Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dresden Files: Eye of the Storm

Chapter 1

By now you already know my name, Harry Copperfield Blackstone Dresden wizard for hire with my business officially being in the yellow pages, but all of that was back when being a wizard for hire actually meant a damn. People don't tend to care about finding their wallet when the sky is tearing itself apart and creatures from beyond the borders of reality walk the streets of Chicago like they live there, but that's also implying there were any people left to begin with. If you're finding these files then that means that my plan worked and you likely have no idea what I'm talking about; which I really really hope is the case. So, let's start with the basics, shall we?

You already know my name, Harry Dresden.

I'm tall like an NBA pro.

I dress like I just walked off an old western set starring John Wane and Clint Eastwood.

I walk rather loudly and carry a very big stick.

I'm also the last living wizard in the world, possibly the last human or creature from this side of the wall, and I'm officially eight-hundred years old; Merlin eat your heart out. That makes me twice the age that most wizards live to be and I have the scars to prove that I've earned every scrap of power that came with the experience. I'm also the former Winter Knight, more on that later, and the wielder of more than one magical artifact of questionable nature. Yea, there's a reason those outer beings haven't killed me yet and it's not for lack of trying.

Now, onto the good part.

My universe, reality, whatever you want to call it, is well and truly F.U.B.A.R (Fucked Up Beyond All...well you get it) and as the guy who's always punching above his weight limit I felt it was my solemn duty give one last kick to the bad guy's collective balls before the end. I know it's petty, no one likes a sore loser less than me, but age has made me beyond grumpy and more than a little vindictive. So, step one as it were.

1: Cause as much inconvenience as possible for those of the outer mindfuckery.

2: Shove the equivalent of twenty magical nukes down their throat without asking for their consent.

3: Break every magical rule regarding time magic, both because I could and because there was no White Council around anymore to chop my head off.

4: Realize rather quickly that time doesn't like to be messed with.

5: Do it anyway and hope for the best.

Bam! There you go, a five step plan to pissing off a lot of god-like beings and get a second chance to stop a whole lot of people from screwing everything up for everyone else. I know, I'm the greatest wizard in the world and all should bow before my awesomeness. That being said, like literally just a moment ago, time really doesn't like being messed with and the thought of two of me running around is just way too much trouble. So imagine my surprise when I stepped through my glowing portal of doom, I didn't have time to come up with a better name and there was already a portal to hell so it wouldn't quite fit, and then found myself flailing out of a bed that I clearly wasn't in. On the plus side, I had my left leg back and I didn't have to wear an eye patch anymore.

“Ow,” I let out a low groan, my pride hurt so much more than my now bleeding nose, and it took me embarrassingly longer than it should have to realize I no longer looked like a western-viking-Frankenstein.

That being said, after stumbling my way through the dark and into my bathroom, I couldn't help but let out a near crazy giggle at the sight that greeted me in the mirror. Little more than skin and bones, much shorter but just as messy hair, not a single scar on my all to angular face, and I looked about seven-hundred and sixty years younger. There was no doubt in my mind now; I'd officially been  merged with my younger body and boy did it feel good to no longer be in near constant physical pain! Hell, I even broke out into a little dance, but we won't mention that to anyone.

“Oh yea baby! No sore knees, no bad hips, and no back pain!” I cheered, doing my best impression of Fonzy with the biggest grin on my face, “I'd like to see someone stop me now!”

With a strut that would have put my older brother to shame, another thing that was on my to-do list, I flipped open my closet and couldn't help but smile at the long black coat that greeted me. Sure it wasn't magically reinforced to the point I could take a tank round, but there was just something about having it back that made me feel safe. It also went great with my white shirt, blue-jean pants, black boots I found stuffed behind some boxes, and my big black hat. I also made a note to grab my pendent and the revolver laying on my nightstand, mentally reminding myself to go out and get my Dirty Harry gun as soon as possible.

“Oh yea,” I grinned, twirling the now loaded gun on my index finger before slipping it into my inside coat pocket, “I'm feeling lucky.”

Making sure to leave some food out for Mister, the cat nowhere in sight but no doubt already being up and about, I swung out of my basement apartment and sauntered down the street with a tune on my lips. It got me more than a few weird looks, not to mention it was so strange to actually be around living and breathing people again, but I was high as a kite and wasn't coming down anytime soon. It was also such a pleasure to be able to walk down a very open street, surrounded by buildings on both sides, without the fear of some eldritch abomination jumping out to murder me.

It's not like I didn't enjoy the end of all reality, there were no more lines at the drive-thru and I didn't have to worry about any crazy drivers, but there was just something to be said about getting a fresh hot-dog; which I'm not ashamed to say I spent the last of my cash on. Then, because the universe was apparently not done paying me back for nearly eight-hundred years of bullshit, my ears were graced by the voice of an angel; quite literally if my sight was anything to go by.

“Dresden!” Karin Murphy, quite literally my one true love if my now dead (yet also alive at the moment) wife was any indication, “Dresden, that you?!”

Short enough to be considered almost a midget when standing next to me, Karin was the very definition of the girl next door but boy did she have the mentality of a drill instructor. She still had her hair cut short, the badge clipped to her belt gave me some indication as to what year I was in, and boy did I even miss the way she was glaring at me. You'd think living so long after she died in my arms would have allowed me to move on, get on with my already long life that I knew I realistically couldn't spend with her, but then again love didn't exactly play by the rules.

