Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chicago might seem to the casual observer to be a magnet for all things supernatural. What I wouldn’t give for a quiet life, yet in the last few years I’ve taken on rival practitioners, faerie Queens, vampires and a laundry list of nasties too long to contemplate. That same casual observer might think it wise for me to get out of Dodge as fast as my wizard legs and the Blue Beetle could carry me.

Despite this, I don’t leave Chicago much, never taking a vacation (who’s got the money or the time?). If I stopped and thought about it, I’m probably a little afraid that it’s not Chicago, it’s me. Like the song goes, you always take the weather with you, and in my case that was likely to be a rain of frogs. So I figure better the devil you know, right?

Okay, so I probably could have phrased that better, but you get the idea.

So what exactly was I doing on my way to Cascade, a city near the Canadian border that was infamous for having a crime rate almost as high as Chicago? I’d been paid to.

My client was the Cascade PD, specifically their Major Crimes division. One of their detectives had heard about the work I was doing with SI and, instead of rolling on the floor with laughter, he put in a request for me to help them.

They’d been sketchy on the details, I’d have to wait until I arrived to be properly briefed, but I knew from the papers that there had been a particularly brutal string of murders in the city. The headlines were declaring them satanic rituals, and kudos to whoever was in charge at Major Crimes for inviting an out of town specialist to butt in on their case.

A case file might have been good though; would have given me some reading material for the train ride.

It’s not that I enjoy spending two days on a train for a case; flights are not an option since technology and magic go together like Liz Taylor and Richard Burton – eventually something’s gonna explode. Trains are thankfully still low on technology, although I still needed to be in a carriage on my own if other passengers didn’t want their cellphones and laptops on the fritz. Luckily, not many were taking the train and I was able to stay out of others’ way.

It’s also a happy coincidence that there aren’t security checks on trains. Try taking a rod, staff and human skull in your hand luggage on a plane and see where it gets you. Not to mention the .38 revolver that was discreetly hidden in with my clean underwear. I really have to get around to applying for a license to carry.

The journey was blissfully free of vampires and hitmen, supernatural or otherwise. They’re becoming a recurring theme in my life lately, and they have a bad habit of showing up when you least expect them. So I’ve started expecting them all the time. Paranoid? Not really, since I kinda started a war between the vampires of the Red Court and the wizards of the White Council and along with other enemies I’ve managed to make over the last few years I’m pretty much the top of a lot of hit lists. The White Council included some days.

I detrained at Cascade Central and made my way through the crowd to the cab rank outside, where I had been told to expect Detectives Sandburg and Ellison waiting for me. They would then drive me to my hotel, which Cascade PD was footing the bill for. For me this was red carpet treatment; best I ever get from Murph is a phone call, I usually have to get to crime scenes under my own steam.

Once outside I scanned the waiting cars, trying to spot my ride. After a moment, a man approached me and politely asked,

“Mr. Dresden?” I nodded confirmation and he smiled and held out his hand. “Detective Sandburg, Cascade PD.”

I was immediately struck by two things about Sandburg. Out of all the men milling around the station, he was probably the last one I’d have picked out as a cop. I know I’m freakishly tall, but Sandburg was short for a cop, standing maybe five-six or five-seven. On top of that, his hair was shoulder-length, unruly curls that bounced around when he moved in a way that would have been really attractive on a woman. The second thing that struck me was that he had power.

Not a lot of power; he wasn’t going to be summoning demons or commanding the elements to his will, but I could feel it was there when I touched his hand. I’d have to keep an eye on Detective Sandburg.

He led me along the line of waiting cars and stopped beside a beat-up looking white truck that looked older than I was. I was pretty relieved since me and modern cop cars don’t mix well. Technology, remember?

Leaning against the door of the truck was a man who looked far more your typical cop and must have been Detective Ellison. He was above average height; not quite as tall as me, nobody is, but he was perhaps six-four or so. He obviously worked out on a regularly basis, and had a buzz-cut that screamed ex-military. He nodded at me in welcome before taking my bag from Sandburg and tossing it in the back of the truck. As he did, I felt something pass between him and Sandburg that verged on a psychic connection.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” I muttered under my breath. Ellison shot me a puzzled look, but I just grinned; there was no way he could have heard me. He then looked at Sandburg and they seemed to have a silent conversation, which ended when Sandburg shrugged and got in the truck. Looked like I was partnered with some interesting cops. I just hoped that things didn’t get too interesting during my stay in Cascade.

*-*

“So you’re the one claims to be a wizard,” said Captain Banks by way of introduction. He was an imposing man, six feet something of well-built African-American who carried himself with all the authority his rank entitled him too. The man had an impressive glower, somehow magnified by the unlit cigar clamped between his teeth. I strapped on my most winning smile and offered my hand.

“That’s me. Lost items found. Paranormal investigations. Consulting and advice at reasonable rates. No endless purses, love potions, or other entertainment,” I said, reciting my ad from memory. As I said the last statement Banks raised his eyebrow.

“You hear that, Sandburg? No love potions,” he said and pointed his cigar at the man in question, who mimed being struck in the chest.

“You wound me, Simon. Like I need help with the ladies,” he replied. At this both Banks and Ellison laughed.

“Whatever you say, Chief. How about we take Mr. Dresden here through the briefing, before someone says something to finally chink that ego of yours,” Ellison quipped and, although it sounded insulting, even as an outsider I could tell it was affectionate.

We all took a seat around a large table in Banks’ office and Sandburg pushed a file toward me.

“Some of those pictures aren’t pretty,” warned Banks. I nodded my understanding, but after the ruined human remains I’d seen in Chicago I was pretty sure that I could take whatever was in that file. I was wrong.

The three cops discreetly avoided the subject when I returned from the bathroom, but I felt an idiot for ralphing like a rookie. Still, the contents of that folder would have turned most stomachs. I was just glad I’d not seen any of the bodies up close and personal.

I sat back down at the table and went back through the folder, this time managing to hold down what was left of my lunch. When I’d finished, the three cops looked at me expectantly.

“There’s certainly a ritual aspect to these killings, but I doubt it’s Satanic,” I replied warily, not wanting to say too much and then look an idiot if I was wrong. Sandburg nodded enthusiastically from across the table.

“It struck me as bearing similarities to Old Norse pagan sacrifice,” he said. He grabbed the folder and opened it to one of the pictures before passing the folder back and jabbing a finger at it. “See the way they were strung up? And this gutting is distinctive; the way they’ve spread the skin back from the torso…”

I could tell from his voice and manner that Sandburg was preparing to launch into a lecture on the subject, but I was saved by Ellison, who placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder, silencing him.

“I think Mr. Dresden can see for himself, Chief. Let the man keep a little of his lunch,” he said. I smiled, grateful not only for the sake of my stomach, but also for my dignity.

I forced myself to look again at the photographs and try to take in all the significant detail with a dispassionate eye. The bodies had been strung up by the ankles and hung upside down like a carcass in an abattoir, their throats slit.

The thought made me dry-heave, but thankfully nothing more. My mental image of an abattoir made me realise that they had been hung that way in order to drain their blood, yet there was very little on the ground. Obviously it was collected in some vessel.

A cold pit began to form in my stomach that had nothing to do with nausea. Blood could be used in some very black magic and that much of it could create some serious mojo.

The lack of blood also meant that the flaying of the skin had occurred after death, which was something of a relief. As I examined the photos closely I realised what Sandburg had been trying to tell me. All the bodies had been flayed; the skin on the torso had been left attached, but pulled back and spread out like Hannibal Lector did to that guard in Silence of the Lambs.

“They’re being presented to someone, or something,” I said, voicing my thoughts. Sandburg nodded again, curls bobbing enthusiastically.

“Note the way that the muscle has been cut here, and nowhere else. It exposes the internal organs.”

“An invitation,” I agreed and looked up, careful to avoid the cops’ eyes. Last thing I needed right now was a glimpse at any of their souls. Or for them to see mine. “I need to consult… some books on the subject. They’re at my hotel room, I’ll be able to give you a better idea tomorrow what I think we’re dealing with.”

Really I needed Bob’s advice, but I wasn’t about to tell them that I needed to confer with a spirit of intellect. I was almost certain that a magic practitioner was using the kills to collect blood for a ritual or spell. But worse than that, the way the bodies were presented told me that whoever it was, they were feeding a creature of the Nevernever, probably making a bargain with it.

“I hope you’re as good as Lieutenant Murphy says you are. I’ve got a lot riding on you,” Banks said and waved his cigar at me. “The brass are not happy with me for agreeing to this, and they’re even less happy with Sandburg for suggesting it. Only reason you’re here is because Karrin’s Dad was a great cop and she’s shaping up to be as good, or maybe better. You’d better make good on her faith in you or you’re on the first train back to Chicago.”

“Received and understood, Captain,” I replied seriously, but it was hard to keep the grin from my face. Antagonism from the cops was more what I was used to; all that niceness was starting to creep me out.

*-*

Sandburg and Ellison dropped me at my hotel, armed with the case file and their business card. I made my way up to my room; it was a nice hotel, a little old and worn around the edges but it had a faded grandeur. I had requested a hotel that still had proper room keys. They’re getting harder to find, even roach motels have electronic locks, but if I kept a keycard on my person for long the magnetic strip would get wiped; it’s the main reason I don’t have any credit cards. Okay, so no company would give credit to a man who lists his occupation as ‘wizard’ either; I never said it was the only reason.

Once in my room, I put down the file, went over to the closet and pulled out the backpack I had stashed there earlier. Inside was an old human skull and inside that lived Bob. Bob is a spirit of intellect, bound to serve me, and a fount of mystical knowledge.

“About time,” he grumbled as I pulled the skull out and put it on a shelf. The orange light of his being glowed fiercely in the eye sockets of the skull. I did feel a bit guilty about leaving him in there, but Ellison and Sandburg had been with me when I dropped my things off; it would have been hard to explain the skull. So instead of apologising I sniped.

“What’s the matter? Afraid of the dark?” I retorted. Bob said nothing. Sometimes my wit is wasted. “I need your thoughts on the case. You have permission to come out, but you must stay within this room and return the second I say we’re finished.”

A cloud of orange lights floated out of the skull and over to the desk where I had placed the file. It hovered over the folder for a moment, then passed through it and the desk before returning to float over it. I didn’t think it was possible for him to blanch, but Bob definitely went a paler shade of orange for a moment.

“Crap,” he said eventually.

“That good, huh?”

“The magic’s not the problem, that’s probably some minor league player looking to get himself an upgrade. But I only know of a couple of creatures from the Nevernever that feed like that and they’re pretty big league,” he explained.

“How big we talking?” I asked, flicking through the folder again, careful to avoid looking too closely at the pictures.

“I’d put them in the same league as your godmother.”

“Crap,” I said eruditely.

My Faerie godmother is the Leanansidhe, a high ranking member of the Winter Court of the Fae and an incredibly dangerous one. I’d gone toe-to-toe with her and barely come out of it alive. If Bob was right, this case wasn’t going to be easy.

My next step seemed pretty obvious; I needed to visit the most recent of the crime scenes. Hopefully, if something had come through from the Nevernever, or someone had worked magic there, there would be some residual energies or some clue that the police overlooked that would help identify who, or what, we were dealing with.

I called Sandburg on the cell phone number he’d given me and asked to visit the latest scene. He was surprisingly enthusiastic and more than happy to accompany me. He gave me his address and told me to meet him there in half an hour.

“Is there anything I should look for?” I asked Bob once I’d hung up.

