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What the Spirits Said

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“Anita Blake, resident animator." Her tone was polite, devoid of all emotion really, and her hand was calmly placed before her for the handshake that protocol usually demanded. Sadly, she was mistaken, as far as this particular meeting goes. 

The other party gave her a cursory glance, briefly glaring at her hand, before ignoring her presence altogether. As the silence stretched on, and once her hand was replaced at her side, the man lazily glanced at her before letting out a sigh. 

“Harry Potter." His gaze slid up to the sky and for the remainder of their ‘meeting’, Anita observed Harry as Harry apparently discovered the secrets of the universe through the clouds. 



“I wouldn't do that raising tonight if I were you.” Anita glanced over at the desk Harry had claimed. She took in the incense, the Ouji board, the delicate tea set and the spread of tarot cards; she glanced over the sheer scarves and the crystal ball and rested on the figure that had spoken. Dressed in something that would not be amiss among an arabian male harem a la Aladdin, his glazed green eyes stared straight at her, his voice flat and devoid of any inflection — though that was a pretty regular occurence. Anita honestly could not take this man seriously, he just appeared continuously high. This raising needed to be done, or she would be out of a job, and no crackpot was going to stop her. 

Returning his vacant stare with an unimpressed one, she disregarded his words and walked out of the office. 

She could feel that bastards smile on her back the whole way. 


An hour until the end of his shift, Harry sat back in his chair, sipping his raspberry green tea from a delicate tea cup while lazily flipping through his tarot cards. He had just placed The Tower on his desk  when Anita came storming into the office. Harry let out a low whistle as he took in her disheveled form. 

“Well, aren’t you a hot mess?” Her hair was littered with twigs and leaves, her clothes were torn and covered in a layer of dirt and mud and she had several fresh cuts still sluggishly bleeding. 

“You did something, didn’t you? I have never had such trouble with a raising, not before you started working here!” Harry sat back, taking a long sip of his tea. 

“I did warn you though, love. The spirits are particularly strong, and a tad agitated, tonight. The blame lies on you alone, as you swept my words away with nary a thought nor care.” 

Anita growled, seemingly contemplating murdering the man where he sat sipping his tea, calm as can be. She turned tail and stormed out, repressing the urge to rip the smug smirk from that pretty face of his. 




“You! What are you doing here?”

“The Mother informed me that interesting times for all would occur here.” Anita was close to giving in and shooting the man, but Jean-Claude stopped her, as always. One bullet, that was all it would take, and it would have been such a service to man kind to be rid of that doped up crackpot. 

“Ma petite, care to introduce ton ami? Il est tres... interesant, je crois.” Oh he was interesting alright, if you enjoyed listening to his opium inspired hallucinations. 

Harry stood in a corridor of The Circus of the Damned, dressed in a kimono complete with wooden sandals and ornate hair piece. He looked very much like a geisha at that moment. 

‘He seems to enjoy taking up the part of the whore, it seems.’

“Kicked out of Aladdins harem?” Anita remarked, unable to help herself. 

“Hm, no. Thank you for worrying though, love. Just got off my shift at that Geisha place down the street and didn't feel much like changing. Growing fond of this get up, I am.” Anita scowled at the wink he sent her way. 

“Harry Potter. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." He held out his hand, allowing Jean-Claude to grasp it and bestow a kiss on the back of the rather lovely apendage. 

“Jean-Claude, the master of this fine city.”

“Are you sexist? Is that why you completely brushed me off?” Harry seemed to be shocked at the accusation, or it could have just been his make-up that lent him a similar appearance as his voice showed no traces of surprise. 

“Sexist? However did you get that idea? I merely had a consultation with the spirits earlier that day and they had warned that all physical contact with the harem master was best avoided. I’m not much of a team player, if you get my drift.” 

No one knew quite how to respond to that.