That being said, I still had extremely fond memories of all those nights we spent at my apartment; well technically it was Molly's place but being the Winder Maiden tended to have her out and about most days. Right, focus, Murph was giving me her infamous impatient look now.

“Well, if it isn't my favorite cop in S.I., I'd offer to buy you something to eat but I just spent the last of the cash I have on me,” I knew my smirk was annoying her, there weren't many of my mannerisms that didn't at this point in our relationship, but it was our thing by now and I'm not one to break such a sacred tradition.

“Then get in and earn some more,” I resisted the urge to make a jab at the phrasing, I'm mature like that, “We got a case down at the Madison Hotel and if they're calling me in then that means I'll probably need to call you in as well, so save us both some time and get in.”

Ah, now I know what time period I'd flung myself into. It was ironic that my fresh start, because that's exactly what I was considering all of this craziness, would kick off where it well and truly began. The day I first met gentleman John Marcone, when I ran into a wannabe practitioner of the dark arts that was also making a very dangerous drug that could expose the common man to the sight. I may or may not have been more excited than was morally allowed, but could you really blame me?

“Well what a coincidence, I was just on my way to you with some info you might be interested in,” I finished my food with two quick bites, puffing up my cheeks like a chipmunk, and climbed into Murph's car without a second thought.

“You're not going to mess up my car, right? I know how you and technology don't like to get along.”

“Solved that problem,” I shrugged, it may have taken me a while but there wasn't much a wizard couldn't do with time and preparation, “So I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

Murphy scoffed and rolled her eyes, I could tell she needed a distraction from what we were about to see, “Pig.”

“Oink, oink. Now common Murph, what are we walking into?” I may have known the broad strokes, but my memory can only handle so much and I didn't want to let slip that I knew more than I should; best to let Murphy give me something to work with and go from there.

“Well, it goes something like this...”

(Storm)

There were quite a few people I'm excited to meet now that I'm such a strapping young man again, my brother being chief among them, but who do I get; none other than Ron Carmichael in all his balding glory. Don't get me wrong, the last time I saw the man was when I'd been as close to dead as possible and he gave me a ride to where I needed to go, but at this stage in his life he was a pain in my ass the likes of which made me consider setting what was left of his hair on fire. Then there was the horrid stench of the two dead bodies, their chests blown wide open while in the middle of some serious sex, not ten feet away. All in all, I wanted to get done as fast as possible so I could personally shove my foot up Victor Sells ass.

“Alright Dresden, do your thing,” Murphy said in the kind of tone that implied she had both little time and even less patience for any of my B.S.

I made a grand show of checking out the bodies, Jennifer Stanton still had her head thrown back in ecstasy and a part of me hoped all she felt was that orgasm and not her heart exploding all over her lover, but I made sure to get done much quicker that the last time I had to stare at her blown open chest. Sad to say, but even after the world went to shit I still couldn't stand the sight of a pretty lady getting hurt. Call it losing two women I loved to things beyond my control and a few more from things I knew I could stop only after the fact. Still, my personal issues aside.

Murphy and Carmichael both watched me from just by the door, not that I really blamed them for wanting to avoid seeing such a grizzly sight, but they shared the same look of unease that many people not used to magic had when confronted by just how volatile it could be if used by the wrong people. Doubly so for Murphy since she'd been married once upon a time and death during sex was just wrong.

With a rather loud sigh I backed away from the sex corpses, not very tactful I know, and stalked back over to the two cops with what I like to call my serious face. It's the look I put on to show I'm not messing around, it's been proven to work on monsters just as well as my fellow humans. Basically I set my jaw, level my eyes, pinch my brows, and inflict a bit of frost into my gaze; plus my towering height tended to help get the message across. I could tell it worked by the way Murphy stood up just a bit straighter and how Carmichael lost that mocking look in his eyes.

“What did you find?” Murphy cut right to the point, arms crossed and all.

“That whoever did this has his hands in so much black magic fuckery that I'm surprised he hasn't gone on a murder spree city wide,” I could see Carmichael open his mouth to shove his own foot down his throat but I continued before he could, “The person that can do something like this is so far beyond morality, has so much hate in what's left of his heart, that it puts me on edge.”

Sure I was overselling it, I could take that sick bastard with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back, but they didn't need to know that bit of info at the moment. Oh look, the less pretty cop was about to say something stupid.

“You cannot believe this shit! Magic? I mean really?” Carmichael always was a blunt bastard, but Murphy was equally as good at making him back off.

Karin Murphy had seen some of the things on my side of the street more than once, had seen me use magic to save both of our asses.

“Dresden, let's go for a walk,” Karin turned around and didn't even wait for me.

I sent Carmichael a look, putting just a bit of power behind my eyes to make them glow for just a moment, and stalked out of the room with a flourish of my coat. Sure it was a little dramatic, but can't an old man have his fun?

We didn't wind up going far from the crime scene, not when Murphy still had a job to do that didn't involve listening to me, but it was still far enough away that no one would overhear us or cut in when they weren't wanted. I also may or may not have spent the majority of the short walk looking at Murphy's backside, because not only had she been the love of my life at one point but I'd almost forgotten how absolutely smoking she looked in her cop outfit.

“Alright spill, you know something and don't feel like sharing,” Murphy always was sharp, it's why she was able to see through my bullshit most of the time, but since I couldn't just come out and tell her I was from the future...

