Disclaimer – Jim Butcher owns these characters. All I get out of this is telling a story in the TV Verse
Baked In
Sequel of sorts to Burnt Out – all the snippets of Harry and Bob and the house being themselves. Plus some small case fics, and well 'five kids in five minutes: ask me how' has some distinct possibilities… consider this well and truly alternate universe
o0o0o
First trust
Harry hadn't forbidden any of the kids from staying in touch with their friends, and as the holidays progressed, it seemed that the older two finally took him at his word and made arrangements to hang out with friends from before the ritual. Julia was invited to an overnight stay at a friends, and Harry had agreed to her going without overly fretting. That was apparently Bob's job, and he did it well, though not where Julia could see him.
Julia had been dropped off at the movies, where the friends had agreed to meet. They would go back to Sophia's house after the movie, and Harry had told her on the way there that she could always call him if she wanted to. Julia had been a bit defensive about that, suspecting that he was accusing her friends of being bad kids or something and he'd rolled his eyes, and told her that his dad had said that to him the few times he'd gone on a sleep over, which resulted in thoughtful silence at least.
Bob had decided that he wanted to finish several books he'd found in the library, and was spending the night in there, the first time in months that he wasn't insisting on watching Harry while he slept. Harry had retired to the workroom and was going over the failed permanent transportation spell, trying to get the spell's arithmetic properly balanced. Which is why Harry didn't have to explain to the Ghost what was going on when the phone rang and he blew out of the house when a tearful Julia asked to be collected.
She was still at the multiplex, and the movie had ended an hour ago, so Harry wondered if they had fought at the movie as he drove out to get her. The house had locked itself up tightly when he left, to his surprise, but he didn't have time to worry about that as he drove through the light traffic to pick up his eldest kid.
Julia was sitting on a bench outside the multiplex, and she'd clearly been crying, which made him want to punch someone. Sheryl had often said that teenage girls could be cruel, usually when Harry was appalled at some of the things he'd heard his students say and had called them on it. There were a couple of cop cars parked out the front too, and Harry hurried from his illegally parked jeep to Julia, his mind whirling.
"Hey there," he crouched down in front of her, not wanting to crowd her by taking the space on the seat beside her, "Are you ok? Are you hurt?"
"Not hurt," Julia gulped, "I'm ok."
"What happened?" Harry frowned, glancing over at the cops. He didn't know any of them, but that didn't mean anything. There were a lot of cops in Chicago.
"It was supposed to be me and Sophia," Julie muttered, looking away, "But a whole bunch of other kids came along too, and some of them smuggled bottles into the theatre."
"Alcohol?" Harry asked, keeping his voice even with an effort. She wouldn't be the first kid to be exposed to underage drinking by her peers and certainly wasn't going to be the last. Julia nodded, biting her lip with a miserable expression. From the set of her shoulders she was clearly expecting to get into trouble, and Harry cursed her birth parents for teaching her that parenthood was a series of arbitrary and unreasonable knee jerk reactions to events.
"They poured it into the drinks they bought at the concession stand," she rubbed her hands on her knees, the motions jerky and a little frantic, "I didn't let them do it to mine, though. I know I'm already in trouble…"
"Easy," he caught her hands lightly, holding them still and rubbing the backs of her hands with his thumbs in a soothing manner, "You are not in trouble with me, Julia, and since I am your parent, that is all that counts right now. You're not a bad kid, and I'm not waiting for the next mistake, ok?"
This was not a matter for the High Council unless someone had been throwing magic around, which he knew that Julia wouldn't do. She and Mark had yet to so much as light a candle with magic since moving in under Harry's roof. Julia turned her hands so she was gripping his.
"They got so wasted," she sniffed, "It wasn't funny, at all. We were supposed to get something to eat on the way out, but I didn't want to stay when they started doing stupid stuff, so I called you. And then someone called the cops and now they're all in so much trouble."
Harry nodded, smiling at her a little, "You're not though. I guess the cops let you go?"
"I was out here when they came," she sighed, "One of them came out to ask me about it, and I said I had gone to the movies with them, and she made me do the sober thing… you know, walk a line, stand on one foot. But I passed and she left me alone."
Harry nodded, then stood up, pulling her to her feet. A harassed looking adult scurried from a hastily parked car towards the multiplex and he drew Julia into a hug, glad that she'd shown some sense this time. He also knew better than to say that.
"Did you get anything to eat?" he asked her when he broke the hug and she shook her head, looking down.
"Ok, lets go then. We can stop at a drive through on the way home, on the condition that I get some of your fries," he grinned when she giggled and nodded shyly.
She'd finished her meal by the time they got home, and Harry told her he was going to let Bob know they were back. She trailed along with him, and Bob took the news with surprising equanimity. Harry figured he was in for a private 'I told you so' speech later. Julia went to bed, and Harry left a message on the answering machine at Sophia's place, informing the listener that Julia was home with him, and leaving it at that.
He left Bob to his reading, and spent an hour or so working on the spell matrix variant that Bob had challenged him with before going to bed. It was strange not having the Ghost in the room with him, though Harry didn't begrudge his mentor the reading time.
Harry's dad had always made an effort to make Sunday breakfast special, cooking waffles or pancakes, with bacon and eggs and fried tomato slices. He'd done it the first Sunday with Sheryl and Scott, and while the number of people at the table had increased, it was a tradition he'd stuck with. The kids would trickle down to help cook, or set the table, or slump against the counter and doze some more while breakfast was cooked.
Mark was an avid cook, so he was always down early, and Julia liked to make french toast, so they usually came down at roughly the same time. Harry was surprised when Mark blew into the kitchen with a face like a thunderstorm, fetching up beside him with his hands on his hips and a truly angry expression on his face.
"What happened?" Mark demanded, and when Julia came in, Harry realised that she had either told Mark to mind his business, or had given him a really brief answer.
"Julia came home after the movie," Harry replied, "Can you start cracking eggs for the scramble please?"
"But why?" Mark demanded, and Harry sighed. Mark was pretty protective of his siblings, and although Julia was technically the oldest by three weeks, he tended to act the big brother with her as well. This had caused some friction, as Julia was used to only having a little brother, and Mark was only used to having a little sister. Harry glanced out the window to where Bob was enjoying the early morning peace in their kitchen garden and wished he was with him for a moment.
"Mark," Harry said firmly, as Julia started collecting ingredients, her own face set in a stubborn expression, "Julia is fine. She's not hurt, she's not in trouble, and she's not in need of a white knight charging to her defence. I know what happened, there is no situation that needs to be handled, and you need to allow her her privacy."
Bob had acidly informed Harry that if their eldest son inherited Harry's white knight, tilting at windmills tendencies the Ghost would retire to his skull for the duration. Harry had retorted he'd learned from the best, and Bob had spluttered at him in indignation, thoroughly diverted.
