Dead Beat(47)

"I don't understand," he whispered.
"Fear can't hurt you," I said. "It can't kill you."
"Well, technically-"
"Butters," I said. "Don't give me statistics on heart failure. Fear is a part of life. It's a warning mechanism. That's all. It tells you when there's danger around. Its job is to help you survive. Not cripple you into being unable to do it."
"I have empirical evidence to the contrary," he said, bitter humor in his voice.
"That's because you've never thought about it before," I said. "You've reacted to the fear, but you haven't ever faced it and put it into the right perspective. You have to make up your mind to overcome it."
He was quiet for a second. "Just like that?" he said. "Just make up my mind and poof, it's different?"
"No. But it's the first step," I said. "After that, you find other steps to take. Think about it for a while. Maybe you'll never need it again. But at least you'll be ready if it happens sometime down the line."
He closed up the medical toolbox. "You mean it's over?"
"For you," I said. "Grevane knows that you don't have anything he wants. He's got no reason to look for you. Hell, for that matter, I think you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time when he did come looking. Anyone with access to the corpse and the ability to find where Bony Tony had hidden the jump drive would have been good enough for Grevane. Your part in this is over."
Butters closed his eyes for a second. "Oh, thank God." He blinked up at me. "Sorry. I mean, it isn't that I don't like being around you, but … "
I smiled a little. "I understand. I'm glad you're all right." I glanced down at my leg. "Looks nice and neat again. Thanks, Butters. You're a good friend."
He frowned up at me. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
I thought I saw him straighten his shoulders a little. "Okay."
Thomas appeared in the door of the kitchen. "Gas stove. Hot food and tea. Sugar?"
"Tons," I said.
"Not for me," Butters said.
Thomas nodded, and slipped back into the kitchen.
"So how come if I'm your friend, you don't tell me important things?" Butters said.
"Like what?" I asked him.
Butters gestured at the kitchen. "Well. That, you know …  you're gay."
I blinked at him.
"I mean, don't get me wrong. It's the twenty-first century. You can live your life how you want, and it doesn't make you any less cool."
"Butters- " I began.
"And hey, look at the guy. I mean, I'm not even gay, and I think he looks great. Who could blame you?"
Choking sounds came from the kitchen.
"Oh, shut up!" I snarled at Thomas.
He kept on making choking sounds that bubbled with laughter.
"You should have just said something," Butters said. "Don't feel like you have to hide anything, Harry. I won't judge. I owe you too much for that."
"I'm not gay," I stated.
Butters nodded at me, compassion and empathy all over his face. "Oh. Okay, sure."
"I'm not!"
Butters raised his hands. "It wasn't my place to intrude," he said. "Later, some other time, maybe. None of my business."
"Oh, for crying out loud," I muttered.
Thomas came out bearing plates of steaming, reheated pizza, some roast beef sandwiches, and crackers with slices of cheese partly melted on them. He put them down and came back with bottles of cold beer and cups of hot tea. He poured my tea for me, then leaned over and gave me a chaste kiss on the hair. "There you go."
Butters pretended not to notice.
I punched Thomas awkwardly in the ribs. "Give me the damned pizza before I kill you."
Thomas sighed and confided to Butters, "He gets like this sometimes."
I grabbed the pizza from Thomas, and leaned over enough to snag a beer. Mouse, who had been lying by the front windows staring out at the darkness, got up and came nosing over toward the food.
"Oh, here," Thomas said. "The antibiotics." He put a couple of pills down on my plate.
I growled wordlessly at him, washed them down with a swallow of beer, and fell to eating pizza and roast beef sandwiches and crackers with cheese. I shared a bit with Mouse, every third or fourth bite, until Thomas snagged the last roast beef sandwich and put it on the floor for Mouse to have to himself.
I finished the beer and settled back with the tea afterward. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I'd started eating. The tea was sweet and just barely cool enough to drink. In the wake of the meal and the evening's excitement, I finally started to feel warm and human again. The pain in my leg faded until it was barely noticeable.
I blinked heavily down at my bandaged leg and said, "Hey."
"Hmmm?" Thomas asked.
"You bastard. Those weren't antibiotics."
"No, they weren't," Thomas said, and without a trace of shame. "They were the painkillers. You idiot. You need to rest before you kill yourself."
"Bastard," I said again. The couch really was very comfortable. I finished my tea over the next several moments. "Maybe you have a point."
"Of course I do," Thomas said. "Oh, here's the antibiotic, by the way." He passed me a single horse pill. I swallowed it with the last of my tea. Thomas set the teacup aside and then helped me to my feet. "Come on. Get a few hours of rest. Then you can figure out your next move."
I grunted. Thomas helped me into one of the darkened bedrooms, and I sank onto a soft bed, too tired to be angry. Too tired to be awake. I vaguely remember stripping out of my shirt and shoes before pulling soft and heavy covers over me. Then there was blessed darkness, warmth, and quiet.
The last thing I thought, before I dropped off to sleep, was that the covers smelled faintly of soap and sunlight and strawberries.
They smelled like Murphy.

