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ONE
Jordan’s knees were a little wobbly as he descended the stairs to pass the wizard’s message to his lord. No guns above around them, or they would walk. It was a disaster. It threw the whole security plan into disarray. The plan Jordan himself came up with.
It was only a few steps across the warehouse floor, but it was enough time for his nervousness to evolve into frenzied anxiety swirling in his chest. He didn’t want to disappoint Lord Archleone. Especially not after he allowed him to become a Squire.
The memory of his initiation, while impromptu and unexpectedly timed, never failed to make him shiver. The proud approval in his lord’s voice… his hand on Jordan’s shoulder, sure and warm. Lady Deirdre, claiming a piece of his body, as a sign of them accepting his unwavering loyalty… It was everything he dreamed of ever since he was a little boy.
Some nights the memory of that day haunted Jordan as a fever dream, where blood, pain, and ecstasy mixed, and left him sick to the stomach but warm with pride in the morning. He finally made it and joined in the footsteps of so many of his ancestors who spent their lives in loyal service to the Knights of the Blackened Denarius.
That all didn’t matter a thing if he failed his first proper task as a Squire. Nobody knew exactly what happened to members of their Order, who disappointed Lord Archleone. But everyone knew they disappeared fast and without a trace.
Jordan wasn’t afraid of death. But he was terrified of letting his immortal boss down.
He received his promotion exactly because he stood up to this wizard, didn’t he? He thought this was also why Lord Archleone appointed him to lead the security detail on this mission. So how would he take it, when Jordan folded at the first demand?
At the same time, the wizard’s ultimatum meant that if he didn’t get his way, he would refuse to cooperate, and Lord Archleone needed him for this operation.
Jordan’s palms were sweating by the time he reached his lord. He bowed politely, then wrote down the message on his notepad in short, concise, and readable words, just as he was trained to do. Lord Archleone scanned the message. Jordan flexed his muscles hard so that he wouldn’t tremble.
Then it happened: Lord Archleone smiled. His gaze shifted over Jordan’s shoulder, up to where the wizard was standing, and his dark eyes crinkled at the corners.
Jordan usually had a good idea when the lord’s smile covered up anger, or when it signaled the predator about to pounce. You didn’t survive long in the Order if you couldn’t cultivate that particular branch of self-preservation. So, he knew this wasn’t that. This seemed like genuine amusement.
Jordan’s terror melted into pure confusion. Lord Archleone, who didn’t tolerate disobedience, was amused by the wizard’s insolence.
He gave Jordan his notepad back and nodded.
“Take your team outside the building, and continue your patrol there, Squire,” he ordered. “And next time, I want to know word-for-word what Dresden says to you.”
Jordan obeyed, of course, while wondering about that last part. It went against what he was trained to do. He should have been delivering the facts, in detail, but without flourish and without repeating needless words. Whatever came out of Dresden’s mouth was usually not just insulting, but completely nonsensical.
Yet somehow, that was what pleased Lord Archleone so much. So from that point, whenever Jordan had to deliver a message or report concerning a wizard, he made sure to include direct quotes. Timidly, at first, since many of those sounded terribly disrespectful towards Lord Archleone. He always made sure to indicate in his writing that he didn’t agree with these sentiments.
The whole thing didn’t sit right with him, but of course, he had done what his lord requested of him.
Unfortunately for him, in barely a few hours Dresden seemed to realize what kind of instructions Jordan had been given. Jordan didn’t know if he picked up on it through plain observation, or using his magical abilities, but from that point on Jordan’s life became pure hell.
Dresden started viewing him as his personal message board where he could submit all his detailed complaints against Lord Archleone’s actions and general character, and Jordan was forced to deliver these insulting words to his beloved boss.
Dresden stood behind Jordan’s back, using his height to easily peer over his shoulder to his notepad. He pointed a finger and said:
“Also add, that no matter the tasteful packaging, I know his soul must be ugly under that pretty face.”
Jordan gave him a dirty look.
“Well, I said it, didn’t I? He’s a lying liar and I’ll never be tempted to join him no matter how much power or how many doughnuts he offers, so add that to your note as well, Jordie.”
Jordan had no choice because his orders didn’t come from this childish wizard, but his lord himself. So he made the note with trembling hands. And walked to Lord Archleone with it.
Lord Archleone’s mouth twitched when he saw Jordan approach with a note longer than usual. He reached out eagerly for the notepad. Jordan started to hand it over.
Then, he lost his cool.
