Storm Front ( The Dresden Files ) by Jim Butcher

Author:Jim Butcher
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Private investigators, Detective and mystery stories, Dresden, Mystery & Detective, Fantasy fiction, Fantasy - General, Fiction - Fantasy, Fiction, Chicago (Ill.), Fantasy, American, Wizards, Fantasy - Series, Harry (Fictitious character), General, Science Fiction And Fantasy, Fantasy - Contemporary, Contemporary
ISBN: 9780451461971
Publisher: ROC
Published: 2007-11-05T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Susan tugged at my neck and jerked my head down to hers for a kiss. As kisses went, well. It was, um, extremely interesting. Perfectly passionate, abandoned, not a trace of self-consciousness or hesitation to it. Or at any rate not from her. I came up for air a minute later, my lips itching with the intensity of it, and she stared up at me with burning eyes. "Take me, Harry. I need you."

"Uh, Susan. That's not really a good idea right now," I said. The potion had taken hold of her hard. No wonder she had recovered from her terror enough to come back up the stairs and fire my gun at the demon. It had lowered her inhibitions to a sufficient degree that it must also have dulled her fears.

Susan's fingers wandered, and her eyes sparkled. "Your mouth says no," she purred, "but this says yes."

I went up on my toes, and swallowed, trying to keep my balance and get her hand off me at the same time. "That thing is always saying something stupid," I told her. She was beyond reason. The potion had kicked her libido into suicidal overdrive. "Bob, help me out here!"

"I'm stuck in the skull," Bob said. "If you don't let me out, I can't do much of anything, Harry."

Susan stood up on tiptoe to gnaw at my ear, wrapped her shapely thigh around one of mine, and started whimpering and pulling me toward the floor. My balance wavered. A three-foot circle was not enough to perform wrestling or gymnastics or … anything else in, without leaving something sticking out for the waiting demon to chew on.

"Is the other potion still there?" I asked.

"Sure," Bob said. "I can see it where it fell on the floor. Could throw it to you, too."

"Okay," I said, growing excited—well. More excited. I might yet get out of this basement alive. "I'm going to let you out for five minutes. I want you to help me by throwing me the potion."

"No, boss," Bob said, his voice maddeningly cheerful.

"No? No?!"

"I get a twenty-four-hour leave, or nothing."

"Dammit, Bob! I'm responsible for what you do if I let you out! You know that!"

Susan whispered, into my ear, "I'm not wearing any underwear," and tried something approximating a pro-wrestling takedown to drop me to the floor. I wavered in balance and barely managed to stave her off. The demon's frog-eyes narrowed, and it came to its feet, ready to leap on us.

"Bob!" I yelled. "You slimy jerk!"

"You try living in a bony old skull for a few hundred years, Harry! You'd want to get a night off once in a while, too!"

"Fine!" I shouted, my heart leaping into my throat as my balance wavered again. "Fine! Just make sure you get me the potion! You have twenty-four hours."

"Just make sure you catch it," Bob replied. And then a flood of orangish light flowed out of both of the skull's eye sockets and into the room. The lights swooped down in

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