Marcone's POV
I stared at the listening device before me. I honestly wasn't even sure what I'd just heard. It had sounded like sex, at least from Harry's end, but Harry and Mr. Raith had been calling one another brother. Was it some sort of kink for them? If it wasn't, and they really were siblings, it explained quite a lot, and raised quite a few more questions. I supposed the best thing to do was to call Gard, which I did. I was also quite curious as to the identity of the 'Bob' I'd heard speaking earlier in the day, walking Harry through some sort of procedure with his wards. My door open and Gard wafted in easily, the simplicity of it making even me feel graceless and awkward.
"Ms. Gard." She nodded in recognition, and I took it as my cue to say what I wished to say. "Are Mr. Dresden and Mr. Raith brothers?" She seemed surprised.
"I am unsure, Mr. Marcone. I suppose if one looks at them in the right light, they have some similarities. The shape of their jaw, their eyes. They could be. Why do you ask?"
"Mr. Raith called Mr. Dresden 'little brother' multiple times during their conversation with one another just now. They also sounded as though they were performing an… intimate act." She nodded.
"If they are siblings, that would not be uncommon, due to Mr. Raith's particular brand of vampirism. The Raith branch of the White Court often use sex with one another to display who is the dominant member of the family. As an example, Lord Raith, Mr. Raith's father, is known to sleep with his daughters to keep them in line, and kill his sons to eliminate competition. Most find Mr. Raith to be an exceptional being, for surviving the numerous assassination attempts perpetrated upon him by his father. Lord Raith is known to have had countless sons, and only Mr. Raith has survived. Did he sound particularly domineering?" I shook my head.
"No more than what I've normally heard from him."
"Mr. Dresden also sounded as he usually does?" I nodded. "Then either they are anomalies, or they were not being intimate, at least not in the way you suspect." Relief flooded through me, although there was still a sort of twitching agony. Harry was often an anomaly. I ignored it.
"They must have the same mother then, correct? As Harry is not a member of the White Court." Gard nodded.
"Indeed. Unless, of course, Harry's first was with someone he loved." I raised an eyebrow, and Gard went into an explanation. "The White Court gene dies if the one infected by it gives their virginity to someone they love. If they do this, then their Hunger never develops, and they are human. I do not think this is likely in Harry's case, however, because of his magic. I believe that, if he and Mr. Raith are siblings, then they share a mother who was a practitioner of the Arts, and a powerful one at that." I nodded, and realized suddenly how very little I knew about Harry Dresden. All I'd managed to discover was that he'd been an orphan, and moved here, to Chicago, at eighteen. Beyond that, there was nothing on him, anywhere. Somehow it seemed that, after his birth certificate and a record of him entering the system, he disappeared, and did not reappear again until he came to my city.
"Do you think you could find out who this woman was?"
"Of course. Is there anything else you wish of me?" I nodded.
"Was there someone in Harry's home, when you visited? I heard him speaking to some man named Bob before Mr. Raith came. I think his pets have caught on to the bugs, by the way. They were bothering with his bookshelf all day. Harry simply thought they were being foolish." She shook her head, suspicion dawning in her eyes.
"No, there was no one there, but I believe I know what you heard was. A powerful Spirit, once owned by the necromancer Kemmler. He Named it Bob? My word, but he's foolish. Does he not understand the danger in a Name? That thing could kill him in seconds, if ever it managed to break from its bonds." I rubbed at my skull.
"Can you get rid of it somehow?" Harry is a bit dense, at times. He often doesn't realize that things he likes, things that he believes like him back, could very easily turn on him and kill him. When I can, I like to eliminate such threats before they blossom. She shook her head.
"I'd not be willing to break into his apartment again. His wards were dangerous enough this time," she said, showing me her hand, which was covered in burns. "If he's spent the day upgrading them, as you say, I don't believe I like my chances of tearing them down again, at least not without some background information on their structure and much time to plan. It was shock enough finding wards like that on a door with little to no threshold this time." I nodded.
"Understandable. You might want to get those burns treated, by the way." She nodded.
"I will do so. Ah, and I was looking into where his home connects to the Nevernever, by the way, as you asked a few weeks ago. What I found was rather… interesting, to say the least."
"What was it?" She seemed completely bemused by the mere thought of what she was about to say, and I felt curiosity peak within me.