In what was probably an unforgivable rudeness, he wrenched the notepad back from his lord’s hand and started franticly scribbling on it. His handwriting deteriorated with his nerves.
“Please, My Lord, forgive me for even writing these vile words down. I apologize for letting the wizard insult you this way. If you wish I will fight him for saying such things about you.”
Lord Archleone’s face showed a little surprise at Jordan’s actions, but he let him finish writing. When Jordan finally handed the notepad over, hands visibly shaking, Lord Archleone scanned the words, both the neatly written, but insulting report from Dresden, and Jordan’s barely legible apology.
He looked up at Jordan and reached out a hand. Jordan wasn’t proud of it, but he flinched. Yet, instead of punishing him, Lord Archleone simply patted his cheek.
“Let Dresden have his insults,” he said. “You are fulfilling your duties admirably, Squire Jordan, and doing exactly as you are told. You have nothing to fear, son.”
Just like that, Jordan’s anxieties were simply blown away, replaced by a terrible warmth radiating from his chest. His eyes threatened to fill with tears of gratitude. Face red, he nodded, then bowed deeply, hoping that as always, the firm “yes, sir” was implied.
He went on to his tasks with a lighter heart. He didn’t understand Lord Archleone’s actions, but that was alright. How could he, a mere mortal comprehend his plans? All that mattered was that his lord was pleased with him.
TWO
Deirdre had absolute trust in his father for all her long-long life. So, it came as something of an unnerving realization that she didn’t quite trust his judgment when it came to a particular wizard.
Harry Dresden was someone who had made himself a nuisance to them multiple times in the past, and although Nicodemus had threatened to kill him for it every time… somehow that never came to pass. Deirdre knew what kind of man her father was, and he was neither merciful nor incompetent.
So why he was letting Dresden live was quite frankly beyond her comprehension. In her experience, murder solved such problems as pesky wizards with great effectiveness.
But she still trusted Nicodemus that he had a good reason to refrain from murder, so she worked with the wizard and made sure to act civil. Even when Dresden came to poke her about the death of Harvey.
She wasn’t about to give him any details of her emotionally taxing conversation with her mother. Luckily, she didn’t even need to lie in order to rattle Dresden. So she didn’t. She simply told him the truth and put the idea in his head that Mab might be trying to dispose of him.
While an obstacle to their plans, Mab was a reasonable being, and Deirdre could imagine that she would get tired of the wizard fast. Besides, anything that would convince the wizard not to betray Nicodemus was worth a try. Because Deirdre knew even if Dresden tried to pull the rug from under her father, he would be allowed to continue to live.
It was strange. There wasn’t even a coin in desperate need of an owner anymore. Yet, Nicodemus seemed to want Dresden to join him in his mission, no matter how many times the wizard refused him.
Deirdre wasn’t jealous. Jealousy was something the two of them had long left behind in the dust of millennia. If it was just about fucking the wizard, maybe Deirdre would have even understood it.
After some thinking, she realized it was a vague memory that bothered her. That night, when Dresden almost killed her father, she had thrown herself into Lake Michigan after him. It took her precious minutes, but she finally pulled his cold, unmoving body out of the water, and laying him down on the shore gently loosened the noose from around his throat only to watch life slowly creep back into him.
He was soaked from head to toe and his lips were blue and clumsy. His voice was wrecked when he spoke, and he used an ancient language even Deirdre had almost forgotten about. Besides, she was so worried, that she didn’t pay much attention to the words. She only shushed him gently, urging him not to speak.
But thinking back, what he said sounded suspiciously like: “I think I’m in love with him, Deirdre.”
Deirdre considered the possibility.
She knew what she needed to do in order for this mission to succeed, and she was ready for it. And although she didn’t understand why her father took a liking to the wizard, if she let herself think about it, the idea of Dresden continuing to breathe after she wouldn’t, strangely comforted her.
Someone must have stood by Nicodemus’s side to stave off the loneliness of immortality. Even if it was just for a while.
Even if it was only a childish wizard, who couldn’t account for much more than a pet.
THREE
Anduriel knew the mind of Nicodemus as well as his host did. They had been partners for a time that felt substantial even for a being like him. He felt honored to have found a host that could be his equal rather than just a body that allowed him to operate in this world, and had enjoyed their time working together.
So, of course, he knew of his growing interest in Harry Dresden, from the moment it began. What puzzled him was how these feelings had developed.