"But…" Mark frowned, gathering the bowl and eggs and other ingredients they'd need. Harry liked to add bell peppers and onion to his scrambled egg mix, but he'd diced those already, so all Mark had to do was make the egg mix.
"Mark," Harry's tone was a warning, and Mark subsided unhappily, "Thank you."
Julia was making her own egg wash, planning to use the last of the stale bread for her french toast, and she shot Harry a grateful look. Bob came back into the kitchen as Mark grumbled his way through making the scrambled egg mix. Pete came in and started cooking the vegetable component, adding the floured tomato slices to a second pan with butter in it as well, then dropping the bacon into that pan. Harry started the pancakes, and Julia put the egg wash and bread beside him to await her turn to use the pan and burner.
"Thanks, Pa," she leaned against him for a moment, and Harry gave her the biggest smile he'd ever made, his heart melting.
o0o0o
Winter lessons (or the benefits of a classical education in the art of magic)
By the time winter rolled around, the schooling had shifted to afternoons after school and a Saturday morning, with some variance in attendance on weekdays as several of the kids had after school sports and other interests that they attended. Mark was one of those who missed an afternoon, as he had joined the boxing team at school, as a featherweight, which Bob had disparaged with a sniff.
"We don't box with demons!" had been the heated response to Harry questioning said disparagement, "He'll never be able to defend himself that way!"
"I know," Harry had replied soothingly, "I have in fact been thinking about this, you know."
"Oh dear," Bob had folded his arms, "Very well, consider me suitably braced…"
Their students spent two hours in the after school classes and four in the Saturday morning ones, and Harry had noted that they were getting restless. With winter, the opportunity for running around outside had diminished greatly, and that meant a lot of unspent energy. Their own kids weren't too badly off, as Harry had ways of charming their clothes against the winter cold and sending them outside anyway, lest they drive him to despair and Bob to drink, an actual quote from the Ghost.
"If we each cut our lessons forty five minutes short on Saturday, that will give us an hour and a half in the ballroom together. All the kids could stand to learn to fight with stave and sword, and … well I really enjoyed those lessons with you when I was a kid," Harry shot Bob a little grin, noting how the Ghost had lit up at the mention of their former sparring sessions, "It would be their first concrete manipulation of power as well, which you know has stood me in good stead."
His shield was much stronger than even Morgan's, partly because he could anchor it physically, something Morgan could not. The warden relied solely on will and determination. Harry's ability to anchor his shield was due to Bob teaching him to manipulate his magic into a solid form, which had been a stave and sword respectively, at first.
"That would help with their restlessness," Bob mused, "And our children are all of an age where they should commence their combat training. You were only eleven when you did so."
"And I was grateful for the lessons. They gave me something to focus on, other than… dad being gone," Harry was making more of an effort to tell Bob how much he appreciated the Ghost's efforts to help him in the past, "Scott can join in too, so he won't be behind when the apprenticeship starts in a few months. I'll talk to Sheryl."
"It's not the worst idea you've ever put to me," Bob conceded, "Very well, I will adjust my program accordingly."
"Thank you, your ghostliness," Harry had rolled his eyes, but informed their students over the course of the week that Saturday would involve physical magic and that they should dress accordingly. Sheryl had agreed to Scott learning some self defence techniques with the rest of the students, and Pete had indicated that he would watch from the solar, where he typically spent the morning tending the plants that were still growing there. Harry took it as a good sign, that their youngest wasn't outright rejecting magic.
On Saturday, the student body had followed Bob and Harry to the ballroom, most of them staring around curiously. Saskia and Bjorn had looked a little uneasy at first, but Harry had ensured that the room was flooded with natural light and that the house had warmed the space sufficiently, making the atmosphere very different to when they had last been in this room. There were no runes or blood on the floor, and the view out into the snow laden garden was peaceful.
Bob instructed the teens to stand in rows and he and Harry stood before the windows. Harry took them through a light yoga warm up, then Bob took them through the first visualisations, getting the children to manifest a line of magic between their hands.
This was actually the easy step and all of them got it pretty quickly, especially as they were used to Bob's style of dry instruction, coupled with a healthy dose of sardonic encouragement. Harry took over then, holding one hand palm up, and the other palm down, his fingers curled as if holding an actual wooden stave. He talked them through making the magic into a tangible stave, feeling its weight and resistance to being bent or altered once called. Bob walked through the rows, correcting those who were struggling, Harry pacing along the front with him to spare him the humiliation of the curse tugging at his wrists.
He got the kids to drop one end of the stave to the floor, making an audible thunk when it contacted. They swapped hands, getting used to the idea that the stave could have minimal physical contact and remain permeable. The 'hold the stave vertically and let it slide through a single hand to contact the floor' technique caused several of them to stumble and Bob drew them off to practice while Harry led the rest through the first few forms that fighting with the stave would take.
By the time the hour and a half was up the kids were exhausted. It took concentration to form the stave stably and effort to sustain it while it moved. Even though they hadn't been running laps or anything that active, a lot of the kids were sweating and overheated. They would be better prepared next week in their clothing, so Harry wasn't too worried about it.
"How will we learn to fight?" Bjorn asked as the class collectively released their magic and shook their hands out, "How did you learn? Master Bainbridge has said that the intangible from his plane cannot touch us, so how did you spar?"
"Like this," Bob conjured his own stave again, and swung it lightly at Harry, who caught the blow on his own conjured stave with the sharp clack of wood hitting wood, disengaging and stepping back with a little grin as the kids exclaimed in surprise, "Your conjured stave and mine occupy the same realm-space. If you miss catching the stave, it will pass through you, however each time that happens I will add an assignment to your homework. It behoves you to be accurate and engaged."
"So you actually sparred when you were our ages?" Al asked, ignoring the threat of extra homework, his face lighting up, "Do you still do it?"
"Not since I came back from my travels," Harry admitted, "We didn't have the space for it."
"Can we see?" Hannah asked, pushing sweaty hair back from her face. Harry made a note to ensure she had either a haircut or the ability to tie it back. Bob gave Harry a challenging look, spinning his staff into a ready stance. Harry mimicked the stance after a moment, offering his mentor the customary bow.
"I'm gonna feel this later," Harry mentioned, and the kids snickered at him, spreading out for a better view as Bob and Harry circled each other. Bob feinted first, and then it was a blur of blow and counter blow, the old patterns coming easily back to Harry's muscles. They whirled through a series of movements, jostling for supremacy, spinning in and out of each others reach with quick intent. The clunk of stave on stave was broken only by their own heavy breathing, or the exclamations of the children as one or the other combatant pulled off a particularly impressive looking move.