"Have you heard of the Leansidhe, Mr. Marcone?" I had, a few times. She was a very dangerous Fairy of Winter, a personal handmaiden of Queen Mab who, periodically, attempted to take control of Winter, failed, and endured punishment. She was known for a fascination that often bordered on obsession with mortal wizards, who she desired to make hounds out of, as well as what would be considered sever psychosis in a human. She loved fighting, battle, and she was exceedingly good at it. I wasn't very fond of where this could very easily be leading.
"Mr. Dresden's home leads to her gardens, Mr. Marcone. It seems that the Leansidhe is protecting him." Damn it. I felt a headache blooming behind my eyes. Harry was good at giving me those.
"And she'd not do that without exacting a price, correct?" Gard nodded.
"Indeed. For him to have been given her defense from beings that side of the Nevernever, he has almost certainly made a deal with her."
"Almost certainly?" Gard smiled.
"I realize more and more why Mr. Vadderung likes you, Mr. Marcone. You are a very perceptive man, for a mortal." I smiled. Gard does not afford compliments often, but when she does, they are genuine and valuable. I take them where I can get them. "Yes. The Leansidhe could simply be defending a future interest. Mr. Dresden may not even know she's there." I nodded.
"Well, there's little we may do about that. I'd prefer not to make an enemy of her, so unless she openly confronts Mr. Dresden, and that threatens damage to the city, I cannot involve myself." She nodded.
"This is right, Mr. Marcone. I will try and discover the identity of Mr. Raith's and Mr. Dresden's mother."
"Thank you. I'll be going to Zero, alright? Call me when you find something." She left, and I went shortly after I disguised myself in a wide brimmed hat that hid the better part of my face in shadow, tight jeans, and a tighter shirt. Not flashy enough to be truly noticed by many, but good enough I'd be able to get in. I drove myself, parked my vehicle where it would hopefully not get stolen or vandalized, and entered the club.
It was surprisingly easy to spot Mr. Raith and Harry. I simply had to look for the large cluster of scantily clad women and men who were surrounding the vampire, who had obviously decided to forgo a shirt. Harry looked understandably uncomfortable as Thomas chatted the club-goers up, the exiled White Court prince somehow managing to keep a possessive hand curled around the other's hip. I glared. Truly, Harry was not meant for him. He was not good enough to even share his blood, much less seduce him into sex, as I was certain he'd done at least once, to establish his 'dominance' in the family. No one ever told a White Court Vampire no, I knew. No one could, once they got started. No one knew the exact moment when they became addicted to the sensation, either. I wouldn't let Harry find out; I wouldn't let his own brother do such things to him. I'd take him as my own, protect him, love him as he deserved, do anything but what the damned vampire was. I ordered a drink and watched carefully. Harry nudged Thomas' arm suddenly, and I saw him speak. Raith looked nervous, but nodded nonetheless, and Harry wandered off to the other side of the room, where the light was the dimmest, damn him. I leaned forward and squinted, only to see him speaking to some slimy looking man with his hair greased back and his clothes too new. He held a case in his hand, small and nondescript. Harry pointed at it, and then I felt the twitching of magic in the air, crackling and heavy. It felt dark, though. Not Harry's, then. I cursed, low under my breath, as Raith turned from the crowd around him to settle his eyes on Harry. He'd drawn the entire room closer to him, I realized suddenly. All of them but the man Harry was with. I was growing nervous fast, and longed for my gun, but it had been taken at the door. All I had was a small knife on my ankle the bouncer hadn't found. Not enough to defend Harry, if he needed it, at least not adequately.
The man's lips were moving rhythmically in what seemed to be a chant, and Mr. Raith began to have to work to hold the crowd around him. I could see the glimmer of his skin out of the corner of my eye as he began to truly use the abilities granted by his heritage. Harry had gone wide-eyed, his mouth gaping, and he was moving towards the man slowly, on drunken legs. I stood, preparing to run over, when the chanting stopped and Harry collapsed bonelessly to the floor. The man laughed, until a reddish battering ram of pure force slammed into his chest and sent him flying into a wall. Harry stood and dusted is clothing off with a grin, his duster billowing out around him. He seemed to have this all in hand, but I stepped closer anyway, into a range where I could hear.