Initially, it had been only understandable curiosity and calculation about how they could use the wizard. However, over the years the feelings had grown into a burning need to be understood by him.
Nicodemus wanted Dresden to understand his actions. He couldn’t trust the wizard yet with all the details of their plans, of course, but he went out of his way to drop as many hints as he could in the hopes that Dresden would catch on.
Was this a weakness?
Anduriel discarded the idea. Humans needed companionship, and at his core, his host was still human. He knew that his presence wouldn’t substitute for a flesh and blood companion. Yet, he did not understand what it was that made Dresden so special.
He refused to form a connection with Lasciel, just like he refused to cooperate no matter how much incentive Nicodemus provided. To Anduriel, it seemed like the wizard simply lacked the necessary intellect to understand their objectives, and was too childish to practice proper politeness.
But Anduriel was quite fond of his host, so he continued listening in the shadows and bringing back all tidbits about Dresden. It always made Nicodemus happy.
He wouldn’t make a fatal mistake just to appeal to the wizard, right?
FOUR
Goodman Grey had worked with the Denarians before. He probably would have accepted the job from Nicodemus without any qualms, had Dresden not contacted him first. But Grey had a firm honor code, and his loyalty worked on a first-come, first-served basis. Temporarily, of course.
This arrangement also made things a lot more interesting, and Grey liked to have a bit of fun from time to time.
Although two days into the heist preparations, he did start to wonder whether instead of his Harvey imitation, he should have been working on his Dresden act. For more than one reason.
Every time they met, Harry and Nicodemus seemed ready to kill each other. While apparently, Dresden had almost killed the Denarian before, if pushed, Grey would have bet against his chances. In which case Grey’s services might have come in handy to convince people that the wizard was still alive, while Nicodemus disposed of the evidence.
On another hand, Grey wasn’t naive enough not to notice another undercurrent in their interactions. It was just as likely for these two to end up in bed together, as of them murdering the other one.
Would Nicodemus be desperate enough to pay for a private performance?
Not that Grey would have been willing to do that. But he was kind of curious to see how Nicodemus acted towards Dresden behind closed doors.
Dresden’s reaction was for sure entertaining when Grey had to turn himself into Nicodemus to stall Tessa. Grey had winked at him in that form, and the wizard’s eyes widened, his mouth opened a little, and a faint pink hue appeared on his cheeks.
So Grey had to wonder if the situation was reversed: would Nicodemus’s reaction be so apparent?
Probably not.
And Grey for sure didn’t want to risk accidentally getting a little too close to the Denarian leader. Ew. No, he would leave that to Dresden if he ever mustered up the courage to act on his – to Grey – blatant desire.
Mostly it all just puzzled him, really. Dresden seemed like a nice guy. Too nice to fall for someone like Nicodemus. Meanwhile, the Denarian had the influence and power to get whomever else he may have wanted. Maybe there weren’t many guys quite as tall as Dresden, but still. There were plenty of options out there.
Maybe whomever you couldn’t get seemed all that more enticing. This situation simply entertained Grey on a philosophical level.
He would do the job he had been hired to. And then maybe step back with some popcorn to watch the fallout.
FIVE
To say that Tessa was furious would have been an understatement. She spent one and a half millennia cooperating with her husband – well, mostly – and now the bastard was going to sacrifice their daughter?
She could forgive Deirdre for being willing to go along with it. If anyone, then Tessa knew exactly how charming and convincing Nicodemus could be. But she could never forgive him for coming up with the plan in the first place.
Luckily even though her first attempt at foiling the plan was a failure, she now had an even better opportunity: sabotaging the plan by killing Harry Dresden.
The wizard himself was enough to make her mad. That arrogant, self-righteous brute!
The worst of it was, that for some reason, Nicodemus seemed to like him. Tessa couldn’t fathom why.
It made her incredibly annoyed when a few years ago her husband had left her and Rosanna to do his dirty work, while he went and tried to charm the wizard into joining their cause. If not for that foolish lapse in judgment, she was sure they would have been able to put the Archive under the influence of one of the Fallen.
It was a good plan. They had a chance to get what they wanted. But no, Nicodemus had to go and put all that on the line for just another chance at convincing Harry Dresden.
What a joke it was. But it didn’t matter now. Tessa would enjoy killing the wizard even more knowing how upset this would make his husband. And because the little shit was being difficult, she would do it painfully.
Dresden dodged her attacks annoyingly and threw everything at her that he could. But it was the flailing of a bug in its death throws. His wrists were in thorn manacles, and he couldn’t use his magic.
