Set between Blood Rites and Dead Beat. I'm a little behind, and Thomas is a Bad Influence.

"Boof," Mouse insisted.

"Yes, I know. You're hungry." I hefted the bag of dog food onto one shoulder as I tried to unlock the door with the hand not holding the paper bag from Burger King. "Me too, pal."

A little bit of smoke drifted out as I opened the door to my apartment. Disconcerting. I felt a little jolt of panic.

… Okay, so maybe fire and I have not been on the best of terms, lately. Mouse snorted and sneezed and shook his head, and then I was hit with the smell.

I sighed, stepped into the apartment and through the haze I saw my brother, sprawled on the sofa with a big, fat joint in his hand.

"Hell's bells, dude." I unclipped Mouse's lead and he trotted into the bedroom and nosed the door shut, indignantly. "You can't afford to pitch in for groceries but you've got enough cash for weed—"

"Traded for it," Thomas explained, and thankfully did not elaborate.

I dropped the bag of kibble in the pantry, scooped some into Mouse's bowl and took it to my room for the disapproving dog. "Did you at least remember to put the cat outside first, before fumigating the place?"

"Of course." He sat up and rubbed his slightly-bleary eyes, then reached for the paper bag I had left on the coffee table. "Ooh, dinner—"

"My dinner." I grabbed it away from him. "Mine."

"I'll share if you will. It's the good stuff." It must have been to have any affect on him at all. Thomas hesitated before he offered me the joint. "Wait, your boss doesn't make you get tested very often, does she?"

"Are you kidding?" I dropped tiredly into the recliner and began unwrapping a burger. "She gave me a three week heads-up before the first and only one. I think she was under the impression anyone who calls himself a wizard in the phone book is probably on something."

Thomas made a face of agreement, took a drag and held his breath as he offered it to me again.

It was tempting. It had been an exhausting day of fruitless searching for an investment banker's missing briefcase, which the guy had been so wildly desperate to find he had turned to me, and from his desperation and shady demeanor, I was certain it was probably full of something Not Very Nice. Really hoping I hadn't been helping the guy track down his insider trading info, or worse.

With my luck, probably worse.

And my crispy left hand had started to hurt again. Which meant yay for returning nerve function, but at the price of being able to feel pain again as well, instead of nothing.

… And it had been a really, really long time. Better than a decade, even, since I had last, uh. Partaken.

"Eh?" He said on the exhale, coughing a little. I sighed and put the carton of fries in his hand as an offering. "The pact is sealed," Thomas intoned, grinning like a jack o' lantern. "Or however you wizards do it."

--

"So, say you find this guy's briefcase. Are you going to open it?"

"No. I dunno. This isn't Pulp Fiction, why would I?"

"What's in the box?" Thomas quoted. He was on his back on the rug with his feet on the sofa. We had long since moved on from the french fries to the buy-in-bulk-sized plastic tub of cheese puffs, which he was tossing into the air and attempting to catch in his mouth. The puffs, not the tub.

"Different movie."

"You know what I mean. And you pretty much have to open it. I mean, it's probably just weird porn, or blackmail, or both. But what if he's like… into human trafficking or something equally hideous?"

"Don't say that." I put my hands over my ears. "Don't fucking say that, 'cause now I have to check, and if it is—"

"If it is something horrible, we can always… you know. Introduce him to my sister." He held out a hand. "Or Murphy. Either way, he's—" he drew the hand across his throat and made a gluk sound.

"Murph will be pleased to know you consider her a threat on par with — oh, shit." I scrambled to my feet, light-headed. "Shit, shit, shit—"

"What?"

"I just remembered." In a panic, I swept a cushion off the couch and started fanning at the fog hanging around us. "Karrin's supposed to drop off a case file on her way home from the office—"

"Oh, shit," Thomas echoed in a horrified whisper as he sat up. A handful of cheese puffs rolled out of the hood of his sweatshirt. He started giggling.

"Stop laughing." I smacked him repeatedly in the face with the cushion, emphasizing every word. "And help me—"

As I did it — of course, as I did it, there was a knock at the door, and then it creaked open slowly to reveal a slight figure in the basement staircase, backlit by the autumn sunset, watching us with unsurprised amusement.

"The whole street can smell what you two are cooking in here," said Murphy, as she fanned at the air with a manila envelope. She blinked against the haze, cute nose wrinkling.

There was a long, uncomfortable beat of silence, which my brother broke.

"Hello, Officer." Thomas put on his charming-est, rogue-iest sex vampire grin. "Can we help you?"

"You stop that," Karrin ordered.

"Okay," he smiled even wider. "I'll comply."

She brandished the envelope like a weapon, but had gone slightly pink across her cheeks. "You will when I haul your ass in for possession, Raith."

"Who, me?" He put a hand on his chest, the picture of innocence. "This isn't mine, this is—"

"Dresden's? No, I know how much he gets paid, and it's not enough to afford that kind of… quality. Sorry, Harry."

"No," I agreed. "It's true."

Murph gave me the same worried, sympathetic, attempt-at-reassuring smile I got every time she'd taken me to the burn ward and sat with me while the masochistic nurse debrided my deep-fried hand. "Long day?"

"The longest."

"Take a look at this when you can, let me know what you think. Call me." Murphy tossed the manila envelope onto the coffee table like a frisbee, then turned to Thomas with an I've got my eye on you gesture. He winked. She snorted and slammed the door behind her as she left, laughing hysterically all the way up the stairs.

"Dude," I turned to my brother. "Could you maybe not flirt with—"

"Oh," said Thomas, as his eyes widened, and he pointed between me and the door that had just shut. "... Oh?"

"No." I shook my head. Maybe a little too quickly. "No."

"Screw your mystery briefcase." He clapped his hands together, delighted. "Tonight we're cracking open the case labeled Harry Has a Crush on His Boss—"

I flattened him to the floor with a mighty swing of the couch cushion, followed by a WWE-worthy elbow drop.

"Or not." Thomas wheezed, muffled as I attempted to suffocate him. "Or not."

Next: Haunted