"You know, man, cheap parlor tricks like that don't work too great on White Council wizards like little old me." The man on the floor cursed dizzily, raised a shaky hand. "Forzare," Harry grunted, and a whipcord thin strand of power forced the hand back down onto the ground.
"Damn it, you're a Warden?" Harry cocked his head.
"Do you see a grey cloak anywhere? Well, actually, I'm kind of misleading you. I am a Warden, but not willingly, and I'm not here in that capacity. The White Council is a group of lazy old bastards who don't give half a fuck about what you're doing. Hell's Bells, they can't be bothered to care about people like these. I'm doing this because I do care, and I don't like what you're doing to them." The man laughed harshly, bitter.
"What, you a Thrall for the White Court too, like every other fuck in here? You came in with that bastard over there. And yeah, I know it was you. I felt how tough you were as soon as you walked through the door." Harry shook his head.
"This might be a White Court kind of place, but not everyone here is a Thrall. Most of them aren't, and I'm sure as hell not. That guy over there just owes me a favor," he said, jerking his head in Thomas' direction as he walked towards the man. "Now listen, buddy. You're going to break your control over everyone you've pulled this stunt on, alright? And then you're not ever going to do this again, and you're going to politely leave this establishment, and this city, and not come back again. If you go active again, I promise I'll hear about it, and I'm not going to let you off twice." The man was shaking some, and I could understand it. I'd never imagined that Harry could be so truly intimidating, but his face unnerved even me, somewhat.
"You ain't gonna kill me? Or take me to the Council?" He shook his head.
"No. Look, I understand why you're doing this, I get it. It's an easy way to make a quick buck, and hell, it's fun to play with people's minds, but it stains you just as much as it stains them. Every time you play with someone's head, you're messing up your own psyche too. Eventually, you go crazy or you go evil. You're not there yet, I know that, but if you keep this up, you will be, and then I won't have a choice. I don't like involving the Council. I hate damn near all of them, and I don't want anyone else to have to go through what I did. Trial is scary. The threat of death is scarier. Unless you fuck up big, I'm willing to let you go. Like I said, you're lucky I'm the one here and not some of the more overzealous folks that are on that thing. Now break your control." He nodded rapidly, like a scared child even though he was obviously at least thirty, and possibly older due to his practitioner status. He mumbled out another word, and I felt tension I'd been unaware of snap like a chain. Harry gave a crooked smile. "Groovy. Now get out." The man stumbled to his feet and fled as Thomas' power dissipated and the party resumed as normal.
I wondered, vaguely, what it was Harry was talking about, when he spoke to the man. Go through what I did? Trial is scary, threat of death is scarier? I'd long known of the White Council of Wizards, known that Harry was part of their ranks, and had recently gotten the status of Warden, but I hadn't really known what it all meant. I had assumed that Harry would not associate himself with a group he had objection to, but it seemed he had. I'd have to look into the workings of the White Council, now, see what was truly going on behind the curtain wizards had spent so long hanging. Thomas spared Harry a bright grin as the tall man went back towards him, and Harry returned it. I settled back into my seat and took a long drink from my glass. I left about ten minutes after they did, and got a call from Gard when I was halfway home. She told me she'd found what I was looking for, and hung up before I could say a word. Gard has very interesting ideas about the proper use of technology, really she does. It's rather funny when she calls Nathan, as it always leaves him looking terribly bemused. The way those two tip toe around each other is getting a bit bothersome, however. I've been thinking of sending them to Hawaii together for a week or more, to try and force them into seeing some form of sense and admitting that they like one another as more than coworkers and more than friends.
Gard accosted me as soon as I got out of my vehicle and dragged me inside, into the small lab I'd allowed her to build in the basement. As always, a sweet smell permeated the air, thickening it so that walking through it felt almost as though I were swimming. It was a lazy sort of place, surreal in the odd bits and pieces sitting upon shelves, all of which Gard assured me were exceedingly useful in the manufacturing of potions. I often enjoyed listening to her conduct lessons on magic down here, for myself, Mr. Hendricks, and whatever men wished to be better informed about what they could one day face. She'd done enough magic down here herself that the very air sparked with it, much like the air around Harry did. I truly couldn't imagine what it had to feel like within his apartment. I settled into one of the chairs she had scattered about, soft and comfortable, blanketed in the furs of an animal I couldn't identify. She took a seat at her work desk, which was scattered with papers and other miscellaneous office supplies. A stapler in the shape of a dragon head, which I knew was a gift from Mr. Hendricks, was a particularly prominent feature. Her old one, a plain black thing that I had supplied upon her employment with me, was nowhere in sight. I smiled slightly, hardly noticeable.
