Jim Butcher - Side Jobs

Takes place beforeStorm Front

This is the first of the Dresden Files stories, chronologically, and it was the first time I tried to write short fiction for the professional market. I originally put it together as a class assignment at the University of Oklahomas Professional Writing program, more than two years before Storm Front found a home at Roc.

This one wont win any awards, because it is, quite frankly, a novice effort. It was perhaps the third or fourth short story Id ever written, if you include projects in grade school. I had barely learned to keep my feet under me as a writer, and to some degree that shows in this piece. Certainly, the editors to whom I submitted this story seemed to think it wasnt up to par for professional publication, and I think that was a perfectly fair assessment.

Read this story for what it isan anxious beginners first effort, meant to be simple, straightforward fun.

I struggled to hold on to the yowling child while fumbling a quarter into the pay phone and jamming down the buttons to dial Nicks mobile.

Ragged Angel Investigations, Nick answered. His voice was tense, I thought, anxious.

Its Harry, I said. You can relax, man. I found her.

You did? Nick asked. He let out a long exhalation. Oh, Jesus, Harry.

The kid lifted up one of her oxford shoes and mule-kicked her leg back at my shin. She connected, hard enough to make me jump. She looked like a parents dream at eight or nine years old, with her dimples and dark pigtailseven in her street-stained schoolgirls uniform. And she had strong legs.

I got a better hold on the girl and lifted her up off the ground again while she twisted and wriggled. Ow. Hold still.

Let me go, beanpole, she responded, turning to glower back at me before starting to kick again.

Listen to me, Harry, Nick said. Youve got to let the kid go right this minute and walk away.

What? I said. Nick, the Astors are going to give us twenty-five grand to return her before nine p.m.

I got some bad news, Harry. They arent going to pay us the money.

I winced. Ouch. Maybe I should just drop her off at the nearest precinct house, then.

The news gets worse. The parents reported the girl kidnapped. The police band is sending two descriptions around town to Chicago PD, and they match guess who.

Mickey and Donald?

Heh, Nick said. I heard him flick his Bic and take a drag. We should be so lucky.

I guess its more embarrassing for Mr. and Mrs. High-and-Mighty to have their kid run away than it is to have her kidnapped.

Hell. Kidnapped girl gives them something to talk about at their parties for months. Makes them look richer and more famous than their friends, too. Of course, well be in jail, but what the hell?

They came to us, I protested.

That wont be the way they tell it.

Dammit, I said.

If you get caught with her, it could be trouble for both of us. The Astors got connections. Ditch the girl and get back home. You were there all night.

No, Nick, I said. I cant do that.

Let the boys in blue bring her in. Thatll clear you and me both.

Im up on North Avenue, and its after dark. Im not leaving a nine-year-old girl out here by herself.

Ten, shouted the girl, furious. Im ten, you insensitive jerk! She started kicking again, and I kept myself more or less out of the way of her feet.

She sounds so cute. Just let her run, Harry, and let the criminal types beware.

Nick.

Aw, hell, Harry. Youre getting moral on me again.

I smiled, but it felt tight on my mouth, and my stomach churned with anger. Look, well think of something. Just get down here and pick us up.

What happened to your car?

Broke down this afternoon.

Again? What about the El?

Im broke. Nick, I need a ride. I cant walk back to the office with her, and I dont want to stand here in a public booth fighting her, either. So get down here and get us.

I dont want to spend time in jail because you cant salve your conscience, Harry.

What about your conscience? I shot back. Nick was all bluster. When it came down to the wire, he couldnt have left the girl alone in that part of town, either.

Nick growled out something that sounded vaguely obscene, then said, Fine, whatever. But I cant get across the river very easy, so Ill be on the far side of the bridge. All you have to do is cross the bridge with her and stay out of sight. Police patrols in the area will be looking for you. Half an hour. If youre not there, Im not waiting. Bad neighborhood.

Have faith, man. Ill be there.

We hung up without saying good-bye.

All right, kid, I said. Stop kicking me and lets talk.

To hell with you, mister, she shouted. Let me go before I break your leg.

I winced at the shrill note her voice hit and stepped away from the phone, half dragging and half carrying her with me while I looked around nervously. The last thing I needed was a bunch of good citizens running to the kids aid.

The streets were empty, the gathering dark rushing in quickly to fill the spaces left by the broken streetlights. There were lights in the windows, but no one came out in response to the girls shouting. It was the sort of neighborhood where people looked the other way and let live.

Ah, Chicago. You just gotta love big, sprawling American cities. Aint modern living grand? I could have been a real sicko, rather than just looking like one, and no one would have done anything.

It made me feel a little nauseated. Look. I know youre angry right now, but believe me, Im doing whats best for you.

She stopped kicking and glared up at me. How should you know whats best for me?

Im older than you. Wiser.

Then why are you wearing that coat?

I looked down at my big black duster, with its heavy mantle and long canvas folds flapping around my rather spare frame. Whats wrong with it?

It belongs on the set of El Dorado, she snapped. Who are you supposed to be, Ichabod Crane or the Marlboro Man?

I snorted. Im a wizard.

She gave me a look of skepticism you can really only get from children who have recently gone through the sobering trauma of discovering there is no Santa Claus. (Ironically, there is, but he cant operate on the sort of scale that used to make everyone believe in him.)

Youve got to be kidding me, she said.

I found you, didnt I?

She frowned at me. How did you find me? I thought that spot was perfect.

I continued walking toward the bridge. It would have been, for another ten minutes or so. Then that Dumpster would have been full of rats looking for something to eat.

The girls expression turned faintly green. Rats?

I nodded. With luck, maybe I could win the kid over. Good thing your mother had your brush in her purse. I was able to get a couple of hairs from it.

So?

I sighed. So, I used a little thaumaturgy, and it led me straight to you. I had to walk most of the way, but straight to you.

Thauma-what?

Questions were better than kicks any day. I kept answering them. Heck, I like to answer questions about magic. Professional pride, maybe. Thaumaturgy. Its ritual magic. You draw symbolic links between actual persons, places, or events, and representative models. Then you invest a little energy to make something happen on the small scale, and something happens on the large scale as well

The second I was distracted with answering her question, the kid bent her head and bit my hand.

I yelled something I probably shouldnt have around a kid and jerked my hand away. The kid dropped to the ground, agile as a monkey, and took off toward the bridge. I shook my hand, growled at myself, and took off after her. She was fast, her pigtails flying out behind her, her shoes and stained kneesocks flashing.