Work Text:
~*~
Ave Dementia
*
Being in my line of work prepares you to expect the unexpected; it forces you realise that not everything is as it seems on the surface and makes certain that you accept that although the guy who lives a block down the road is more than likely to be a werewolf, that doesn't make him a bad person. All of which makes me an open minded kind of guy, right? Yeah, I thought so too; after all one of my friends just happens to be a ghost. So why does having a non-magical immortal under my roof, playing chess with said friend, bother me so much? I think the key words there are non-magical. I'm used to the Fae, I've got acquaintances who are half demon and ok, vampires aren't exactly my favourite type of being but I deal with them just fine; this guy doesn't appear to have a magical bone in his body, doesn't seem to be anything special at all if you ignore the fact that he can't die, and for some reason that makes me uncomfortable. I don't like being uncomfortable in my own home. Thank God for beer, at least *that* isn't going to do anything unexpected on me, and you can guarantee that McAnally's micro-brew will always ease a troubled mind.
I felt the best thing to do right now was nothing, so I leaned back into the cushions and closed my eyes. Maybe if I fell asleep I'd wake up and find the whole situation had been a bad dream, though I think I could have done without Butters being in a dream; not that I dislike Butters but I think I'd rather not dream about people who do autopsies unless they look like Gillian Anderson. Butters does not look like Gillian Anderson. The thought of Bob having a living acquaintance from before he was dead still walking around and worse, playing chess with him, was not something I wanted to think about, so I concentrated on my beer and the feel of Mister's fur under my fingers. The first warning I had that we weren't alone in the room any more was Mister leaping back onto the floor; for some reason he doesn't seem to want strangers thinking he can be affectionate, damn crazy cat. I didn't move from my position, or open my eyes. If Mr Adam 'I'm Immortal' Pierson was standing there, he could just wait for a moment until I was ready to acknowledge him; I wasn't sure I wanted to. If it was him, he'd managed to walk from the other room without making a sound, something only Bob usually manages to do, and that was decidedly creepy. I found myself wondering just how old he was; if he knew Bob in his life he would have to be at least 1000 and I wasn't sure I was quite ready to accept that, and if he turned out to be older... my brain sensibly refused to contemplate that thought at all. I opened my eyes and turned my head, he was leaning against the wall by the hallway entrance, a study in casual and unthreatening but nevertheless he made me think of a snake, coiled and ready to strike. We glanced at each other, him managing that trick of meeting my eyes without triggering a soul gaze which was not something that most people know how to do. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and the snake-like aspect was gone, blown away with the power of that smile. I glared at him and the smile widened.
"Wouldn't have thought there'd be much call for a real wizard in modern day Chicago," he said. I let the glare soften, but didn't quite relax into a smile of my own.
"You'd be surprised." I answered. He detached himself from the wall and moved toward me, the smile fading a little, but not disappearing completely.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry I invaded your home; I didn't ask to be brought here."
"It's ok," I sighed, realising that for all it made me uncomfortable it *was* ok. Like the guy said, he hadn't asked to be brought here. "The first person Butters thinks of if there's any weirdness around is me; in his mind this was the logical place to bring you. I suppose I can't argue with that." Butters was also keyed to the wards, but Pierson didn't have to know that; though if he was as familiar with magic as I was starting to suspect he was he probably already knew.
"That's a relief." He perched on the edge of a table, keeping what I assumed he thought was a safe distance from me; maybe he wasn't as familiar with magic as I'd thought as if you were in the same room as me, no distance was safe. Especially in my own home. I watched him; he looked like someone who was trying to decide how to say something unpleasant. If he didn't spit out whatever it was he wanted from me, I was going to start getting irritated. One of the lights blew, and his eyes flew toward it though he didn't move a muscle.
"There's a reason I prefer candles," was all I said. He looked at me, then the light, then the wall, then his hands. I wondered what he was seeing. He drew a breath, sighed and straightened himself up.
"Wizard Dresden, may I have your permission to invite another of my kind into the protection of your hospitality?" I think I gaped at him; he couldn't have surprised me more if he'd spoken Latin. Actually, the formal cadence of the words made it sound like it *should* have been spoken in Latin. Fortunately I have Bob to metaphorically shake me when I'm surprised.
"Polite when he wants to be, isn't he?" said Bob as he appeared through the wall. Pierson and I both glared at him. Then I turned my attention back to the immortal.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because there are certain things I need, and I suspect I know who has them. This is the safest place I can think of for us to meet." I remained terse, but to the point.
"Why?" I asked again. He shrugged.
"You're a wizard, this is your home; it's Holy Ground." I could hear the capital letters, but before I could ask him what he meant, Bob spluttered,
"What?!" If I hadn't been looking at him, I would have missed the triumphant smile that briefly flickered over Pierson's face; I hid a smile of my own, Bob gets you like that sometimes and friend or not, it is a pleasure to surprise him.
"A wizard's home, as defined by the threshold and wards," Pierson gestured at the runes that adorned the beams, "Is holy ground as long as that wizard regards it as home; it's a sacred space." He shook his head, still hiding a smile. "Just what *did* they teach you in the tenth century?" Bob growled and I mentally back pedalled; make that way more than 1000 years old. I took pity on Bob, and challenged the man.
"And just what is the significance of holy ground to an immortal?" It was Bob who answered me.
"It means he's thinking of his own safety. Though that actually isn't a bad thing for any of us; things can get... lively... if 2 immortals decide to have a set-to. On Holy Ground they won't."
"Lively?" I queried.
"Lightning, explosions, that sort of thing," Bob said in a disgustingly cheerful tone of voice.
"And you want to bring another one here?" I almost yelled at Pierson.
"We'll behave ourselves. Well, I will; which means there *won't* be trouble." He looked absurdly young and hopeful, and I wondered just how long ago it had been when he was actually the age he appeared to be. I shook my head; that was something I still didn't want to think about.
"Okay; whoever it is can come here." I stepped up to the immortal, feeling very glad of every inch of extra height I had over him. "But you are responsible for them; and I *will* hold you to that, believe me."
"Fine." He said, then side-stepped away from me. "In that case, can I use your phone?" I sighed, succumbing to the inevitable. Immortality and magic seemed to have more in common than I thought; they were both forces of nature.
"Go on." I helpfully removed myself to the other side of the room; I was still jumpy enough that I would probably affect the quality of the line at the very least if I were too close. He smiled again, disarming and disreputable at the same time.
"Thanks," he said, picked up the handset and dialled. I wondered what further chaos would result from the phone call, and once again resolved not to think about it. Though to be quite honest, I was more than a little interested too. Curiosity wasn't just restricted to cats after all.