“Trust me, you’ll know it if you See it,” he replied. His emphasis on the word see made me groan. I hate using my Sight at the best of times and at a ritual murder site it would not be pretty. I nodded and headed for the door.

“Oh, Bob,” I said casually as I opened the door. “Conversation over.”

I left the spirit cursing me as he returned to his skull, turning the air blue with an entire dictionary’s worth of swear words, some of which I didn’t even recognise. Petty? Childish? Maybe a little, but sometimes you have to get your yucks where you can. My motives weren’t entirely selfish; if Bob had been left to float freely in the room and some poor maid had entered she’d have had a hell of a shock. For a bodiless spirit of intellect, Bob sure can be a lecherous sleazebag.

Chapter Text

The address Sandburg had given me was only a few blocks from the hotel where I was staying so it was pretty easy to find my way there. As I reached the top floor, I was struck by the warm energies that surrounded it. All homes carry the protection of a threshold; it’s the reason vampires can’t enter without an invitation, but it also keeps out all but the strongest of magic and magical creatures. Usually, rented accommodation like an apartment doesn’t have a very strong threshold; it’s one of the reasons that I have to layer my basement apartment with so many warding spells to keep out the various bad guys who keep coming a knocking.

I knocked on Sandburg’s door and didn’t have to wait long before the door was opened by the detective in question. He smiled warmly when he saw me.

“Mr Dresden, please come in.”

I was very glad of the invite; Sandburg’s apartment was surrounded by a very strong protective field, so strong that without an invite I would probably end up flat on my ass. Last time I’d encountered such a strong one was when I visited Murphy’s home, and that had been built up by generations of families living there.

I stepped across the threshold and into the apartment; a spacious loft with typically Spartan decoration for a man’s home. I was surprised to see several tribal icons around the place, and the place was spotless; I’d got the impression that Sandburg wasn’t this neat.

“Who is it, Chief?” I recognised Detective Ellison’s voice, which sounded like he was upstairs. That explained the neatness at least. Looked like the partners shared the apartment and I briefly wondered if they were partners in more ways than one, not that I cared either way.

“Just your friendly neighbourhood wizard,” I answered before Sandburg could and gave Ellison a wave as he came downstairs to investigate. He nodded in greeting before heading to the kitchen area to get a drink of juice. He offered the carton in the direction of Sandburg and me so I shook my head.

“I’m taking Mr Dresden to the last crime scene. Want to come?” Sandburg said. Ellison shuddered, which made Sandburg grin; obviously I was missing out on a private joke here.

“Ready when you are, Detective Sandburg,” I said.

“If we’re going to be working together, you should call me Blair,” he said with a smile. I nodded and returned the smile.

“It’s Harry then.”

“And that, Harry, is Jim,” Blair added. Jim looked over at us and nodded his consent.

“He also replies to Sandburg, Curly or Hey you,” he said with a grin. Blair glared at him.

“You think you’re funny, but you’re not,” he said.

“You’ve just got no taste, Professor,” replied Ellison. As I watched the back and forth between them I warmed to Blair and Jim. They made a strange pair, but something about them made me think we were going to get on well.

Blair poked his tongue out at Ellison before he grabbed a jacket and his keys and then we headed out.

*-*

Sandburg owned a vintage green Volvo that had me pining for the Beetle. It’s not the roomiest of vehicles, but Blair’s box on wheels made it feel like a limousine in comparison. The Volvo was in good condition, he obviously took great care of her, but it wasn’t designed for someone of my height, which is weird, given how tall Swedes are.

We drove for about half an hour, passing the time with general, light chit-chat, the kind of friendly conversation that is pleasant but superficial. He took me to a stretch of woodland just on the outskirts of Cascade and we parked up in a lot that was no more than a patch of dirt by the road. We walked for a few minutes until we reached a clearing that I recognised from the case file. We were only a few hundred yards from the highway but the thick woods were an effective muffler and the only sounds in the clearing were our footsteps. It was too quiet, which is always a bad sign.

“It’s so quiet,” Blair commented. “I didn’t notice before; there were cops stomping about the place. But there are no birds or animals.”

I nodded. I was impressed that he’d noticed that. There was obviously a dark energy around the place keeping animals away. As I stepped into the clearing properly, a shiver ran down my spine like someone had dropped an ice cube down my shirt, confirming that this place had indeed been used for black magic.

“Someone just walked over my grave,” muttered Blair at my side. I looked at him askance and he gave me a sheepish grin and a shrug. “Just got the shivers. It’s this place.”

So, Detective Sandburg had enough power to sense the evil in this place. That was an interesting nugget to be filed away for later.

“You’re not wrong,” I said, continuing forward to the tree where the body had hung. Yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze, incongruous in the forest. “I need quiet for a moment please, Blair.”

“Sure thing, Harry,” he replied and took a step back.

I closed my eyes and summoned my will. I’ve already said this, but it deserves repeating; I hate using the Sight. Whatever is seen with it can never be forgotten, and usually you really, really want to. I opened my eyes and Looked at the crime scene.

The area around the kill site burned white-hot, and I could even make out a faint shadow of the victim where he had hung. Human emotions are a powerful force, and I was seeing the afterglow of a whole bunch of raw emotions. Even five days after the killing, the impression lingered.

I looked around the tree, careful to avoid looking at Blair, trying to spot some sign that something had crossed from the Nevernever. I had walked around its trunk three times and I was about to give up when I spotted something on the ground, half covered by a leaf. Stooping, I swept it aside to see a large paw-print in the earth. It looked like it had been made by a dog or a wolf, but it was too big; the creature would be the size of a horse. And I mean a Shire, not a pony.

I reached out my left hand and fed a little of my will into it, feeling for the trace of the door. A few inches above the ground, no more than a foot from the paw-print, I could feel a thinning where someone, or something, had punched its way through from the Nevernever. It was crude; a hole ripped open by violence rather than a door created by subtle magic. That much I was actually thankful for; a door would have been impossible to detect after so much time.

I dropped the Sight and turned back to Blair, only to feel a prickle on the back of my neck.

“Get down!” I yelled at Blair, diving toward him and tackling him to the ground. I hit my head, hard, and felt a great rush of force as a hex flew over where our heads had been moments before.

“What was that?” Blair asked as we sat up.

“A little present from our murderer,” I answered, rubbing my sore head. Blair noticed and winced.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he examined my head. He stared into my eyes, probably checking for concussion. Maybe I was concussed; I was certainly a little groggy and reacted too slowly. I tried to avert my eyes but it was too late.

For wizards, the eyes are literally a window to the soul. Meet a wizard’s gaze for too long and it opens a connection between their soul and yours, allows you to see the core of their being and vice versa. It’s never pleasant and thanks to the Sight I’d never forget what I saw no matter how hard I tried. Most who know about wizards know to avoid their gaze, but straights generally don’t know any better and it’s down to the wizard to avoid eye contact. Now Blair had just begun a soulgaze between us.

I felt the way too familiar sensation of falling into him and found myself standing in a clearing in a Rainforest, South America if I had to guess, although this was Blair’s subconscious so it might not exist at all. Standing in front of me was a timber wolf, regarding me passively. A little weird, but I’d seen weirder in my time.

Something distracted the wolf and it turned its head toward the jungle. As it did, a big black cat, a jaguar maybe, slipped into the clearing and I took an involuntary step backward. I might be in Blair’s head, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t in any danger. The wolf was completely unconcerned by the cat’s appearance and bounded forward to meet it, tail wagging like a little puppy.

As the two animals met, they transformed: the wolf into Blair and the jaguar into Jim Ellison. Both were fully clothed, thank the stars. Confused? Me too. Soulgazes can be like that sometimes.

Suddenly, a native South American appeared and to make things really surreal he was lying on a couch, bleeding to death. As Jim and Blair went to him, the jungle dissolved, leaving us standing in the Detectives’ apartment. This was obviously the memory portion of the event. That’s the trouble with a soulgaze; they’re like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.

“Incacha,” Jim murmured as he and Blair kneeled beside the couch. I took that to be the name of the guy lying on the couch.

Incacha muttered something in his language that, luckily for me, Jim then translated.

“He wants me to become the Sentinel once again.”

“Good, it’s about time,” agreed Blair. Both of them had tears in their eyes, they obviously cared for this man a lot. Incacha grabbed Blair by the forearm and he pulled back, confused and a little scared. “Hey,” he protested softly.

There was more from Incacha in his language, which Jim translated to an increasingly worried Blair.

“He passes over the way of the Shaman to you. He wants you to guide me to my animal spirit.”

“Jim, ask him how to do that. I don’t know how to do that,” Blair stammered in response. Jim asked, but it was too late and Incacha died.

The scene in front of me faded like a cut in a movie. I normally played a more active role in what I saw in a soulgaze, it was like some force or will was guiding both me and Blair, showing me what I needed to see. Or at least what it needed me to see.

I was standing in the jungle again, this time in front of an ancient temple and the man from the couch, Incacha, was standing before me.

“Welcome, Wizard Dresden,” he said in perfect English.

“How, Incacha” I replied. What can I say; I’m a wiseass by nature. Incacha didn’t even blink.

“I have brought you here to this sacred place for my people to explain why you must teach Blair Sandburg the way of the Shaman. Jim Ellison is the Sentinel of the Great City and Blair is his Guide. He must learn the gifts within himself to do this properly. The fate of the Great City depends on it.”

So that was what I was sensing about this pair; Jim is a Sentinel and Blair is a Shaman and Jim’s Guide. I knew what a Shaman is, but I had no idea what Sentinel or Guide meant. Or how I, a wizard, could teach Blair to be a Shaman. It would be like asking Gandalf to teach Obi-wan Kenobi. No, wait, I want to be the Jedi; didn’t think that through properly.

“Could you be a bit more vague?” I replied. I was about to ask him to explain what the hell he meant when the soulgaze ended and I was brought back to reality, sat opposite a stunned looking Blair.

“What the hell was that?” he asked.

I was wondering the same thing, and I didn’t have an answer but I knew a skull that would.

“That was something that wizards call a soulgaze. If we make eye contact with anyone for too long, it allows us to see the core of that being, their soul. But it’s a two-way street,” I explained to Blair, my mind racing with what I’d just learned.

“So I just saw your soul?” he asked. There was astonishment in his voice, curiosity maybe, but no judgement that I could detect. I briefly considered asking what he’d seen, but sanity prevailed and I didn’t. I nodded. We got to our feet and started heading back to where Blair had parked his Volvo.

“And I’m afraid you will never forget what you saw,” I added. I wasn’t certain of that; there was no guarantee that Blair had the Sight, but Shamans usually had powers of perception so I suspected he would. Blair nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing.

Shamans rarely have the level of power wizards do. Some can do magic, basic spells, but most are simply talented in knowing and healing. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, they were powerful too in their own way.

It was likely that Blair was highly empathic, and with time and training could become telepathic even. He probably would be good at Listening, and have the Sight, maybe even Foresight. A lot of Shamans were considered lucky, but only because they knew when and where to be. Also because they were good at defensive magic; they often were capable of throwing up very strong shields, sometimes by instinct. Which explained why his home had such a strong threshold.

I didn’t think Blair would be able to manage any offensive spells; he didn’t have that kind of power. But maybe one day he might be able to master the elements enough to light a fire, or to perform basic ritual magic.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I considered this last thought, causing Blair to almost walk into me. I looked at him again, not afraid of looking him in the eyes this time; a soulgaze is only one per customer. A soulgaze doesn’t give you a complete picture of a person, it is possible for elements of their being to be hidden, but I really didn’t think Blair was capable of perpetrating this evil. But, then again, there had been that paw-print. I needed to do some more research on Detective Sandburg and his partner.

