*In a Doctor Strange voice*: We're in the Endgame now.
Hello! A couple of quick announcements. First, thanks to everyone for the support! We're approaching the last section of 'Blue Eyes', and it's been a huge journey so far. Still, don't worry, I have a special announcement I'll give out when we reach either the last chapter or the penultimate chapter.
Second announcement: I'm going to be doing some editing to all of Thomas' chapters over the next couple of weeks. I won't be changing anything to the narrative, but I will be changing the tense from present tense to past tense. I originally wanted to use present tense in the present-day chapters to emphasize the time jumps, but that's coming to bite me in the ass in this chapter since present tense didn't work for the narration of this section. Making Thomas' first-person POV in past tense will also work with the typical narration for the Dresden Files books, so hopefully that'll make things more consistent.
And without further ado, onto the chapter!
Malcolm woke up to his head thumping against the ground. A groan escaped him, and he pried his eyes open to see where the hell he was. His eyes blinked open, but all he could see was a weathered carpet. Ok, so he was on the floor. He moved his hands to push himself up, but he found he couldn't move them at all.
Malcolm gritted his teeth as he pulled at the rope that held his hands behind his back. His wrists burned against the rope, but no matter how hard he pulled, his hands wouldn't budge.
"Oh, Maggie," he said to no one. "You'd laugh so hard if you could see this." Malcolm moved the rest of his body and quickly found that his feet had also been tied. With every bit of strength he had, he twisted himself so he wouldn't be face down on the floor. Once he was laying on his back, he used what little movement he had in his hands to push himself up into a sitting position. It hurt, but it let him see where he was.
Even with the room covered in s misty darkness, Malcolm could see it was big. There was a high ceiling that stretched high above him, a long set of chairs that faced him, and a set of steps on either side that made their way up towards the far end of the room too dark to make out. Behind him was a dark curtain that hung from the ceiling, so long that it just barely brushed the musty carpet that covered the floor.
"Could be worse," Malcolm said to himself. "Could be a dungeon. Maggie said some creatures have those." As he said the words, Malcolm's breath hitched. Everything suddenly came back to him. Thomas's bruised wrist, the white car, the vampire, the ogre, the motel, Harry's screams, everything.
"Harry," he whispered. "Thomas." With a newfound energy, Malcolm twisted himself against the ropes. The head ached, possibly more than it ever had before, but that didn't matter. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get to—
"You can stop struggling." A voice cut through the darkness. "You've got no weapons on you, and I made sure to make those ropes nice and tight."
Somewhere, a light switch flicked itself on. A set of lights just above Malcolm flickered to life, and the sudden brightness burned his eyes. Malcolm forced himself to keep them open. He looked around the newly illuminated space and saw more details on the seats in front of him. They were cushioned, though they didn't look particularly comfortable. They were old and slightly torn, and when Malcolm saw the cup holders, he finally realized where he was.
Malcolm watched a figure dresses in pure white descend the movie theater's steps. He walked slowly, confidently, as he approached Malcolm at the end of the hall. Malcolm had only gotten a quick glance at him beforehand, but as the man walked into the light, he took in his captor's features.
The man was tall with a closely shaven head. Toned arms bulged against a plain white t-shirt that was out of place for winter, and a large claymore hung from a hilt around his belt. His face was striking, with heavy angles with a sharp jawline and nose, but his grin was beautifully twisted. His teeth were so white he could be in a toothpaste commercial, but something in his smile was off. It was too wide, too perfect. The man stepped fully into the light, and that's when he saw the man's shining silver eyes.
"You're the vampire I saw on the street.," Malcolm said. "You came to the motel."
"Ding, ding, ding! Spot on!" The vampire slid himself into one of the theater's seats. He leaned back into it, placing his hands on the back of his neck and hoisting up an ankle to rest on his opposite knee. "Name's Ferrin. I'm the guy who's been training your bastard of a stepson."
The pieces suddenly clicked in Malcolm's head. The cut above Thomas' eye, the giant bruise around his wrist—those injuries, and probably more that Malcolm never knew about, were caused by this monster. A low sound rumbled out of Malcolm's chest. "Don't call him that," he ground out. "Like you have any right."
