I said you're such a sweet young thing, why you do this to yourself? She looked at me and this is what she said
Oh, there ain't no rest for the wicked Money don't grow on trees I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed There ain't nothin' in this world for free
I know I can't slow down, I can't hold back Though you know I wish I could Oh no, there ain't no rest for the wicked Until we close our eyes for good
They didn't talk around water coolers.
They sat behind closed doors, subtle nods to each other upon arrival in the evenings. There were meetings in a board room with a long mahogany table, all of them sitting sentinel at various points around it.
There was only ever one heartbeat in the office, and it belonged to Joe--the boss's son, who now ran the firm. He was universally hated by his staff, which was more of an occupational hazard than it would be in any other situation, in any other job.
Except perhaps that of a lion tamer.
The stencil on the office suite read BENNING AND SON. To everyone who knew, everyone who should know, this group was only called The Firm. The cards its staff carried were blank and only had a phone number in red ink.
Joe Benning ran a firm of assassins, and every one of them was a vampire.
It'd been his father's idea, years and years ago. They were the perfect killers. They HAD to kill; why not pay them?
Phaedra Romani was one of the first hires, and now she had her own office. In terms of office hierarchy, and in terms of reputation, she was the go-to girl for all things wet work. She did not suffer fools, enjoyed taking contracts that gave people their just desserts, and was unassuming in appearance enough that it was easy for her to do her job. Very, very easy.
When Joe entered her office without knocking to inform her that there was a client waiting to speak to her, the glare he received damn near stopped his heart. She'd been in not even half an hour and had a line up of research to do. There were other vampires here who would take a new client.
Phaedra did not move, just arched a brow at her boss. "I find it difficult to believe," she said, voice very smooth, "that there is no one else here who can see this client."
Joe's face grew angry and full of lines. "You give me a lotta lip just for trying to run this place."
That's because your father was better at it.
Joe sighed. "He asked for you by name, specifically."
Leather creaked as Phaedra pushed her chair back, slightly more interested now. Many of her clients were women. Women who were wronged, cheated on, raped, or otherwise hurt by men. She had other clients, yes. But that seemed to be how the chips fell. Phaedra was the only female vampire in the firm. Most of the women came to her.
"Send him in."
Harry hadn't wanted to hide a bodyguard. It felt insulting. Mab had insisted he travel with someone, and he had laughed it off until she offered him any Sidhe in her court as an escort. Including her personal guard. Trolls that big would make blending in impossible, even with the Sidhe glamours. And they smelled.
He'd originally gotten in touch with Kincaid, but of course the mercenary was still attached to the Archive. After seeing the limits the man was willing to go to in order to protect her, Harry knew nothing would break that arrangement. But Kincaid still owed him a favor, and that favor was a name. Phaedra Romani. So here he was, in Seattle, to find the woman.
He'd wanted to murder Kincaid the moment he stepped into the building. Vampires. A few gave him wary looks. He tried his best to look angry and aggressive and inedible. It wasn't hard. Vampires made him unsettled. His heavy duster was settled across his shoulders, the heavy enchantments even stronger than before, and reinforced with his new power as the Winter Knight. His staff was in his left hand, his right slipped into the pocket of his jeans, within easy reach of the blasting rod hidden under his coat.
He waited, but it didn't seem very long before he was led to an office. A nice one. And the woman sitting at the desk was beautiful, but not in that unearthly sense that vampires used to lure mortals. Her features were classic, skin smooth, hair and eyes dark. He would have guessed mid-european. He didn't wonder about her name anymore; with the feel of her age and power, as well as the look of her, Romani was a logical choice.
"Ms. Romani," he said, tilting his head in greeting. "You were highly recommended."
An impossibly tall man came through Phaedra's office door, and her reaction was to stand. She did not stand and greet everyone--not even most people. But his sheer height made her feel tiny and defenseless. Standing was her way of looking bigger. At least she had not grabbed her daggers immediately.
She would have offered the man her hand to shake, but a quick mental scan (routine, for anyone that came in, just in case they had ideas of torching the building or jamming wood into her chest--the second action would be pointless and end in the death of the jammer) told her vampires made him very... uncomfortable.
She nodded in return, and leaned on her desk, arms crossed over her chest.
"Please," she said, "have a seat."
Two black arm chairs were positioned across from Phaedra's desk.
Power felt like it hummed around this man. At least Joe brought her someone interesting.
Harry glanced at the seat first, then tilted his head slightly, feeling out with his magical senses. No wards, no enchantments. There was a largish marble stone on the desk, radiating it's own pulse of earth magic. Harry recognized it as an Orb of Thessela, and the ghost of a smile touched his lips. He'd had one in his lab. Used it mostly for a paperweight. Once the sweep was done, and it was quickly done, Harry sat in the offered chair. "Harry Dresden," he said by way of introduction. "I would like to hire you to accompany me to Pennsylvania. There's been some reports of a Hellmouth opening, and I've been ordered to look into it."
He withdrew a manila folder from one of the deep pockets of his coat, and placed it on the desk. The reports were vague at best, hinting at rumors, urban legends of a haunted psychiatric hospital, and creatures trying to open gateways into Hell.
He didn't care for small talk. He was twitchy enough being here, in this nest of vipers. He gave her time to look over the file, while privately imagining the various ways he'd break Kincaid's bones once he saw the scion again.