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Charity hated today of all days. She's not superstitious, not like she's seen Mr. Harry Dresden be with all his knocking on wood, throwing salt like a child, and other things she's heard those who know him say. And despite being a woman with several beautiful children and a wonderful husband, childhood fears and superstitions would creep up. Like shutting the light off in the basement when she was down there and a brief thought of the boogie man chasing her up the stairs or jinxing something and living in dread waiting for the inevitable.
But no matter how old she got, she always hated Friday the 13th. Something always happened, to her, her friends, her family. It was never anything overly drastic, no hospital trips or bed rest for days on end. Just simple things like a flat tire on your way to an important event that you were late for, losing the car keys for a few hours that you swear you put in your purse right when you got home. Simple inconveniences. Until Harry Dresden made an appearance.
Charity could never remember how they all met. Whether through Michael when he was doing his job or Harry doing his usual impersonation of a headless chicken with all his wizard gear. Friday the 13th was manageable, she just needed to be careful of where she put things and keep track of the family's ever-growing schedule.
But now that the Carpenter family has been introduced to that man, it's almost like the bad luck gates crashed open and everything that could happen, will happen. Dinner would go up in foot high flames, a flat tire would happen on highways instead of back roads causing you to almost veer off into a ditch, and one year they all got sick, no one was spared from a 2-week cold.
So that's why, at 11:00pm on Friday the 13th, Charity, after just surviving a flat tire that turned into a spin-out and clipping a brick wall, could be heard in the family van cursing the existence of one Harry Dresden. Oh, and did she mention it was raining? Hard. Sheets of water flooded Chicago, and the weather man predicted the storm would show next week. Charity took a deep breath and dropped her forehead to the steering wheel, resulting in a bleeping that sounded as weary as she felt. Today can't get any worse, it's impossible with only 1 hour left, what could go wrong?
She might as well call Michael, let him know she's going to wait out the storm so she can make it home. No need to worry him with her near-death experience, at least until she got home. As she was pulling out her cell, there was a flash and the sound of anything electric dying in a wheezing pitiful way.
At first, she thought it was thunder, but she’d heard this sound before. Many times, when Michael was near Harry on the phone and the wizard used magic, causing the phone to upright die. Oh, merciful God, please no.
She looked up just as the man of the hour busted out of his basement apartment smoke billowing after him, hacking up a lung while holding a skull? What in the world? Is that a human skull?!? His lips were moving amongst the coughing and hacking, she was close enough she could make out what he was saying by reading his lips, but with the downpour of water, it was difficult to hear him through the closed car windows.
"It would have *hack* worked fine if you *wheeze cough* didn't distract me!!"
There was a pause, and she could have sworn the skull's sockets were lit orange.
"You can't say things like that and not expect a reaction!"
Was he going crazy? Who is he talking to? Charity knows for a fact the man doesn’t own any electronics, least more explosions happen frequently, so maybe he was going crazy.
Harry proceeded to cough and hack when his eyes met hers. It was brief, but it still happened. And now he's seen her. Shoot, Charity.
Harry tilted his head in confusion and then went back into his house, most of the smoke cleared out, and was walking back out towards her with an umbrella. Great, now he wants to talk. Beep breath, you can be nice Charity, just talk and tell him you're just waiting out the storm. The window wouldn't open, now that she knew why, and opened the door and shut it, crowding under the umbrella with Dresden. No need to flood her car while leaving the door open.
"Um hello Miss. Carpenter, what are you doing in this neck of the woods?" Harry tried to smile, show he was trying to be nice, but the tension between the two was always high. With her practically verbally and, that one time, physically abusing the poor tired wizard, and him trying not to insert his foot in his mouth by saying the wrong thing, she could tell he wasn't thrilled to see her just as much as she wasn't thrilled to see him.
"What I do in my spare time is none of your concern Mr. Dresden." She tried not to snap, but the tense shoulders she saw him wear proved she had failed. She must still be tense and spoken up from earlier. She took a deep breath and tried again. She can't blame ALL her bad luck on one man, try as she might.
"Sorry, I'm tense. I'm just waiting out the storm, nearly crashed and don't want to risk driving myself into a hospital bed. I was going to call Michael, but my phone decided to blow up." She gave him a raised eyebrow hinting that he did it.