“There are only a few people in the world that have the power to pull off a spell like this. What has me concerned is that none of them have a motive to and all of them know the punishment for if they get caught. This means only one of two things. Either they don't give a shit and something went down that no one has told me about, or there's someone new on my side of the street that's managed to stay under everyone's radar. I don't know about you, but I don't like either of those situations,” so instead I played it off as being worried about some half-baked warlock that got his rocks off with sex, drugs, and exploding hearts.

“What about you, could you pull off something like this?” Once upon a time that kind of accusation would have gotten me rather riled up. 

I don't like being accused of doing something I haven't done and I especially don't like the accusations coming from people I consider my friends.

“Oh yea, sure. I could pull something like this off if I had about twenty years to build up enough power, had a really strong grudge against the two of them, and was willing to risk having my fucking head chopped off! Fucking Christ, if I'd known you'd ask me something like that I wouldn't have gotten into your car an hour ago,” I wasn't mad, really I wasn't, but if I didn't act all hot headed then Murphy would find it weird.

Murphy didn't do too well with dealing with guilt, so instead she just shifted over to annoyance, “Don't be a pussy, Dresden, it was just a question and one you know I have to ask.”

“Well in my situation it isn't just a question, it could wind up with me on the literal chopping block,” I faked an annoyed sigh and pretended to cool off for a second, dealing with a Murphy that didn't trust me yet was gonna be so much fun, “Look, I get I haven't told you everything about the people I deal with, but trust me when I say they don't go through due process like you have to. If they think I, of all people, managed to make a spell that could explode people's hearts then they won't even waste time asking me any questions. They'll send one of their goons to literally take my head.”

While I let Murphy think about that little bit of information I set a different part of my head to work on finding everything important that happened around this part in my life. Sure I remembered the overall plot, the big stuff, but it was often the little details that could screw up any plans I come up with. Things like people I'd only met a few times, or places I've only been to once or twice. One Bianca St. Claire came to mind almost immediately, followed by a wave of true anger for what that bitch set into motion; although from the look on Murphy's face my anger must have been rather telling.

“Alright, I get it, so where do we go from here?” she did this thing where she crossed her arms and just slightly stuck out her hip that brought back fond memories of when she caught my daughter up past her bedtime, “Do you have any leads you can give me, maybe someone I could talk to with some answers?”

“Everyone from my side won't talk to a human cop, in fact quite a few of them would probably try to eat you just because,” I made a show of thinking about something, “Give me a few hours to reach out to some people, I think I know of a few that would at least hesitate before trying to kill me; if for no other reason than they like playing with their food.”

“Jesus Christ, you make it sound like you deal with nothing but horror monsters, Dresden,” oh yea, Murph hadn't really seen some of the more crazy things that lived in our fair city just yet.

“Murph, some of the things out there could quite literally drive you insane just by looking at them. Pray to every god you know that none of them decide to drop in for a visit.”

Murph gave me another look, seeing was always believing when it came to her, “Right. Well I have to get back to the station so I won't be able to give you a lift back to your office. Gonna call a cab?”

“Na, don't worry about it,” I had some other business to take care of and a trustworthy gangster to talk to, “I've got my own stops to meet and remember I'm all out of cash.

I stuck my hands in my coat pockets and started walking away, throwing a two finger salute over my shoulder, “I'll give you a call when I get some answers you can actually use. See ya around, Murph.”

God I just wanted to run back to her and give her the biggest hug of my life, but not only would that be weird considering what time period I'm in but I could almost guarantee it would end up with me on my back and a boot up my ass. Karen was just that type of girl, but that's why losing her had hurt me so much.

“Damn, I could really go for a burger right about now.”

Who knew time traveling could work up such an appetite?

(Storm)

Unlike the first time I met the man, this time I did notice the blue Cadillac roll up behind me and the rather large ginger step out to block my path. I also clocked the two guys that had been following me since I left the hotel, although this time I hadn't left at a dead sprint and so they didn't seem quite as annoyed as I remember them being. Although I still got the feeling that I was back in high school and these guys were the local jocks coming to pick on poor Harry Dresden.

“Can I help you fine gentlemen?” I tried to keep the snark out of my voice, I really really did, but facing down the horrors of beyond the great wall of creation tended to set one's standards rather high when it came to being intimidated.

“Get in the car,” said the one in front, one Nathan Hendricks who had previously died taking the spear of Odin through his chest to save his boss; then spitting in a titans face as one last act of defiance.

“Say please,” I grinned as the door to the car was opened by one of the others, Hendricks too busy imitating a gorilla about to maul me to death, and out of the corner of my eye I could see the man, the myth, the overpriced gangster himself.

“Please, Mr. Dresden, would you join me for a moment. I'd like to give you a ride back to your office and discuss a proposal.”

I flashed a wink and Hendricks, a way of saying “You see, that's how you lure the innocent wizard into a mobsters fancy car. Don't worry, you'll get there some day!”, and leaned down to get a good look at another old friend/rival/enemy. And there he was, all dressed up with his unassuming handsome features and outfit that cost more than my apartment, smiling at me like a tiger amused by a mouse. Well jokes on you, this mouse can level twelve city blocks with one spell and his pinkie.