In a last attempt, he locked himself in the smaller room with a barred door. Tessa flung herself against the bars, shrieking in frustration that she couldn’t reach her prey.
Then, she realized Dresden locked himself in a trap. And what more fitting death for a bug than to let other insects finish him off?
Tessa was too angry to focus on a spell. So she let her rage come boiling out of her mouth in a scream, and following that came her power, like locus.
Soon the wizard was covered in millions of little insects. Good. They would finish him off within minutes.
Tessa didn’t know what Nicodemus ever saw in him. It didn’t matter now, because her husband’s precious little wizard would soon be dead.
+ 1
I had many horrible experiences over my life. More than most people. But being attacked by a swarm of bloodthirsty bugs was probably one of the worst of those experiences.
There was something primal in the terror that took hold of me. I was already tired and injured. I was also wearing thorn manacles, because if I used my magic, the vault’s defenses would blow us all to pieces. So when the swarm attacked me, it didn’t take much for me to panic.
I shuddered in disgust at the feeling of the bugs crawling all over me, buzzing into my ear, and tearing into my skin with their claws, fangs, and stingers. I cried out in pain, then quickly learned to shut my mouth. I closed my eyes to protect them, as I swatted at the bugs on my body.
But there were just so many of them. In my panic, I forgot about absolutely anything.
I forgot to hope that Anna Valmont was working on the door of the vault to get it open. I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to use my magic, so I clawed at the manacles on my wrists. I was too clumsy to undo them, which was probably for the better.
I completely succumbed to panic. I quite frankly thought I was going to die.
It all ended when something cool washed over me. The harsh lights of the vault dimmed behind my closed eyelids as a shadow blocked them out. The buzzing of the insects suddenly stopped, and one by one they all fell from my body, dead on the spot.
I took in a huge gulp of air and exhaled it out in a relieved sob. I fell to my knees, shaking.
I don’t remember how much time had passed until I could think straight. The first thing I became aware of was that someone was holding me, and saying my name repeatedly.
It was Nicodemus. That fact didn’t freak me out as much as it should have.
After the sensation of the bugs crawling over me, the feel of his shirt was pleasantly smooth on my skin. I rubbed my face against it, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tiny movement.
A hand came up to stroke my hair.
“Harry.”
I pulled back, letting out a groan. My face was damp, and I wiped at it. Belatedly, I was starting to feel embarrassed.
“Hell’s Bell’s, man,” I tried to joke. “Did you seriously marry that?”
He didn’t laugh, nor did he look angry at my words.
A flash of pain went through my body, and I suddenly became aware of the myriad of injuries I sustained in the past three days. My earlobe throbbed coldly where Mab’s earring sat, but even that didn’t feel pleasant anymore. I reached up to touch it, then pulled my hand away with a wince.
“Because you have better taste,” Nicodemus said dryly. “She doesn’t treat you right.”
I scoffed and tried to rise to my feet. I almost made it. But only because Nic propped me up.
“You say that like you would treat me better,” I replied.
“I would,” he said simply. Then, “I’m calling off this operation.”
I stared at him in shock. I suddenly became aware that we weren’t alone. From the door of the vault, the rest of the crew was looking at us with various shocked expressions.
“You are in no shape to go through the trials of the Underworld,” Nicodemus continued, calm and confident as ever. “Everyone will be paid the minimum agreed amount, of course. And you can tell your Queen that I take responsibility for Tessa’s involvement.”
“But… your plan…”
“There are always plans, Dresden. This one didn’t involve you getting mauled alive.”
I was too tired to argue. And he did, technically, save my life. He could have gotten away with letting Tessa kill me, and even Mab couldn’t have held him responsible.
I didn’t understand why he didn’t.
But I understood that he wasn’t going to attack me now, that he just saved my ass. I let myself lean into him a little more.
As if sensing the shift in me, Nic continued:
“That said, I would appreciate it if you would let me take you back and treat your injuries. I don’t want your Queen to think I have mistreated her knight.”
I started to think that was just an excuse since he had been right: Mab didn’t really care about the state I was in.
He probably had ulterior motives. But I was tired, and quite frankly, I had reached my limits. I nodded.
“Okay. Temporary truce until tomorrow?” I offered.
Nic wrapped an arm securely around my waist. A pleased little smile tugged at his lips.
“Agreed.”
I waved at our dumbfounded companions, and said sarcastically:
“That was fun. Let’s do it again soon.”