Chapter Text
“You want to come to my charity ball at the Fairmont Chicago - Millennium Park? Undercover for one of your missions, Dresden?” Marcone paused, thinking about the request. He intertwined his fingers, staring at me with an unreadable look in his eye.
The mere idea of asking Marcone for anything left a bad taste in my mouth. It seemed like I’d need another way in judging how this conversation was going, Marcone seemed too reluctant. After all, every event I’d ever attended ended with… a minor fire. In my defense, many of the monsters needing to be smited… smote?... whatever, attended them too.
I petitioned an audience with the Chicago Mob Boss, Gentleman “Johnny” Marcone, in order to get into this charity ball he was running. I couldn’t tell if he was putting it on to restore faith with the citizens of Chicago or underground dealings that would be tremendously easier to achieve with a very large distraction and eyewitness testimony. I was sure it was a two birds one stone kind of deal. One of the monsters would attempt to kill another of Marcone’s guests, so I hoped that would be enough to get me an invitation. It was also a very large risk because Marcone might prevent me from coming and maintain he could take care of it himself.
After a good long moment of silence, which I’m sure was just for dramatic effect and to annoy me, Marcone parted his fingers and leaned back in his chair. “Very well, Dresden. I’ll have a card sent to your home for an R.S.V.P. You’ll need to show it to be let inside.”
I stared at him with my mouth wide open. “Wait… you’re actually going to let me in?” I felt hesitant and for good reason. Marcone wasn’t known for being charitable... despite him having a charity ball.
Marcone raised an eyebrow. “I can rescind the offer, but I assumed that’s what you wanted, yes?” He intertwined his fingers together once more and pressed the nail of a thumb to his lips, staring right back at me with those piercing green eyes.
I felt a disturbance in the Force.
“What’s… the catch?”
Marcone arched an eyebrow. “Catch?”
I narrowed my eyes and leaned forward. “I like to know what I’m walking into, Marcone. You try to catch me with my guard down and you won’t like the way I react.”
“With a fire, most likely.” Marcone murmured. “There isn’t any catch; however…”
“Here it comes…” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of me.
“I would appreciate someone being there to keep you under reins or a short leash. So the invitation will be to you and Mr. Carpenter. You will both need to be present or there will be no admittance.”
I went silent at the mention of Michael. Not only was that not bad for me, but it also allowed me to have a second person to watch my back. A person I trusted. A friend in a room full of possible enemies. My face felt a little hot as I thought about my last encounter with Michael. I consciously made an effort not to rub my buttock in memory. It’d been awhile since I’d talked to him and now I’ll have to ask him to attend a ball with me for Christ’s sake.
Marcone continued to watch me, patiently allowing me the time to think through his mindgame.
“Alright, fine. I’ll be sure to enlist my designated chaperone.” I said, trying to leave it open for anyone to really fulfill the role.
“Mr. Carpenter should be sure to wear something formal. And please try not to draw people to yourself…” He looked Harry over from behind the desk with one eye and sighed. “I doubt you have a suit, so I’ll have one sent to your home within the next day.” Marcone paused. “I’ll also have one sent to Mr. Carpenter as well. I understand he has a large family and it wouldn’t be right to rope him into something like this where an added expense might be needed.”
I let out a heavy sigh, nodding my head in agreement. “Thank you, Marcone. I appreciate this.” At that, I stood up and made my way over to the door. Although I was thankful for Marcone’s assistance, it wasn’t wise to stick around long enough for him to sweeten the deal his way.
And surprisingly enough, I was able to leave without another word.
---
My hands were shaking when I opened the invitation Marcone sent for me. I felt heat rise up in my face, my whole body began to shake. It was hard to tell if I was furious or extremely embarrassed. Probably… a lot of both.
The card read:
“To Mr. and Mr. Carpenter,
You are invited to attend this year’s charity event to raise money for the purpose of medical advancement concerning coma patients. Place: Fairmont Chicago - Millennium Park, Ballroom Plaza 5; Time: 6:00 P.M.; Date: February 22nd; Dress Code: Black Tie Formal.”
Damn Marcone. Damn him to Hell.
This was his plan all along.
I threw the invitation on the ground and had half a mind to crush it under my foot or set it aflame, but Marcone’s threat about not letting me in without it or Michael made me think twice.
This… was going to be awful.
I picked up the large rectangular box that came with it and opened it up. The black suit looked nice and very well made. I didn’t doubt Marcone looked at my medical records and Michael’s to receive the most form fitting suit possible.