“Could you drop me at the nearest library?” I asked.

“Sure, but if there’s a book you need, I’m sure we can get it for you,” Blair replied with a smile. I forced myself to return it before answering.

“Thanks, but I’m not sure what I need yet. I’m following a hunch. I’ll get a cab back, no sense waiting for me.”

“Ok, Harry, you’re the expert. We’ll swing by in the morning and pick you up.”

*-*

A few hours later I arrived back at my hotel, tired but almost certain that Blair wasn't the murderer. He hadn't seemed like the type, and Incacha, or the part of Blair he represented, wanted me to believe that he and Ellison were guardians of Cascade. Still, better to be safe than sorry; it wouldn't have been the first time I'd been fooled by someone. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice and I was liable to get my face ripped off.

The library had kept hard copies of the local newspapers as well as microfiche and computer copies so I was able to trawl back through them for any references to my new partners. It seemed that until six years ago, Blair had been a successful and respected, if perhaps a little nutty, graduate lecturer in anthropology at Rainier University. Then the details of his thesis about a Sentinel, one James Ellison, came to the attention of the press. After a few days of media scrutiny on Ellison, Sandburg confessed that he had falsified evidence to make the paper a better read and he was fired from the university in disgrace.

Now knowing that Jim really was a Sentinel, I was impressed by Blair's loyalty. He fell on his sword, ending his chosen career, for the sake of his friend. I'm not sure how many of my friends would show me the same loyalty. Well, ok, Michael might, and probably Murphy too; they’d certainly lay down their lives for me, they’ve both come close in the past. Anyway, I’m getting off the point.

Someone in Cascade PD must have known the truth because I doubted that Blair would be taken on as an officer with such a public history of fraud. Yet he'd been accepted not only as an officer but as a detective in Major Crimes, partnered with none other than Jim Ellison after only a few months at the academy and no time at all in uniform.

Even if I hadn't had that little chat with Incacha during my wander through Blair's subconscious I think I'd have been able to put together the truth of the matter. It was obvious that Blair and Jim were good guys.

With that settled, I just needed to find out who and what we were dealing with. Oh, and how to teach Blair to be a Shaman. Clearly it was going to be one of those weeks.

On my way back to the hotel I’d bought a map of the city, which was now stretched across my bed, yellow dots marking each of the murder sites.

“Bob, is it just me or does that look…?”

“Like a pentagram? Yes, yes it does,” Bob agreed. I nodded and with my highlighter pen connected the dots to form a five-sided star on the map.

If the cops mapped the sites too and figured this out then it’s no surprise they thought the murders were satanic. But the pentagram is a far older symbol that represents the five elements. Wrap it in a circle representing human will binding the elements and you’ve got a pentacle like the amulet around my neck. It’s a symbol that can be used to channel some powerful magic and this killer had created one that covered the whole of Cascade.

“The last point isn’t marked yet,” Bob commented. “That’ll be the next place. It looks like he’s following a lunar cycle for his rituals. The last kill was at new moon, so you’ve got a week or so before the full.”

“Let’s hope we can find the creep before then,” I replied. “He’s creating a door, isn’t he?”

“It looks that way. The paw print you mentioned and the way the rituals are being performed make me think that whoever’s doing this is trying to bring through Fenris,” Bob explained.

“Fenris? Isn’t that the big ass wolf in Norse myth that’s supposed to eat the world?”

“And here I thought you never paid attention, Harry,” Bob chuckled. “The Norse legends come from real experience of the creature. Back in the five or six hundreds, Fenris was able to roam this plane in a physical body. It cut a swathe through Northern Europe, destroying whole villages in its wake. Until a powerful wizard managed to force it into the Nevernever and seal it there.”

“So I’m guessing if this Fenris gets out, it’ll be pissed?” I said.

“Harry, it mustn’t get out. The legend about it eating the world wasn’t exaggerating.”

So, stop the ritual, stop the big bad wolf from eating the world. Just another day at the office.

The wannabe warlock was clearly a lunatic if he was willing to end the world. Organised nutjobs with power and a goal are the most dangerous kind to go up against. They’ve usually got very little to lose and will sacrifice anything to achieve their ends.

This guy was making a deal with a ridiculously powerful creature of the Nevernever and that was not going to end well for anyone. So far Fenris wasn’t taking the bait; for whatever reason it hadn’t accepted any of the offerings. But it had come through from the Nevernever, no matter how briefly. I had to stop this before the next killing or Fenris might be able to break through, with or without magical assistance from this side.

At least I knew what I was dealing with. I’d be able to give Blair and Jim a few ideas on where to start looking for the killer and the rough time and location of the next ritual. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

I allowed myself a small smile and pulled out a couple of rolled up magazines from my duster before tossing them onto the table near Bob’s skull.

“You did good, Bob. Now, tell me everything you know about Sentinels and their Guides and I’ll let you read that porn.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, I was woken by a pounding on the door of my hotel room. At least, I assumed it was morning; since it was still dark out I wasn’t entirely certain. It didn’t bother me, I’m lucky if I get any sleep when I’m on a case, but I wondered what could be so urgent.

“Harry! You awake?” called Jim from the other side of the door. By the sound of it he was two seconds from breaking down the door, and since I’d put up warding spells last night, that wouldn’t end well for him. What? I already told you I’m paranoid. Sure, the vampire courts probably didn’t know where I was, but better safe than dead.

“Just give me a second,” I called out and quickly disabled the spells as I crossed to the door. I’d no sooner turned the handle than Jim bundled into the room, followed closely by a more apologetic Blair. “Hey, where’s the fire?”

“There’s been another murder,” Jim replied tersely.

“Already? That can’t be right. He has a schedule,” I replied.

“We know,” Blair agreed “Up to know he’s only been killing at the full moon and the new moon.”

“Lunar cycles give rituals extra power,” I explained almost automatically. “Could it be a copycat?”

“None of the details have been released,” Jim answered.

I nodded. My mind was racing through possibilities and one awful one occurred to me.
“Stars and stones,” I muttered.

“What?” Blair asked.

“This is my fault,” I said. At the glare I got from Ellison, I felt I needed to clarify. “When we went out to the woods, that hex that attacked us…”

“Is that what that was?” Blair asked, curiosity plain on his face. I nodded.

“It was a booby trap, probably triggered when I used magic to feel about the scene. But it wasn’t just there to attack us. I should have realised. It was there as an alarm system.”

“So we just let the guy know we’re onto the fact that he’s using magic.”

“More to the point, I let him know that a wizard is after him. He’s scared, so he’s stepped up his schedule.”

“Something else has changed,” Jim added. “This time, the guy’s internal organs were missing.”

“That’s not good,” I said. “I’ll need to look at the body, if that’s okay.”

Jim shrugged and then Blair nodded. If the organs showed signs of being eaten, it meant that Fenris had finally agreed to the bargain with our wannabe sorcerer. He probably hadn’t taken him seriously up to this point, but now that it looked like he might actually be freed he was willing to agree to whatever this guy was demanding.

I thought for a moment and then pulled out my map of the city.

“Tell me, was the kill still here in Stanley Park?”

Blair and Jim looked at each other and had another of those silent conversations, like the day we first met, before Blair nodded and smiled.

“We figured he was drawing a pentagram,” he said confirming my earlier suspicion. These cops were smarter than your average flatfoot. But then most cops don’t have graduate diplomas in anthropology.

“But the symbol is only half of it. He’s creating a magical gateway for something and it means he will have to perform one more ritual,” I explained as I unfolded my map. I pointed to the central space of the pentagram. “Here.”

I looked to the two detectives who had visibly whitened.

“Harry, this final ritual, would it require a bigger sacrifice than the others?” Blair asked. I nodded enthusiastically, pleased that Blair was accepting my theory so readily and that he was keeping up with me.

“He’ll want to kill as many as possible,” I answered. At the look on their faces a cold pit formed in my stomach. That had been happening too much this week. “Why? What’s here? It isn’t marked on the map.”

“It wouldn’t be, it’s only just finished,” Jim replied. “It’s the new Cascade Stadium. And in three nights is the inaugural Jags basketball game. Half the city’s going to be there.”

*-*

I gave Jim a list of books that the killer might have found the ritual in and a list of bookstores that I thought might stock it. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. I could tell that Jim was still sceptical about the magical aspects of the case, but he didn’t say anything about it, just took the list with a nod. It was weird; respect and trust are not things I expect to receive from cops; with the exception of Murph.

From what Bob had told me about Sentinels, I guessed that Jim had seen enough of the mystical to at least be more open-minded than your average cop. Blair seemed not only willing to be open-minded, but seemed to believe in magic. That was going to make my next task a little easier. I asked Blair if he could stay and help me.

“I don’t see how I can help,” he began.

“Go ahead, Chief, it won’t need both of us to run down this list,” Jim interrupted and there in his tone was the suspicion I was used to. I could read the subtext as clearly as Blair probably could. What Jim was really saying was ‘keep an eye on this guy’. Suited me just fine.

“If you’re sure?” Blair hedged. Jim smiled and nodded then left the room. “So, how can I help?” Blair asked once we were alone.

“Actually, Blair, this is about how I can help you,” I replied. Blair looked confused and chuckled nervously.

“What’s this about?”

“It’s about you being a Shaman,” I said. He started to argue, but I put up my hand to stop him. “During our soulgaze I met Incacha, or at least the part of you that calls itself that.”

“Really? Wow, what did he say?” Blair asked with curiosity. I doubted his partner would have so readily accepted the idea.

“You have power, Blair. I felt that the day we met. But you’re only using it subconsciously; you’re capable of so much more. And if we’re going to beat this nut then I need all the help I can get,” I finished. Sure, it probably sounded desperate, but we were up against the clock and after what I’d learned about Guides and Sentinels I figured appealing to Blair’s duty to the city was the best way to get him on-side quickly.

If it came down to it, I wasn’t sure I could beat Fenris on my own, so I’d take any help I could get. Part of me thought I should contact the Council; this was really something they should take care of. But since the Wardens didn’t seem to be involved already, I figured they had enough to do fighting the war I’d started. Besides which, knowing my luck they’d probably try to pin it on me, no matter how innocent I was.

Blair pushed a hand through his hair and thought for a moment.

“But I haven’t done any magic,” he answered eventually. I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring and knowing way.

“You do every day, you just don’t know it. Come on, we’ll go to your apartment and I’ll show you.”

*-*

“Why exactly did we come back here?” Blair asked as we rode the elevator up to the loft the detectives shared. I’d kept a stoic and enigmatic silence on the journey over, simply because I still wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to do this. I’m not exactly the nurturing type.

“Three reasons. First, I need to show you something here. Second, guarantee of privacy. Third, this is your home, it’s a place of strength for you,” I answered

We exited the elevator and Blair began reaching for the key, but I stopped him.

“What? Something wrong?” he asked, suddenly on alert and his hand going to his gun. I shook my head.

“Put your hand out, about an inch from the door and tell me what you feel,” I said, channelling my inner Yoda.

Blair did as instructed and after a moment he closed his eyes in concentration. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I can’t…wait!” he exclaimed and his eyes flew open. “Just here, it’s like a build up of static or something.”

I nodded.

“That’s the threshold to your home. You created this Blair, instinctively put up a shield around your home to stop magic that intended to harm,” I explained. “We can go in now.”

“Shame it doesn’t work on guys with guns,” he said as he got out his key and opened the door.

“I can teach you some warding spells that will keep out anyone,” I replied.

“Seriously?” he asked. I nodded. “Cool.”

