FIC: Inevitable 38: Only Happy When It Rains

[mhalachai]

Inevitable Thirty-eight: Only Happy When It Rains
by Mhalachai
Note: I've had a couple of people ask what Anita was assuming about Jason in the last chapter. For a moment, she suspected that the "other" task Jean-Claude had given Jason was something sexual in nature, for the vampires in London. Jean-Claude was annoyed at her for making such assumptions about Jason's character. Jason knew exactly what Anita was thinking, and it didn't bother him, mostly because she knew how wrong she was. That's it.

~~~~~~~

When I turned around, Olaf was right behind me.

He was beside me as I made breakfast, standing in the middle of the kitchen, silent and menacing. He was in the passenger seat of my jeep as I drove to work. He never blinked, never looked away. While I interviewed new clients at the office, he stood by my desk, fingers brushing delicately over my stuffed penguin Sigmund. No one saw him but me, not even when he slowly tore Sigmund open, spilling fluffy stuffing and blood all over his hands.

As the day wore on, he started getting closer to me. An inch nearer while I bought a coffee. Leaning closer while I ate dinner at a restaurant. By the time I was in the graveyard, knife held over my arm to draw blood to raise a zombie, I could feel the fabric of his shirt brushing against my back and his hot breath on my hair.

I hesitated, not able to see him, but knowing he was there; then he was sliding his hands up my arms. I started to struggle, but his grip was like cold iron. He forced the point of my knife down over my arm, slicing deep into my flesh. I opened my mouth to scream from the pain, but I couldn't make a sound.

I managed to tear away from Olaf, and ran. The gravestones and marble statues seemed to stretch on forever, not offering me any place to hide. I never turned around, but I knew Olaf was gaining on me, silently and deadly.

Fear choked me, as the gravestones grew larger, more menacing. I stumbled and fell. The hands I put down to push myself up were tiny. Little girl hands.

I looked behind me. I couldn't see Olaf, but the shadows of the unfamiliar graveyard pressed on me, dank and threatening. The air itself seemed to be waiting for something evil.

Creeping forward on little bare feet, I pressed myself up against a crumbling stone monument, almost hidden behind thick overgrown bramble. As I looked around, the silence was broken by voices.

Harry's voice floated over the air. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?" he said.

"I don't know," a woman answered him.

My heart stopped. I knew that voice. "Mommy?" I whispered.

I peeked around my gravestone. Harry and my mother stood in the middle of a bare patch of ground. Beside them, lying on its side, was a silver trophy cup gleaming in the starlight.

"Wand out?" my mother suggested, looking around the graveyard. Harry hastily fumbled for his wand. As he moved, I saw blood streaming down his leg.

They both turned around at the same time, looking off into the distance past me. "Someone's coming," Harry said.

Something walked past me silently in the grass. I squeezed back against the stone, but still I felt the person's cloak scratch against my hand. The person walked steadily toward Harry and my mother, cradling something in its arms. I tried to scream at them to run away, but the words turned to ashes in my mouth and I couldn't make a sound.

Harry lowered his wand slightly. Mom looked confused as they watched the hooded person get closer. Finally, the person stopped beside a huge tombstone and for a moment, it did nothing.

Then Harry cried out in agony. He dropped his wand from boneless fingers and clutched at his head. My mom moved as if she was going to help him, but she never got the chance.

"Kill the spare!" said a cold, high voice.

Mom whipped her head around as the hooded person pointed his wand at her and screeched, "Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light barrelled across the graveyard and slammed into my mother, knocking her off her feet. A scream left my lips, and I kept on screaming as the light cleared and I saw my mother, dead on the ground.

Harry fell to his knees and retched, then he managed to open his eyes. He stared at my mother for a few long moments, then swung around. His eyes widened as he saw me.

Suddenly, huge arms picked me up from behind. I struggled and fought, but I was so tiny, it was like struggling against iron. A hand grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, then a sharp knife glinted in the air as it moved in a swift arc and buried itself in my heart.

I woke with a start. My chest hurt and the fear was thick in my throat as I clawed my hair out of my eyes. It's not over! something in my head screamed at me. I grabbed my gun off the headboard and dashed out of my room for the stairs.

Somewhere in my head, I heard screaming and, over it, the bubbling of water, as my choking fears grew.

Upstairs, Harry's bedroom door was ajar, and I pushed it open with my left hand, right hand holding my gun.

