Side Jobs

Table of Contents

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

STORM FRONT
FOOL MOON
GRAVE PERIL
SUMMER KNIGHT
DEATH MASKS
BLOOD RITES
DEAD BEAT
PROVEN GUILTY
WHITE NIGHT
SMALL FAVOR
TURN COAT
CHANGES

 

 

 

 

FURIES OF CALDERON
ACADEM’S FURY
CURSOR’S FURY
CAPTAIN’S FURY
PRINCEPS’ FURY
FIRST LORD’S FURY

ROC
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80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

First Printing, November 2010

Copyright © Jim Butcher, 2010

For additional copyright information, refer to p. 419 All rights reserved

 

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

 

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
Butcher, Jim, 1971-
Side jobs: stories from the Dresden files/Jim Butcher.
p. cm.

eISBN : 978-1-101-46453-3

1. Dresden, Harry (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Wizards—Fiction.
3. Chicago (Ill.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3602.U85S53 2010
813’.6—dc22 2010028768

 

 

 

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

 

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

 

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

 

“A Restoration of Faith” copyright © Jim Butcher, 2002. First published on
www.jim-butcher.com
.

 

“Vignette” copyright © Jim Butcher, 2002. First published on
www.jim-butcher.com
.

 

“Something Borrowed” copyright © Jim Butcher, 2006. First published in
My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding
, edited by P. N. Elrod (St. Martin’s Griffin).

 

“It’s My Birthday, Too” copyright © Jim Butcher, 2007. First published in
Many Bloody Returns
, edited by Charlaine Harris and Toni L. P. Kelner (Ace Books).

 

“Heorot” copyright © Jim Butcher, 2007. First published in
My Big Fat Supernatural Honeymoon
, edited by P. N. Elrod (St. Martin’s Griffin).

 

“Day Off” copyright © Jim Butcher, 2008. First published in
Blood Lite
, edited by Kevin J. A nderson (Pocket/Simon & Schuster).

 

 

The Warrior
copyright © Jim Butcher, 2009. First published in
Mean Streets
(Roc).

 

“Last Call” copyright © Jim Butcher, 2009. First published in
Strange Brew
, edited by P. N. Elrod (St. Martin’s Griffin).

 

“Love Hurts” copyright © Jim Butcher, 2010. First published in
Songs of Love and Death,
edited by George R. R. Martin and Gardner Dozois (Gallery/Simon & Schuster).

 

Aftermath
copyright © Jim Butcher, 2010. Published here for the first time in any form by permission of the author.

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 Oklahoma’s Professional Writing program, more than two years before
Storm Front
found a home at Roc.

This one won’t win any awards, because it is, quite frankly, a novice effort. It was perhaps the third or fourth short story I’d 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 wasn’t up to par for professional publication, and I think that was a perfectly fair assessment.

Read this story for what it is—an anxious beginner’s 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 Nick’s mobile.

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

“It’s 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 parent’s dream at eight or nine years old, with her dimples and dark pigtails—even in her street-stained schoolgirl’s 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. “You’ve 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 aren’t 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 it’s 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, we’ll be in jail, but what the hell?”

“They came to us,” I protested.

“That won’t 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 can’t do that.”

“Let the boys in blue bring her in. That’ll clear you and me both.”

“I’m up on North Avenue, and it’s after dark. I’m not leaving a nine-year-old girl out here by herself.”

“Ten,” shouted the girl, furious. “I’m 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. You’re getting moral on me again.”

I smiled, but it felt tight on my mouth, and my stomach churned with anger. “Look, we’ll 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?”

“I’m broke. Nick, I need a ride. I can’t walk back to the office with her, and I don’t want to stand here in a public booth fighting her, either. So get down here and get us.”

“I don’t want to spend time in jail because you can’t salve your conscience, Harry.”

“What about your conscience?” I shot back. Nick was all bluster. When it came down to the wire, he couldn’t 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 can’t get across the river very easy, so I’ll 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 you’re not there, I’m not waiting. Bad neighborhood.”

“Have faith, man. I’ll be there.”

We hung up without saying good-bye.

“All right, kid,” I said. “Stop kicking me and let’s 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 kid’s 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 girl’s 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. Ain’t 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 you’re angry right now, but believe me, I’m doing what’s best for you.”

She stopped kicking and glared up at me. “How should you know what’s best for me?”

“I’m 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. “What’s wrong with it?”