We entered the apartment and crossed to the dining table where I took off my duster and hung it over the back of a chair.

“This is going to be pretty intense, Blair. We don’t have time for the wax on, wax off approach; I need to teach you in a few days what most practitioners spend years learning,” I explained. “I’m going to need you to take a lot on trust. I’m sure your scientist mind will want to ask questions but there’ll be time enough for all that after we save the city, okay?”

Assuming we survived, of course.

“Sure, Harry,” Blair answered.

“Okay, before we start I need you to find something you can use as a focus. Metal usually works best and jewellery is the most convenient to carry,” I explained and showed him my bracelet and amulet to demonstrate. “It works better if it has personal meaning,” I added as Blair nodded and headed into a room off the kitchen area. He emerged a few moments later carrying a pendant on a leather thong.

“Jim gave me this for my last birthday. Will it do?” he asked and dropped it into my hand. It was a native representation of a wolf’s head, I’m no expert but I’d guess Haida or some other Northwest tribe. I smiled as I recognised the significance.

“Perfect.”

I dropped the pendant back into Blair’s hand and motioned for him to sit at the table. I sat down and he took the seat opposite me.

“Most Shamans have a leaning toward defensive and nurturing magic, that’s why you were able to protect your home without trying. Do people tell you you’re a good listener, good at knowing what others are feeling?” I asked. Blair nodded.

“I think it’s part of what makes me and Jim such a good match – he’s not such a touchy-feely guy,” he answered with a grin.

“Empathy is no surprise. With time and practise you might even be able to pick up surface level thoughts, know if people are being honest with you. Your powers are probably a reason why you’re a Guide.”

“Incacha told you about that too, huh?”

I nodded and smiled.

“When this is over I’ll teach you some skills and spells that will help you to understand Jim’s gifts, to be a better Guide, if you’d like. But for now we need to focus on what will be useful against our wacky ritual killer,” I said. Blair leaned forward and looked at me intently.

“What do I need to do?”

“If we can get you to produce a strong enough shield to protect the civilians, it leaves me free to take the offensive; shields take concentration and if we can’t find this guy before the game we’ll need a huge one to protect the people in that stadium,” I answered. Blair looked nervous.

“Me? Can’t we just say there’s a bomb threat?”

“Nice idea, but with all the money that must be involved in the stadium can you really see them agreeing to postpone for a vague threat?” I replied. Blair nodded reluctantly.

“You’re right. So, how do I do this?”

*-*

Blair and I worked for the rest of the day, stopping only when Jim arrived home. Looking out the window, I realised it was almost dark; Blair and I had been so engrossed in what we were doing we’d not even stopped to eat. I decided Blair had done enough and called it a day.

He’d made good progress and naturally wanted to show off to his partner. I didn’t see the harm; after all, Ellison was probably going to see a hell of a lot more magic in two days time.

Blair took his pendant in his hand and I could feel him feed his will through it to form a shield as I’d taught him. It was strong, although only a few feet in circumference; he’d have to work much harder to create one big enough to protect an entire stadium, but I was surprisingly confident that he’d be able to do it.

“Hey, Jim, throw that apple at me,” he instructed, pointing to a bowl of fruit on the kitchen table. Bemused, Jim held aloft an apple. “Yeah, throw it at me.”

“At you, Chief?”

“At me. Hard, like you mean to hurt me. It’s ok, big guy,” Blair confirmed.

Jim stared at Blair for a second like his partner had gone nuts, but Blair insisted and Jim shrugged.

“Okay, Chief, it’s your head,” he replied and pitched the apple at Blair. It hit the shield about two feet from Blair and bounced across the apartment where it splattered against a wall. “What the…?”

Unsurprisingly, Jim was stunned. Blair laughed triumphantly as he let the shield go. He then looked to me so I nodded my approval. After only one day, that was pretty impressive, it was clear that Blair did have a natural talent for defensive magic.

“Cool, huh? Harry’s teaching me to be a Shaman,” he explained to his partner. Jim stared first at Blair and then glared at me. I avoided eye contact, so he resumed glaring at his partner.

“He is, is he? And how does he even know that you are a Shaman?” he demanded.

“Ah. I’m guessing you didn’t tell him about the soulgaze. I think I should leave you to talk,” I said and beat a hasty retreat to the door.

“Just wait a minute, Dresden,” Jim began, practically growling.

“Don’t worry, Sentinel, I won’t tell anyone your secret,” I replied and slipped out the door before he could stop me. Last thing I heard as I headed for the stairs was Jim yelling at Blair.

“And how in the hell does he know about that?!”

*-*

I decided to take a stroll past the new stadium and check out my potential battleground. A lot of magic is in the preparation and knowing the area would be a big help.

I’m not exactly what you might call a connoisseur of modern architecture but when I arrived at the new stadium I greatly admired this particular designer’s work. Set into the ground was a band of metal inscribed with the names of athletes and contributors to the stadium. It was made of copper and it formed a perfect circle around the entire stadium; a three-pointer for the home team. I have a much smaller copper circle in the sub-basement of my apartment that I use to create magical holding cells for various demons and creatures of the Nevernever I’ve had cause to summon. This circle was going to make protecting the stadium a much easier task. All it would take would be for someone to channel their will into the circle to create a protective circle that would be nearly impossible to break. It looked like things were starting to go our way.

I spent an hour or so walking the grounds, finding suitable spots to take on the would-be wizard and then returned to my hotel. When I collected my key from the desk the clerk handed me a message that read:

M.E. agreed to meet, will pick you up here @ 0700 hours.
Ellison

So, Jim Ellison was a man of few words on paper too, but it looked like the good detective wasn’t throwing me off the case. I’d almost forgotten about my request to see the latest body and part of me wished that Jim had too. But it needed to be done so with a sigh I headed upstairs to bed.

Chapter Text

The following morning, Jim and Blair met me down at the front desk and took me to the morgue in Jim’s beat-up truck. Conversation on the way there was minimal and I could feel that Jim still wasn’t comfortable with what had happened the night before, but clearly words had been spoken between the partners and he’d agreed not to talk about it. Trouble was, we weren’t talking about anything else and you could cut the silence in the truck’s cab with a knife. I was actually pretty grateful when we arrived at the morgue.

The most recent victim, one Thomas Davis, had been treated in the same way as the others but with one significant difference. I took a deep breath and leaned in to take a closer look at where the man’s intestines should have been located.

“It’s the strangest thing,” the medical examiner commented. “It’s almost as if an animal ate them, but he wasn’t dead long enough for scavengers to chow down.”

I nodded, afraid that if I opened my mouth I’d throw up over the corpse.

There were bite marks inside his torso and at the ragged ends of what remained of his internal organs. There were also traces of ectoplasm, the goo left by pieces of the Nevernever that stay in our world and get cut off from the magic that holds them together.

I stood up and thanked the coroner for his time and then swiftly left the room.

“So?” Ellison asked once we were in the fresh air of the parking lot.

“Would you believe me if I told you?” I replied.

“Probably not,” he admitted and then looked at Blair and shrugged. “But I’m willing to be open-minded.”

“These rituals are intended to create a doorway for something very, very bad,” I answered as cagily as possible. Jim and Blair weren’t exactly straights, but they weren’t wizards either and the less they knew was probably safer for them.

“Some kind of monster?” Blair asked. Jim snorted derisively but I could tell Blair was genuinely curious.

“It’s called Fenris. That’s what ate that guy’s insides.”

“A doorway from where?” Blair said, forestalling whatever snide remark Jim had been about to make.

“It’s another plane of existence, parallel to our own but separate, called the Nevernever,” I replied. I figured that bit of information wouldn’t hurt, especially since if Blair intended taking his Shaman studies further he’d probably discover it for himself soon enough.

“No, that’s enough of this b-s. That guy was killed by a human being, not some fairy tale from Neverland,” Jim practically snarled at me, stepping into my personal space to remind me how big he was. There’s not many can physically intimidate me, being so tall, but Jim was definitely achieving it, even though he still had to look up at me.

“And that human believes what I just told you to be true. That’s what’s pertinent here, detective,” I replied and resisted the urge to poke Ellison in the chest. He glowered at me for a moment before nodding and then heading toward his truck.

“So, what now, oh great and powerful Oz?” he asked over his shoulder as he walked.

“The crime scene, if that’s ok,” my reply was more polite than I was feeling. I couldn’t blame Jim for being sceptical, didn’t mean I had to like it though.

“Don’t mind Jim, he’s never been comfortable with the mystical aspects of what he is,” Blair explained. I smiled.

“I’ve had worse.”

“Are you two coming, or should I get you a cauldron?” Jim called from the truck.

We headed over but as we climbed into the cab I couldn’t resist saying one more thing.

“Witches generally use cauldrons. Wizards, not so much.”

Jim grunted, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile as he started the engine and pulled the truck into traffic.

We drove the short distance to Stanley Park and pulled over near the crime scene where a beat cop still stood guard to prevent any curious park goers from stomping all over the crime scene. He smiled in recognition at Jim and Blair and lifted the tape that cordoned off the area to let us pass.

This murder had taken place inside a copse of trees in a secluded part of the park and once again I was struck by how quiet the site was. The trees perfectly muffled all sound and hid the area from unwanted attention.

“You should get some men to the stadium,” I said.

“Good idea, Dresden,” Jim agreed, obviously thinking the same thing I had. “He takes time to select the perfect spot; somewhere he won’t be disturbed.”

“Exactly. Not sure it will apply at the stadium, but he might still go to scout the best place to cast from.”

Jim pulled out his cell phone and looked at the screen.

“Be right back. No signal,” he said before walking out of the trees.

“That’s probably as much my fault as the trees; technology and magic don’t mix,” I said apologetically to Blair. “Something to be wary of if you intend practicing.”

Blair nodded thoughtfully.

“So, what do you hope to find here?” he asked.

“The previous crime scenes were too old to get any real information but with some luck this one is still fresh enough that I might be able to See it happening,” I said and approached the spot where the murder had happened.

“You’re talking about that Second Sight thing that you mentioned, yeah?”

“Yeah. It allows you to see what’s really there, not just in the present but the recent past and future as well,” I replied.

“You said I might have the Sight,” Blair began. I turned to look at him and I could tell from the thoughtful look on his face what he was suggesting.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Blair,” I replied.

“What’s not a good idea?” Jim asked as he returned.

“Blair trying out more of his abilities,” I replied.

“How am I ever gonna know if I don’t try?” Blair asked. I shook my head.

“It’s not a matter of could, Blair. I’m not sure you should. You’ll be witnessing a brutal murder, or at the least the painful emotional echoes of it. And you’ll never forget it for as long as you live. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“If it will catch this creep then yes,” he replied and I could see he was adamant. I sighed and held my hands up in surrender. Jim wasn’t quite so ready to quit and put a hand on Blair’s shoulder.

“I’m not sure about this, Chief,” he said. I wasn’t sure whether he was objecting to the danger to Blair’s mind or to Blair taking part in what he probably perceived as a charade, but either way Blair wasn’t going to take objections.

“I am sure. I don’t care if you don’t believe, I know Incacha passed these gifts to me for a reason and I need to learn to use them,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Jim gave him a look that said the conversation wasn’t over, but he let the matter drop for the moment and took a few steps back from us to give us room. Satisfied, Blair nodded and turned to me expectantly.

“Focus on the crime scene and whatever you do, don’t look at me or Jim. Viewing a person with the Sight can be too much to handle, especially for a first-timer,” I instructed. There was also a possibility that Blair might not like what he Saw. Like a soulgaze, the Sight allows unfettered access to the core of a person and I’d hate for Blair to see something about Jim that would damage their friendship. And I really hated to think what he might See in me.