The room was still. Harry lay in bed, tangled up in the sheets. He twitched in his sleep, muttering under his breath. As I put my gun on the dresser, the noise in my head reached a crescendo, peaking on a name.

Voldemort.

Tripping over some clothes on the floor, I fell against the side of Harry's bed and reached for his shoulder, shaking him hard.

He came awake with a cry, green eyes almost glowing in the morning light. Taking deep breaths, he gripped my hand.

"We have to go save her!" he exclaimed. "She's--"

"It was just a dream, Harry," I said with a wavering voice as I sat on the edge of the bed. The pain over my heart faded slowly, but the still air of the graveyard lingered on my tongue..

"But she..." Harry stopped, sitting up. The sheet spilled over his bare chest to bunch at his waist.

"My mother's been dead for over twenty years," I said. In my head, I kept seeing my mother being hit by the same green light that had killed Clay, knocking her soul loose from her body, breaking her to pieces until nothing could put her back together again.

"Your... your mother?" Harry asked. He blinked hard at me. "How do you know what I was dreaming?"

I let out a shaky breath, the images in my head fading slightly. "I don't know," I admitted. "Richard sometimes gets in my head, but that's because of the triumvirate. I don't know."

Harry rubbed at the scar on his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Was that you, screaming, in my dream?"

I nodded. Harry pushed his hair back out of his face as he slumped forward, crossing his legs under the sheet. He looked down at the blankets, then his eyes moved a bit. Moments passed before I realised he was staring at my legs.

I glanced down. I hadn't stopped to put on a robe, and was only had on the t-shirt and panties I'd worn to bed, which meant I was flashing a lot of thigh. I swallowed hard, suddenly highly aware of the inappropriateness of sitting on Harry's bed wearing next to nothing, while he was only covered by a sheet and God knew what else.

I shot to my feet. "I'll talk to you later," I said quickly, my cheeks heating up. I tried to think of something else to say, but gave up. I just wanted to get out of there.

As I reached the door, Harry asked, "Who's Olaf?"

My hand froze on the doorknob. After a couple of tries, I managed to say, "What?"

"Olaf." There was movement behind me, the sound of cloth over skin, then Harry was beside me. He'd pulled on a t-shirt and some shorts, but not his glasses. It made his eyes seem so much more real than normal, more open, as if his defences were stripped away. If I had really invaded his dreams, it wasn't a far-off description. "Who is he and why was he following you?"

So, it seemed as I wasn't the only one visiting someone else's dreams. I tried to think of something to say, some way to explain, but as I thought about it, some part of me rebelled at having to explain my dreams to someone who had no fucking right to be in my head.

Angry now, I yanked the door open. "Do you still want to go learn how to shoot a gun this afternoon?" I demanded.

"What does that have to do with Olaf?" Harry asked. I didn't answer as I walked down the hall. "Anita?"

My bare feet didn't make any noise as I hurried down the carpeted stairs and into the bathroom. I closed and locked the door, then turned on the shower with violent motions.

The anger I'd forced up, in Harry's bedroom, was fading, leaving in its place the deep chill of fear. It was just a nightmare, I told myself as I placed the gun on the counter and stripped off the t-shirt and panties. There was no Olaf here. The only reason I'd been having nightmares about him was Edward's phone call.

I stepped into the shower and tried to let the water wash away the cobwebs in my head. Gradually, the chatter slowed and I could think again.

How the hell had Harry and I been in each other's dreams? Jean-Claude often visited me in my dreams, and Richard occasionally spilled into my dreams accidentally. How did Harry, with whom I had no metaphysical connection, get into my head?

For a moment, I wished I could have asked Jean-Claude, but it had been three days since I'd walked out on him and Richard at the Circus. I still didn't know how I was going to convince him that his plan to use Jason as my lycanthropic shield in London was unnecessary. There was no way I could drop this on his lap.

Maybe it was because of Damian, I mused as I poured shampoo into my hand and began to wash my hair. Would he have some kind of connection to Harry? Tenuous as the reasoning was, it was all that I had.

But why had my mother been in Harry's dream? She'd looked just like I remembered her the last time I'd seen her alive, after she dropped me off at school. Not at all like the final time I'd seen her. At her funeral, after she'd died in a car accident, the casket had been closed. I hadn't been able to believe that my wonderful mother, the most important person in my life, was really in there, so I'd snuck away from my Aunt Katherine, who'd been in charge of handling me while my father fell apart.

