,"
"I mind," she said flatly.
He didn't know what to say to that. Topic change. "How did you get through my threshold?"
"You invited me in; rather rudely. I'll point out, but I was invited none-the-less," she said with a smirk.
He thought back to what he'd said and frowned. "That wasn't an invitation."
"I took it as one," she said innocently.
At that moment she looked like the picture of innocence and naivety. Then her wide-eyed innocent look turned into a wicked grin.
"It's all how you perceive what's said. I take a lot of answers as invitations. A person doesn't have to say 'come in' for me to take it that way," Marie explained.
"What if someone just flat says 'you can't come in'? Then what?"
"Then I can't," she said with a shrug. "The lesson for you, though, is be careful what you say."
At some point during the conversation, Mouse had woken up and walked over to stand in front of Harry. His low rumbling had escalated to a growl.
"Your Temple dog doesn't like me," Marie commented as she knelt down and held her hand out, palm down, to Mouse.
"He just doesn't know you," Harry said. "What do you think, Mouse?"
Mouse was calmly sniffing Marie's hand. He stopped, sneezed and walked back into Harry's room.
"Eh, an acceptable response," Harry said with a shrug. "He doesn't like you perfume."
"I don't wear perfume."
"Well, he doesn't like the way you smell."
There was a pause.
"Not that this hasn't been fun, Harry, but I'm out of here," Marie said as she walked toward the door.
"Wait a minute, Marie," Harry said as he walked over to his coffee table. He picked up the bracelet he had constructed to get past his wards and his threshold and tossed it to her. "In case you need a safe place Mouse is usually here and he makes a pretty good guard."
Mouse huffed from Harry's room.
"Thanks," she said as she tied it around her wrist. "Same to you, minus the dog." The bracelet flew toward him so quickly he hardly had time to catch it. "My address is on my file."
He looked down and saw a card lying on the manila folder in the place of her photograph. When he looked back up she was gone.
He shook his head and turned back toward the folder. He picked up the card and read it.
100 W. Chestnut St. Appt. 27
My working address is 213 W. Institute
At Open Books on odd days from 2pm-5pm if
You need to find me.
-Marie
Sewn to a piece of fabric at the end of the card was a strand of glossy, black hair. ~Just in case was written on the back of the card.
She just thought of everything, didn't she? He wasn't really sure why that irritated him. He sighed and decided he was just tired. He shook his head and went off to bed.
So? What do you think? I wrote it a little while back but I decided I should post it anyway. Review Please!