The Law (The Dresden Files #17.4)(4)

One of the consequences of my life was that I bore a mantle of power from the Winter side of Faerie. Among other things, it made me feel more aggression than most people. I mostly keep it under control.

Mostly.

I stiff-armed the door with my left hand, hard enough to slam it into Tripp’s shoulder and chest and knock him sprawling on his ass. He went down with an expression of shock. He was a solid guy, but these days I was unreasonably strong. For my size.

“Mind if I come in and talk?” I asked, stepping over the threshold of his home. I left most of my magical capability behind as I did—along with much of the influence of the Winter mantle. I could tell because I felt a little ashamed for not waiting for an invitation. That was an interesting point, but I’d leave it for later.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he demanded. “Do you know who I fucking am?”

“You’re a pimp,” I said calmly. I stepped past him, over to the futon, and picked up a handful of mail. “You’re trying to extort money out of a tutoring service called Sunflower. You’re going to stop.”

Tripp’s eyes followed me, and I was reminded uncomfortably of a rattlesnake. This was a guy who would deliver a poisonous bite the moment I allowed it to happen. I eyed him, then checked the most obvious places for a gun and found it under the futon’s mattress in the second spot I looked.

“That’s mine,” he snarled.

“Keep talking and maybe you’ll get it,” I said.

He took that in silence. Then said, “Who sent you?”

“Wow. Add ‘listening’ to your already impressive set of talents, Tripp,” I said. The gun was a cheap revolver. I flicked it open and jiggled it empty, then closed it and tossed it back on the futon. I glanced at his mail, flicking through, tossing it mostly back into the box. There were a lot of bills with FINAL NOTICE printed in red ink. “Along with your financial skills.”

“Hey, the fucking mail is mine. That’s a federal crime.”

“Only if I took it from your mailbox,” I said brightly. “Knocking you on your ass and entering your house is a couple of crimes, though.” I shook my head and tossed the rest of the mail back into the box. “This is the friendly talk, Tripp. Drop the case against Sunflower.”

His eyes narrowed. “Or what?”

I exhaled. “I could threaten you, but you’re the kind of scum I wouldn’t even enjoy scraping off my shoe,” I said. “Let’s just say that you put off a lot of negative energy. It’s the kind of thing tends to come back home. Hard.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” he demanded.

I shrugged. “You get what you give, Tripp,” I said.

His eyes narrowed. “You think you scare me, Harry Dresden?”

“A smart man would be scared of me.”

“Well, I’m fucking not,” Tripp said.

“Pass. That one’s too easy,” I said. “Look, man. Maya seems like a nice enough person. And I looked at Sunflower, and they seem like nice people. The kind of people guys like you should stay away from.”

“Don’t end a sentence in a fucking preposition,” Tripp said.

“Wow,” I said. “You just aren’t getting the picture at all, here.”

He showed me his teeth. It wasn’t a smile. And he wasn’t scared. He genuinely wasn’t. Now that was a little perplexing. Either he didn’t know me, or he didn’t know men like me or…

Or maybe there was something wrong with this guy. I felt a little more wary.

Tripp stood up casually, lifted his chin, and eyed me. “Harry Dresden, huh.”

“That’s my name,” I said. “Don’t wear it out.”

“Well Harry fucking Dresden,” he said. “You’re fucking with the wrong guy.”

“Wow, do I not like you,” I said. “Honestly. It’s remarkable.”

“Like I give a fuck if you like me,” he sneered. “If you’re gonna do something, do it. Otherwise, you go tell that little whore either she shows up here tonight, with my fucking money, or I’ll see her in court.”

“There is no fucking money,” I said.

“So, she lied to you, too,” he said. “Women. Guess you’re just dumb fuck enough to believe them.”

My knuckles ached. They just ached to punch this guy in the face.

But I realized, as they did, that it wouldn’t change his mind. I’ll give it to Tripp, he was tough-minded. Maybe it was stupidity making that happen, and maybe it was some kind of pathology, but he wasn’t going to be moved. A display of wizardly power might be enough to crack through his exterior—but that wasn’t going to happen with my talent waiting outside his threshold.

So much for going right at the problem. I’d have to look for another angle.

“Think about what I said, Tripp,” I told him. “It would save you a world of trouble.”

“You can talk to my fucking lawyer, Harry Dresden,” he sneered. “Or pay the whore’s money for her. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

He was the rightful owner, and that carried a certain amount of power in the supernatural world. I felt a little impulse to leave as he said it, which I suppressed.

But then I left without saying another word, of my own free will. I went back to the Munstermobile, the old purple-black hearse I had been driving around Chicago lately, complete with a blue and violet flame job, and rumbled off.