I'd gotten up to the front of the church before anyone noticed me, and had pried open the casket lid with tiny hands. I still remembered how heavy the cold wood and satin was under my fingers.

I'd seen my mother's body for a few seconds before Aunt Katherine snatched me back, crying. I hadn't been crying. I'd been too shocked to cry. What I'd seen couldn't be my mother.

As I tried to stop remembering my mother's broken body, with the shower's spray beating down on my skin, the words from that horrible dream echoed in my head, just before the hooded figure killed her.

"Kill the spare."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So do you understand all the rules?" Anita asked.

Harry nodded, feeling rather nervous. "Never carry a gun with the safety off. Never put my finger on the trigger until I'm going to fire. Keep it pointed in a safe direction."

Anita levelled a long glare at Harry, as if she was suspecting that he was being flippant. "Also, until you're used to the gun, never shoot one-handed," she finally said. "They make it look easy on TV, but all you're going to do is miss your target."

"Right." Honestly, Harry couldn't imagine when he'd need to fire a gun back in the Wizarding world, but he was going to be in St. Louis for another couple of weeks. If the last few weeks had been any indication, a little more self-defence couldn't hurt.

Not that he was under any delusion that Anita would actually give him a gun. It was still nice to know that if he was in a situation where there was a gun, however, he would be able to do more than hit people with it.

"Okay," Anita was saying. She laid her smaller gun, the Firestar, on the waist-high counter on the shooting range. "I've showed you how to take the safety off the gun. Just be careful to keep your hand in the right place on the handle, or the slide will catch your hand."

Wetting his lips, Harry stepped up to the counter. He put on the big earmuff hearing protectors. The muffled sound of guns firing in other areas of the shooting range was cut off, and his breathing sounded very loud in his ears.

Making sure Anita was still behind him, Harry picked up the gun in both hands. He did exactly what Anita had shown him, flicking off the safety, aiming the barrel at the target. When he thought he had the middle of the target in sight, he pulled the trigger.

The gun bucked in his hands as it fired, and even this far away, Harry could see that the bullet had hit the very top of the target, not the center as he was aiming for.

Harry cursed under his breath, then looked back at Anita. She raised her eyebrows at him, and motioned at him to try again. He focused hard, and fired again.

By the time the clip was spent, Harry had managed to improve his aim by only being a foot off the centre of the target. He put the gun down and removed his ear protectors.

"Not bad," Anita said, coming up to the counter.

"I completely missed what I was aiming for," Harry felt forced to point out.

Anita sighed, and pressed a little button on the wall. The paper target moved toward them on a little pulley, and Anita pulled it down and placed it on the counter. "To be fair, your first shots really sucked."

"Thanks."

"But the later ones were quite good, considering that this is your first time." Anita pointed at a few tiny holes in the paper. "You're figuring out the kickback, how the gun moves. You've also got a good eye for aiming." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "When you're aiming the wand, do you have to get a perfect lock on someone?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really. Just the general area of the person, for most spells-- I mean things."

"Fascinating," Anita said blandly. She began reloading the gun.

"Anita," Harry said tentatively. She didn't look up, just kept pushing the bullets into place. "Who's Olaf?"

Anita shoved the clip into the gun and flicked the safety on, then placed the gun on the counter. "That's none of your concern," she said in a tight voice.

"Then why are you so scared of him?"

"I'm not scared!" Anita snapped. She took a deep breath as she fitted another paper target into the clip. "Try another round."

Stubbornly, Harry didn't move. "It's better if you tell someone if there's a problem," he said. "I told you about the prophecy and you said we'd work it out together."

Anita glared at Harry. "Do not lecture me," she said in a cold voice. She grabbed her ear protectors off the counter and stalked to the back of the shooting chamber. "Pick up the damned gun and do it again."

Why wouldn't she talk to him? Harry wondered as he slipped his ear protectors back on and picked up the gun. He had told her all about his problems, so why wasn't she telling him about hers? He'd seen her dream, the parts with the big creepy guy, had felt her terror in the graveyard as she ran from him. She knew he'd seen it, so why was she blocking him now?

Later, he told himself as he squeezed the trigger, already compensating for the recoil. He'd convince her to tell him about it later.