"I have as much right as anyone." Ferrin grinned down, and Malcolm could see him enjoying every minute of this. "I gotta admit, I was hoping to take your bastard of an actual son, but I'll just have to do with you."
Malcolm gritted his teeth and thrashed against the ropes. He wanted nothing more than to get up and sucker punch the vampire across the jaw, but as he twisted himself left and right, all he did was chafe himself against the thick bindings.
"Uh, uh, uh." Ferrin looked over his shoulder and called out, "Ugly! Get in here!"
Malcolm froze as a rumble shook the room. Just like it had in the motel room, bits of concrete fell down from the ceiling, the floor shook beneath him, and a heavy crash boomed at the back of the room. Malcolm ducked on instinct as bits of walls came flying over the theater's seats, and his heart half-stopped at the sight of the creature coming towards them.
The ogre thumped down with heavy footfalls, creating heavy dents in the carpeted steps. The smell of rotting eggs oozed out of its wide pores, yellowed teeth peeked out of its mouth, its green eyes stared unblinkingly, and fists the size of Malcolm's chest swayed by its sides. Malcolm could almost feel its gangly fingers wrap around his torso again, and he flinched when the ogre jumped down onto the floor—just a couple feet away from Malcolm.
"You move too much, I'll have my pet here crush your leg into magician confetti," Ferrin said. "And that's just to start with."
The ogre breathed out a heavy fog smelling of days-old trash. Malcolm felt bile rise up his throat, but remembering that he was currently surrounded by a murderous vampire and the ogre he used to try to kidnap Harry, he forced himself to swallow the feeling of complete dread and disgust.
"So, Malcolm Dresden." Ferrin pulled back his hands and leaned forward in his seat. His eyes burned brightly, the silver shining harshly beneath the cinema lights. "You're gaining a name for yourself in the supernatural world, you know that? The magician mercenary, willing to protect humans for a fee barely higher than minimum wage."
"Bodyguard," Malcolm corrected. He sat up as straight as he could, because even if the vampire had to look down on him, he'd be damned if he let this demon see him as a helpless mortal. "You're the kind of monster they'd hire me to keep away."
"And what a showcase of your services." Ferrin grinned, showing every single one of his perfect teeth.
Ok, so maybe this whole 'don't let him see you as a helpless mortal' thing wasn't going to work out. "Those bullets should've killed your ogre," Malcolm said, feeling the acute absence of his Glocks.
Ferrin pushed himself up and walked over to the ogre. The creature was still standing right where Malcolm had seen him last, just one leap away from squishing him flat. His eyes were unfocused, looking out towards the theater's heavy curtain, but his breaths were heavy and labored. Ferrin raised a hand towards the ogre's overflowing stomach, and with the tips of his nails, he pulled out a shining bullet that had gotten lost amid its folds of green fat. The vampire appraised the bullet under the light. "Metal with a silver tip," he surmised. "You're right. They should've killed him. If only I hadn't been expecting that."
The ogre suddenly stumbled sideways. A shimmering yellow light swirled around it, spinning round and round its entire body. The creature swayed as the light enveloped it, finally going still as the spinning light dissipated into sparks of magic. The little flicks of light vanished into the air, and as the ogre righted itself once more, it was as if nothing had happened.
"Finally wore off." Ferrin smiled at the shocked expression Malcolm knew he had on his face. "Shield spell. Works as well as kevlar. It even covers the body from head to toe. Only protects against bullets, even ones with silver tips, and it only works on magical creatures like this disgusting mook, but it got the job done."
"Where'd you steal that from?" Malcolm asked, and he was proud at the fact that his voice didn't shake. "I doubt a pompous vampire like you has the brains to make something like that."
Malcolm only had a second to process the incoming vampire. Ferrin moved with a speed faster than he had seen any creature move with, and before Malcolm could even think of moving out of the way, Ferrin slammed a fist into Malcolm's nose.
"Grrh!" Malcolm pitched backward from the force of the hit. He barely stopped himself from falling by catching his fall with his still-bound hands, but God did that hurt. A sharp pain spread from his nose, and if the sharp crack was anything to go by, he could safely assume the nose was well and truly broken.