Harry managed to surprise his mentor with an especially twisty move, disarming Bob, whose stave disappeared the moment it left his hands, the momentum of the blow sending him down to the floor. Harry stopped the follow up blow before it could make actual contact, remembering what had happened the one and only time he hadn't. Bob chuckled at the stave only inches from his throat while their audience exclaimed in excitement or shock.
"Why did you stop? The stave would go through him, wouldn't it?" the kid asking was one of their less careful students, and Bob grasped the end of the stave in his hand, gathering gasps of shock from their audience. Harry stepped back, altering his grip, and then used the stave to pull Bob back onto his feet, banishing it the moment Bob let go, offering him a small smile.
"You can hurt yourself, or someone else, with these things," Harry didn't look away from his teacher, and offered the small bow that was customary at the end of a lesson too, "Thank you for the lesson, Master."
"You did well," Bob conceded, "Your skills haven't slipped."
He put a hand on Harry's shoulder and then flinched, diving for Harry's hand. Harry sighed: he had hoped Bob wouldn't notice that. He lifted the hand, and the dislocated pinkie finger that was sticking out at a funny angle up so Bob could see without having to bend awkwardly. It was painful now that he wasn't concentrating on having to defend himself, but not so bad that he couldn't manage.
"Not again!" Bob sighed, "Harry, I am so sorry!"
"It's the same stupid finger that always goes when I try that stupid reverse block," Harry shrugged, "The surgeon uncle Justin sent me to the last time it happened said it was likely to do that if I kept sparring. I should have taped it to my ring finger to stop it from happening."
He tugged it back into place, having learned to reset it a long time ago. Several of the kids shuddered at the little click it made snapping into place and even Bob looked a little green.
"I'll get the tape and an ice pack," Julia said in a tone that was fairly calm, all things considered, and Harry thanked her. He turned to their students then, smiling in reassurance and getting them moving for the door, their belongings and the parents that were probably waiting out in the forecourt to collect them. He talked Julia through the taping and took the ice wrapped ice pack with equanimity. His casual attitude to the injury seemed to put the kids at ease.
"Pete, take Bob please. I'm going to get some aspirin, and then some lunch, I'll meet you all in the kitchen," Harry sent them on their way and Bob requested to go to the workroom, where he would probably brood until Harry returned, and then berate him for not taking the appropriate precautions. Harry understood it was frustration at not being able to provide care when he thought it was needed and accepted it for what it was.
That didn't mean he didn't mouth a few vicious swear words where no one could see under his breath trying to get the lid to the aspirin off.
o0o0o
First Christmas
When he'd been little, Harry's mom had made a fuss of Christmas, even if they hadn't had a lot of money, or space for a tree or decorations. The first Christmas after she'd died, his dad had done his best, though it wasn't quite the same.
As a single parent, living on the road, Malcolm had been required to work on Christmas quite a few times. Harry had learned to put up a good front at not having the same sort of Christmas his peers did. He'd been the one to put up decorations, and he'd always wrapped a present for his dad, saved from his pocket money, even if it was just a pair of socks or silk squares for his stage kit. His dad would always have a present for him too, and they would have waffles together, the only meal that Harry could prepare from a young age without his dad, though his skills widened over the years. Waffles were the tradition though, and if Harry spent most of Christmas day alone watching stupid shows on TV, or sitting backstage while his dad performed somewhere, that was ok, because they knew what it was to be family.
Big gestures were not Malcolm's style, which was why the first Christmas with Justin had been so strange and uncomfortable. Harry had bought his uncle a silk tie and kerchief set, his pocket money having increased considerably, but Justin had plied Harry with many gifts, wrapped and left beneath a large tree, with professionally arranged ornaments and a log fire burning in the background. Dinner had been a lavish meal, with several of Justin's acquaintances attending. Harry had been on his best 'seen and not heard' behaviour, which pleased his uncle at least.
Bob had found him crying in the school room, a small plate of waffles made and sitting beside Bob's skull, half an hour before midnight and the start of boxing day. He hadn't understood the importance of the waffles at first, in fact it would be over a decade before he realised that Harry had come to the closest person he had to a parent to share the only Christmas tradition that meant family and safety. Harry had explained in a stumbling fashion what he was used to, and Bob wondered how his putative master had failed to notice that the child's humble upbringing was in fact the one thing that would keep Morningway from corrupting him in the manner he intended. Bob had thanked Harry for the waffles, and the child had at least gone to sleep feeling some degree of comfort.
They had celebrated Yule, the winter solstice, together the next year, a private tradition they kept between them, and Harry had learned to navigate Justin's idea of Christmas. Bob received a plate of waffles either early in the morning or late at night each Christmas. When Justin was gone, Yule and waffles remained, neither able to arrange or give each other a tangible gift. Harry would read aloud to Bob, or Bob would tell Harry a tale, and they would spend some time working a theorem together, letting the day pass peacefully.
Harry had talked Christmas over with Sheryl that first year, explaining in a stumbling fashion his difficulty in working out where the balance for Christmas was. He didn't want the kids to experience the culture shock he had, but also knew that his own idea of what Christmas should be had been warped by his own experiences.
Sheryl had advised on a small tree, that they all decorated together, and a present from each of the adults in the house, which meant first getting Bob to express an opinion on a present, and then getting him to be realistic and sensible about it. The kids were all responsible for chores around the house, and expected to help in a weekly tidy and clean session, which Harry doled out pocket money for. When Hannah had asked if she could get a present for her brother, he'd arranged an en mass trip to the mall, which Bob had insisted on remaining home for, the bastard. They went in mid November, to avoid the worst of the Christmas rush.
The kids were ok with that, and had come away with their own bags guarded from wandering glances and lighter wallets. Harry had made it clear that snooping would not be tolerated, and added wrapping paper to one of the pre Christmas grocery orders so that was covered too. He'd told them all that Christmas waffles were a family tradition that their granddad Malcolm had started, and he would be preparing them for breakfast on Christmas morning, and Al had asked if they could make a garland for the front door. Mark had mentioned stringing pop corn, and Pete had shyly admitted he liked listening to carols, all things that Harry happily accommodated in the run up to Christmas.
They were making their own traditions, and he was ok with that. This year when he and Bob celebrated Yule, the children joined them, and Bob had been pleased to see them understand and participate in the celebration 'as befitted children of the House of Dresden'. Harry had chosen to take that as a compliment to his teaching of the sabbat's.
Sheryl had advised that an artificial tree would make less mess, and Harry had found one that wasn't ridiculously large, or too small to fit the presents under. They'd strung popcorn and decorated the tree with it, and the house had apparently decoyed Pete and Al into the attic and the stored decorations there. The kids had chosen which they wanted on the tree this year, putting the rest back in storage, and once solstice had passed Harry had added his presents under the Christmas tree. Sheryl had added hers too, and the kids snuck theirs under the tree at random intervals. There was a sense of anticipation in the house, some of which Harry attributed to the house itself, and not just the kids.