~*~

A few hours later, Harry was buried underneath two hundred pounds of werewolf, trying to fight his way free. If only he could get his right arm free, he'd be able to twist out of Jamil's grip...

Somehow, with a burst of energy or plain luck, Harry twisted and kicked, and pushed Jamil off of him. Harry shot to his feet and backed across the mats, watching Jamil warily. He caught a glimpse of Anita and Richard, leaning up against the wall, watching them. Richard's expression was indecipherable, but Anita looked faintly amused.

The Skoll laughed heartily as he stood up. "Not bad," he said. "Not bad at all. Want to try it again?"

"Not particularly," Harry panted. His shoulder and hip ached from repeated falls to the mat, and his pride was stung that in the last hour and a half of Jamil showing him self-defence, he'd only managed to free himself once. Even that was only because of what Merle had shown Harry, the day before.

Now, Jamil gave a rather wolfish grin. "Too bad." He lunged across the room. Harry tried to catch Jamil's arm and pull him off center, but the other man moved faster than Harry could follow and wrapped Harry in a headlock as they crashed to the floor.

As Harry struggled against Jamil's grip, his frustration burst out into a hot animal rage. Harry forgot what he was fighting, or why. His rage writhed in his chest, growing until it was trying to claw its way out of his body, to break free and become real.

"He's going to change!" someone yelled. Many hands held him down, pressed against to the mat, as his body tried to turn itself inside out.

Someone growled next to Harry's ear, and it was like a wash of cold water over his fevered skin. The anger and rage tapered off under that soothing growl, the animal in his chest settling down, until Harry lay still on the mat.

"Harry?"

Harry blinked up at Anita's voice. She was a bit fuzzy, and it took Harry a minute to realize that he'd lost his glasses. "What..." he broke off and started coughing. The hands holding him down released him. "What happened?"

Richard put his hands on Harry's shoulders and helped him to sit up. "You almost shifted," the Ulfric explained. "I managed to calm you down before you did."

"Oh." Harry blinked a few more times. The world tilted dangerously and Harry tried to compensate, falling against Richard.

"Put him back down," Anita said. "Give him a minute."

The flat ground was welcomingly cool against Harry's back. He concentrated on breathing slowly. The animal he'd felt in his chest moved around restlessly, quiet for the time being. How hadn't he felt it before? Harry wondered. He'd spent the last week wondering if he'd change at all, and now this happened, throwing all those thoughts into confusion.

A hand settled on Harry's shoulder. "Sorry about that, kid," Jamil said. "Didn't think that fighting like that would make your beast all crazy."

"Uh huh." Harry rubbed his eyes, then looked around the room again. "Where are my glasses?"

Anita held up Harry's glasses, crushed almost beyond recognition. "I think Richard stepped on them," she said, ignoring the glare Richard shot at her.

Taking a deep breath, Harry sat up again, and this time the world didn't twist on him. He took his glasses from Anita and looked at them morosely. "I'm not sure I can fix these," he said. He let the glasses fall to the ground and dropped his face into his hands.

Someone put an arm over his shoulder. Harry breathed in, and smelled Anita's shampoo and the scent of her skin. As much as he wanted to relax against her, he couldn't. This wasn't supposed to be his life, werewolves and necromancers. He was supposed to be in England at the Weasleys' house, spending the summer bunking in Ron's room and playing pick-up games of Quidditch.

As futile as the thought was, Harry wanted his life back.

Richard settled on Harry's other side, leaning against him. Part of Harry was almost happy like this, with his Ulfric on one side and Lupa on the other. The other part remembered the cold years living in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursleys, where the only touch he ever felt was in anger or irritation. Did he want to go back to that? It was part of his old life too, even if he'd never see the Dursleys again.

"We can go and get you new glasses," Anita murmured in his ear. "It's not the end of the world."

"I know," Harry muttered. He nudged at the mangled frames again. "I've had these for a long time."

They sat silently for a few minutes. Faint noises sounded in the other parts of the building, which also housed the Lunatic Cafe. That noise was becoming to familiar to Harry, too. Jason had brought him to the cafe almost every day, always introducing him to new werewolves. Harry didn't think there were as many werewolves in all of England as there were in St. Louis. Some of them, Harry didn't like. Most of them, however, were nice.

Did they all go through this? Harry wondered. Feeling their bodies change uncontrollably? What was it going to be like, changing for real? Did Remus go through all this, alone?