Blair nodded his understanding so I instructed him to close his eyes. I wasn’t entirely sure what to say next; like I said before, I’ve never taught anyone else magic. I told Blair to slow his breathing and focus his will to give me time to think. Opening my Sight is second nature now, so it took a moment to recall the process I used when I first started.

“Have you heard of the Third Eye?” I asked. Blair nodded. “Ok, I want you to picture yours and imagine it opening. Will it to happen.”

Behind us Jim snorted.

“C’mon, Chief, this sounds like the kind of crazy, hippy stuff Naomi’s into,” he commented.

“Less sarcasm from the peanut gallery,” Blair replied before he slowly opened his eyes and looked around the copse. “Holy crap.”

I grinned. Jim stepped forward and laid a hand on Blair’s shoulder, concern on his face.

“Ok, Chief?”

“Yeah, I just… wow, man. Jim if you can see even half of what I’m seeing now…wow,” Blair answered, continuing to gaze in wonder at the scene. I stopped grinning and took a moment to activate my own Sight. I’d have happily left it to Blair, but I couldn’t guarantee that he was going to See everything that I could.

I looked at the crime scene, at the aura of dark magic that pervaded the place. Just to the left of the kill spot there was a dark and jagged hole in mid-air. I pointed at it and Jim and Blair followed my gaze.

“What is that?” the question came not from Blair but from Jim.

“You can see it?” I asked, surprised.

“I’m not sure what I’m seeing,” Jim replied, sounding nervous for the first time since I’d met him. “It’s like a patch of fog or something. I can’t make it out, but I can see something isn’t right.”

“That’s so cool, Jim,” Blair said. “So, what is it, Harry?”

I took a few steps forward and stretched out my hand. The door was still open, although thankfully not large enough for anything bigger than a lesser faerie like Toot-Toot to come through. I focussed my will and sealed it, just in case.

“That was a door to where the monster comes from,” I answered and waited for whatever comment Jim was going to make. When he didn’t, I decided now was not the time to dwell on the point and focussed my attention back to the murder. “Blair, focus your attention on where the killing took place and think about the time that it occurred.”

As I instructed, I did the same thing, and ghostly images of what had happened the previous night began replay in front of me. From Blair’s gasp I guessed he was seeing it too. Later I’d be impressed, but right now I needed to take in as much detail as I could.

Thomas Davis, the vic, was strung upside down from a lower branch of one of the trees, arms hanging limp and unfettered. He was unconscious, which under the circumstances was a minor blessing. The killer stood a few feet away, near where the doorway had been. There was no sound, but it was obvious from his actions that he was performing a ritual, presumably to summon Fenris.

The killer was average height and build, and unfortunately for us he was wearing a hooded cloak. Obviously this guy was big on cliché; I really hate amateur hour.

“Can’t see his face,” Blair muttered.

“Whose face?” Jim asked but was shushed by Blair. I could hear Blair moving around the tree, trying to get a better angle as I was doing the same thing.

“Stars and stones, the hood covers too much of his face,” I groused.

The killer moved toward where Davis hung and it was then that I noticed the victim had regained consciousness. It seemed the killer either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care as he came close and outstretched his arms, presumably to make some kind of further supplication to Fenris before he kneeled down and pulled a nasty looking knife from his cloak.

Davis hadn’t opened his eyes, but he must have been able to feel how close the killer was to him as he used the opportunity to try and get free. He lashed out with both fists and his left connected squarely with the killer’s face. The killer staggered back, clutching at his now bleeding nose, his hood fallen back so Blair and I could get a good look at him.

“Yes!” Blair cried triumphantly, but it soon turned to a cry of horror as the killer gathered himself and headed back to Davis.

Having seen enough, I closed my eyes and told Blair to do the same, instructing him to picture the Third Eye closing to turn off the Sight. After a second I opened my eyes and looked at Blair.

“Everything normal again?” I asked. He smiled wanly and nodded. He looked pale, but that was hardly surprising. “We both got a good look at the killer’s face, we should be able to spot him at the stadium,” I told Jim.

He looked puzzled from me to Blair.

“I’ll fill you in later, big guy. That was… I have no words, Harry,” Blair said. I nodded sympathetically.

“You, lost for words, that’s a first,” Jim quipped. Blair gave him a friendly punch on the arm.

“It’s just a shame we couldn’t have been here sooner,” I said. At their puzzled expression I continued. “The killer was injured. If there were some blood still, I could perform a locating spell, but we’d never find it now.”

“Au contraire, Harry,” Blair said and turned to his partner with a grin. “Jim, it’s your turn to work a little magic.”

He guided Jim over to the spot where we’d both seen the killer’s blood fall to the floor and placed a gentle hand on Jim’s back. When Blair began speaking, his tone of voice was different from his usual bouncy self; there was a note of authority to it. As a practitioner I recognised it as containing magic, but Jim and Blair would probably say it was his Guide voice, if they were aware of it at all.

“Focus Jim, the blood drops were quite small, and there have been a lot of people through here since.”

Jim stared at the undergrowth for a few moments and then pointed.

“There. Chief, do you have a swab?”

Blair fished a swab from his pocket and passed it to Jim who kneeled down and wiped at something on the ground. He held it aloft and examined it, first by sight and then by smell.

“It’s definitely blood, and relatively fresh, but it could be animal for all I know,” he said.

“Take another swab for the lab. Maybe we’ll get lucky with a DNA hit,” Blair said and handed his partner another swab before taking the first and handing it to me.

I looked at the tiny brownish stain on the end of the cotton, amazed by the Sentinel’s ability. If I didn’t know better, I’d have said that he had just worked magic.

“So you think you can find him?” Blair asked me as Jim got to his feet.

“Hopefully. I’ll need some of my things and somewhere quiet to work,” I replied.

“I’ll drop you two at the hotel, then I’ll take this to forensics and meet you back at our apartment,” Jim said and waggled the other sample to demonstrate.

“Sounds good,” I agreed and we all headed back to the truck.

Chapter Text

I carried with me most of what I used for a location spell, but there were a few things in my room that I needed and I took the opportunity to grab my rod and staff; I knew I’d need them if we caught up to the killer. The eaten innards of the latest victim suggested that Fenris had agreed to whatever deal had been proposed; if Bob was right about the killer wanting a magical upgrade and Fenris had delivered his end then who knew what kind of spells the killer was now capable of slinging. I had to be prepared for anything.

Once we had everything, Blair and I walked over to their loft and I set about making preparations for the spell. It was a little disconcerting to have Blair watching me; I felt like he was taking notes on everything I was doing and it was making me hyper-aware of any mistakes I might make.

By the time I was ready to begin Jim had returned. I could hear him muttering in a corner with Blair, presumably arguing over the potential success of my spell. It seemed that despite all he’d seen, Jim still wasn’t comfortable accepting the existence of magic. Not a surprise, I’ve seen it often enough; humans are hardwired to shut out the unexplained. But he wasn’t trying to stop me doing my thing. I guessed that between the trust he had in his partner and the amount of weird he’d experienced as a Sentinel he was at least willing to give me a chance.

“Blair, can I borrow your glasses, please? I need a focus for the spell,” I told him.

“Sure, man,” he replied with a smile and handed over the spectacles in question. I took them gratefully and rubbed the swab over them, streaking the lenses with the killer’s blood.

A location spell isn’t difficult because, from a magical perspective, the blood sample and the person it came from were still the same entity; they just didn’t occupy the same space currently. They were still connected to each other and my spell would make the connection visible to me, allowing us to track the killer for the duration of the spell. With the degraded sample we had maybe an hour to find him before the connection fizzled out.

As I explained that to Blair and Jim, I sat on the floor and drew a chalk circle around me. The circle would help focus and contain my energy in the unfamiliar surroundings; I’ve always had a slight problem with finesse when it comes to working magic and I really didn’t want to accidentally blow up anything.

“Hope you’re gonna clean that up, hoss,” Jim commented. Blair shushed him.

I touched the circle and used a little of my will to close it and then shut my eyes and began to focus on the task at hand or, more precisely, the glasses I held in my hand. I intoned the appropriate words, a few moments of silence followed and then when nothing seemed to happen Jim said,

“Well that was all very…”

He was interrupted by a blinding flash of blue light that I could see through my closed eyelids. I heard Jim cry out in pain and opened my eyes to see him covering his eyes and Blair comforting him with a hand on his back.

“Sorry, should have warned you,” I said and the apology was genuine. I will admit to a small amount of satisfaction; I am only human after all and Jim’s denial was starting to wear thin. I was also mildly surprised; the light was magical and I hadn’t expected Jim to be able to see it, despite his ability to see the doorway to the Nevernever earlier. It looked like it wasn’t only the five regular senses that were all amped up in a Sentinel; Jim’s Sixth sense seemed to be hyper-aware as well.

“Did it work?” Blair asked.

“Let’s find out,” I replied as I put on his glasses and looked around. A thin ribbon of red light flowed from the glasses and threaded its way out of the front door. I smiled. “Come on, we’ve not got much time before this starts to fade,” I said as I picked up my rod and staff and then began to follow the trail, not waiting to see if Blair and Jim were behind me. As I hit the second flight of stairs down I heard their footsteps behind me.

We walked down to the lot where Jim’s truck was parked and got in. He drove, following my instructions, which led us into the heart of the city. Shoppers bustled along the sidewalks, disrupting the trail and making it difficult to spot.

Suddenly, the red light glowed much brighter than before.

“He’s close. Pull over Jim,” I instructed.

As soon as the truck stopped moving, Blair and I slid out of the passenger side and began looking for the suspect. I pointed Blair in the right direction and then we split up, Jim sticking with his Guide and taking the other side of the street to me.

I continued to follow the trail, all the while keeping an eye out for the guy we were looking for; I’d been caught out before by bad guys who took advantage when I was too focussed on a spell. I wasn’t about to be taken unawares this time.

I spotted him walking around a corner. I didn’t want to call out and alert him to our presence, so I hoped that Jim’s Sentinel hearing would pick up my voice from across the street.

“Jim, he’s on my side of the street, about half a block ahead and just turned right.”

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Jim and Blair crossing the street with their guns drawn, running toward the corner. I quickened my pace to catch up to them and readied my rod; unfortunately I’d left the staff in the truck. The three of us rounded the corner at the same time to see the suspect get into an old black Thunderbird and drive off.

“Son of a bitch!” Jim exclaimed and he holstered his gun at the same time as he yanked his cell from its own little holster. “This is Ellison. I need an APB on a black T-bird and full details on the registered owner. License plate number…”

I tuned out the rest as I focussed back on the spell, hoping we could pick up the trail again. Looked like we were out of luck; the red line had faded away to nothing. With a sigh I took off the glasses and handed them back to Blair.

Disappointed, we all headed back to where Jim had parked his truck.

“We’ll get a name and address from the DMV. Hopefully the guy’s arrogant enough not to use an alias or fake address and we’ll get him at home,” Jim explained as we got back in the truck. I nodded.

“This is a win,” Blair said cheerfully.

“Not yet it isn’t,” Jim replied.

The information came through on the radio moments later. The car belonged to a David Emerson, late of Seattle and relocated to Cascade six months ago. His house was only a few miles from where we were so Jim gunned the truck into traffic, police light flashing.