“Well well well, Gentleman Johnny Marcone,” I climbed in the car with ease, taking off my hat to be polite, “I'd say this was unexpected but, given the crime-scene I just came from had one of your guys  running center stage, I kind of expected a visit from at least one of your guys. So tell me, as we enjoy this lovely morning drive, what does this city's most infamous mob boss want from a wizard like me?”

I purposefully avoided direct eye contact with the man, on the off chance that a soul gaze could be brought about and my soul was a lot scarier this time around.

“Right to business then, I can respect that. Very well then, Mr. Dresden, how much would it cost to retain your services?” as I remember, Marcone was the type of man that liked to handle attacks on his business personally and not within the confines of the law.

So I pretended to think about it, looked up at the roof of this fancy vehicle as if I was doing some mental math, before looking back down to find Marcone holding out a check worth quite a bit of money. A polite smile was still on his face, like he was here just paying for a hot dog and I was the vendor, and were I still a younger man I would find it irritating. Yet here I am, not quite the same man that I was before and not so easily intimidated by a man who would one day pick up a coin belonging to a fallen angel; not that I had any room to talk but our situations were two very different things.

"Well Johnny," I teased his name just to see if I could get a reaction, which of course I couldn't but I could almost hear Hendricks crushing the leather steering wheel with his giant gorilla hands, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you really wanted me to do something I would otherwise not want to do."

"On the contrary, Mr. Dresden, I would rather you do nothing at all. That's what I'm willing to pay you for, to simply sit back, put your feet up on your desk, and do absolutely nothing in relation to this case. As you said, it was my man that's dead up there and I would prefer to have it handled...Internally."

If there's one thing you can say about a Gentleman Johnny Marcone, it's that if you're in his employ then he will go to bat for you, but I also know that a bunch of innocent people could wind up dead. All because Marcone wasn't aware of the other side of the street, of the monsters he would be tangling with, and the real culprits behind the death of his man.

So I took the check from his hands and tore it up right in front of him, smiling at him the entire time before casually leaning back in the soft leather seats. I also took some enjoyment out of the slight twitch of his eye and the way his smile dropped ever so slightly.

"Now normally I wouldn't have a problem with that, I can understand looking out for your own and protecting your business, but I also hope you can understand just what kind of mess you're getting into. The people who I suspected this, the people I pray to every God out there didn't do this, are not your average kind of people. Honestly Johnny, they're the kind of monsters that make a tiger like you look like a house cat."

"So you already have suspects then?" Johnny asked, to which I mindlessly played with the rim of my hat that sat in my lap.

"I have some leads I can run up, my good detective friend has entrusted me with such things," I freely admitted since he no doubt already knew, or would know in the near future.

Marcone pursed his lips, taking on the thinking face if I had to guess, before nodding to himself. If I knew Marcone, which by the end of his life I did very well, then I knew he was about to offer a deal. Just like I knew acting like this would eventually make him do.

"Very well, if I can't convince you to stay out of this then perhaps I can convince you to bring me the same information you bring Detective Murphy. Nothing illegal, nothing immoral, and no extra work on your part. I'll pay you, of course, on top of the fee you no doubt charge Chicago PD. I simply wish justice for my associate and I have people that can do things that the police department cannot," a glance out the window showed me that we weren't far from my office, and I couldn't help but smile even more at Marcone's offer.

"Just as long as you remember to look before you leap, because in these waters there really are monsters and they have a bit more bite than you might expect," I held up my hand for him to shake, which he did so with hardly any hesitation but with only a slight frown.

"Was that a threat, Mr. Dresden?" There was no fear in his voice, I didn't expect a man like John to fear anybody or really anything.

"No," I shook my head and spoke frankly, "I have too much respect for you to resort to something like that, as grading as a man like you is on my moral compass. They say you're the one man making sure that organized crime stays organized, that the innocent don't get hurt, and that does earn a bit of my admiration."

Marcone almost looked surprised, in a subtle and near emotionless kind of way.

"I believe this is your stop. Have a good day, Mr. Dresden," it was a power move on Johnny's part, a way to say that he knew where I worked and where I lived.

I just put my hat on, tipped it towards him, and climbed out of the rather nice expensive vehicle. I then simply stood there and watched as he drove away, having the oddest feeling that I was forgetting something rather important.

(Storm)

"Um, Harry Dresden?" A soft and feminine voice reached my ears and then it clicked.

I'd left my house before I could schedule a meeting that ended up kicking everything off.

Turning around I found Monica Sells standing at the entrance to my business, like a lost lamb looking for salvation from a man that should have protected and provided for her. I honestly felt a little bad for the woman and her kids, but maybe this time something better can come about than vanishing into Witness Protection.

“That's me,” I put on my best friendly smile, which must have worked since the poor woman's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, “How can I help you ma'am?”

Monica was still just as I remembered her. A good looking woman, in her mid-thirties, with ash-blond hair that matched that of her now dead sister. Her makeup was tasteful and well applied, which went well with her youthful face and full lips. She was also wearing a light blue blouse and a black full-skirt with a pair of tasteful brown saddles; which also showed off her painted toe nails. Overall, if she wasn't married to a man going around selling magic drugs and blowing up hearts, I would have asked her out to dinner and a show.

“I um, I tried to call your office about an hour ago but you didn't pick up,” Monica was avoiding eye contact with me, just like last time, and her hands were gripping each other tightly to stop from any nervous fidgeting.