"You've found out who their mother was, then?" She nodded, and dug around through her papers, producing a printed out copy of a painting of a rather pretty woman with long, black hair, dressed in a corset that accentuated her relatively meager and long gown that stretched her tall body even more. She was smirking, and her eyes were playfully bright. "That's her?"
"Yes. Lord Raith commissioned paintings of all the mothers of his children. This one was created shortly after the birth of Thomas Raith. Her name was Margaret Gwendolyn LeFay."
"That's a rather interesting last name. I'd have thought Harry would be the type to take it." Gard laughed.
"Indeed. LeFay, however, was not her true surname. She took it later on in her life, because of her lifestyle." I gestured for some more information. "Margaret LeFay was known, primarily, for consorting with Fairies and for practicing what she termed 'Gray Magic', or things that were not quite moral, but not specifically against any law set by the White Council. She did this in order to prove the Council's hypocrisy and unfairness, as well as to exemplify its flaws to other wizards, to show that people could still do terrible things with magic and never be tried by the council. It is believed that due to the danger of her lifestyle she was Enthralled by Lord Raith, who had never before bedded a wizard, and looked forward to the opportunity. She is believed to have escaped his hold about five years after the birth of Thomas, and begged help from the Council, which was not given. She went into hiding, at which point she is thought to have met Mr. Dresden's father, Malcolm, a stage magician whom she married. Lord Raith had her killed while she was in childbirth, but Harry survived nonetheless, and, for six years, was raised by Malcolm Dresden until he died of what the coroner called an aneurysm." Damn.
"So she was hated by the White Council. I assume some of this prejudice was inherited by Harry?" She nodded.
"Very much so. Blood is quite important, in the world of wizards. If the parents have bad blood, then so shall the child. I'm quite certain, however, that Harry's attitudes and actions have done little to help the White Council's view of him. I've found out something else of import, however, which explains the presence of the Leansidhe's garden in the area of the Nevernever located beyond Mr. Dresden's apartment."
"Indeed?"
"Yes. As I said, Margaret LeFay was known for consorting with the Fay. One Sidhe she was often seen with was the Leansidhe. In fact, it is believed that the two would often map the Ways through the Nevernever with one another. I believe that the Leansidhe may have developed an affinity for Mr. Dresden's bloodline through his mother. She likely desires from him what she had with his mother, and wishes not for another of her kind to get to him first." As I have said before, nothing concerning Mr. Dresden is ever easy. I'm quite certain that his very existence is a challenge to me. Although, I do very much enjoy a good challenge, on occasion.
"Wonderful, how very wonderful. I'd so love it if, for once, something about that man could be simple. And the White Council, why have they granted him a position as a Warden if they are so inherently against him?"
"The White Council is currently weaker than it has been in many thousands of years because of the war with the Red Court. Their resources have been stretched to the breaking point, and they need all the manpower they can get on the front lines. Mr. Dresden was likely seen as too good of a resource to ignore. It is also probably serving as a way to tie a Wild Card, who has been steadily gaining influence and power in the supernatural world for years, more firmly to their side. Besides, I'm quite certain it is very exciting to see someone who frightens you crush your enemies." I laughed quietly, shaking my head all the while, because it made me think of how Harry himself probably thought of me. He should be thinking of the damned Raith that way, brother or no, lover or no, I didn't care. Not anymore.
"Do you think Raith has slept with Harry?" I asked suddenly, after the room had been quiet for a few moments, because I trusted Gard to tell me the truth. She sighed.
"I do not know, Mr. Marcone. Perhaps. As I told you, it is a normal part of life on Mr. Raith's side of the family. I suppose it all depends on whether or not Mr. Raith has ever seen Mr. Dresden as a threat to his dominance in their family unit. If so, then yes, his heritage may have forced him to reestablish his position as the stronger brother by way of sex." I recalled the expression he'd shown in the car, when I said one of them couldn't have loved the other. It had been twisted with rage, rage he hid easily, quickly, behind a mask of mirth. It had been almost demonic, frightening. He'd shown a similar expression when I suggested that he was unable to protect Harry, and undeserving of his affection, said he cared more for himself. That had been the only time his words had been truly angry.