Richard patted Harry's back. "You held on really good, there," the Ulfric said.

"Maybe," Jamil said darkly.

"What do you mean?" Richard asked. Harry looked at Jamil curiously.

"I mean he's fighting it a bit too much," Jamil said. "If a new werewolf fights it too hard, tries to hold on to the human part too much, it makes the change harder to control."

"Are you sure?" Anita asked.

"Yeah." Jamil glanced cautiously at Richard. "Not in alphas, but in really new wolves. To really master the wolf is to give into it."

"Isn't that a bit backwards?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Jamil said. "By human standards, anyway."

Harry sighed. "How do you give in to the wolf?" he asked, a bit desperately. "All I wanted to do was fight it."

"It's not something you need to fear," Jamil said, all joking gone. "It's as much a part of us as our hands or feet." He gripped Harry's hand in his. "No one here's going to push you out for accepting the beast. That's what a pack's all about."

"I don't know if I can do that," Harry said.

"That's why we're here," Anita said. "Me, Richard, everyone. You're not in this alone."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sounds like Harry had a rough time," Micah said after I finished describing the day to him.

"Very rough," I agreed, putting the finishing touches on my makeup. I didn't have to work tonight, and Micah and I had plans to go out to dinner, just the two of us.

"He didn't have any trouble when Merle was teaching him how to fight a few days ago," Micah said, coming up behind me. I smiled at him in the mirror.

"Harry mentioned that, too. Richard thinks it's because Jamil's a werewolf and Merle's not. Something about Jamil's beast calling to Harry's."

"Makes sense," Micah said. He ran his hands down my arms. "But I seem to recall that when I first met you, Richard's beast called to yours, even in those first weeks."

I raised my eyebrows. "I think my relationship with Richard is vastly different than Harry's relationship with Merle."

Micah laughed. "Point taken." He leaned in and kissed my neck.

I let him kiss me for a second, then playfully pushed him away. "If you keep this up, we're never going to get to eat." I headed over to the dresser where I'd left the guns. I'd cleaned the Firestar when I'd got home, and double checked to make sure it was loaded before I slipped it into the inner pants holster.

"When are you going to tell me why you're carrying two guns around everywhere?" Micah asked, all traces of warmth gone.

My fingers tightened around the Browning as I put it into the shoulder holster. "I'm always armed," I pointed out.

"Not like this," Micah said. He sat on the bed, staring at me steadily. "And don't tell me it's because of the witch. This only started the night after the ghouls attacked."

"What do you want me to say?" I demanded.

"I want you to tell me what's got you so spooked," Micah said, sitting a little too still. "I want you to let me help you."

I concentrated on adjusting my light jacket so the gun didn't show. "It's..."

"Don't say it's nothing," Micah said sharply. "Don't lie to me anymore."

"It's not a lie!" I slapped my hands onto the dresser so hard the wood broke with a sharp crack. "Fuck!"

Micah jumped off the bed and crossed the room in a few long steps. "Let me see your hands."

"I'm fine!" I said, trying to pull out of Micah's grasp. He didn't let me go until he'd made sure that I hadn't hurt myself. When I could, I pulled back and put a bit of space between us.

Micah looked at me, wounded. "You're not fine," he said quietly. "Anita, I thought you wanted me to be a part of your life."

"I do!"

"Then why won't you tell me what's happening?"

"Because I'm overreacting!" I exclaimed.

Micah shook his head. "Anita, you never overreact."

I fingered the broken wood of the dresser. "Maybe I want to be overreacting."

Micah put his hands over mine. "Tell me?"

I let out a shaky breath, and proceeded to tell Micah about Olaf. The whole story, when I'd met him in New Mexico, about Edward's phone call, all of it. It was a long story, and telling it took a while. I even found myself telling Micah about my dream, at least the first part.

When I was done, Micah didn't say anything. He walked across the room to look out the window, his back to me.

"Micah?"

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

I shrugged, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "We don't know where he is. He's probably not going to come within miles of St. Louis."

"Are you willing to stake your life on that?" Micah turned around. "You're not carrying these extra guns for fun, Anita. You're not carrying them because of anything Harry's brought into our lives."

"I--"

"I'm calling Jean-Claude." Micah started across the room for the phone, but I got in his way.