“Right, sorry about that, I was taking care of another client and their case. Anyway, I take it you have a job for me?” I ask as I open the door to the building my office was in and motioned for her to enter, which she did after a polite “thank you” and a quick look over her shoulder.

I wound up walking in front of her, obviously because she didn't know the way to my office but also because it helped put her more at ease; the big man in a long coat wasn't someone that normal people wanted trailing behind them. Once my door came into view I took two quick steps in front of Monica, like literally two, and opened the way for her again.

“So,” I began, pulling out a chair for her before swinging around to sit in my office one, “What's the job?”

“It's my husband, he's missing. Like he just packed up his bags and left without saying a word. I know what it sounds like, but he was also looking into...magic. So, when I found you in the phone book...”

“I understand completely. I don't exactly hide what I can do, but I know it's hard to believe.” I gave her my kindest smile; it really was hard not to feel bad for this relatively young mother caught between a rock and a hard spot, “Before we get started, would you like something to drink. I think I have some coffee or maybe tea.”

Her slight smile makes me feel all warm in my old grumpy soul.

“Please, tea if you have it.”

I get up from my chair and go over to a little table I have just shoved in the corner, which I didn’t remember ever having before but once again my memory on the finer details is a bit spotty. One pot of boiling water, a little bit of magic, and I grab a black mug with (I Love Chicago) in big red letters and get the tea bags ready.

“So, while we wait, would you mind if I ask you some questions?” I’m not looking at her but I can feel how she almost clams back up.

“Y-Yes…that’s fine,” her voice is quieter now, but I have to do what I have to do.

I turn around and face her, leaning a bit on the table but giving off the aura of a man completely at ease and doesn’t suspect his new client's husband is a rabid dog that needs to be put down.

“Great, so first things first, what’s your husband's name,” I ask and see her hesitate again, smart woman.

“V-Victor…” well that was different, I could have sworn I remembered her trying to give me a fake name for her husband the last time; maybe I made a good impression on her this time, “Oh and my name is Monica…if you need it that is.”

Her face heats up a bit and she stares down at her hands, wringing them together. So I do the kind thing and go over to her, get down on one knee, and take her shaky hands in my godzilla sized ones. She looks positively tiny compared to me, maybe a bit bigger than Murphy but not much, and her head snaps up so her eyes meet mine. I mildly freak out in my head, expecting a soul gaze to snap into place any second and for Monica to run screaming from my office.

But nothing happens.

Ok, questions for later.

“I get that you're nervous, magic can and has done some rather crazy things, things that are hard for most normal everyday people to understand. The men and women who work with these powers see things in a different light than regular people. They come to understand things in a slightly different way. This sets them apart. Sometimes it breeds unwarranted suspicion and fear. I know you’ve read books and seen movies about how horrible people like me are, and that whole ‘suffer not a witch to live’ part of the Old Testament hasn’t made things all roses. But we really aren’t any different from anyone else.” I gave her my best smile. “I want to help you. But if I’m going to do that, you’re going to have to give me a little trust. I promise. I give you my word that I won’t disappoint you.”

I see her eyes widen a bit at my heartfelt speech, totally not ripped off from the first time we met, and I may have laid on the charm a bit thick there. God, did not having sex for a few hundred years come back in time with me?

Anyway, what happened next was about an hour of asking some questions, questions Monica seemed much more at ease giving me, and gave me something to really get my bearings straight. I promised to keep her up to day on my search for her husband, which might just be me calling and telling her that I found him mysteriously with his fucking head chopped off, and she gave me my first bit of cash to actually work off of. 

Hey, I get it, really I do, but a man has to eat and young me was late on bills. Plus I’m hungry again…

“Oh shit…Mac’s pub is still around!” I’m up and out the door in literal seconds.

Chapter Text

Dresden Files: Eye of the Storm

Chapter 2

So you probably didn't know this but MacAnally's pub, which I just like to call Mac's pub, was one of the last safe havens standing when Chicago went to shit not long after the Outer Gates fell, in no small part due to Mac himself. The last time I'd seen the place it had been on fire, one of the Outsiders had thought it was a good idea to go after the last great refuge in the entire city, and for his efforts had gotten his shit kicked in by Mac himself. It had been quite the sight, as I'd been evacuating as many people as possible into the Nevernever at the time, and seeing Mac go all old school Irish boxer on the thing had been quite the sight. Anyway, back to the matter at hand, I was more than a little stoked to be standing outside the small pub and the heavenly ale that awaited me inside.

The same thirteen stools, thirteen columns, thirteen mirrors, and thirteen windows were just as I remembered them with their depictions of old folk stories and faerie legends. Of course the thirteen everything was a subtle deterrent to the magic of a few old grumpy wizards, and no I don't count myself among them so shut up, just in case someone let their emotions run too high and let off a bit of magic. Sadly, for a man of my height, the entry was just low enough that I had to duck my head a bit to not smack myself on a low hanging beam.

Now that I was older and wiser, or my soul was at any rate and that's ironically what matters, I was really able to feel the subtle weaving of magic through all of Mac's pub. It really was a subtle thing, imprinted in each stone that made up the foundation, each floorboard, each beam, and funnily enough the bar counter most of all. To put it bluntly, the core of Mac's pub was damn near indestructible and I mean that in the literal and metaphorical. Sure you could take down the walls, bust up the windows, have a creature from outside reality burn it to the ground, but it would still be there in one way or the other. At least until all of reality collapsed in on itself.