"Their aversion to love does not extend to their family, does it?" I asked, quietly, and Gard shook her head.
"No, it doesn't. That has always been an odd feature of the White Court. Familial bonds are inherently, intrinsically strong between them. They show the love in very strange ways that may appear immoral, to us, and yet the majority will always come to the aid of a family member. Lord Raith, from what I've heard, may be an exception to that, but his eldest daughter, Lara, has been known to go to great lengths for her sisters, as well as Thomas. From what I've garnered, she is a large part of why Mr. Raith is still alive. Mr. Raith himself has also been known to become very defensive if a member of his family is insulted, beyond his father, of course." I'd dealt him a large insult, then. I couldn't manage to be anything but pleased about that. Harry Dresden was a challenging individual. He had to have done something, at least once, that Mr. Raith perceived as a challenge. I crossed my arms and nodded, once, with finality.
"Alright, thank you, Ms. Gard. Should I have anything else for you, I will come find you, or give you a call." She waved me off, and I stood, went to my office, and began to work through some paperwork as well as listen to the bugs, my mind dwelling on what Harry had meant when he spoke to the dealer he'd dispatched, as well as on how to cut Raith out of the picture, to get rid of the apparently incredibly dangerous Spirit Harry called Bob, to keep the Leansidhe from trying to make Harry into some sort of pet, to keep the man with the survival instincts of a meerkat from killing himself by way of being too damned trusting.
Harry's POV
As soon as we got back to my apartment, Thomas and I both plopped onto my couch and leaned against one another, both of us trying to force the other back so as to have the larger portion of the couch. I don't really know why I had to do this; since we were in my apartment and on my couch and therefore I had more right to it. Mouse and Mister had apparently not moved at all since we left, and Mouse was now giving me these looks periodically, before turning his gaze back to the bookshelf. I was sort of starting to wonder if everyone else on the planet felt inferior in intelligence to their dog, or if that was just me. Thomas finally sighed at me.
"Will you just go check that shelf and see what they're so interested in?" I groaned.
"You're just trying to get me to get up so you and take up all of the space on my couch." He nodded.
"Well, yeah, but they're getting kind of annoying too. I think this is kind of going beyond 'normal weird pet thing' territory, and into 'you're missing something obvious' territory." I sighed.
"Fine, fine," I mumbled as I stood and stomped over to the bookshelf. Mister pawed at one of the shelves, and Mouse nosed my hand up towards it. I searched through everything on the shelf and found nothing. "Hell's Bells, what do you two want me to find? Did a treat get buried up here or something?" Mouse huffed out a breath, and it sounded suspiciously like a sigh. He nosed at a tiny fake plant I'd been given by Thomas to 'brighten up my cave'. I picked it up and then, I saw it, a tiny foreign object hidden among the plastic leaves. I recognized it as a bug even though I'd only seen one once, and even then it had been from a distance, and Murphy hadn't let me touch it. It was uncomfortably small, and oh shit, I was pretty sure it was actually working. Hell's Bells, how was that even possible? The residual magic in my apartment should have fried it even without me going near it. I walked the thing over to Thomas after I put my plant back on the shelf, because hey, maybe he'd know more about it than me. His eyes narrowed at it when he saw it.
"Well, I think you know why someone broke into your place, now." I nodded.
"Yeah. I think I'm going to have to apologize to Mouse and Mister now. What the hell do we do with it?" Thomas shrugged.
"Step on it? I don't know, you're the one who people stalk, not me." My eyes went wide suddenly.
"Thomas, you do realize what this means, don't you? Everything we've said in here today, someone has heard it." He quickly understood what I was getting at.
"Oh, fuck. Step on the damn thing, now." I dropped it on the ground. My heavy boots slammed down on it with a viscerally satisfying crunch. He ran a hand through his hair roughly, frightened. "Empty Night, what are we going to do, Harry? If someone knows what we are to each other… what if they tell the Council, or my family, or the Red Court or… fuck, anyone?" I dropped beside him like a stone.
