Dead Beat (The Dresden Files #7) - Jim Butcher Page 0,2

sorry. It was… Angie is a really… really intense and, uh, athletic person and I didn't realize that…" He paused and picked up a copy of Dean Koontz's Watchers. He tried to fold the crease out of the cover. "Wow," he added lamely. "The place is sort of trashed."

"Yeah," I told him. "You were here all day. You said you'd take Mouse to the vet. And clean up a little. And get groceries."

"Oh, come on," he said. "What's the big deal?"

"I don't have a beer," I growled. I looked around at the rubble. "And I got a call from Murphy at work today. She said she'd be dropping by."

Thomas lifted his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah? No offense, Harry, but I'm doubting it was a booty call."

I glared. "Would you stop it with that already?"

"I'm telling you, you should just ask her out and get it over with. She'd say yes."

I slammed the door to the icebox. "It isn't like that," I said.

"Yeah, okay," Thomas said mildly.

"It isn't. We work together. We're friends. That's all."

"Right," he agreed.

"I am not interested in dating Murphy," I said. "And she's not interested in me."

"Sure, sure. I hear you." He rolled his eyes and started picking up fallen books. "Which is why you want the place looking nice. So your business friend won't mind staying around for a little bit."

I gritted my teeth and said, "Stars and stones, Thomas, I'm not asking you for the freaking moon. I'm not asking you for rent. It wouldn't kill you to pitch in a little with errands before you go to work."

"Yeah," Thomas said, running his hand through his hair. "Um. About that."

"What about it?" I demanded. He was supposed to be gone for the afternoon so that my housecleaning service could come in. The faeries wouldn't show up to clean when someone could see them, and they wouldn't show up ever again if I told someone about them. Don't ask me why they're like that. Maybe they've got a really strict union or something.

Thomas shrugged a shoulder and sat down on the arm of the couch, not looking at me. "I didn't have the cash for the vet or the groceries," he said. "I got fired again."

I stared at him for a second, and tried to keep up a good head of steam on my anger, but it melted. I recognized the frustration and humiliation in his voice. He wasn't faking it.

"Dammit," I muttered, only partly to Thomas. "What happened?"

"The usual," he said. "The drive-through manager. She followed me into the walk-in freezer and started ripping her clothes off. The owner walked through on an inspection about then and fired me on the spot. From the look he was giving her, I think she was going to get a promotion. I hate gender discrimination."

"At least it was a woman this time," I said. "We've got to keep working on your control."

His voice turned bitter. "Half of my soul is a demon," he said. "It can't be controlled. It's impossible."

"I don't buy that," I said.

"Just because you're a wizard doesn't mean you know a damned thing about it," he said. "I can't live a mortal life. I'm not made for it."

"You're doing fine."

"Fine?" he demanded, voice rising. "I can disintegrate a virgin's inhibitions at fifty paces, but I can't last two weeks at a job where I'm wearing a stupid hairnet and a paper hat. In what way is that fine?"

He slammed open the small trunk where he kept his clothes, seized a pair of shoes and his leather jacket, put them on with angry precision, and stalked out into the gathering evening without looking back.

And without cleaning up his mess, I thought uncharitably. Then I shook my head and glanced at Mouse, who had lain down with his chin on his paws, doggy eyes sad.

Thomas was the only family I'd ever known. But that didn't change the truth: Thomas wasn't adjusting well to living life like normal folks. He was damned good at being a vampire. That came naturally. But no matter how hard he tried to be something a little more like normal, he kept running into one problem after another. He never said anything about it, but I could sense the pain and despair growing in him as the weeks went by.

Mouse let out a quiet breath that wasn't quite a whine.

"I know," I told the beast. "I worry about him too."

I took Mouse on a long walk, and got back in as late-October dusk was