"No, you're not!" I exclaimed. "Jean-Claude has enough to worry about without--"

"Do not finish that sentence," Micah spat. "You know as well as I do that Jean-Claude would not let anything threaten you, including this monster!"

"He's human, Micah, I can't track him down and shoot him to make myself feel better!"

"Edward's worried that Olaf might come after you, to what? Rape and murder you? How the fuck can you say he's not a monster after that?" Micah stepped around me. I put my hand on the phone at the same time he did, stopping him from picking it up. Micah looked at me, breathing hard. "Anita."

I lifted my hand off the phone and walked out of the room. I kept going until I hit the kitchen. The sun was setting in the distance, casting warm rays through the window, but it didn't warm me.

What had I been expecting when I'd told Micah about Olaf? A hearty laugh? I leaned against the counter, staring unseeingly out the window. He'd done exactly what I would have done, if he'd come to me with this story. So why did I feel like I was making a mess out of stuff?

Deep down, I'd known I should have told Micah and Jean-Claude about Olaf as soon as I found out. I didn't really know why I hadn't. If it had been one of them, and they hadn't told me, I'd have been very pissed off.

In spite of all of that, I still found myself angry at Micah for insisting on calling Jean-Claude. I couldn't explain it to myself, so I stopped trying. Needing something to do, I went to the cupboard and found the coffee beans, to make myself something to drink.

I was halfway through my second cup when Micah appeared in the kitchen doorway. He looked older than I'd ever seen him, and it startled me.

"Jean-Claude wants to know why you didn't tell him," Micah said.

I sipped my coffee, trying to ignore the twisting in my gut.

"He said that Rafael has some bodyguards who you probably wouldn't object to," Micah went on. "But if you want it, you can have Merle. I'll be fine with Noah."

I put my cup down on the table so hard I splashed coffee on my hand. "I don't need a bodyguard!"

Micah looked at me. "Do you honestly believe that?" While I was trying to come up with a response, he came around the table. He stopped behind my chair and laid his hands on my shoulders. "This isn't a game, Anita. This is your life."

I stared at the table, unable to say anything.

"Do you still want to go out for dinner?" Micah asked.

"I'm not really hungry anymore."

Micah took his hands off my shoulders. "Fine," he muttered. I heard him walk out of the kitchen.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, feeling the Firestar bite into my skin. I wasn't exactly in the right here, and that always made me angry at myself. I'd also undoubtedly pissed Micah and Jean-Claude off. Probably Richard, too, when he heard about this. We'd worked out a truce this afternoon, before Harry's self-defence lesson from Jamil, but this would certainly blow that out of the water.

I got up to wash the coffee off my hand, then left the kitchen. I found Micah curled up on the couch in the living room, paging through the television listings. He glanced up as I sat on the other end of the couch.

"I didn't want you to worry," I said, breaking the stillness of the house.

Micah dropped the booklet to the carpet. "What else did you think I was going to do?" he asked. He moved down the couch until he could put his arm around my shoulder. "Anita, you're not alone, you don't have to handle this on your own."

I ran my fingers over the edge of his shirt. "All that's going to do is put other people in danger," I said, a bit surprised at what I was saying. "I don't want anyone else to be in danger."

Micah slipped closer and pulled me into a hug. "There isn't anyone in your life who won't do everything they can to protect you," he murmured next to my ear.

"But they might get hurt, and I don't know if I can handle that," I whispered.

"Why do you think it's okay for the rest of us if you get hurt?" Micah asked. He kissed my cheek and drew back. He looked so sad, eyes haunted, that I wondered what else he was thinking about. "It's not okay. It's never okay."

I cuddled into Micah's embrace, letting him hold me. Part of me wished I could just find Olaf and kill him in cold blood, but I couldn't do that to anyone. Even the vampires I killed had done something to deserve a warrant of execution.

There was always the chance, however, that someone else might get hurt. I couldn't see Olaf worrying about hitting a bystander, especially if it was one of my people.

Sitting there in Micah's arms, I made a decision. If I heard even a rumour that Olaf might be around, I'd go after him before he could come after me. I wouldn't let anyone else get hurt because of me. No matter what.

...tbc

Comments

[lishel_fracrium.livejournal.com]

Damn good chapter. this was excellent. thank you for updating do quickly I really appreciate it. Inevitable is probably one of my favorite fics if not the favorite. thanks.