"I know. I… fuck, Thomas, I'm sorry. I should've been more careful." Guilt throbbed in me like an ocean rising, and I dropped my face into my hands. Thomas punched my arm.
"Don't start pulling that again, Harry. This isn't your fault. Look, I'm going to go, okay? Maybe if we don't go near one another for a while, whoever found out won't be credible. Just… if anything really bad happens, call me anyway, okay?" He hugged me once, tight, and I could feel him shaking. I flung my own arms around him, because damn it, I don't get to indulge in stuff like this often, and even if the situation was bad, dangerous, I figured I may as well take what I could have. Besides, it might be a while before we got to be around one another again.
"Yeah. You be careful too, Thomas." He nodded.
"Let Mouse and Mister look around and see if there are any more of those around."
"I will. Stars, whoever put these here knows about Bob now too, hell. I brought him out to help me toughen up the wards. It's going to be a little dangerous for me for a while, you too, probably. Be careful, man." He slapped my shoulder and grinned.
"Of course," he said, putting on his very best arrogant sneer. Then he left. I heard his Hummer rumbling away, and rubbed at my skull, plopping backwards on the couch. Mouse nosed my hand, and I smiled.
"Thanks, buddy. You too, Mister. Don't know what I'd do without you guys. I'm going to go to bed now, though, alright? You guys can help me find more in the morning, if there are any others." I went to my room, flopped tiredly onto my bed, and went to sleep.
Thomas' POV
I was pretty fucking sure of who had had the bugs planted. I'd felt him at the club, tonight, and I was pretty damned sure he was just enough of a bastard to pull this. I whipped my car around towards his house, snarling and fuming and pissed right the fuck off. I'd fix him. I'd keep him away from my Harry, my baby brother, my precious shred of family. I broke every speed limit I could on the way there, sped by stop signs and red lights, and when I pulled up to his gate, I was angry enough to knock his guards out before they could even pull their guns. I grabbed the gate's bars and pulled hard. The sound of them spreading apart was satisfying on a level so deep within me I'd thought that only feeding could touch it. I ran down his driveway, my eyes certainly bright like mercury, my skin giving off a slight glow even I could see. I knocked the door down and was met with a sharp burst of pain as his wards (which I should have expected, fuck), blew me backwards. I watched my skin peel and burn away, curling up, blackening, and smoking sickly. The wounds, however, repaired themselves quickly, and I forced myself back up to my feet and strode forward into the house. The damage wasn't without its toll, though, as I felt the reserves of my strength, already lowered because I was on a nibble-only diet, drop even farther. It was still plenty to kick Marcone's guys' asses, though, as I proved when they ran at me with single-minded determination.
I fought and fought and fought, even though as quickly as I felled one of the fucks twenty others appeared to take his place. I don't know how long I was at it before Marcone himself came down the stairs, his two favorite dogs beside him. All three of them had guns trained on me, but I only bared my teeth at them, feeling rabid, animalistic. When Marcone noticed who I was, he lowered the gun slightly. Not enough that he couldn't get it back up to kill me if I lunged at him, but enough that it wasn't an immediate, ever-present threat.
"Mr. Raith. What a surprise. May I ask why you've broken into my home?" I snarled.
"You bugged his house, bastard." He raised an eyebrow.
"I assure you I have no idea about what you're speaking of. Whose home do you mean?" I clenched my fists, and while I was focused on Marcone, one of his men jumped at me, held my arms at my side. I could have gotten him off easily, but I didn't see much point, just then.
"You damn well know whose I mean. Harry's. We found the damned thing. Or, his pets did, really. What the hell were you thinking, ass?" He kept that eyebrow up.
"Mr. Raith, I have done no such thing. I have no reason to bug Mr. Dresden's apartment, and even if I did, it wouldn't last five minutes around him anyway. Although, I believe this discussion would be better suited for an office, so that no more of my people get hurt. Please, come with me, Mr. Raith, so that I may… eliminate your misconceptions." I was a snarling mess, and I knew it. I was more my demon than myself just then, because Marcone was going to fuck everything up, he was going to hurt Harry just so he could fuck him, and then he'd throw him away. I knew types like him, powerful business men. They'd find someone they wanted, use them, then they'd get bored and get rid of them. Or worse, they didn't get bored, they got obsessed, and then they kept whoever they wanted for as long as they wanted. I worried what would happen if Marcone got to Harry and the man said yes, what would go down if Harry eventually decided he didn't want to play anymore. There was a beast behind those green eyes, calculating, merciless, and deadly. I shook his guys off of me and walked up the stairs to stand in front of him. I had a few inches on him, so I did my best to loom over him even though the fact that I was on a lower step got rid of my extra height. He just gave me a polite smile and led me off to his office.