Bob requested a place be set for him at the breakfast table on Christmas morning, and Harry had made sure he was served with a waffle, prepared with fruit and cream the way he said he liked it. Harry would end up eating it, but the tradition stood, and none of the kids kicked up a fuss about it. Harry was surprised to find small presents from the kids under the tree for himself and Bob, and Bob was surprised that Harry had purchased several jigsaw puzzles to gift to him.
They spent the morning making a series of snowmen in the yard, which devolved into a snowball fight and required changing their clothes. Sheryl had decreed that lunch be a roast, which she had prepared for them all while the snow was flying. They spent the afternoon doing Bob's jigsaws together in the library, squabbling amiably over the pieces while a small radio played Christmas carols in the background.
Harry had read a story to the kids after dinner, something appropriately Christmastime themed, and by the time Harry had completed the nightly bedtime rounds, he felt the day had gone well enough. Certainly there had been a few moments of individual melancholy from most of the kids, Scott and Pete being the exception as Scott had only added to his and his mothers traditions, and Pete generally seemed to indicate that anything they did was superior to what went on before.
"Not a bad Christmas after all," Bob informed Harry as he climbed into bed. Bob deigned to join him, lying flat and relaxed, his hands linked on his stomach and ankles crossed.
"No, it was nice," Harry agreed, "And the kids were ok."
"Certainly the culture shock you expected didn't materialise," Bob mused, "I know you were concerned."
"That first Christmas here, it felt … it hurt me, how hard it was to behave with the happy and excited smiles that my Uncle expected. I didn't want to be ungrateful, but it was so alien…" Harry sighed, "Making waffles for you was the most normal thing I did that day."
"I didn't understand," Bob confessed to the ceiling, "Until today, I didn't realise what you were trying to tell me all those years ago, Harry. I am sorry it's taken me so long."
"S'alright Pops," Harry grinned and waved the lights out, "You got there in the end… gack!"
Bob sniggered and waved his hand through Harry's abdomen again for good measure.
0o0o0
First driving lesson
Harry had not expected to ever have kids, and therefore had not expected to ever have to teach any of them to drive. His uncle had hired a professional for Harry's lessons, and Harry had learned quickly. Anything to get out of the car with a man who reeked of smoke and alcohol.
Harry hadn't also expected that the first driving lesson ever given wasn't to Julia or Mark (who went through drivers ed at school in the end) but to a kid that wasn't his own, and that Bob would be the one delivering the lesson.
Since Harry was, at the time, unconscious and bleeding in the back of the vehicle, that couldn't be helped. Bob had told him later that he had watched Harry drive out of curiosity, working out the basics by watching Harry drive the jeep and the van that he'd bought second hand to transport all the kids at the same time. It turns out that Bob's powers of observation were pretty good, though it helped that the car they were 'borrowing' was an automatic.
Murphy wasn't too pleased that her underage daughter had driven a car under the direction of Harry's Pop's, but that couldn't be helped either.
Murphy and Anna had been to the house at least once a month since Harry had adopted his kids. Anna knew Harry's phone number as she had called for her mom a couple of times from the car when they were running late. Anna and Hannah (christened the Terrible Two by Al, Pete and Scott) had slept over at each other's place a few times, and Harry had watched Anna for Murphy when an emergency had come up and she'd been needed at work.
Murphy had mentioned that her ex was taking Anna up to a cabin by the lake for the fall break, and she hadn't been too impressed about it, making cranky comments to Harry about it as he walked around a crime scene where one of their cases had intersected. Harry had been privately grateful that he didn't have to deal with his kids ex-parents. (Al and Julia's parents had moved to Canada, and Mark and Hannah's dad had been transferred to Arizona, to work with the Warden team there. Pete's parents had simply disappeared, though Morgan had made a point of saying that they would not be back to interfere with Pete at all, which made Harry wonder what Mai had done.)
Anna had called Harry at nine pm, extremely frightened, and told him that she couldn't get hold of her mom and that she thought there was something outside the cabin and she didn't know what to do. Her dad and his girlfriend had gone outside and they hadn't come back, and the noise was getting louder and scarier. The girlfriend had a couple of kids of her own, one who was many years older than Anna, and who was apparently useless (or that was Anna's estimation of her anyway), and a four year old who was crying in the background softly. Anna said that she and the four year old boy were hiding and that they'd made the teenager join them, but she was sulking about it.
Harry had gotten the address, gone upstairs to let Sheryl know that he and Bob were going out, and headed for the jeep with his hockey stick and drum stick in tow, with Bob riding passenger and looking alarmed as Harry broke several speed limits on his way out of Chicago. They'd left a message for Murphy with dispatch in case she'd been called to a crime scene, and hopefully she'd be on her way as back up.
"There is no moon tonight," Bob said as they sped along the highway, "Something we should consider."
"Yeah, well at least we know it's not a werewolf then," Harry replied tensely. Bob glanced at him, startled.
"You think this is supernatural then, and not mundane?" he frowned, "Upon what do you base this supposition?"
"Something in the background, a noise. I could hear it under the sound of the boy crying," Harry shook his head, "I can't place it, but it sounded familiar. Anna's not an idiot, she wouldn't be making a fuss for nothing, and if it was a prowler, she'd have called 911."
"But she called you," Bob realised, "She's aware that you and her mother both call your profession 'wizard', and she thinks she needs one, not a member of the constabulary."
"Her mom would have trained her to call for help appropriately," Harry agreed, "If she thinks its a wizard she needs…"
"Perhaps we should go faster," Bob murmured and Harry pushed the accelerator down harder.
Murphy's ex-husbands idea of a cabin by the lake was luxurious. It had a paved driveway, landscaped garden and a lot of outside decking. There was an open carport, where the ex had parked his car, and Harry parked to one side, making sure that both cars had a quick shot off the property. He stepped out of the jeep with his staff at the ready, Bob's satchel hanging across his chest.
It was silent around the cabin. Not a single cricket, night bird or late night critter was stirring at all. There was an expectancy to the silence, that had the hairs on his arms standing up in response. He couldn't see anything out of place outside, no drag marks, burn marks, or hastily improvised weapons abandoned near the edge of the trees. There were lights on downstairs, in fact it looked like every light was on, which was possibly Anna's doing.
"I don't like this, Dresden," Bob murmured and Harry hurried up the steps of the deck, sending a small pulse of his power to unlock the door, slipping inside and locking the door again at once.
"Anna, it's Uncle Harry," Harry called, "Can you hear me?"