     
 

      Chapter Twenty-five
In the odd dream, I had a hot tub.
I lay back in it, luxuriating, the water churning to a controlled froth by jets that hit it and me from dozens of angles. The water was at that perfect temperature, a little short of scalding my skin, and the heat of it sank into muscle and bone, warming me deliciously and washing away aches and pains.
It was an odd dream, because I have never in my life been in a hot tub.
I opened my eyes and looked slowly around me. The hot tub was set in the floor of what looked like a natural cave. Low, reddish light came from what looked like some kind of moss growing on the stalactites overhead.
That was odd, because I'd never been in a cave like this, either.
"Hello?" I called. My voice bounced around the empty cavern.
I heard the sound of movement, and a woman stepped into sight from behind a rock formation. She was a little taller than average and had hair that fell in a sheet of golden silk to her shoulders. She was dressed in a silken tunic belted with soft rope, both pure white. The outfit neither displayed any impropriety nor allowed anyone looking to ignore the beauty of the body it clothed. Her eyes were of a deep, deep blue, like a sunny October sky, and her skin glowed with wholesome appeal. She was, quite simply, a stunning creature.
"Hello. I thought it was time we had a talk," she said. "You've had a hard day. I thought pleasant surroundings might suit you."
I eyed her for a moment. I was naked, which was good. The surface of the pool had enough in the way of bubbles and froth to be opaque, which was also good. It saved me the embarrassment of my response to her. "Who are you?"
She lifted golden brows in a faint smile, and seated herself beside the hot tub, on the floor of the cave, her legs together and to one side, her hands folded on her lap. "Have you not reasoned it yourself by now?"
I stared at her for a long minute and then said, quietly, "Lasciel."
The woman bowed her head, smiling in acknowledgment. "Indeed."
"You can't be here," I said. "I sealed you into the floor under my lab. I imprisoned you."
"Indeed you did," the woman said. "What you see here is not my true self, as such. Think of me as a reflection of the true Lasciel who resides within your mind."
"As a what?"
"When you chose to touch the coin, you accepted this form of my awareness within you," Lasciel said. "I am an imprint. A copy."
I swallowed. "You live in my head. And you can talk to me?"
"I can now," Lasciel said. "Now that you have chosen to employ what I have offered you."
I took in a deep breath. "Hellfire. I used Hellfire today to empower my magic."
"You made the conscious choice to do so," she said. "And as a result, I can now appear to your conscious mind." She smiled. "Actually, I've been looking forward to meeting you. You are a great deal more interesting than most I have been given to."
"You, uh," I said, "you don't look much like a demon."
"Keep in mind, please, that I was not always a resident of Hell. I relocated there." She looked at herself. "Shall I add the wings? A harp? A golden halo?"
"Why are you asking me?" I asked.
"Because I am something of a guest," she said. "It costs me nothing to take on an appearance that pleases my host."
"Uh- huh," I said. "If you're my guest, then get out."
She laughed, and there was nothing alluring or musical about it. It was just laughter, warm and genuine. "That isn't possible, I'm afraid. By taking the coin, you invited me in. You cannot simply will me away."