Ok, looks like the guy was actually a half-decent fighter. And if what he was doing with Thomas was actually training, then Malcolm really was in, what Maggie would call, 'an unfortunate scenario that I'd rather not be in'.
"I'm gonna have fun with you." Malcolm blinked his eyes open and grimaced at the vampire. Ferrin casually lowered his fist, and it looked like he didn't feel any pain at all from the hit. His knuckles were flexed lazily, and the only sign that the vampire he had thrown a punch were the drops of Malcolm's blood doting his hands. "Or maybe tall, green, and ugly will beat me to it. Who knows. Whichever one of us gets bored first."
"What are you going to do with me until then?" With the broken nose, Malcolm's voice turned slightly nasally, but there wasn't much he could do about that right now.
"Wait." The color in Ferrin's eyes grew bright. The metallic eyes shined as if a light were shining directly onto them, unnaturally bright inside the half-lit movie theatre. "I know that brat. He's gonna come after you one way or another, and ugly and I will be waiting right here for him."
"I told him to go." Just moving his mouth made Malcolm's nose ache, but he forced himself to keep talking. Talking would help, right? As Maggie would say, 'If you can't beat them, stall them. It usually works with both the dumb and the prideful'. "He and Harry are probably out of the state by now."
"You think I'm really gonna fall for that?" Ferrin rolled his eyes at Malcolm. "That brat's coming, one way or another, and you and I both know it."
Malcolm turned away and scoffed. There was no way. Thomas wasn't going to charge in, and there was no one coming for him. The only person in the supernatural world who cared about him enough to save him was Maggie, and she was long gone. Even Lea, the terrifying fae who nearly turned Malcolm into one of her hounds, wouldn't come unless there was a contract. Malcolm would have to find his own way out of this. If only—
"Woooow." Ferrin clicked his tongue as he took in Malcolm's expression. Malcolm wasn't entirely sure what the vampire was seeing in it, but it was enough to make him show off all his picture-perfect teeth in an unsettling grin. "Alright, alright. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. He's the only Raith you've met, so you only have one example to work off of."
"Yeah, and I know Thomas," Malcolm leveled a look at Ferrin. He definitely wasn't threatening, tied up and bleeding as he was, but at least he wouldn't look like a kicked dog. "He's a smart kid. You've taught him to fear you, and if you've trained him well, you've taught him to know his limits. He's smart enough to not fall for your trap. He's not gonna charge in here against you."
The vampire shrugged. "Maybe not directly. But there's a little thing you need to know about the Raiths. More specifically, Lord Raith, that man who made love to your miserable hag of a wife."
A low sound escaped Malcolm's lips. "Don't you talk about Maggie that way."
"If you don't like it, stop me." Ferrin spread his arms wide, just begging Malcolm to attack him, and there was nothing Malcolm wanted more than to stand up and do just that. But Malcolm couldn't, so he stayed silent and Ferrin lowered his arms and showed his hands into the pockets of his white jeans. "Like I was saying, the vampire that hag was fucking has a little thing he likes to do with his kids. From the moment they're born to the moment he enthralls them, or in Tommy's case, kills them." Ferrin paused, and Malcolm did his best to keep his face even. Judging by how Ferrin's smile grew wider, Malcolm figured he wasn't doing a very good job. "You see, Lord Raith plants a tiny seed in the minds of his children. This little seed, along with a dumb prayer from a dumb book, gives the kids the idea that family is important. That family is everything."
"Where are you going with this?" Malcolm shifted against the ropes, hoping it would loosen them enough for him to squeeze out a hand. Unfortunately for him, all he got for his troubles was more chafing against his wrists. Great. "I'm guessing you're a cousin of some kind. Right now, it sounds to me like you're just complaining about your own family."
"That brat isn't family," Ferrin hissed, looking away into the distance. "And neither is his bitch of a sister."
Malcolm fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Hell's bells. If that's not what you're doing, then what's the point of this?"
