A.N. I don’t have a new chapter yet. Working on it, but here’s a little gift to get you through the wait. Hope you enjoy the out take.Thanks to Jon for the idea and Big D for the 'once over.'
Adorably Homicidal
A Demon’s Feign, Merlin’s Pain omake
~Harry James Potter~
It’s hot, it’s always hot. Hell, what do I have to compare to, the cellar of Department of Mysteries? Anything is warmer than that hole. I squint my eyes at the bright sun and change sides around Murphy so I can walk under the shade. She gives me a look from under her dark brows and I shrug; I’m not Dresden, I don’t have to be chivalrous. She’s walking me to school; wants to make sure I get there and don’t run away. Damn woman’s intuition.
Most kids are already out of school. See, I’m in the special group, the ‘remedial’ studies class, which only meets after the good kids leave for the day. Oh! And we meet in the basement too. And what the hell are you so excited about? I snap at the five year old walking beside me, barefoot.
There’s an ice cream truck! She squeals.
God, what did I deserve to get a Fallen Angel toddler with a sweet tooth from Hell?
I’m not a toddler, I’m five. I want peach malba, she tells me, padding along on her little feet; she’ll get them dirty again. I buy her sandals, but will she wear them? Of course not. Willful little hellion.
“We’re not getting ice cream,” I say out loud. Murphy gives me a look. “Talking to the kid,” I explain before she can ask. She rolls her blue eyes at me. I kinda like her when she’s exasperated. I gave her a hard time about letting her come with me; she’s still smarting from that. I fall back a little so I can watch her tight bum in her tight blue jeans. It’s regular office wear for her, but damn, how can you not look?
I want ice cream! Roqariel snaps her red-brown wings back in agitation, smacking my leg. Blood whips off of them, spattering on the ground leaving little acid burns in the concrete. I look around nervously to see if anyone’s noticed.
Stop that! fine, I’ll let you get ice cream.
“Stop dawdling, Harry, I don’t want you to be late your first day,” Murphy calls over her shoulder. I jog to catch up with her, snaking my arm through hers. She arches an eyebrow but then draws my arm closer.
“You know it would be easier to walk arm in arm if you didn’t strut so much. You do look nice when you strut: shoulders back, chest out, tough sexy cop, but you’d get your hips to roll more if you walked like a girl sometimes. Like now would be nice,” I say to her as nicely as I can. She steps on my foot in answer and pulls me along. Never pays to be nice.
Stop flirting, I want ice cream! Roqariel demands, turning reproachful eyes to me. I can never say no to those, and she knows that. Her hair of fire looks brilliant in the afternoon sun and I am glad she doesn’t have the bloody strands like she did when I first met her. She’s wearing my Hogwarts uniform, a miniature white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, tiny gray dress pants rolled up over her knees, and a Gryffindor tie. Her knives as big as the length of her thighs are in sheaths hanging from her belt. I suggested she should wear a skirt, being a girl, but she likes dressing up in my clothes. I’ll never understand her. At least she doesn’t wet the bed.
“I have to get ice cream,” I tell Murphy before she drags me off.
“I thought you said we weren’t going to.” She stops pulling me along and gets in line with the other High School and Middle School kids waiting for their turn to buy a treat.
“Can’t help it, Roqariel wants her fix.” I smile at Murphy’s blank face. She doesn’t really get the Fallen Angel in human host idea, and doesn’t like that I am alright with it.
I want to get it myself. Roqariel swings my hand that’s not wrapped around Murphy’s waist.
The ice cream man can’t see you, I tell her knowing what she’s going to ask me next.
Make him see me, please? She gives me that innocent face again, the same one she suckered me in with by the blood ocean.
Fine. You know what to do, take over. I give her permission and pull Murphy out of the line. She asks me where we’re going but I just lead her to a tree to stand under.
“Roqa wants to buy ice cream herself,” I explain to Murphy when I see she’s getting angry.
“But…how?” Murphy is confused, so I motion her to watch the ground in front of me.
I feel Roqariel’s song echo through my body as liquid fire rushes in my veins. Then there is a sudden calm as Nymphie comes out to play. Nymphie is my secret power, the one Voldemort knew not, and for that matter I don’t either. She is a shameless tease and I can’t grasp her, but Roqariel seems to know how to use her. She’s the only one who has been able to coax Nymphie ‘the power of love’ out. I let Roqa use it to manifest herself outside myself. Is it an illusion? I don’t think so, but it is magic “moste ancient and deep”
A ball of fluxing light appears in front of me. Murphy hisses and quickly stands to block people from seeing the magic. The ball expands; the light slowly dims and becomes tangible.
Please say the incantation, she asks knowing I have to do the last bit.
“Fine, Manifestus Deadlius Lolius!” I call out and the light disappears to leave Roqariel smiling up at me in the real world.
“Hair’s on fire,” I mutter to the tiny girl who has appeared between Murphy and me.
“Sorry,” she says not really sorry, I know, she’s inside me, I know when she lies. She shakes her hands through the fire strands and it turns into charming brown red curls. “Hi Karrin. Did you forget to wear your bra so the boys won’t see the bags under your eyes?” she sweetly asks a freaking out Murphy.
Karrin’s mouth drops open and her hands come up to hide her nipples that were showing very nicely on her tight black baby-doll shirt.
