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Wiley Coyotes

Wiley Coyotes
by PaBurke

*** Summary *** Dresden lj prompt: Light
*** Spoilers *** book nine of the Dresden books, White Night.
*** Disclaimer *** I'm playing with someone else's toys. No Copyright infringement intended. No money made. Hopefully everyone will treat this like a plug for Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files. Very much worth reading, buying, or in our case-gifting.
*** Warning *** None, little language, not quite a Deathfic but morbidly playful
*** Distribution *** The Nook and the lj
*** Word Count: 500

I admit it, I always cheered for Wile E Coyote against the stupid roadrunner.

Come on, doesn’t everyone? He’s persistent, had a great work ethic and a fondness for fire and explosions, the bigger the better. I can relate to that. Many have accused me of using the magical equivalent of a rocket in place of a flyswatter. The older I get, the more I relate to another aspect of Wile E: his propensity of getting hurt and everything back-firing into his face. But Wile E always survived and, up to now, so had I.

So when a huge fireball I had thrown at Cowl bounced off him and returned my way, I gulped as loud as Wile E ever had. The pure light filled my vision, blocking out all else.

And then I ran as fast as the Roadrunner, out of the line of fire.

That didn’t help much; I had spelled this particular fireball to follow its target. I had figured that if the military could make smart missiles, so could I.

So much like Wile E right now, running from my own creation.

I heard Cowl laughing and got mad. Hells bells, it was my magic! I could control it. I could control my anger too. My anger mixed with the magic. I stopped, faced the fireball and put my hands out. I didn’t know how Cowl had reflected my spell, but I could do it too and do it better.

I held my breath, my anger. I held my magic, my focus.

Either this was about to work, or the rest of my body was about to match my hand.

“I’m rubber and you’re glue,” I muttered and pushed with all my strength. The fireball stopped in its path. I pushed more. I would win. The fireball changed directions back toward its original target. “Whatever happens, bounces off of me and sticks to you.”

This time, Cowl couldn’t deflect the fireball. He screamed. He died. He died a lot faster than I thought fire would kill. The fact that I didn’t immediately follow him via his death curse worried me.

I waited. No lightening. No Outsider. Cowl wouldn’t have wasted his final breath without taking me with him to the grave.

While I stood there waiting for death, I reflected.

All Wile E Coyote had needed was for the Roadrunner to start wearing a Darth Vader robe. The coyote would have had to start winning at that stage. The costume makes the winner.

Where was that stupid death curse? Was I going to fall off a cliff? Were my arms about to fall off my body? Would I fall apart like Wile E did after one of his own explosions? Would my body make that cool clinking sound as it hit the ground? Or would it squish?

Cowl was the type to go for a big bang, lots of pain. Where was that death curse? I stayed out in the middle of nowhere waiting.

For nothing?