"Uncle Harry?" she was upstairs, if the direction of her voice was correct, and Harry started towards the stairs when Bob leapt for him, shaking his head frantically. Harry stopped, and the Ghost pantomimed throwing his voice. Upstairs was dark, as was the garden outside, and Harry nodded, looking around the space they were in first.
There was a tiny creak of a door and Harry traced it to the kitchen, which had a walk in pantry. He pulled the door open slowly, and there they were, Anna with a rolling pin held like a baseball bat, a teenager with a glassy expression and a four year old boy in cartoon covered pyjamas clutching the back of Anna's shirt. Harry put his finger to his lips quickly and then leaned down and scooped up the kid, tucking him into one arm. Anna latched onto Harry's shirt and the teen got up awkwardly, stumbling towards them.
"Grab my belt," Harry mouthed, and the lights flickered. Bob, who had been waiting near the corner whirled towards Harry with his eyes wide.
"Shield and light!" Bob yelled and Harry threw all he had into both spells, trusting that Bob would know what he was talking about. A couch came flying through the air, missing them by inches and Harry reinforced the shield with extra power. The lights went out, leaving them lit only by the blue ball of cold flames Harry had floating just above his head.
"Is there another door?" he asked Anna. With the furniture flying there was no point in whispering now.
"It's at the back of the cabin, we have to go where the couch was!" Anna squeaked.
"Front door it is," Harry muttered, "Bob, get my back! Make sure nothing sneaks up on us!"
"Behind you," Bob's voice was clipped, and Harry started backing towards the front door as quickly as he could, with Anna twisting so that she was also walking forward, tugging Harry along while he maintained the shield around all of them as best he could. The bubble of light was only good for a couple of meters, and if the thing in there with them was quick it could get between them and the door. Harry didn't want to blow a hole in the wall to get out, but he would if he had to.
"Door in sight," Bob reported tightly, "Harry, if you have to, use fire. It's avoiding light, so fire would be our best option if we need to fight."
"Understood," Harry sped up a little, and Anna fumbled at the door. Bob stepped straight through it, to ensure that their path to the jeep was clear.
"It's locked!" the teen cried, and let go of Harry's belt. There was a tearing sound and Bob shouted a warning from outside. Harry twisted, grabbing the kids and shoving them down, forcing his shield to cover them all. Just in time too, as the jeep tore through the side of the cabin, coming to rest jammed against the stairs. The gas tank was ruptured if the dripping sound and smell was anything to go by, so he wasn't getting them out that way.
"Anna, where does your dad keep his car keys?" Harry asked calmly and Anna wormed an arm out from where he was bent over them, grabbing the bright blue jacket that had fallen when the wall supporting its coat rack disintegrated. She reeled the cloth in and then fished in the pockets until she found the keys. Harry took a deep breath as Bob came scurrying back through the door.
"Harry its an atchen!" he blurted, and Harry bit down on the urge to swear. Having kids had really curtailed his vocabulary in times of stress. Atchens were cannibalistic beings that usually preyed on people who lived on the fringes of society. Every now and then they'd snack on campers, hikers, or people who'd decided to go 'off the grid' and live in a survivalist camp, but coming so close to a place like this meant that there was something wrong, and Harry didn't have time to figure out what.
"Ok kids," Harry announced, "Time for scary stuff, ok? I'm gonna get us to the car, and Anna you're gonna make sure it's not locked. Everyone gets in and we hightail it out of here. You, not-Anna, can you drive?"
"Uhh no-o!" the teen squeaked, "I'm not sixteen you know!"
"Now is not the time to have a tantrum," Harry told her, and she took a deep breath, scowling. Bad temper was better than panic, so he ran with it, "Anna, you ready?"
"Yes!" Anna was like her mom, and Harry was relieved that she had her spirit right now.
"On your feet! Stay close!" Harry barked, dragging the teen up with the hand that held his hockey stick and then letting her go. Anna popped up on her own, latching onto him again. With a hole already in the side of the cabin, Harry wrenched the door off, with Bob charging as far forward as he could to scout ahead for them.
Still hanging tightly onto the little boy, Harry dropped the stick so that the end of the handle was in his hand and then lifted and swung it around his head, muttering under his breath. He let the light spell drop, choosing instead to see by the light of the flames that were now swirling in a spiral around them, almost forming a perfect circle as he kept the staff in steady movement.
"Bob, go straight through the car, make sure it's not on the other side, or underneath," Harry ordered, his voice strained. If it had been him on his own he'd have dropped the shield and relied on the fire, but with the children so vulnerable he needed to be sure that nothing that was getting thrown at them actually hit.
"Its safe to unlock the car," Bob called and Anna clicked the button. The car made it's beep beep noise and Harry hoped that the electronics would outlast his magic. The teenager ran, ducking under the fire and flung the back door open, scrambling in. Bob also jumped forward, and whatever he did, it stopped her from slamming the door shut on them all. Harry swung the boy off his hip and into the car, landing him in his sisters lap, the poor kid shrieking at being made to let go of the grownup. Anna scrambled in too, dropping her dads coat, which she had still been clutching, on the floor; climbing into the front seats and into the drivers seat to jam the keys into the ignition before lifting her feet onto the seat to climb into the front passenger seat where Bob was.
Realising that its meal was getting away, the atchen roared and darted forward. Harry had dropped the shield and the flame in order to put the boy and Anna into the car and it got close enough to swing a long limb at Harry, catching his arm and slamming him into the side of the car. His eyes rolled back and he fell, mostly into the car. The teen screamed and Anna twisted the key in the ignition as the atchen drew back for another attempt.
The car roared to life as the teen grabbed Harry, dragging backwards with all her strength and Anna fumbled with the gear selector between the seats, finding reverse and hitting the accelerator. The car went screaming backwards and the back door slammed at the sudden momentum.
"Brakes!" Bob shouted as they headed for a tree and Anna squeaked, looking down to find the pedal and mash it instead of the accelerator. The car shuddered to a halt.
"Make it go forward," Bob ordered, "Follow my hands."
"Put it in D!" the teen shouted from the back, squirming out from under Harry. Anna screamed as the atchen bounded towards them, shifted into D with both hands and then slammed her foot on the accelerator again. Bob had leaned over, moving his hands on the wheel as if he was holding it and Anna mimicked him, swinging the car to the left and up the driveway. They had gone through a town on their way to the cabin, so Bob managed to get Anna onto the main road and headed in the right direction, talking her into easing her foot up a bit so that the car wouldn't lose control the moment they came to a turn.
"Atchen are fast, but this one won't chase us, not now," Bob reassured her, though he truly had no way to know that, given its behaviour was so atypical, "As soon as we're a bit further away we'll stop and not-Anna can take the wheel."
Anna was tall for her age, but she could barely see over the hood, partially standing to reach the pedals and the steering wheel. She nodded, sniffing fiercely and biting her lip. In the corner of his eye, Bob watched the boy slide to the floor and huddle in the foot well near Harry's feet.