Ferrin appraised him with a sidelong glance. "So LeFay had more of an influence on you than I thought." He bent his back somewhat and peered down at Malcolm, almost like a giant looming down over the humans beneath him. "My point is that Tommy's trained to chase after family. It means that, sooner or later, he's coming for you."
Malcolm scoffed. "Thomas doesn't think of me as family," he said, and he couldn't help a slight twinge of sadness from coming through. He had long resigned himself to accept this fact, but saying it out loud was a different thing altogether.
There was a short, stunned silence that fell over the theatre. Malcolm twisted around uncomfortably at the silence and wondered what could've caused it. He's been playing with me this entire time, his mind reasoned. Something happened. Did he find Thomas? Does he have Harry?
And then the vampire… started laughing.
It began as a little chuckle at the back of Ferrin's throat. The man looked over Malcolm, taking in his expression and utter confusion, and his laughs grew.
"Ha. Ha! Ha ha ha! HAAH!" The vampire laughed. It echoed around the abandoned theatre, amplifying his heavy laughter. Ferrin hooted and howled as if Malcolm had told the best joke of his life, and if Malcolm's nerves were already on edge, now they were straight-up hanging for dear life. Malcolm flinched away in reflex at a particularly loud roar that pierced his ears. Even the ogre, who had previously been standing around like a rotting doll, jumped at the sounds of Ferrin's biting laughter. The ogre's unfocused eyes semi-focused in on Ferrin's cackling pose, which was hunched over towards as the vampire gripped his stomach.
This guy's lost his mind, Malcolm thought. "What's so funny?"
"Margaret LeFay," the vampire gasped out between laughs, "witch extraordinaire, finder of Ways, and friend of the fucking Winter Court." Ferrin's cackling colored every word he said. "Married an idiot! Empty night, this is too good!"
"Stop talking about my wife!" Malcolm said, but Ferrin kept laughing as if nothing was said.
"You think that boy doesn't care for you?" A tear of laughter elegantly slipped down Ferrin's face, as beautiful as the tears from a movie star playing the lead in a sappy drama. "I've had to listen to that brat whine about himself for the past four years. I've put up with the stupid crap he says about me, I've been forced to follow him across the damn country, and I've seen him interact with you and little Harry when he thinks I'm not there. I know everything there is to know about the kid's life, and I can tell you, that spoiled scum actually gives a shit about you."
Malcolm… Was at a loss for words. He knew that Thomas cared about Harry, but did he really care about Malcolm that much?
'Let me go… or kill me now.' That's what Thomas had said. Just remembering that moment tore Malcolm's heart. All these years, all he wanted was to keep Thomas and Harry safe. He wanted to do right by Maggie, wanted to do right by himself. He thought he was doing the right thing by keeping Thomas from the truth, but now he was wondering if all those years of questions, all those years of hiding, did more harm than good.
Thomas had actually thought Malcolm would kill him. As if he could kill him. When the ogre had wrapped its spindly fingers around Malcolm and knocked him unconscious, Malcolm was certain that it had been some kind of divine karma. His punishment for failing Thomas.
But if Ferrin was right… Then maybe Malcolm was an idiot. All this time, he never thought that Thomas thought of him as anything more than the man who married his mother and created Harry. Malcolm's always known that Thomas has cared for his brother, ever since the day he was born, but thinking that that fierce love and protectiveness extended to Malcolm…
I was prepared to die for them, anyway, Malcolm thought. But knowing that they both care about me… Gotta admit, it's a better thought to end my life with.
"Not sure how, though," Ferrin's voice cut through Malcolm's thoughts. His laughter had died down, and now only the faint remains of a cackle were left in his throat. He wiped away the gleaming tear track from his face as he smiled down at Malcolm. "It's not like you two were on the best of terms when you last saw him."
"Doesn't matter." Malcolm's voice was as dry as chalk, his broken nose still throbbed in a dull pain, but even so, Malcolm smiled. "He's safe. Harry's safe. As long as they're ok, I don't give a damn about what you do to me. And like you said, Thomas isn't dumb. He's not gonna go up against you, and that means you'll never find him. You're never getting to Harry, either. Doesn't matter which way you look at it; you've lost."