Dusk was falling by the time we reached Emerson’s house, a detached single story in one of the less salubrious suburbs of Cascade. It must have been a nice neighbourhood back when it was built, the 1950’s I’d guess, but, as happens a lot, it had fallen to ruin. Empty lots and abandoned buildings jostled for position with burned out cars and gang graffiti covered, boarded-up houses that were probably meth labs. Emerson’s house actually stuck out a little; aside from an overgrown garden it was pretty well-kept compared to the neighbours.

As we pulled up across the street, Blair spotted Emerson’s T-bird parked on the driveway. Looked like our boy was home.

“We should call for backup,” Jim said and reached forward for the radio.

“That might not be a good idea. If this guy is capable of offensive magic now, cops with guns aren’t going to make much difference, no matter how many you call in,” I said. Jim glowered at me.

“And I suppose you suggest I let you handle it?” he said. Internally I counted to ten.

“If you value your life, yes.”

“Come on, man. We brought Harry in because he’s an expert in this stuff. Let him do his thing,” Blair reasoned. Jim glowered at me for a moment more and then huffed.

“Fine. But we’re coming too.”

“If you have to; stay behind me. Blair, you should have your amulet ready to make a shield. If me and Emerson start slinging spells at each other, duck and cover. Bullets won’t do you much good,” I instructed before climbing out of the cab.

Blair followed me and Jim got out the driver’s side before we all crossed to Emerson’s house. We walked three abreast in a line, me flanked by the two cops on either side, and as my trusty duster billowed in the evening breeze, I smiled. You get few times where you feel like a movie hero and I knew things were about to get ugly so I enjoyed the moment. A few feet from the property line, Blair held out his hand to stop us and looked to me with a puzzled expression.

“Is that Emerson’s threshold? It feels way stronger than ours,” he said.

“Chief?” Jim queried, naturally confused.

I’d not felt anything, so I focussed and reached out my senses to try and find what Blair had detected. It took me a moment, but I realised that he’d sensed warding spells that Emerson must have put up around the property. I was impressed and I told him so.

“Those spells are going to make getting inside a little tricky,” I explained.

“We’ll see about that,” Jim replied and marched up to the house. I called after him, but it was no use.

“Probable cause, Jim!” Blair tried protesting.

“I smell gas,” was the reply.

Jim strode up onto Emerson’s porch and kicked at the door. There was a flash of light and a noise like thunder and Jim was thrown twenty feet through the air and onto the lawn.

“Oof,” he said eloquently. “What the hell?” he muttered as he clambered to his feet. Blair rushed over to check his partner was ok.

“Warding spells. Can’t get past them. Sure I mentioned that,” I snarked. Jim glared at me, but before we could get into it any further, the front door of the house opened and Emerson came out holding a wooden staff in one hand. He paused on the front porch to reactivate his wards; he was clearly more worried about us getting into the house than his own safety.

While that made attacking a lot easier, it also made me very nervous. He could wait us out forever behind those wards, or at least until the magic weakened at sunrise. Either this guy was intensely stupid or he was very powerful. I figured on the latter.

“David Emerson, you are under arrest for the murder of…” Blair began to read him his rights but before he could get very far, Emerson raised the wooden staff he had in his hands.

“Fuego!” he yelled and a fireball came hurtling towards us. Luckily, Blair has faster reflexes than me and he put up a shield. I could feel the heat of the fire as it hit; Emerson wasn’t messing around, but it was deflected harmlessly into the air where it dissipated.

“Blair, you and Jim keep back, let me handle this,” I instructed and strode forward without waiting for an answer. I held out my rod and summoned my will, funnelling it into and through the rod before unleashing it with a simple word.

“Forzare!”

Emerson managed to get his own shield up in time, but my spell was much stronger than his had been and the force of it knocked him to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, a look of shock on his face.

“The Council won’t have the satisfaction of executing me,” he jeered and then sent another fireball toward me. I summoned a shield in time, but the spell was stronger this time and I was momentarily disorientated. When I looked up again, I saw Emerson running toward where he’d parked his car.

Jim and Blair were giving chase, but Emerson had a head start and made it to the car and peeled off from the driveway. Jim took a shot, but only succeeded in shattering the car’s rear window before it disappeared around a corner.

It looked like Emerson had bargained with Fenris for power and had received it in abundance; that last fireball had some serious punch to it. But he wasn’t in control; it was raw power lacking direction, something I’ve often been accused of myself. If I had to guess, I’d say that he wasn’t prepared to face off with a wizard and had the sense to realise he was outgunned, which was why he ran. He was learning quickly though and if we couldn’t stop him soon then Emerson could be as big a problem as Fenris.

There was no way to get inside the house while the wards were up; we’d have to wait until this was over before we could search the place. We knew Emerson wouldn’t come back, but Jim called in to the station and had a uniform put outside, just in case. Then we headed home to get some sleep; with no way to track him it was unlikely we’d catch up to Emerson now so our best shot was to head to the stadium in the morning. We’d all need our strength for whatever tomorrow brought.

Chapter Text

Jim drove us back to their apartment in his truck and then I walked back to the hotel from there. My rod was safely tucked inside my duster but I’d left my staff in Jim’s truck; not my first choice, but walking the streets of Cascade carrying it might have drawn attention. Anyway, I didn’t think Emerson would try to take me out, and even if he wanted to he had no way of finding me.

It was a little after nine when I got back to my room; I’d stopped to pick up a little Chinese food on the way. I laid out the take-out cartons and chopsticks on the small table before fetching a beer from the mini-bar. Hell, it was on Cascade PD’s dime, so I was going to make the most of it.

“Bob, you there?” I said by way of greeting, knowing full well he couldn’t have gone anywhere.

“And where else would I be? Even if you had given me permission, it hasn’t been dark for long and I’ve got no Mister here,” Bob complained as the eye sockets of his skull flared into orange life. I smiled.

“How can you be bored? You’ve got a stack of porn there that would make Larry Flynt blush.”

Bob didn’t reply. I shrugged out of my duster, wincing as one of my shoulders cracked as I did so; obviously I’d sustained some minor injuries during my face off with Emerson. No bones broken though, so I was doing better than usual. After checking for any major cuts or bruises I might have missed I dropped into the only chair in the room and opened the first carton.

Chow mein. I’m sure I didn’t order any, but I couldn’t bring myself to care enough to walk back to the restaurant and argue now. Mentally cursing the deficiencies of whoever prepared my order, I opened the other cartons and discovered my kung po chicken, egg rolls and fried rice were also present so it looked like the noodles were a freebie.

Happy about the bonus food and silently apologising to the restaurant, I tucked in with gusto. I hadn’t realised until now but I was starving.

“So, Bob,” I said between chews. “Fenris, if it gets out…”

“It must not get out,” Bob interrupted.

“Yeah, yeah; wolf gets out, end of the world. I know. But if it does get out, how do I put it back in?”

Bob was silent for a minute, presumably thinking. I took a long drink from the beer; it was something French I wasn’t going to even pretend to pronounce. Mac is always berating me for drinking his ales cold but even my poor taste buds could tell this was infinitely inferior to Mac’s home brewed stuff. It was cold and wet and that was good enough for me though.

“I don’t think that you can put it back, Harry. I’m not sure any wizard alive could. But you could probably stop it coming through the door if it is opened,” he answered.

I swallowed a mouthful of noodles.

“Any handy tips?” I said, not really expecting any.

“Actually, yes. There’s a potion that will help. You’re gonna need a pen and paper.”

He dictated the recipe and instructions to create the potion and it all seemed simple enough. It was essentially a Fenris repellent and all except one ingredient would be easy to get; they were kitchen and medicinal herbs that Blair and Jim probably already had in their pantry. The final ingredient wasn’t rare or illegal, but it could be tricky to obtain. I didn’t know where we might get it in Cascade, but hopefully Blair’s knowledge of alternative cultures would mean he might know a source.

“That’s a big help, Bob. There’s a cat loitering in the alley next to the hotel and a strip joint three blocks west. Be back by morning,” I said when I’d finished writing.

“Seriously?” Bob asked. I nodded.

“Knock yourself out,” I answered with a grin. I was feeling generous; we seemed to have all the answers to the case and there’d only been one attempt to kill me this week. I figured that Bob deserved a little vacation time for all he’s done for me over the years.

“Thanks, Harry!” he replied and floated out of his skull and through the window. Once he was gone I picked up the phone and dialled Blair and Jim’s number.

“Hi, Blair?... It’s Harry… Do you know where we can get some wolfsbane?”

*-*

Bob slipped back into his skull just before dawn, chortling quietly to himself. I didn’t ask what he’d been doing, it seemed best for my sanity.

I was awake when he came back; I’m an early riser anyway and Jim was meeting me downstairs at eight. I showered and ate leftover Chinese for breakfast. I could have ordered up, but it was good take-out, even cold, and when you live on the breadline as often as I do it’s hard to waste food.

Breakfast done, I made sure I was ready for battle if it came down to it. I checked my ring was still charged; I hadn’t used it, but better safe than sorry. Then I charged my bracelet and blasting rod. I can summon my will to them both during a fight but it was quicker to release a stored charge and less of a drain on my energy.

We had plenty of time to make the potion we needed, probably even grab some lunch before we headed to the stadium. The game wasn’t until eight and people wouldn’t start arriving at the stadium until early evening so that gave us plenty of time to scour the grounds for Emerson before the game. In fact, for my plan to work we didn’t want to find him before the game; we needed every civilian safely inside the stadium, watching the action on the court.

I’m not used to having so much time to prepare; usually events and bad guys come at me so fast that I’ve no choice but to fly by the seat of my pants and hope for the best. Three square and a full night of actual sleep in a proper bed were luxuries I don’t normally get during a case. A wizard could get used to it.

Task done, I gathered up everything I might need, threw on my duster and, after tucking Bob’s skull safely away and making sure the ‘do not disturb’ sign was still on the door, I headed down to the lobby.

Ellison was waiting for me when I got there and nodded in greeting.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked without preamble. Looked like he’d decided to defer to me, finally, although he didn’t sound thrilled about the idea. I guessed this was Blair’s doing.

“Good morning to you too, Jim. Depends on how many of those herbs you have at home,” I replied.

“Never thought Sandburg’s experimental cooking would ever be useful for anything. We’ve got everything except the wolfsbane and the asafoetida and he’s out taking care of that now.”

“Then let’s head to your place and make this potion,” I said. He nodded and the two of us walked out into the morning sunshine. Looked like it was going to be a nice day.

I just hoped it would stay that way.

*-*

Back at Jim and Blair’s place, Jim helped me gather the herbs from their pantry and lay them out in their kitchen. He pulled out a big pan that smelled faintly of meat and placed it on the stove before looking at me expectantly.

“I’m going to need a bucket of water and a cloth,” I said.

“What for?”

“To clean that up,” I said and pointed to the chalk circle I’d drawn the day before. Jim chuckled.

“Can’t you just… You know,” he said and wiggled his fingers in the direction of the circle.

“That didn’t work out too well for Mickey Mouse,” I replied with a grin.

That won me a proper laugh from Ellison as he went to a cupboard near the sink and pulled out a bowl and some detergent. Once he’d filled it with water and poured a little soap into it, he headed toward the chalk mark on the floor. I held out my hand for the bowl.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re our guest here,” Jim said.

“And that was my mess. I’m happy to clean it up. Shouldn’t take a minute,” I insisted. Jim shrugged and handed me the bowl, which I took over to the mark and kneeled down to begin scrubbing. I’m sure it was only a few minutes later, but it felt like it took forever to get the chalk off the tiles. Not for the first time I was really grateful to have my little arrangement with Toot-Toot and his buddies back in my own apartment.