It was a plain little room, with dull tan walls and a dull wooden desk and dull decorations on the wall. Cold, metal filing cabinets lined one wall, while the red headed linebacker stood against another with the blonde Amazonian beside him. Marcone sat at his desk serenely, hands clasped, and I growled at him. How dare he be so fucking calm about this? I slammed my fists onto the desk and heard the wood groan.
"Fucking prick. I know you know about me and Harry, bastard. I know you heard us talking. Tell me why you did it, so I can be justified when I splatter you all over the goddamned wall." He actually laughed. Empty Night, the dick laughed.
"Yes, Mr. Raith, calm down, please. I simply did not want to discuss it in front of my men, for reasons I'm sure you can understand. I don't wish him harm. You, of course, are a horse of a vastly different color, but now isn't the time, you see. Yes, I do know that the two of you are siblings, and that your mother is Margaret LeFay. I also know how you and yours display your love for family." I clenched my fist and displayed my teeth again. He thought I'd raped him, like my father had my sisters. I hated him, suddenly, with flaming passion, with all of myself, more than I had before. It wasn't just about protecting my brother from people like him, anymore. That was still a big part of it, yeah, but now I just really wanted to piss him off. I wanted to make him angry, like I was.
"Anything my brother and I do is completely consensual and none of your fucking business, Marcone. Stay the hell out of our lives. You can't have him." I saw it, then, the spark of rage in his eyes, before it got locked away again under the cool façade of green. I smirked, harsher than I normally was.
"I'll have who I wish, Mr. Raith, and I see little you can do to stop me. There is nothing you could do to make me think you deserved him, for anything. He is mine, and has been ever since he first stepped foot in my city." I reeled back and punched him hard enough in the jaw that he went flying off his chair. A second after I felt a human steam roller knock me to the ground painfully. It was worth it. I hoped I'd broken his jaw.
"Bastard!" I yelled, "You don't deserve him! No one does! As long as I live, I won't let him get hurt by someone like you again. He's my little brother, and he's been used enough!" I yelled, squirming and trying to get the red head, who I'd now identified as the steam roller, off of me. He pressed more of his weight down onto my arms, as the Amazonian fingered a hammer at her hip. I saw Marcone stumble to his feet on the other side of the door. His mouth was bloody, and I could already see the mother of all bruises forming where my fist had landed, but he seemed otherwise unruffled. When he spoke, it was as clear and precise as it had ever been. Shit.
"Mr. Raith, I want him for forever, not to use and discard. I agree that he is far too good for that. That is what you've been doing with him though, isn't it? Using him?" He stepped closer to me threateningly, his eyes narrowed, but his voice conversationally polite. I tried to kick the red head in the balls, but he got out of the way.
"Lying ass," I hissed, "Everyone wants a piece of him! I've gotten rid of everyone but you who wanted him, you know that? Butters, Kincaid, Murphy, Molly, all of them. You're not going to be the exception." He gave me that same serene smile.
"There is nothing you could do to me, Mr. Raith, that would make me cease in pursuing him. Ah, and what about Ms. Rodriguez, hm? How did she get by your expert guard?" I sneered, and struggled.
"That bitch is part of the reason I defend him this way, ass. She hurt him, so fucking much. He couldn't even stand to leave his house when she left. I hate her. I promised I wouldn't let anyone else do that to him. You included. You'll hurt him. You're an evil fucking asshole, and you'll hurt him. I won't let you." Marcone just laughed again and had me thrown out. I hated him. There had to be a way to get rid of him, since he, apparently wouldn't stop even if Harry and I were having sex, like he thought we were. There had to be something. I supposed a good start would be telling Harry who had put the bugs in his apartment. I went to bed angry anyway, that night, and woke up the same way. The anger was quick to be replaced with fear when I called Harry that morning and didn't get an answer.