[houses7177.livejournal.com]

Most excellent dream. I like the way you subtley played up Anita's claustrophobia as well. And the dream connection thing? Very curious, that. Anita was spot on here, her fears and defense mechanisms in full swing. Poor thing.

[sabriel-0405.livejournal.com]

This just gets better and better in different ways. This was a interesting chapter. I liked the dreams and Harry almost shifting and Micah putting his foot down about telling Jean-Claude. I like Anita's super-protective habits because it makes her so much more vulnerable than she believes.

Great way to end my weekend.

[eavling.livejournal.com]

That first sentence just socks you in the gut...and then the second paragraph make you think that she's going about her day paranoid...and only after a few more paragraphs, about the time where her hands become small, do you realize that it's all a nightmare. Damned fine chapter and exceptional chapter starter.

He put the gun down and removed his ear protectors.
On the topic of gun safety, when one is in a shooting range, one must NEVER, remove ones ear protection. Every shooting range that I've ever heard of has signs with nice big letters DO NOT REMOVE EAR OR EYE PROTECTION. The reason for this is that there might be someone else there about to shoot, or, if you thought you were alone, someone might have come in when you couldn't hear them. Guns are damned loud, especially in an indoor/sound-proofed range. The eye protection is so that stray bullet shells will not fly up and put your eye out. I would assume that St. Louis's shooting range would be indoors, being a large city. I know almost nothing of outdoor ranges.

God I love this story.

[thesoulreaver.livejournal.com]

Great chapter. The dream was creepy and raised a lot of questions. More on the Harry "will he change? Won't he" front.

I usually get so sad by the end of the chapter, knowing I've finished this update and have to wait to find out what happens next. Great job on this.

[deepfishy.livejournal.com]

Great chapter! (if somewhat ominous)
The questions raised by this whole dream-sharing thing are interesting; and still more "will he, won't he?" teasing on the werewolf!Harry front (why are authors so evil?).

One continuity catch: Anita puts her gun in her robe pocket, etc, but there is this line - I glanced down. I hadn't stopped to put on a robe, and was only had on the t-shirt and panties I'd worn to bed, which meant I was flashing a lot of thigh. I swallowed hard, suddenly highly aware of the inappropriateness of sitting on Harry's bed wearing this dishevelled robe, while he was only covered by a sheet and God knew what else. - maybe hadn't put anything extra on except the robe?

Gleefully looking forward to seeing where this all goes (and whether Olaf appears anywhere other than Anita's paranoid mind).

[catherinecookmn.livejournal.com]

Most excellent! And thank you, Micah, for talking some sense into Anita. I hope that Micah presses Anita to tell Harry about Olaf as well -- what Harry doesn't know will kill him even more surely than what he does.

One good thing about Olaf: His coming back into play will make Jean-Claude a lot happier about Anita's going off to the UK for a few days.

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

Erp. I'd changed her putting on a robe to her just having on the t-shirt because really, if she grabbed the gun, she'd not be stopping to robe herself. I wanted to save Harry the trauma (only I forgot to reread). Fixed now.

The dream sharing... only time will tell how far it will all go. Tee hee. Same with Harry's wolfieness

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

I figured that even Micah would have a stopping point, when he would just have enough and take matters into his own hands. Being told that there might be a psychopathic serial rapist/killer after his girlfriend? That's the point right there.

Harry will find out about Olaf, in a roundabout way. Never fear.

His coming back into play will make Jean-Claude a lot happier about Anita's going off to the UK for a few days.

One would think that, yes :P

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you like it! I'm trying to keep updating as fast as I can, I really enjoy writing the story.

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

I'm glad the dream came across well. I've set up about nine future plot points in this chapter, and it's nice that it all looks so innocuous.

Anita's week will continue to get worse, as she goes to have a little talk with JC, and who should be around but Asher.... hee hee.

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

Back when it was only Anita, her protective habits would be good, but now that she has most of the most powerful monsters in St. Louis on her side, it's a stupid thing to do. Making Micah finally take a stand on this was a good idea, I think, esp. after he was talking a few chapters ago about how Anita didn't seem to need him. I think he's just shown that he's still got a place in her life :)

Re: God I love this story.

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

Don't be sad! There will be more soon! Well, in a week or so.

And thanks!