Just as I finished, Blair practically bounced into the apartment, paper grocery bag in one arm. I stood up and brushed off my knees before I gave a little wave of hello.

“Morning, Harry. I found the asafoetida in the Asian market; that was pretty easy. None of my contacts in the alternative medicine stores had any wolfsbane though. Apparently it’s too poisonous, not many people still use it,” he said as he placed the bag on the counter. Without pausing for breath he continued. “But, I did manage to call in a favour with a botanist I know at Rainier University. Man, I’d forgotten how smoking she is; we haven’t been out for like a year, but the spark was still there…”

“Chief,” Jim gently chided, amusement colouring his voice. Blair grinned, slightly embarrassed.

“Sorry, yeah, gotta focus. So, this botanist owes me a favour so I got her to give me a dried specimen from her private collection,” he finished and pulled out the plant in question from his satchel and held it aloft for my inspection. “Is it enough?”

“It should be. The potency is reduced the older the sample is, but it only requires a single flower from a fresh plant. Three or four dried should work,” I replied. “Let’s get cooking.”

I made my way over to the stove and took the last two ingredients from Blair. Jim began putting away the other groceries Blair had bought; obviously he had decided to take advantage of the shopping trip. Blair stood next to me, watching what I was doing.

“So what does this potion do?” he asked as I measured out rosemary into a measuring cup.

“It’s like that repellent you spray on your lawn to stop cats peeing on it,” I explained. “We sprinkle this around the doorway and it won’t stop Fenris, but it will make it think twice about coming through.”

“Cool,” Blair said. He leaned further over to get a better view of what I was doing. I took a deep breath to calm myself; I didn’t want to discourage him, but I’m really not used to an audience.

“Hey, Chief, how about you watch Harry from the other side of the counter?” Jim suggested. I’m guessing he heard my intake of breath or a change in my heart rate and realised Blair was in my way. I nodded a silent thanks to the Sentinel and got a grin back, before I returned my attention to the pot.

I measured out all the herbs from the recipe Bob had listed, brought some water to boil and then put the herbs into the pot in precise order. One mistake and instead of anti-Fenris potion we’d have a tasty soup-base.

I noticed that Jim’s disapproval and disbelief seemed to have vanished. Guess a fireball to the head will do that for you.

The herbs had to be left to simmer for forty two minutes before the wolfsbane was added. Don’t ask me why it was exactly forty two minutes, for all I knew Bob had just read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and was just yanking my chain. When it comes to potions, I just do what I’m told. Once that was done, I fed a little of my will into the mix, turning the liquid an impressive looking bright purple colour.

“Now all we need to do is let it cool and then decant it. Have you got any spray bottles, you know the kind you use for plants?” I asked. Jim nodded and then went to dig out a couple of suitable containers.

We killed time playing cards; both men were pretty good, but I was sure Jim was using his senses to cheat somehow – nobody should be that good.

“Harry, this creature, Fenris, it’s from what, another dimension?” Blair asked as Jim pulled yet another pot toward him.

“Not exactly. The Nevernever is a place of magic, and the creatures that live there are magical. Often they cross into our world and most people never know about it. This Fenris is different though; a few centuries back it devastated a huge chunk of ancient Europe,” I explained.

“That’s where the Norse myths about a wolf eating the world came from,” Blair deduced. Give the guy a cigar.

“It took a really powerful wizard to banish from this realm. He used a spell that meant Fenris is unable to have a physical form outside the Nevernever. Creatures of the Nevernever, when they cross over, are formed from the Nevernever and if they’re cut off from its magic then they dissolve to a goop.”

“The stuff they found in Thomas Davis’ insides,” Jim added. I should have guessed that the Sentinel would have spotted that.

“Exactly. Fenris couldn’t maintain a solid form in this world and it dissolved. But the rituals that Emerson has been performing would give Fenris the strength it needs to return completely.”

“And if that happens?” Jim asked as he dealt the next hand.

“Ragnarok,” Blair said in almost a whisper. I nodded.

“And I don’t think I’m nearly powerful enough to banish it. We have to stop Emerson from completing the ritual tonight.”

It was getting near noon when I finally poured the last drop of potion into a bottle and screwed on the spray cap. I placed the bottle on the counter and turned to Jim and Blair, who were now both watching me.

“Okay, we’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” I said. Jim nodded and picked up one of the bottles.

“Then let’s head to the stadium.”

*-*

Blair made us sandwiches, which we ate quickly before hitting the road. I could definitely get used to having a partner like him around to make sure I didn’t neglect my body’s needs. We arrived at Cascade Stadium just before two and parked around back in a service vehicle lot.

Uniformed cops had secured the building the day before and had it under surveillance, but Jim wanted to do a sweep himself before anyone else started to arrive. If I had his senses, then I probably would too.

The three of us stuck together this time, walking the parking lot and grounds first before heading inside.

Once inside, one of the janitorial staff handed Jim a bunch of keys to allow us access to the entire building and we made a thorough search from top to bottom, leaving no closet unopened.

As we neared the highest level of the building, Jim held up a hand to stop us. Immediately on alert, Blair placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder.

“What is it, Jim?” he asked quietly.

“Can you smell that?” Jim replied with another question. We both sniffed and then shook our heads. “Blood. This way,” he added and began moving again.

Blair and I followed him up and out onto the roof of the stadium. It looked like Emerson had managed to get past the police and into the stadium somehow. On the metal roof he had drawn a large pentacle, about six feet in diameter, and various sigils and symbols. It didn’t take a Sentinel to know they were painted in blood.

“And can I get an ‘ew’?” Blair muttered.

When someone writes in blood in the movies it always flows freely, usually from a pen. That’s because they use red ink in movies; real blood is a pain in the ass to draw with. It coagulates and starts to dry almost as soon as it hits the air, making brush strokes short and ragged – Emerson would have used a lot of blood to draw something even this size.

“Can we assume this is the missing blood from the victims?” Jim asked me. I nodded.

Of course I’ve only ever used my own blood or that of an animal. From a butcher, I don’t go around decapitating innocent chickens or anything.

“He’s going to use this as the focal point, as the door,” I replied, staring at the intricate drawings. Then I broke into a smile. “It’s his first mistake.”

“Huh?” Blair said eloquently.

“He’s left it unattended. Arrogant bastard probably figured nobody would come up here. All we have to do is rub this out and he can’t complete the ritual,” I explained and began rubbing at the pentacle with my foot. After a moment, the two detectives began to copy me.

“It’s that simple?” Jim asked, his voice filled with scepticism. I laughed, but there was no humour in it.

“Not simple, no. This only stops Fenris and the ritual sacrifice. We’ll still have to take on Emerson and whatever fancy new power he has up his sleeve. And now he’s gonna be pissed.”

Chapter Text

Once we’d damaged Emerson’s pentacle enough that it would be ineffective for his ritual, Jim, Blair and I continued our search of the building. We didn’t find any further evidence of Emerson, except for the empty containers he’d carried the blood in dumped in a trash can.

As we walked the auditorium, Blair grew thoughtful and took me to one side while Jim continued to search the stalls.

“Harry, there’s no prison that’s going to hold Emerson, is there?” he asked. I shook my head. “So you’re going to kill him?”

Blair had a determined look on his face, he seemed to accept that Emerson had to die, but I could also tell he wasn’t happy about the idea. That was good; taking a human life is no small thing, no matter what they’ve done.

“I’m going to fight him.”

“But he will have to die,” Blair persisted. I sighed and shrugged.

“I hope not, but if he’s too far gone to the Dark Side then we have no choice. Either he dies in the fight tonight or…” I stopped myself before I mentioned the Council. Non-wizards aren’t supposed to know about them.

“Or the council Emerson mentioned will execute him,” Blair finished. I nodded.

“The White Council is the wizard ruling body,” I said. I didn’t have to explain further as Jim finished his sweep of the room and joined us.

“If you two have finished, we’ve still got the press booth and the vendors’ area to search,” he said and walked away without waiting for a response. Blair and I grinned at each other and then followed after his partner.

The stadium doors were opened and the first few people were beginning to enter as we finished our search of the building. We’d not been able to find Emerson, but that was okay; it would have been better to take care of the problem before any innocent civilians got there, but we could still go ahead with our plan.

Once everyone was safely indoors and watching the pre-game entertainment I would go to the parking lot, which was outside the copper band that encircled the building. Blair would then seal the circle, leaving me and Emerson outside to duel while the civilians were safely protected inside a shield that only Blair could break.

The three of us watched the crowds as they entered, keeping lookout for any sign of Emerson trying to enter. He didn’t appear and it looked like my plan was going to work.

Once everyone was safely inside and we were sure there were no more stragglers arriving we headed in the direction of the parking lot and the circle. I could almost feel Blair’s tension as he walked beside me. Couldn’t blame him; although the magic required was no more than anything he’d already done it must have seemed like a daunting task to him to protect thousands of people.

“Remember, all you need to do is feed a little will into the metal. The circle will do the rest,” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone. “Do or do not, there is no try,” I added in my best Yoda impression. That got a chuckle and a grin from Blair.

“Piece of cake,” he replied but from his tone I could tell he didn’t believe that.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have us outside the shield, Harry?” Jim asked. I looked over my shoulder at him and smiled.

“I admit I’d appreciate the extra firepower, but guns might not do any good and I’d feel better with you two safely on this side, out of harms way,” I replied.

“Guess it’s your turn to stay in the truck, big guy,” Blair said with a grin. I think I was missing some shared joke there.

As we neared the boundary circle, Jim slowed his pace and then stopped.

“Do you hear something?” he asked, causing Blair and I to stop as well. We listened for a moment but I couldn’t hear anything and shook my head.

Jim was staring intently into the middle distance at something Blair and I couldn’t see. He shook his head and pointed to a low wall a few hundred yards away.

“I can hear some kind of chanting, I think there’s someone over there,” he explained. Before we could move to investigate, I felt a prickle on the back of my neck and then I was hit by an invisible force that sent me flying backwards through the air.

I landed awkwardly on the ground, knocking the air from my lungs with an audible ‘oof’ but I leant on my staff and got to my feet again quickly. Jim was already running toward the wall he’d pointed to but Blair was still in place; he looked torn between helping me and following his partner.

“I’m ok, go with Jim. I’m right behind you,” I said. Blair nodded and turned to follow Jim. I ran forward a few steps and then found myself lying on my back again.

I sat up.

“Blair,” I called out. The detective stopped and turned back to me. “You raised the shield?”

“Wasn’t me.”

Crap. Just once I’d really like it if the bad guy didn’t spoil my carefully laid out plan.

“It’s Emerson. Hell’s bells, I can’t get through and only he can break it now,” I explained. “I’m trapped, I can’t help you.”

Suddenly our attention was grabbed by a shot ringing out. Jim had found Emerson and fired, but the bullet had been deflected, presumably by a shield, and now Emerson was raising his staff again.

“Jim!” Blair cried out and raised his amulet. I winced, preparing to see poor Jim get blasted into oblivion as Emerson threw a fireball at him.

But it glanced harmlessly off. Blair had protected his Sentinel despite the great distance. I’ve never seen anyone pull off something like that; best I can manage is to make my own shield large enough to protect a few others close to me. I could never project one onto someone else, let alone that far from myself.

Emerson continued to throw spells at Jim but Blair’s shield was holding well. Jim tried firing a few more shots at Emerson, to no effect, until a force spell from Emerson made Jim stagger and drop his weapon down a drain.

Seemed the Dresden luck was going par for the course. I should have known things were going too easily.