I groaned, realising Michael probably received his own suit and invitation. He was probably wondering what was going on, meaning it was finally time for me to stop putting off talking to him.
With some effort, I walked over to the phone and picked it up, quickly dialing the phone number of my good friend Michael Carpenter.
The phone rang for a few minutes. I felt the strongest urge to hang up and pretend I never called, I could probably sneak in a convincing lie that it rang too many times and I decided to end it before it got farther than it needed to be, but I couldn’t decide in time.
Michael picked up the phone, and I could hear the low chuckle in his voice. “Carpenter residence.”
“Uh… hey, Michael.” I said awkwardly, shuffling my feet. “You… uh… have a minute?”
Michael laughed. “You mean for a man I’m supposed to be married to? Anything for you, Harry, dear.”
Damn, he did receive the invite.
“Yeah… so… here’s the thing. There’s this mission I’m on. Someone could be really hurt or worse. I had to ask Marcone to slip me into his charity ball. This is his idea of a joke, but… I would love to have you join me. Watch my back, help me out a little.” I bit my lip at the end of it, eager to cut off anything else I might say without thinking.
“Of course, Harry.” Michael said seriously.
I loved how sincere and matter-of-fact it was. Michael is one of my closest and best friends. He’s always so selfless, which can be both extremely irritating and inspiring at the same time. I smiled into the phone, switching the phone to rest on my shoulder and cradling the receiver into my cheek as I let the cord stretch while I walked into the kitchen. “Michael, you’re the best.”
“Anything for my man.” Michael teased, chuckling again. “I will admit, I wasn’t sure what to make of the invitation or this suit that came along with it. Since it didn’t have your name on it, I almost sent it back, but… God always does things for a reason, so I kept it.”
“That and it had your name on it.” I nodded soberly. “I’m glad you kept it. Sorry you found out that way though. I kept meaning to call you and ask you, but it just didn’t happen.”
Michael’s voice sounded a little gruff as he switched to a more business like tone. “You should let me know what we’re doing so I can prepare myself, Harry.”
I shrugged, fumbling into my ice cooler for a Coke and popped the tab. “We’re trying not to be too conspicuous, and I don’t think you’ll need to bring armour or your trusty weapon with you. Not without raising suspicion with the other guests anyway. It’s not like you’ll need it, not for what we’re up against.”
“And what is that?” Michael waited patiently.
I didn’t exactly want to tell anyone what I was going after, I told Karrin Murphy about it and that was enough embarrassment. It sounded ridiculous. Especially for the Western world who never dealt with the more Eastern myths and fairy tales. Thankfully, I managed to avoid doing anything like that with Marcone, but with Michael… he deserved to know.
“A Kitsune.” It was my turn to wait for Michael to wrap his head around the word.
“Okay… a Kitsune. This actually sounds familiar to me. Something about a blizzard and the woman vanished?”
“That’s pretty much the most popular story about the kitsune. This one is a little different. A group of Asian businessmen recently came to Chicago for a deal with another company, at least, that was what they told their bosses. Apparently, they decided to summon a Kitsune with some Western mumbo jumbo magic. Not sure why exactly, but the moment they did, it killed all present.” I frowned at the memory. Karrin Murphy showed me the crime scene a few days ago, deemed a dead-end case for her to follow. It first fell to me because of the claw marks and bloodbath inside the hotel. We both considered it a possible werewolf, but the slashes in their jugular were too small and precise. And Bob also took it upon himself to tell me how wrong I was. “She took a human form and disguised herself, entranced a man, and I followed her tracks to this charity ball.”
“Why would she hide like that? Wouldn’t it be better for her vanish into the night?”
“Well, as the myth goes, Kitsune’s only fault is that once it’s found out, it does a variety of things. Most of the time it just leaves the poor sod, but this one kills if it’s revealed. Must be a slight deviation from the tale.” I mulled over everything I’d learned about this case in the last few days. “If the myth is anything to go off, she’s simply trying to find a good husband to bear a child to. What’s better in this world than the rich and famous?”
I could hear Michael humming thoughtfully. “What’s the plan? Do we need to hold her long enough to dispel her back to where she came? Capture?”
I rolled my eyes. “My manner of dispelling is burning her until she’s ash, but we could also take a more subtle approach and stab it in the heart with silver. Silver kills everything, especially if you’re shoving it into a heart.”
Michael chuckled. “Alright, I’ll let you deal with all the details. I suppose I’ll get everything set for a night out with my husband.”
I laughed nervously, hanging up after saying goodbye.
Damn, this was going to be really difficult.
Fuck you, Marcone. Fuck you.