Ferrin's eyes grew bright. "Not quite," he said as his eyes shined as brightly as polished silver. "Ugly, hold him up for me."
The ogre stomped over with steps as loud as thunder. Malcolm pushed himself away with his bound feet, but the creature gripped his legs before he could even move two feet. Thin, gangly fingers wrapped themselves around Malcolm's middle and pulled him several feet into the air. Malcolm looked into the ogre's eyes, yet was only met with a blank stare. The ogre groaned, and a putrid cloud of sulfur air poured out of its mouth.
"Like I said, the brat gives a crap." At the sound of Ferrin's voice, Malcolm twisted around in the ogre's hold, pushing down the bile rising in his throat. The vampire snarled up at Malcolm. "Ugly, take off his boot."
The ogre lifted its free hand. With old yellowed nails, the creature pinched the tip of Malcolm's left boot. He yanked it off with a quick tug and then did the same with Malcolm's sock.
"If Thomas won't come to me, then I'll make sure you go to him in a thousand tiny pieces." Ferrin clicked his tongue again, and he laughed as he said the words, "Ugly, break his toes."
Malcolm writhed in the ogre's hold. He kicked his foot out, moving it around the ogre's spindly fingers, but the creature deftly took hold of his foot. Malcolm grunted in exertion as he tried to yank his foot away. He tried kicking, he tried wriggling his way out of the creature's hand, but it wasn't enough. The ogre pinched the smallest toe, and with a small and fast movement, cracked it into two.
"Aaah!" Malcolm yelled. Logically, he knew the break was small, but it sent something like an electric pulse straight from his toe to his head. It hurt in a way so small and precise that it made Malcolm's entire body spasm, and for a split second, his entire vision went white.
"If we're gonna do this," Ferrin said as Malcolm panted from the pain, "I'm gonna make sure you live through an absolute nightmare." Once the white had dissipated from Malcolm's vision, he forced himself to open his eyes and look at the vampire. He saw Ferrin nod at the ogre again, and Malcolm cried out as his next toe was snapped in two.
Maggie, Malcolm thought amidst the rushing pain. I did it. I kept them safe. I don't know where they are, or if I'll ever see them again, but that's enough. Right?
Ferrin laughed, and the ogre moved on to the following toe. There was another crack, and Ferrin grinned at Malcolm's cry.
They'll be ok. Malcolm's foot went numb, but in spite of that, he smiled. Thomas is smart, and Harry's tough. They'll make it. I know they will.
Perhaps it's because he realized thi was the end, but Malcolm thought back on the moments that led him here. He thought back to that night so many years ago, when Thomas had given Maggie permission to be his girlfriend. He remembered his wife's laugh, loud and striking when he showed her the fork her son had threatened him with. He thought of Thomas, of the moment he first held Harry, and how his eyes held all the sadness and all the love in the world for his little brother. He thought of Harry, of how he'd jump around the bed even when it was far past his bedtime, and how much he looked like Maggie when, no matter how many times he'd perform for his son, his son would laugh when Malcolm did his magician tricks.
These little moments, these tiny little pieces of his existence, this is what he was giving his life for. And even as he screamed at the blinding pain of each toe cracking in two, one by one as the ogre snapped with its calloused hands, Malcolm found himself not regretting any of it. It didn't matter if this was the end. He had gained a family in this life, and it was worth the pain of a thousand years. In comparison to that, the pain he was feeling right now was nothing.
Maggie. Thomas. Harry, Malcolm thought as stars dotted his vision. I wish I could see you all. Just one last time.
Tough," Ferrin said. Malcolm glanced down at his foot and saw four toes hanging at unnatural angles, the four of them pointing in every direction except the one they were supposed to. "But don't worry. We'll wipe that smirk off your face yet. Ugly! Finish off the big toe. I want to get to the next foot." The ogre moved its fingers again and gripped the only toe still intact. Malcolm winced and braced himself for the pain.
But instead of pain, all that came forward was a shower of stone and dust.