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

I figured that the first line to this chapter would make a few people sit up and take notice. Hee hee.

Let's just assume that I know nothing about guns... at all. All I know about shoting ranges comes from watching cop shows, where they often play fast and loose with the rules on ear protection and talking and such.

[catherinecookmn.livejournal.com]

I can see Micah, Richard, Nathaniel and Jean-Claude temporarily setting aside a lot of their issues to unite to protect Anita's hearth and home while she's gone. I expect that JC, for one, will not be spending those days twiddling his thumbs. And of course, Anita will be pissed off about it when she returns.

[cgilmore.livejournal.com]

Right. Roundabout.

"Hello, Harry, I'm Olaf. Anita and I are... old friends."

I've been jumping at shadows since Harry spent the evening alone a couple chapters back. That shoe? It's dropping. In the meanwhile, the anticipation is driving me absolutely nuts.

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

If it's driving you nuts now, you're going to *kill* me for what I plan to do.

And that evening alone was just an evening alone. However, next time... (it may be different or it may not be)

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

Protecting Anita's stuff while she's away won't be a problem. It'll all fall apart in a special and interesting way... at another time.

[gale-dragoon.livejournal.com]

I really liked this chapter. It was quite intresting to resd about the shared dream.
I especilly liked the "Kill the spare." quote. It helped set the tone for how much that dream would upset Harry.
I also really loved how Micah put his foot down. :D

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked it. Not to give anything away, but the dream (or aspects of it) will become very important in several chapters.

Micah's not a pushover, and when it comes to the safety of his girl, he's not going to let Anita's issues keep him down :)

[watcher457.livejournal.com]

you know, one of my favorite things about the anita blake books, besides anita, is how lkh describes the lycanthropes. the meshing of beast and human sends chills down my spine in an absolutely... i don't know, amazing way. it's like i can empathize, strangely enough. anyways, my point is that you have captured that amazing inhuman quality of the lycanthropes. it is so evident in harry, who is experiencing this all for the first time. it's absolutely wonderful and makes me very eager to read more about him as a (possible) werewolf.

i guess what i'm trying to say is good job and more please!!

[child-labor.livejournal.com]

[penyn-1600.livejournal.com]

I remember Olaf. He was scary. At least Edward had the handsome thing and not-raping people thing going for him (don't get me wrong, I love Edward), but Olaf....he was scary. Is scary. Definitely not a person I would ever ever want to meet. Is he going to really make an appearance?

It's interesting that Harry and Anita accessed each other's dreams-is it really through Damian, though? Or is it something else?

[thekams.livejournal.com]

Wonderful new chapter!! Just the thing I need to distract myself from exams. =P The dream is very interesting, I can't wait to see where it leads!

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

Damian, huh? No one's suggested that yet.

And yes, Olaf is scary. With Edward, LKH has developed a sociopath who at least has rules and can be sympathetic to our audience. Olaf, though, has no redeeming features.

Or, um, something.

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

What I find interesting about this aspect of the story is that Harry comes from a world where magic is very structured, removed from its natual setting, channeled through a wand. Now, with the wolf inside, he is experienceing raw natural magic. He must come to grips with this.

(Am I saying too much about Remus? Perhaps. All I can add here is that there will be more, much more, on the divide between wizard and wolf, and how things are not as clear-cut as one might believe)

More soon, I promise :)

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

Hey, happy birthday.

Pull an Anita with his beast? I don't know what you mean *blinks innocently*

Remus/Wolfbane has been mentioned in passing, off screen, to Richard, but next chapter has much hawt werewolf action, and we'll touch on it then too. (what a pervvy sentence).

Of all her guys, I think Anita hates getting like this around Micah the most. With Richard, she can get angry and turn it into a fight, with JC she can ignore it, with Nathaniel she won't metion it. Micah is steady and relentless, but not in a way that Anita can react to with justifiable anger. He's quite the manipulator when he wants to be, and in this situation, he played her well. (Not in a negative way -- that's just how I see Micah).

I'm gonna guess a good half of them were in that spectacular dream.
Most of them stemmed from the dream, but there were threads throughout. Every scene had aspects that will have major repercusions through the story. (Except the Anita's mother in the dream -- that was just a load of childhood abandoment by their mother issues that both Harry and Anita have)

[mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com]

Glad you like it, and glad to distract you from the impending exams :)