"Uh, Bob?" the teen gulped, "A little help?"
Bob twisted, leaving one hand 'on' the wheel, to look in the back. The teen reached up and flicked on a light in the roof of the vehicle and Bob bit back on the swear words that wanted to crowd his throat. Harry's arm was bleeding profusely, and from the spray on the ceiling it appeared that an artery had at least been nicked.
"Use the coat," Bob ordered, "Apply direct pressure, as hard as you can. Lean all your weight on it."
"Bob, is Uncle Harry ok?" Anna asked and Bob twisted back to check the road, correcting their drift and wondering what the hell they would do now. Anna's weight would not be able to keep Harry from bleeding to death, so switching to a driver that was of a better size to reach all the vehicles controls was no longer an option.
"I'm afraid not, child," Bob murmured, "He needs a doctor, at the very least."
"I can drive him to one," Anna's face hardened, determination stiffening her shoulders, "There's one in town, I know where it is. We went there last year when Dad hurt his wrist. The doctor lives above his office."
"Very well, if you are sure. But you need more light," Bob frowned. Without the moon to guide them, the road was very dark and Anna had slowed down more, afraid to go too fast and run them off the road. Bob helped her steer around a long bend, though she was getting pretty good at this on her own. If they went too slowly the atchen could catch up though, and he didn't think the child controlling the car would be able to avoid an accident.
"There's a stick on the side, you twist the end," Bob recalled. For someone who didn't know how to drive, he had spent a lot of time curiously watching Harry, which was fortunate now. He leaned forward and examined the sticks, then guided Anna's hand. Lights leaped out from the front of the car and Anna sped up, feeling more confident that she would be able to stay on the road.
"Bob, how come you can walk through things?" Anna asked after a moment, and Bob winced. There was no way to convince her that he couldn't given his partially materialised body in her own seat and the middle of the car. Anna was friends with Hannah though, and his youngest daughter was a bit of a chatterbox at times, so perhaps this wouldn't be too bad.
"I'm a ghost, Anna," Bob replied, "Perhaps Hannah has mentioned me: I'm Pops?"
"You're Pops?" Anna squeaked, "Hannah said you were a ghost, but I thought she was joking!"
Thank the stars and stones that Hannah was indeed a chatterbox, Bob mused. The town sign flashed in the headlights, and a moment later buildings were rushing by on either side.
"Slow down," Bob ordered, "We'll cause an accident if we're travelling too fast. Do you know which road to take to get to the doctors house?"
"It's on the main street," Anna pointed ahead for a second before clutching the wheel nervously again, "Its bright yellow."
All the buildings on the main street were bright colours, and fortunately there was only one that was bright yellow. Anna brought the car to a jerky stop, partially on the pavement and shoved the gear shift all the way forward into P, which apparently meant stop. She leapt out with the car still running and her door waving in the street to batter at the door with a name and the words 'MD' embossed on it.
"David, beep the horn," the teen ordered and her little brother whined, but climbed sniffling into the drivers seat. Bob put his hand where the horn was and the child beeped it once.
"Hold it down, David," Bob encouraged, and the boy did, leaning with both hands. Lights came on inside the office and Bob twisted to look at the teen.
"They can't see me," he told her, "The bag that Harry was carrying, make sure that Anna takes it with her, wherever you go. Call my name if you need me."
Before she could do more than gape, he allowed himself a final look at his wizard and rushed back into his skull.
Note: this monster is known more commonly under another name, however the native peoples from whom this monsters lore originates believe using that name will call it out, and have requested that it not be used in fiction. I will respect that request.
0o0o0
Bob was only in his skull for a short time, or so he thought when he was called out again by Anna. He emerged into what was clearly a small hospital room, with Harry on the narrow bed behind him. He turned quickly, and there was Anna, holding his satchel, tucked under Lieutenant Murphy's arm. Murphy had David on her hip and the teen was slumped back against the wall, looking out the small window at the dawn light that was creeping in.
Lieutenant Murphy was wide eyed and pale, but did not shout or make any other fuss.
"See Mom?" Anna said, "Hannah's Pops is a ghost!"
"Good morning," Bob nodded to her and turned to look at Harry. He was very pale, and his arm was heavily bandaged. There were bags hanging from a stand beside him, joined to his arm by tubes. One was clear, with some sort of medicine in it Bob supposed, and the other was red.
"Is that blood?!" he almost shrieked, "What are they thinking?"
"Bob! He lost a lot of blood, they need to replace it!" Murphy said urgently, "He needs it."
"Putting another man's blood into your body will cause death, a prompt one if you are lucky!" Bob panicked, and Murphy tensed, "If we're swift he may yet be spared!"
"Is that just for wizards?" she asked sharply, letting got of Anna and reaching for the tubes.
"No, for all!" Bob snapped, "It was well known, even in my time!"
Murphy's hand paused and she squinted at him, "How old are you Bob?"
"Well over nine hundred years. What has that to do with… oh," Bob stepped back, "They found a way to make it safe?"
"Yes," Murphy pulled her hand back, "Nine hundred years?"
"It's not a story suitable for children," Bob waved a hand at the still unnamed-to-him teen and David. Anna would understand, if Hannah hadn't already told her the version of his life and crimes that Harry had told the children, but he was beginning to see Anna as competent as his own five children.
"How came you to be here?" he asked instead, hoping to distract her from his embarrassing panic and dangerous past.
"Anna tried my cellphone again," Murphy rubbed David's back, "I'd gotten up to get a glass of water and realised it was ringing. I had it charging in the kitchen, so I didn't hear it, and I'd turned the ringer down on the house phone. It was my night off."
"The doctor called an ambulance for Harry and mom met us here," Anna told Bob, "They wouldn't let me drive here though."
"No, I suppose not," Bob laughed, a short sound, and gave her a small bow, "You did exceedingly well to get us all to safety, Mistress Anna, your mother should be proud."
"I am," Murphy smiled at her daughter, "Though I would like the full story. Anna said something about a bear, which doesn't sound right at all."
"Ah," Bob folded his hands behind his back, unsure of how far to tell the truth.
"She's not wrong," Harry's voice was weak, and Bob leaned forward, touching the boy's temple for a moment and getting a small smile, "A big old bear, trying to stock up for winter. It must have gotten into something that made it high, and it attacked the jeep, and us. We got into Anna's dads car, but it mauled me. We don't know where the grownups were when we left."
"Which is why your blood work is being checked for rabies," Murphy informed Harry. David wriggled suddenly, freeing himself to land on the bed and clamber up to huddle under Harry's good arm. Harry did no more than wince, though it was clear to Bob at least that the jostling had hurt quite a bit, "And that is the story we will indeed tell the rest of the authorities who want to know what happened, but I think we're a bit beyond that Harry. A plus nine hundred year old ghost just gave my ten year old daughter her first ever driving lesson, after she called you for help, not 911."
