thatgoddamnwizard:
Harry kept a wary eye on Lara, making a concerted effort to tamp down on the surge of desire that heated his blood in her presence. This awakening of baser instincts was not unusual when he was around her– but it also wasn’t entirely natural. Lara Raith was a member of the White Court of Vampires, a subset of a species that fed on life force, specifically through lust.
If he surrendered to the sweet, beckoning siren’s call of that desire, he would be in danger of losing everything he was, up to and including his life. He had seen the consequences of that surrender, up close and personal in all their horrific glory, and he wanted nothing to do with it.
Fortunately, she didn’t seem to be interested in ensnaring him just now, so it wasn’t overly difficult to keep himself under control.
Turning so he wasn’t directly facing Lara but could still see her in the peripheral, he took a few steps across the floor of the abandoned, burned-out husk of an office building, broken glass crunching under his feet, until he reached the recumbent ghoul. The creature was still smoldering and twitching from the blast of super-charged lightning that had torn into it from Harry’s staff. The ghoul was still alive, which wasn’t surprising. They were damned hard to kill.
But in this case, that suited his purposes. He had a few questions to ask.
And at this point, not all of those questions would be directed to the ghoul. He would very much like to know how Lara had found him here, managing to arrive when she did. Maybe she followed the same trail he had. Maybe not. But those questions could wait.
“That’s exactly what I’d like to know,” Harry replied, addressing both the succubus and the ghoul. He pressed the end of his staff against the ghoul’s throat. “See, he hasn’t been answering my calls either. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in a week, so I went looking and found a trail.” He gave a little shove with the staff, and the ghoul snarled, grasping at the carved wood. It must still be recovering from the overwhelming shock of the whole situation, because its movements were weak and spasmodic. Harry pushed down harder, grinding his teeth. “And look what I found at the end of that trail.”
As Dresden did his best Noir Detective impression, Lara tilted her head almost imperceptibly to the side and listened to the noises coming from outside. She didn’t think the wizard knew that she’d been pursued. Just like she hadn’t known what he’d been doing when she leapt through the window. Coincidence, that they’d both arrived at one of Marcone’s buildings at exactly the same time?
Not likely.
“You found a trail, and I received an invitation; it’s almost as if someone knows us,” Lara purred, feigning nonchalance. She didn’t like being played. She didn’t like to think about the level of skill required to play her. Or Dresden, for that matter, though she wouldn’t admit that aloud. “And I’m jealous. I haven’t heard from my brother in two.”
Lara trusted that Harry wouldn’t reference their daisy-chair parentage in uncertain surroundings. She had no reason to emphasize her claim to Thomas as kin in that moment; in fact, she knew it might set him off. But she felt off-kilter, so her instinct was to attack to avoid showing weakness.
So much of her life was spent navigating a web of secrets and deceits largely of her own design, Lara found it refreshing to be truly, publicly honest. Especially while asserting a degree of dominance.
I can claim him as my brother in public and you cannot, she reminded Harry with a syllable of inflection and flick of her gaze. It was the only prize Lara possessed that Dresden couldn’t easily have for himself. Though why he refused to live in comfort was beyond Lara, she knew that he wasn’t impressed with her money or political influence. He valued the lumpy, squishy human things that Lara had a harder and harder time remembering and relating to. As she still wasn’t quite sure if that was a good thing.
Lara closed the distance between herself and the grisly tableau with a runway stomp. She grimaced as the ghoul screeched and clawed at Dresden’s staff. This was not her preferred style of interrogation, and she estimated they didn’t have long before they’d have more company.
“I was followed,” she murmured, speaking much more quietly and without looking at Harry while she said it.
Maybe she was being paranoid, but she decided she’d err on the side of caution and candor with the sharing of that piece of information, at least.