"Dresden," Mac greeted in that rough old voice of his as I sat down on one of the thirteen stools.

Mac himself is tall, almost gangly, and I never did quite find out what his age was but it was definitely more than fifty. He had squinty eyes and a smile, rare as it was, that was quite mischievous the few times he let it show. Even all the way up until the end he never did say much, but he always did give great advice and normally over a pint of his ale. The man had gone to bat for me more times and I often realized, which is why the day he finally bit the bullet I made the creature that did it wish it had stayed outside of reality.

"Mac, always good to see you," I say with a smile, "I'll take two steak sandwiches, go extra on the fries, and some of that ale of yours."

Mac just grunted, popped open a bottle of his ale and began to port for me while staring over my shoulder. I used to think he did that with everyone to not initiate a Soul Gaze, which was a fair assessment to make when I used to think he was just a normal guy, and really I didn't think you would want to Soul Gaze every new magical customer he got. Little did I know, way back when I was still a young man, that he did it for our benefit as much as his own.

"So, how's life been treating you Mac?" I asked as I reached over and picked up an already used newspaper, thumbing through it to get a better understanding of the world as it currently is.

Mac just let out another grunt and set my ale down in front of me, going over to the stove behind the bar to start making my steaks and good god the smell was already making me hungry. My eyes went over a very particular article, one of a convenience store that had been demolished by a group of junkies that were convinced the place was destined to blow up and wanted to beat it to the punch. It really brought home the fact that I was going to have to take care of Victor before he had the chance to do any more damage. I was half tempted just to call in the Wardens, but at this point in time I wasn't exactly in their good books.

A movement in the mirror behind the bar caught my attention, caught my attention in the way seeing Murphy again had, and I'm not afraid to say a little bit of my heart did ache.

I smelled her perfume first, god did she love that brand and had worn it plenty of times when we had been dating, "Well if it isn't Susan Rodriguez, always a pleasure to see you. What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Just like last time she came to an abrupt stop just a few feet behind me, which did make me chuckle a bit. She was so innocent to things and when I turned around to face her I felt my breath stolen away by just how young she looked. The last time I'd seen her was when she turned into a full red court vampire and I slit her throat with a ritual knife, which brought an end to the curse of that particular brand of vampire but more importantly it helped us save our daughter. We never did get that conversation, about how she'd kept Maggie from me, but it's hard to really stay mad after so long. So instead I hid my feelings behind the smile and motioned for her to join me at the bar.

"Sit down and join me," I said to her and then turned back to face Mac, "Another ale Mac, put it on my bill."

Mac just grunted without looking up from the steaks, his version of a yes.

Susan did sit down next to me, giving me that grin of hers, "Harry, flush with cash today or am I just a lucky girl and caught you in a good mood?"

I give her a very visible up-and-down glance, swinging in the stool to face her and leaning on the bar with my elbow to brace my chin in my hand. Man she was gorgeous, a real beauty even in her crisp business jacket and skirt. Her dark straight hair in that neat cut that ended at the nape of her neck and don't even get me started on those eyes of hers.

"Can't it be both?"

Her lips twitched from a subtle smirk into a full on smile. I like her smile, it lit up her face and even now it did things to me. Although now that I think about it, I'm technically too old for her, or any normal human for that matter? I mean I know at this point I'm still in my twenties physically, and thank God for that, but soul wise I am very much an old man.

"So," Susan sat down at the bar and put her purse on the counter, "I heard through the grapevine that you got called in by the SI director today. Do you have another story for me, Harry?"

I knew what she was doing, leaning towards me like that so that I could get a glance at that rather interesting angle the V of her white shirt was no doubt giving me. The smile on her face said it all, that she wasn't just flirty with me to get a story out of it but it was a nice bonus. It made me recall memories, very fond memories.

"Now Susan, you know I have a nondisclosure agreement with the city," I just smiled back at her just as Mac set down her own cup of ale, "I don't think they would like it very much if I suddenly broke that agreement, no matter how pretty the reporter."

"Off the record then? I heard the killings were rather," she took a pause for dramatic effect, "Sensational."

"Sorry Susan, but I'm pretty sure my contact in SI would literally break every bone in my body if I gave even a hint," we both knew I wasn't going to break, she'd seen my soul before just as I'd seen hers; even if my soul was no doubt a bit darker by now.

She let out a laugh, a very attractive laugh, one that appealed to my once again younger body.

"How about if I just asked some questions, and you just answer them with yes or no?" She asked me with those tempting eyes of hers.

I knew this game of hers, she played it plenty of times with me, so I decided to cut right to the heart of the matter, "You want to have dinner with me Saturday night?"

I have to say, the way her dark cheeks darkened just a bit more made a little bit of my male pride swell up. It's hard to forget your first date with a woman, especially a woman like Susan, so I remember that little trick she pulled on me to get a date out of me. She'd already known she couldn't get answers about the case, and to punish me the first time she tried to get me flustered. Well Susan, after a few centuries of living, I hope I at least improved a little bit with not being on the back foot when it came to women.

"What?" Her voice was a notch higher and then she narrowed her eyes a bit at me.

"You. Me. Dinner. Saturday?" I say each word with emphasis, locking eyes with her.

"Do you even know another place to eat besides this pub?" She asked me with some sass, the playful kind of course.

"Keep that up and I'll have to defend Mac's honor," I got a snort from the bartender and even Susan had to stifle a giggle.