Before Harry could reply, the door opened. Bob scooted back into his skull before it opened fully and resigned himself to missing out on whatever happened next.
"Pops?" Julia's voice was the next one he heard, and he emerged at once, relieved that he would at least be facing someone who would give him the whole story. The front parlour rushed into place around him, and he glanced back at the man holding his skull, relieved to feel the familiar touch of love and acceptance, tinged with pain as it was. All of the children were there, with Sheryl and Scott, and Murphy and Anna, who was beginning to look quite tired.
"I see we made it home," Bob let his relief colour his voice, "I take it Mistress Anna drove?"
Anna giggled, her hands pressed to her mouth. Murphy quirked a smile at her daughter, but informed Bob that she had in fact driven them home, after Harry's blood work came back clear. Bob didn't quite sag with relief, but it was a close run thing. From the angle of the sun it was mid morning, and from the feel of the house there had been considerable alarm at their return. Harry looked ghastly, between his pallor, the bandages and the sling, so that was to be expected. Julia was sitting beside him on the smaller of the couches, with Pete sitting on the floor, leaning against Harry's legs.
"Anna needs to sleep," Murphy said, "But I wanted to be sure you knew you were both home safe."
"Thank you milady," Bob replied, "I appreciate the courtesy."
"Don't you want to know what happened?" Anna asked her mom, evidently not wanting to put off the telling of this tale. Bob didn't blame her. He was fairly sure that her father and her father's girlfriend were dead, and having to tell it again and again would be unpleasant for the child.
"Anna can sleep in my room," Hannah offered, "Afterwards, I mean."
"I do need to know the start Murphy," Harry said apologetically, "That was my weird stuff out there, not yours. I need to call someone with the right details to get them to go up there and put a stop to it. Once Anna has told us the start Hannah can take her upstairs to sleep. I do mean sleep, Hannah."
Their youngest daughter nodded, her face suitably solemn. Sheryl shot Harry a look that said that she would go up too, and Harry leaned back. Murphy sighed, and looked at Anna, who sat up a bit straighter.
"We all had dinner, and then Cindy and Millie had a fight about something," Anna took a deep breath, then paused at the confused look on Bob's face, "Dad's girl friend and not-Anna."
"Her name was Millie?" Harry frowned.
"You called her not-Anna?" Mark asked, just as astonished, and then sniggered.
"We didn't have time to be introduced," Bob smoothed it over, "And certainly there was no time for conversation."
Murphy was concealing her amusement well, as was Sheryl, and the adults composure stopped the rest of the children from commenting, for now at least.
"Millie went upstairs, and Cindy and Dad went outside with a bottle of wine and some snacks. I was reading on the couch, because Millie was in our room, and David was upstairs asleep. It was pretty quiet for a while, and then I noticed that Dad hadn't come in to send me to bed, because I finished my book," Anna frowned, "So I went to see if they were asleep outside or something. But there was no one there. Just their wine glasses and the bottle. I called, but no one answered, so I went back inside."
Anna looked up her mom, "I thought maybe they'd gone swimming or something," she shrugged and Murphy nodded, not mentioning that it was getting too cool for night swims, "So I went upstairs to see if I could see them from the window in my room. I couldn't see them, but then David woke up and started crying. Millie was lying on her bed and she wouldn't do anything so I went to check on him. He said there was something outside the window, and it sounded like it. I thought it was an animal, at first."
"You're doing great," Harry said quietly when she stopped, her face beginning to crumble in distress, "Did you see it?"
"No," Anna sniffled, "But it was whispering, or something, and I locked the window and got David to come with me to our room. Millie had the window open. I think she'd been smoking. Then someone called from the lake, and it sounded like Cindy, and it wanted to come in, so Millie … she said I must have locked the door, but I didn't!"
"It's ok" Murphy hugged her, "Millie was probably just still mad at her mom."
"We all went downstairs, and Millie opened the door, and there was this noise, like a growl. She screamed and slammed the door, and said there was a monster out there, so I locked the door and turned all the lights on. And I found dad's phone and I called Uncle Harry. I made Millie get in the pantry with me and David, and Uncle Harry believed me and said he'd come, so we just stayed in the pantry. Something got in though, cos Millie left the window open. We could hear it moving around above us, and sometimes it would call out, but it didn't know our names," Ann stopped to wipe her eyes tiredly, and Hannah gulped, but her hand rested on Anna's shoulder in support.
"Why call Uncle Harry? Why not call 911?" Murphy asked, brushing Anna's hair back.
"You said he does the weird stuff," Anna sighed and leaned against her mom, "And this was super weird. And I didn't think 911 would believe me."
"Thanks, Anna," Harry said after a moment and passed Bob's skull to Julia, who folded both hands around it very carefully, "I'll go call this in now. Murphy, do you want to put her to bed here?"
Murphy looked them both over and then nodded. There was a lot more to be sorted out, what with meeting Bob as he really was, and the news that Harry would have to give her about the likely fate of her ex and the ex's girlfriend.
"Where is not-Anna and the boy David?" Bob asked as Murphy stood up and coaxed Anna upright.
"Her dad came and got them," Murphy replied, "I'll tell you everything when I get back."
Harry was already walking from the room, Mark walking with him in case he stumbled. Bob appreciated their eldest son's consideration for his Pa. In the past nine months the family had become as close as any naturally formed one.
"Pa should eat something," Julia said, "Pops, is it ok if I put you on the table? I'll make him some toast. And Miss Connie should eat something too, unless she already did?"
"I am unsure," Bob confessed, "But I am sure that any spare toast will find a home. Thank you Julia, I'll be fine on the table."
Both Al and Pete grinned at the idea of spare toast, and Julia put the skull down as if it was made of glass, then headed for the kitchen. Scott went with her to help, and Pete went to get Harry a blanket from the linen press, apparently believing him to be cold. Al told Bob that Harry had been practically carried into the house by Murphy, while Anna carried Bob's bag. They'd put him in the front parlour as it was the closest room, and he'd asked for Bob's skull at once.
By the time Murphy was back, there was a breakfast of sorts on the table beside Bob's skull, including coffee. Sheryl and Hannah had both come downstairs with her, leaving Anna to sleep in peace. Harry was helped back to the front parlour by Mark and tucked into the couch again, the blanket Pete had fetched accepted with little fuss. Bob frowned and bent over his wizard, sticking his hand into the arm that was savaged. Murphy made a surprised noise, but the rest of their witnesses were used to Bob doing this now. It certainly made diagnosing childhood ailments much quicker.