The movie theater shook around them as a shockwave rumbled the building's foundation. Malcolm swayed sideways as the ogre stumbled about, trying to regain its balance. Pieces of the ceiling fell down among the empty seats, and the only thing that managed to stay still was Ferrin. He didn't stumble. He didn't try to brush off the flecks of dust that fell onto his white shirt. He just stared, unmoving and blinking, at the back end of the movie theater.
"Empty night," the vampire cursed.
The dust settled, and from the back of the theater, Malcolm saw a figure move in the shadows. He was short and held something long in his hands. It was too dark for Malcolm to see right, but he wasn't too far away to hear a gravelly voice carry itself through the room. "Step away from him before I burn you to ashes," an old man said.
"You'll burn me anyway," Ferrin growled. In a burst of speed, the vampire spun around towards Malcolm and rushed towards him, a burning hunger in his silver eyes.
"Ignis imbrem!" The old man shouted. And from the top of the theater, a blazing flame appeared from thin air.
A rushing inferno barrelled through the room. Waves of flame spun around each other in a swirling crescendo of heat and destruction, tearing its way through the rows of abandoned seats. It aimed itself straight at Ferrin, and the vampire barely had time to dodge under the assault. Though the vampire escaped, the flames caught the edge of his shirt, and Ferrin screamed in disgust as his entire outfit was engulfed in fire.
It had been years since Malcolm had seen true magic first hand, but he could never forget the harsh beauty of destructive magic. Maggie rarely performed spells such as these, but when she did, they did nothing but leave Malcolm in awe. This moment was much the same.
Even as the fire landed a foot in front of him.
Malcolm felt the burning heat lick his exposed foot. The ogre holding his roared in panic, and the giant creature wobbled from left to right as the fire began to spread on the carpeted floor. A single flame touched one of the ogre's curling toes, and the creature cried out in pain.
"Gruuuuugh!" The ogre yelled. Its cry was lost to a swirling fog of smoke that was filling the air above them. His arms swung about wildly, and Malcolm took the moment to twist against the creature's hold. Its fingers slipped, and Malcolm felt himself fall out of its hand and onto the floor below.
"Ack!" Malcolm hissed. Alright, so maybe it wasn't the brightest idea to force an ogre to drop you onto the floor when you can move your hands and feet. Malcolm pulled himself up into a sitting position, and he vaguely heard the old man throw out another spell. Malcolm had landed on his side, and though that meant his broken toes weren't affected by the impact, he was still tied up.
That's when Malcolm felt the flames' heat the side of his face. He flinched back on instinct as he realized he was right beside a fire that was half as tall as he was, and was beginning to spread across the entire room.
Malcolm looked down at his ankles, bound with rope, and he did the most foolish thing he could think of.
"Harry," he said, "if you ever learn I did this, don't you dare follow my example." And with a wincing breath, Malcolm pulled his arms and legs into the fire.
Malcolm bit back a cry as his skin brushed the edges of the raging fire. He felt the flames lick the edges of his wrists and ankles. It burned, but Malcolm refused to move away as he tugged at his bindings. His skin chafed against the thick rope. Still, he pulled and pulled, until finally, he felt the rope around his wrists give way. Malcolm ripped the rest of the rope off his wrists and gripped the bindings around his feet. With a fierce twist, he pulled at the small patch of rope that had been blackened by the flames. The rope fell away, and Malcolm pushed himself away from the raging fire beside him.
Malcolm collided with a figure that appeared amid the smoke. Despite Malcolm all but crashing into him, the man held himself firmly and didn't fall. The man had deep wrinkles over his entire face, a long scraggly beard, and overalls older than Malcolm's ten-year-old hunting jacket. Even so, the man carried himself like he was half his age. His back was straight, his eyes were sharp and attentive to every movement in the room, and his hand gripped a floor-length staff firmly. It was long, carved with patterns that went deep into the groove of the wood, and it was the same color as Maggie's staff. Dark brown, made out of fine oak.
The old man spoke, and his voice carried a heaviness Malcolm had rarely heard in his life. "Stay down. I'm—"
"Ebenezar McCoy," Malcolm said. The old wizard looked down at him, and Malcolm took his first look at the father of his late wife. "I know."