"I know a place," she assured me, "It's romantic, the stakes are to die for, but jackets and ties are required. Think you can manage that, Mr. Dresden?"

"I think I got something in the back of my closet that might work."

"Excellent, I'll see you Saturday night," she leaned in and kissed my cheek before she slid off the stool and grabbed her purse, "I'll even wear something special."

She kissed me on the cheek again and gave me that quirky little smirk. It was a killer look, sultry and appealing, and boy did it remind me how Maggie had been conceived. That woman was dangerous. Then she was gone, walking out of the pub with that sway in her hips that she knew I was watching, just as Mac slapped down my steak sandwich and fries on the counter. I pulled out some cash and put it on the table, downing both my ale and the one that Susan left unfinished. I then picked up the wrapped food and headed towards the door.

"Thanks for the food Mac," I say, waving over my shoulder as I walk out the pub.

As I walked down the streets of Chicago I wondered if I was really going to get involved with Susan again. Things didn't exactly turn out great the last time we got involved, with her being dragged into some nasty things and being forced to do even worse things. To be honest I haven't really even thought about it. I guess that just goes to show how much of a hold she still had on me that I didn't even try and push her away this time around.

The logical part of my head, the kind that survived an apocalypse, said I couldn't afford to have such a weakness and that I should've cut her loose right then and there. She was an emotional weak spot, the kind that I wiped out an entire species because of and did more than a few stupid things for. Then the more human side, the side that was still on cloud nine because I had a second chance to make things right, told me to go for it. This was Susan, the mother of my daughter, the second ever woman I actually loved. Then I thought of Murphy, then Lara as ironic as that was, and a few others that I'd been with over so many years of just constantly fighting.

Great, now I have a headache.

All right Dresden, first things first, you have a warlock to deal with.

(*)

The moment I get home, Mister all but barrel rolls into my shin like a Sherman tank trying to bust down a wall, his rough brand of affection being something I missed. Or maybe it could be that the food I left out in his bowl is now completely gone and he's just hungry again.

"Sorry Mister, I'm not the same Harry Dresden that you probably think I am," I admit after a moment, pouring some more food into his bowl as if to appease him, but he just gives me a look.

It's a look that says, "No shit, you think I can't tell the difference?"

I just let out a chuckle at his Imperial highness and moved over to a hatch in the ground, a hatch that led down to my sub basement where my workshop was. Whereas before, if I'm remembering the train of events correctly, this is the part where I get some stuff together to summon up Toot Toot, this time I really know where Victor Sells is and all I need to grab are some things to properly whoop his ass. Now I could do it off of just magical muscle alone, hell I can give a lot of things a run for their money now, but there's still that pesky law about killing people with magic.

Now I know what you're gonna say, about me breaking another law of magic just to time travel, but there is a time and a place for these things and I technically still have the Doom of Damocles hanging over my head. You're also probably thinking about why don't just call Morgan and the White Counsel to deal with Victor, but a small vindictive part of me wants to choke the life out of the bastard myself. It's one of those habits I was never able to kick. After remembering what he put Monica through, what he was about to put his own kids through, it just flipped that switch in my brain that always triggers every time a woman or some kids get pulled into some shit because of somebody else.

Anyway, enough of my rambling about trying to be some kind of white knight, I go down the ladder into my workshop and just start grabbing things. It isn't the best equipment, not like the kind of things I will end up making in the future, but it'll work out. I grabbed my blasting rod, my fancy cane sword, my shield bracelet, and even my kinetic rings. Now since a lot of these weapons are magical, meaning I really shouldn't kill Victor with them, I go over to my little junk drawer where I just have a bunch of random crap I plan on trying to enchant with runes.

"Huh, I know my memory is a bit spotty, but I don't ever remember buying one of these," I mumbled to myself as I pull out a curved knife, one of those weird ones that people sometimes think those special forces guys use; you know what I'm talking about.

"Harry, is that you Harry?" I hear a familiar voice and I glance over at a polished skull that now had embers of fire in its otherwise empty eye sockets.

"Hey there, Bob, didn't mean to wake you," I stuff the blade into my jacket and finish getting the rest of my equipment sorted, "Just grabbing a few things, don't mind me."

"Harry, did you maybe sign a pact with a god or something, do some ancient and forbidden ritual? Because last I checked, you shouldn't have the kind of magical power to blow up half the continent," Bob pointed out with his usual sass and damn if it didn't irritate me a bit that even Bob could tell there was something different, because that also meant that it was more than likely other fairies could tell there was something different.

"It's a long story, Bob. A long story that I don't really have time to go into right now."

"Whoa, didn't mean anything by it boss, just throwing it out there that it's a bit noticeable," Bob's eyes flared a bit, he was a spirit of knowledge so the whole morality of how I got my power wouldn't really bother him all that much.

"Noticeable enough that you think another wizard might pick up on it?" I ask, because the last thing I need is Morgan being on more of a hair trigger around me than he already was.

"No, or at least I don't think so. Maybe if you do a Soul Gaze with somebody, but it's more so just a feeling I'm getting from you. It might be a bit different around other Fae, but they've always been more in tune with power then you fleshy people," Bob's words made me let out a sigh.

"Good to know," I go to move towards my ladder and pause just before I start climbing up, "Hey Bob, after this errand I have to run, what do you say to helping me make a few potions? Think about it while I'm gone."