And when Harry did that awkward smile and rubbed his neck, he knew it was his fault, too.
"You must have gotten too close, or the explosion was larger than w-I thought." Looking around showed the neighborhood was fine, still brimming with light from inside warm dwellings. "Huh, or for some reason only you were affected. Weird." He didn't look too worried, and Charity didn't want to listen to his many theories.
"Do you mind if I barrow your phone? It’s later than I thought I would be out, and I don't want to worry Michael."
"Of course! I keep it in an anti-magic barrier for moments like these. It's my fault, anyway, please come in. I promise the smoke looks worse than it is." He held the umbrella up higher to allow Charity room underneath, as they made it to the still open apartment door.
The smoke was dissipating, it wasn’t as thick and gray, but it was a good amount that Harry must have decided to open some windows when they got inside. Charity took a test sniff, praying it didn’t smell as bad as it looked. And she was pleasantly surprised there was a warm smell like spices in the air. It was a little strong, but she didn’t mind it. Almost like he decided to light a dozen incent sticks of the same fragrance.
“It smells surprisingly nice. What happened?”
Harry was maneuvering around a cluttered living space, stacked books and papers littered the floor in a chaotic yet organized mess. He must be working on something important, some of the writing looked advanced to her. Maybe a case.
He nearly tripped when he reached the phone, Harry should consider cleaning up, at least make a walkable path. He placed what he was holding on a nearby table (oh, Lord it really was a human skull. Carved with symbols.)
“I was working on a potion and got distracted. Didn’t realize I grabbed a wrong ingredient, and it started popping. Then you know the rest.”
Charity made a pointed look at the skull “And from everything you could have saved, you grabbed a human skull?”
Harry changed the topic and announced he had dialed her husband’s number, then handed her the phone. She’ll ask about the skull later, she will never understand wizards, especially Harry Dresden.
Turns out Michael was worried when he tried to call her phone, and it went right to voicemail. He was about to head out when Harry called. She told him what happened, where she was, and that she would wait for the storm to pass before she changed the tire and came home. He offered to pick her up, since Molly and David were still up, for some reason, and they could keep an eye on the kids, but she didn’t want him out in this and to just wait. He agreed, reluctantly, but understood her reasoning, and that being with Harry was a lot safer than being out in the rain. She promised she wouldn’t be too harsh on the wizard and that she would call before she left.
After they exchanged ‘love you’s,’ she decided to look around Harry’s apartment. It wasn’t large, but all the disorganization made it feel smaller. He was over by the hearth getting a fire started to warm the place up. She took count of all the candles he had lit. Large ones, small ones that look like they needed replacement, and then there was a large cluster of maybe 20 tea candles in different colored glass holders in what looked like an altar. The wall behind it held postcards and photos from around Chicago, and even some from different locations around the world, Europe stood out to her with so many clustered in a single location. The closer she walked towards it, the more somber it felt in the room.
Charity knows what this is. She goes to church and has even lit a couple for those she has lost. But why would he have some, and so many, lit with room for more? Was each one for a friend, a family member, somebody he loved and considered marrying (mired? Was he a widower)? The lack of knowledge of his personal life hit Charity. She didn’t know a single thing about this man, and yet she was so harsh with him. She knew it was because she was protecting her family and wanting to keep them safe, but that was it. He’s even saved her, and they named a child after him.
Harry must have sensed her life view about him crashing around her because he just appeared behind her. She felt him and glanced at his face, quiet. The pattering of rain was a comforting white noise. Charity could see the candle lights reflected in his eyes.
“Each one is for someone I couldn’t save, the ones caught in the crossfire, when I was too slow to get to them or to think up a solution.” His words came out strained and whispered, like talking too loudly would wake up the spirits of those victims.
The wall behind it held postcards, yes. But she also took notice of newspaper obituaries and articles (an old soviet satellite crashed down, killing thousands), pictures of people in both color and black and white, locations that Harry had to most likely ask someone to take the photo for him and give him a copy of it. Some of the items looked old while others looked fresh.
Charity sent out a silent prayer to God. They stood in silence waiting for the rain to stop.