"Blood replenisher," Bob decided, "And a pain killer, I think. If someone would… thank you dear," this last as Julia scooped up his skull and led him to the door. She was swift to gather the required potions and bring them back, administering them to Harry with deft care, under Bob's close scrutiny.
"The hospital gave him blood," Murphy objected, cradling her coffee in both hands.
"Yes, which is why it was a half dose," Bob nodded.
"I've learned not to argue with him Murph," Harry sighed, "And I do feel better."
Murphy nodded and stared into her coffee cup for a long moment, taking a piece of toast when it was offered and taking a bite, "I have so many questions."
"Let's start with the easiest," Harry suggested, "There is a creature, called an atchen. It lives on the edges of human habitation, or near small isolated communities and … preys on people. It is an excellent hunter by day, and even better at night, but they don't usually climb into human structures. It imitates voices with an uncanny ability, and likes to separate its prey and take them one at a time. It's fall, so it would be… like a bear, stocking up for winter."
"Rich and Cindy aren't coming home, are they?" Murphy asked quietly. Sheryl came to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and Al topped up her coffee cup, apparently at a loss how else to help.
"No," Bob said it softly, sparing Harry the duty, "I am sorry, milady. Your daughter has lost her father, and the other children their mother."
"Turns out there was a hunting party already up there, Murph. They realised where the atchen was too late to save Rich and Cindy, but they'll make sure this doesn't happen to anyone else," Harry sighed, "I know it won't bring them back: I'm sorry for your loss."
"If we look into the missing persons cases up there, is that likely to be what happened to all of them?" Murphy asked ignoring the sympathy for now. Harry wagged a hand from side to side in an ambivalent gesture.
"Some will be," he confirmed, "It's likely to have taken some people each year."
"Ok," Murphy shook her head, "So what happened from your point of view?"
Bob held an arresting hand up then pointed at the table, and Harry grinned, taking a bite of toast obediently. He let the Ghost tell Murphy what had happened, though Bob tempered his language knowing their own children were watching and listening avidly. When he finished, Murphy dragged a hand through her hair.
"I can't believe you let my ten year old drive," she scowled at her now empty coffee cup, "I know you didn't have a choice, but… that was not how I imagined her first driving lesson to go."
"Nor my first attempt at teaching a child to drive," Bob agreed drily, "Harry, I hereby make that your realm."
Harry grinned at Bob, "Sure Pops, you say that now…" he teased and Mark snickered under his breath again.
"And the whole, your Pops is a ghost thing? How did that happen?" Murphy was too tired to be anything other than direct, and Harry sat up, giving Bob a Look.
"Bob was cursed to inhabit his skull over nine hundred years ago Murph," Harry said it plainly, "And he can't be released without facing endless torment and torture, so… he lives with me. And he'll go to my children when I am gone, and they will pass him to their children. We can't fix it, but we can make sure that he's taken care of, and that he's given the respect he's due."
"And you call him Pops?" Murphy gestured, "I mean, is Bob even his name?"
"I am Hrothbert of Bainbridge," Bob drew himself up fully, "I raised Harry in this very house when he was orphaned, and my curse was under the control of his uncle, who did everything he could to harm Harry in ways that I struggled every day to mitigate. In the end, I was not as successful as I would have wished, but Harry became the possessor of my skull and… I find this curse… bearable."
"He's my teacher, my mentor, my partner… and my Pops," Harry shrugged, and Murphy looked at them both for a long time before nodding reluctantly. Bob got the sense that she would want to talk this over further, but also knew better than to try in front of the children.
"You should rest, Harry," Murphy decided, "I'm gonna check in with work, and then call up to the sheriff out there and see what they have to say. This is going to take some… finessing."
"Alright," Harry sighed, "You and Anna are both welcome for as long as you need, and we'll … be here to help with the news about her dad if you like."
"I appreciate that," Murphy nodded, and steadied Harry as he stood, "And Harry, thank you. For being the guy Anna could call at stupid o'clock and going to get her, even if it wasn't clear that it was your usual weird stuff. Not many guys would have done that."
Harry gave her a smile and Julia scooped Bob's skull up, leading the way to Harry's room. Bob was placed in the middle of the bed and Julia pulled the covers back. She gathered Harry's spare pillow and propped his arm on it as he lay back, then covered him over again.
"Thank you dearest," Bob murmured as Harry's eyes fluttered closed. Julia looked up at Bob fiercely.
"I'm gonna be a nurse when I grow up," she told him. Murphy, who had pulled Harry's shoes off and was placing them out of the way, snorted.
"At the rate your Pa is going, he's gonna need an army of them," she informed Julia. Bob, however, met her gaze evenly, nodding acceptance of her stated goal. Her shoulders relaxed and she sniffed, rubbing Harry's hand where it rested on his chest.
"I'll help Sheryl watch the kids, Pops," Julia muttered and slipped out of the room, leaving Bob and Murphy alone with a sleeping Harry. He had scooped Bob's skull close to his side before falling asleep, as he did every night since the fire that had forever marked their lives.
"What's it like?" Murphy's question was not entirely unexpected, and Bob thought for a moment, moving to appear to sit on the couch at the end of the bed and waving for her to do so as well.
"It is… a world I can never touch," Bob frowned, "Though it has ways to touch me. If I disobey the person who has hold of my curse, I am punished, and most severely too. And when my skull is picked up, I get a … sense of the person holding me and their intentions. But… there have been so many that have claimed to be my master, and each of them… their touch was … painful, disgusting. I wanted to be ill at times, the way they made me feel. Until Harry. The first time he picked me up I felt his fear, and that was what I expected, after all he was only eleven and not accustomed to such things. It took me some time to realise he was afraid that he would hurt me in some way, damage me. Harry is so careful with the people he cares for, so protective of the few he can trust… I am almost ashamed to admit how long it took me to realise exactly what it was that I feel whenever Harry holds me."
"Love," Murphy realised, "You feel loved."
"Yes," Bob said simply, "And so do you, milady, if you will pardon my observation. As do the children and Lady Sheryl. It spills from him like a fount. I do not understand how those who police our community cannot understand this."
"I doubt he feels loving towards them," Murphy grinned, and Bob nodded pensively.
"You may be the only member of law enforcement who he does feel that way toward," Bob conceded and Murphy looked back at the sleeping man behind them, her expression indecipherable. Before Bob could say anything else the bedroom door opened and Mark peeked in.
"Sorry, Miss Connie, your phone is ringing," he whispered, and Murphy nodded, getting up and hurrying for the door. It swung shut behind her and the curtains drew partially across the windows, dimming the room. Bob sighed and hoped he hadn't overstepped his mark. He wanted so much to see Harry happy, and Connie Murphy was just who he'd have chosen as a bride for his son.
o0o0o