I'm back up the hatch before Bob can respond, closing and locking it just to be safe because you never know when some random person might stop by. Then I'm back out the door and headed towards my car, my trusty beetle who isn't quite blue anymore. This hearty machine has seen more combat than most wizards, hence all the replaced parts and the mismatched doors. Mike, the super mechanic that always seemed to get it running again and again, never really asked questions about the giant claw marks or the burn holes that I sometimes came in with.

I load my gear into the trunk, climb in the front seat, and turn my noble steed on. With a quick rev of the engine I make my way towards the I–94 and make my way towards Lake Providence. The place still looks like it belongs to a high-class community, with its big houses and it's sprawling estates that the current me could never hope to afford. Maybe in a few years, because what's the use of future knowledge if you don't use it, but I'm here for a reason and looking at mansions to buy isn't one of them.

It still looked the same, a smooth gravel lane leading back from the lakeshore drive to the Sells' house. The house may not have been a large one, at least by the standards of Lake Providence community, but it was still a two-story and looked rather modern. I drove the beetle right down the main drive, not bothering to hide the fact that I just showed up out of nowhere, and climbed out a few moments later.

I opened my True Sight for just a moment, wincing a bit as I confirmed that this place was still tainted to hell and back, and closed off the Sight a moment later before I started getting tempted. Now the old me would try to be sneaky about this, maybe sleuthing around the back to try and get a better angle and make sure I don't walk into any traps, but I'm a bit too old and a bit too pissed off. So instead I walk right up to the front door, skipping a few steps on the way, and use my blasting rod to politely knock.

I wonder for a brief moment if Victor is just going to try and shoot me through the door, he's sure paranoid enough, and I draw my power a bit just in case. But, much to my surprise, I hear the door latch undo and creak open a moment later. Victor himself peeks out from the cracked door, his eyes widening just a bit when he has to look up at me.

"Can I help you?" His voice doesn't have the madness in it, but I can already feel that this is just a mask he's putting on, the darkness has already run too deep.

"Victor Sells?" I ask redundantly, more so to put him off guard than anything else, coiling my magic subtly so that he wouldn't notice.

He opens the door a bit more, maybe more put at ease because I didn't just come out swinging, "Yes, I'm Victor Sells. Do I know you?"

I want to say something catchy, something like out of one of those action movies that Molly convinced me to see one time, but this wasn't an action movie and I really just wanted this guy dead. Without giving any hint, not so much as a single warning, I use one hand to shove the door open while my other hand clenched into a fist and I nailed Victor right in the chest with a punch. Now normally this might not do much other than knock the wind out of the guy, but I just so happen to hit him with the hand that my kinetic ring was on. It was a low-level setting, otherwise I might have stopped his heart or even collapsed his entire chest, and that would be killing with magic.

What did happen was Victor being thrown back down the main entryway, coincidently allowing me to walk in unopposed and slammed the door shut behind me. The man was on his back, coughing up a lung, as I stalked towards him like the Grim Reaper himself and let a bit of my power off its leash. The man froze up, eyes wide and mouth open as if he was trying to say something, but I wasn't really in the mood to hear him talk. Instead I put my foot on his chest and applied more than a little bit of weight, magical energy still crackling around me.

"I should drag you before the White Counsel," I don't sound so cheery anymore, my voice coming out in a growl that shakes the pictures on the walls, "But a bastard like you, someone who did what you did. What you did to your wife, a woman you were supposed to protect to your dying breath. What you were thinking of doing to your kids, just to get more power for that poison your cooking up. Those two people you butchered last night. I ought to just drag you into the Nevernever and feed you to the most vile thing I can find. Something that will keep you alive for decades as it slowly eats you."

I press down a bit harder with my boot, I think his bones are threatening to crack under the weight and it looks like he's having a hard time breathing, but I don't let up. He opens his mouth to say something, I can feel him drawing on what little magical power he can get. The hate in his eyes is clear now.

In response, I shifted my foot from his chest to his throat.

Young me wouldn't do things like this, he had a sense of nobility about him that was somewhat naïve in its own way. But I'm quite a bit older, quite a bit wiser, and my heart is a lot harder when it comes to people like Victor Sells.

Victor claws at my pant leg, trying to do everything in his power to draw another breath but I don't let him. I let him choke. It's slow, it's agonizing, and it's everything the man deserves. Giving him to Morgan, hell that would be more merciful than what I'm doing.

Thus ends Victor Sells, quietly, no struggle worth anything, before he could hurt anyone else. It's only once I know he's dead, feel his soul leave his body for whatever afterlife I hope he gets tortured in, that I place the end of my blasting rod against his chest and channel some will into it. I don't need a fancy word for this, my intent is enough. Supernatural fire turns the now empty body into little more than dust, dust that is casually swept into a corner and forgotten about.

I know Murphy's gonna want to hear about this place, I'll tell her about it later. Hell, a lot of people are gonna want to know that Victor is dead and chief among them is Bianca St. Claire, because that crazy Red Court bitch probably still thinks I'm the one responsible for everything.

I let out a sigh, "One thing at a time, Harry. One thing at a time."

"Harry Dresden," a deep and familiar voice growls and I look up, swearing.

Standing there, sword drawn, anger in his eyes, is Donald Morgan himself. Silver blade drawn. I just blink at him for a moment.

"Hey Morgan…" I trail off, "It's uh, it's not what it looks like?"