Roqariel ducks around Karrin leaving me giggling behind. Karrin glares at me but is also worriedly looking at Roqariel charming her way to the front of the line. She’s put on a cute white skirt, barefoot, and my Hogwart’s shirt shrunk to size with my tie. She knows how to do cute. Even the bratty middle schoolers let her through as the High School girls squee over her and run their hands through her hair. Jealousy curls around my heart. Roqa is mine. What do those sluts think they’re doing?
“Harry?” Karrin calls me hesitantly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I – oh! Hell, why is she crying?” I cross my arms watching the disgusting scene. Roqariel is in some girl’s arms standing in front of the truck, the girl looks like she is on the basketball team. Tall, tanned, a horrible dance partner. Nice arse though.
“Why is she crying?” Karrin asks me, moving a little as if to go back to the line.
“They don’t have peach malba.” I sigh, the pint sized Fallen Angel can really throw a tantrum.
A crowd of cooing high school girls has gathered around the white ice cream truck calling out things from the menu; anything that would satisfy the little girl.
“How is she going to pay for it?” Karrin asks.
“Does she look like she needs money?” I answer. Karrin snorts but isn’t convinced. “She pinched my pocket before she left.”
The ice cream man is losing business. He’s taking Roqariel from the girls’ basketball team. I put a little concentration in and can hear through her ears, which are just really my magic – I think. She won’t tell me what she does with my hidden power to interact with people, I just have guess work. The ice cream guy is telling her she can pick anything for free because he didn’t have her favorite. Nice guy, smart guy, the high school broads will love him now. Good for business.
“Harry, your kid is with a stranger in a van. I’m going to get her,” Karrin says as she stomps off flashing her badge to get ahead in line. I’ll let her take charge. As if I could stop her. She’s petite enough to be mistaken for one of these little girls, but not if one notices the way she moves, too confidant, and too alone. Not like the damn droves these blonds walk around in.
The girl at the serving window screams, one of her friends looks in and falls back trying to get away with another hysterical scream. In a second it’s like the mating of banshees. I wonder what Roqariel did in there. Murphy lifts herself into the serving window crouching for a second on the edge. Her head turns to me slowly - her face is chalk white.
“Oh! Shit,” I mutter and disapparate, appearing inside the ice cream truck.
It’s cold. Murphy’s creeping toward Roqariel. My sweet hellion is sitting on the ice cream man’s chest who’s got his hand wrapped around his bleeding throat, blood is pooling on his lips. Roqariel’s twin knives are stuck in his shoulders and she has a mango ice cream cone with…blood on it like strawberry syrup. She just put it next to the man’s neck to get some more on the ice cream.
“Roqariel Anane!” I shout. Her eyes go wide at the sight of me and her lips quiver.
“He lifted my skirt and touched my special place. I’m sorry,” she whimpers, fat tears stream down her cheeks. Karrin runs to her and lifts her off the dying man, hugging her close.
“Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay. No one’s mad. Harry, I’m taking her out, do something!” she shouts at me before pulling open the back door of the truck. I don’t miss Roqariel’s wicked smile from where she is buried against Karrin’s neck, licking her blood topped mango ice cream. I know this because that blood flavored mess is trickling down my throat. Roqariel can only taste what I eat. When she licks the ice cream it actually coats my tongue, banished to my mouth from where she’s holding it. Trust me, it’s a sick flavor.
Luckily I am good at healing cuts; dealt with enough slicing hexes. I have the man fixed up in no time and the blood vanished from the van; it’s as if nothing happened. I obliviate him and tell him to drive like the Devil is behind him and get away. He believes me.
Outside, Karrin is cradling Roqariel surrounded by the crowd. They all look at me as I step out of the truck. Perfect. Eye contact is best for mass obliviation. The girls’ basketball team leaves thinking the ice cream man had a fit and ‘that cute guy with the green eyes is such a hottie.’ I really like long legs, always have.
Roqariel catches my eyes and sees that I’m pissed. A thought from her passes to me. I warn her, “No!”
She doesn’t listen. The ice cream in her hand gets a blue sheen over it as she deep freezes it and then in a movement too fast too see she drops it inside Karrin’s shirt. Karrin yowls jumping in place, pushes Roqariel in my arms, and takes off her shirt to wipe away the burning cold ice cream.
She really wasn’t wearing a bra, huh, I thought it might just have been a thin one. Ice cream on Karrin’s jubilees? Oh! Romilda Vane will die of envy. I try to control my body’s reaction at the sudden melting cream covering supple globes that I want to lick and suckle.
“You made it melt too, didn’t you?”
“Un huh,” Roqariel answers.
Karrin realizes she’s in public and covers her front quickly with the ice cream wet shirt, blushing red enough that it goes all the way to the middle of her back. With a silent incantation I dry her shirt and move the shadows of the trees across from us over her. She puts on the shirt cursing blasphemously once she feels its dark enough that no one will see her.
“Let me guess, the ice cream man didn’t touch your ‘special place.’” I ask Roqariel who is nuzzling my neck, cuddling so cutely she could melt stone.
“He always forgets my favorite flavor. I hate it,” she whines. Her eyes have shifted from innocent to adorably homicidal.
I sigh, and obliviate Karrin. Welcome to the life of the Denarian Dad.