Blair had pulled his gun with his free hand and was aiming it at Emerson, but he was too far away and Jim was too close for a clear shot. Frustrated, Blair lowered his gun. He spotted something on the floor and picked it up. It was my blasting rod; it must have fallen out of my duster when I fell.

Blair looked thoughtfully at it and then back to where Emerson was continuing to throw spells at Jim.

“Harry, how do I do what Emerson’s doing?” Blair asked.

“You don’t have that sort of power, Blair, I’m sorry,” I shouted back at him. Blair glared at me.

“Just tell me the damn spell, let me try!” he yelled back. I shook my head, knowing it was useless, but I still instructed him on how to try and summon a simple force spell. He tried but, as I suspected, he failed.

“What good is me being a Shaman if I can’t protect my Sentinel?” he ground out in frustration.

“You are protecting him, Blair. Your shield is keeping him safe.”

I sympathised with his frustration as I paced my side of the circle, feeling useless.

Blair tucked my rod in his belt and pulled out his gun again with his free hand and took aim.

“Blair, don’t chance it. If he’s still shielding it might rebound and hit Jim,” I warned.

Blair nodded but he fired anyway, aiming a little to the left of Emerson, presumably trying to distract him.

It worked; Emerson looked to find the source of the shot. But he obviously wasn’t as green as he was cabbage looking since he stopped attacking Jim and turned his attention to Blair, sending a big-ass fireball in his direction.

Blair was able to switch the focus of his shield back to himself in time, but with only split seconds to spare he was still thrown hurtling towards where I stood by the force of the impact. He hit the circle about three feet in the air with a loud thump and collapsed into a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Blair,” I called to him, hitting my hands uselessly against the circle wall.

“ ‘mokay. I’m okay,” he muttered as he clambered to his feet.

Jim had taken advantage of the distraction and had lunged at Emerson, sending them both crashing to the ground where the two men were now wrestling, Emerson’s staff lying a good few feet away. Emerson wasn’t well-built and I doubted he’d have much of a chance against an ex-Army Ranger. Advantage Ellison, I hoped, but unconsciousness might not be enough to break the circle.

“Ok, so I can’t work offensive spells and bullets seem to be useless against this guy,” Blair muttered and I could practically see the cogs of his brain churning as he weighed up options. “Harry, this other place, the… what did you call it?”

“The Nevernever.”

“Yeah. Do I have enough power to open a door to there?” he asked. I nodded.

“That sort of work takes more finesse than power,” I replied and gave him a curious look. He grinned.

“Well, it strikes me that if this guy made a deal with a creature and he didn’t keep his end of the bargain…”

“Then the creature is gonna be pretty pissed,” I finished, getting the idea. I smiled and nodded. “But you’ll have to spray the potion first and seal the door again quickly or else Fenris might try to come through anyway. Do you have a bottle with you?”

Blair nodded and pulled out the bottle in question from his jacket before he threw a worried look toward where his partner was. Jim was bleeding from his head and arm but he seemed to have the upper hand for the moment; Emerson was surprisingly scrappy though. I quickly instructed Blair on how to open a door and then close it again.

He began walking toward the two combatants, feeling his way along like a man in a darkened room would feel along a wall, looking for a weak spot he could use to create a doorway.

“I think this is where Fenris is. Oh, man is it pissed. I can actually feel this seething rage,” Blair commented, his hand still raised to a spot in mid-air.

“The walls must be thinner there. Go a few feet closer to Emerson; if you’re too close to Fenris it might try to escape before you throw Emerson through.”

The geography of the Nevernever isn’t like ours; it only intersects with our realm in certain places and those places may be close together for us but they might lead to opposite ends of the Nevernever. With a bit of luck Blair would open a doorway miles from Fenris; close enough for it to find Emerson, but far enough away that we could close the door first.

I moved along the edge of the circle to get a better view of Blair and watched as he followed my instructions, all the while keeping an eye on how Jim was faring with Emerson. He reached out with his hand and his senses; I was close enough to feel the tingle as he channelled energy into opening a doorway. I watched as the air in front of him began to change. Instead of a view of the stadium, a rectangle of air showed an empty, barren field covered in snow. Looked like he’d opened up somewhere near the Winter Court so I hoped there weren’t any pissed off Faeries nearby; we had enough troubles already.

The door was a neat piece of work; Blair clearly had an aptitude and finesse that I don’t. Once it had resolved itself fully, Blair lowered his hand and sprayed the contents of the bottle all around the edges. Job done, he went to help Jim.

Jim must have had some sense of what we were doing, or at least that we were trying to help him, as he had manoeuvred the fight in our direction and they were now only a few feet from the door.

I heard a deep growl from the other side of the doorway.

“Guys, hurry!” I called out.

Emerson was now in front of the doorway and Jim was struggling with him, trying to push him through. Emerson had pulled a knife from somewhere and although Jim had a firm grip on that arm it was making things more difficult.

I felt a prickle on my neck as someone, I guessed Emerson, gathered his will and a moment later Jim let go of Emerson’s wrist, shaking his hand. I could see a band of metal around the wrist and I figured that was Emerson’s shield charm. He must have used it to force Jim to let go.

As soon as his knife hand was free again he stabbed Jim. The knife went into the detective’s left shoulder and it looked like he was going to pull the blade and strike again, except that at that moment Blair delivered a flying tackle, knocking the warlock off balance.

In surprise Emerson let go of the knife and began to fall backwards toward the door, arms flailing for some balance. Jim grunted in pain as he brought his right fist up to connect squarely with Emerson’s jaw, sending him through the door.

I couldn’t see what was happening where Emerson had landed from where I was standing, but there was the sound of growls and screams from the other side. Jim staggered back and collapsed to his knees, so Blair ran to him, concerned for his partner, the doorway forgotten.

The shield collapsed and I ran forward toward the doorway.

“Blair, the door!” I yelled. Blair looked up at me and then back at the door as he realised what he’d done but it was already too late.

Fenris was trying to get through.

The wolf was perhaps more huge and terrible than I’d imagined. It was much bigger than a horse, more like an elephant, and its coarse jet black fur was matted and coated in gore. I figured the freshest blood around its snout belonged to Emerson. Its shoulders were too wide for the doorway and it scratched at the edges with paws and teeth, but Bob’s potion seemed to be doing its job. Fenris was stuck in the door like Pooh down Rabbit’s hole. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so terrifying.

Red eyes full of intelligence and malevolence glared at me as I snatched my blasting rod from Blair and raised it. Fenris let rip a snarl and scratched some more at the doorway.

“Forzare!” I cried, summoning as much will as I could to send not only the stored energy in the rod but everything else I could throw at the damn thing.

It didn’t even wince.

Beside me, one of the detectives was firing a gun at the wolf; it was having about as much effect as a pebble against a Sherman tank, but I couldn’t blame them for trying. I kept hurling spells at it, all to no effect.

The potion wasn’t going to hold forever and then Fenris was going to tear at that door until it could squeeze through. We were seconds away from the destruction of all life on the planet and there didn’t seem a damn thing we could do about it. Wasn’t going to stop me going down swinging though.

A sick little part of my brain decided to start singing to itself ‘It’s the end of the world as we know it’. Except I decidedly did not feel fine.

Desperate, I ran in close and smacked it in the nose with my staff. What? It’s not that stupid; it works on real wolves and I was all out of ideas. But, unsurprisingly, it had no effect other than bringing me within Fenris’ reach. I guess I must have been bothering it a little, much like a fly I’d guess, since Fenris decided to swat me. Its jaws snapped shut around my outstretched arm and I could feel not only its power but its magic too.

Thank the stars that my duster is covered in protective wards, so instead of ripping my arm off, Fenris only just broke the skin. I could feel its anger as it lifted me off my feet and with a shake of its head it threw me aside like a rag doll.

I hit my head hard enough to see stars for a moment and when my vision cleared I was lying next to where Jim and Blair were. Blair reached down to help me to my feet again and I gratefully accepted his hand, as I stood I discovered that my ankle was probably sprained and I winced from the pain in the arm Fenris had bitten as I used my staff to steady me.

Jim opened fire again; evidently he’d taken Blair’s gun from him. Blair shook his head and he still had hold of my hand as he gently touched Jim’s shoulder to stop him. As he made contact I felt a sudden surge of energy flow into me.

Suddenly the light was much brighter; every detail in my vicinity came into sharp focus. I could see individual follicles of Fenris’ fur and the tiny little flea-like things that crawled through it. The air was thick with the smell of cordite and blood and Jim’s final gunshot was like a crack of thunder beside me.

The power that was flooding my body didn’t feel like any magic I’d experienced before. I could feel it coming to me through Blair and Jim. A brief thought about Deeper Magic flashed through my brain and was gone.

I had only a vague idea where the power had come from, but I knew exactly where it was going. Raising my rod one last time, I levelled it at Fenris and let rip with everything I had.

“Forzare!”

There was a yelp from Fenris and then everything went black.

*_*

When I woke up I was lying on my back again and my head was pounding. I groaned.

“See, I told you he was alive,” Blair declared cheerfully.

“Barely,” I muttered. A hand reached down and helped me to my feet again. It was Blair.

I looked around me; everything seemed to be normal again. The only evidence of what had happened was Emerson’s staff lying a few yards away, some specks of blood on the floor and the blood staining Jim’s shirt from the wound caused by the knife still embedded in his shoulder.

“I closed the door as soon as Fenris backed off,” Blair said with a note of pride. I smiled as I bent down to pick up my staff and then winced in pain. I was going to be sore for a week.

“How did you do it?” Jim asked. Blair had taken off his jacket and Jim was now holding it to his shoulder to pad the wound until someone who knew what they were doing could remove the knife.

“With a little help from my favourite Shaman,” I said. “I didn’t think you had it in you,” I added and clapped Blair on the back.

“I don’t think I did,” he replied and looked over to Jim. “I think we did it.”

“When you touched my shoulder, there was a moment like…” Jim began cautiously but stopped, lost for words.

“Like that day in the fountain,” Blair confirmed. I gave him a puzzled look so he explained. “A few years ago, I drowned, but Jim brought me back. Not with CPR or anything but through a vision. We both had a similar vision just now.”

“The jaguar and the wolf as one,” Jim added, and I could hear a mix of emotions in his voice; he was probably struggling to cope with what had just happened.

“Come on in, man, the water’s nice,” Blair said with a grin. Jim stared at him for a moment before breaking into a smile too and shaking his head; obviously I was missing another shared joke.

Somehow, maybe on some deep subconscious level, Blair had been able to call on some major Earth magicks and funnel them from Jim, through himself, adding his own power in the process and then into me. This was some old magic that I didn’t even begin to understand, but I was glad they’d been backing me up.

Looked like Incacha had been right about the Sentinel and his Guide; they were the guardians of the Great City. Although I’m not sure I’d call Cascade ‘the Great City’, I’ve seen greater, but I guess when you’ve lived in the jungle your whole life any city would seem impressive.

No matter, the important part was we’d prevented a massacre, saved the world and the Jags had won the game. Not a bad day, even if I was going to be limping for a few days.

“Adrenaline’s a marvellous thing, but shouldn’t you get that looked at?” I said, indicating the large hunting knife sticking out of Jim’s shoulder. He glanced at it.

“Yeah, probably should. Come on, there should be EMTs on call for the game,” he said and began slowly walking toward the stadium.

“We work well together,” Blair commented as we fell in step together.

“Like the Three Musketeers,” I said with a grin. Blair chuckled.

“Cool. So which one am I?” he asked. Jim and I looked at each other before we both answered in unison

“Aramis.”

*-*

The next morning, a bandaged Blair and Jim gave the official version of events to Captain Banks, which ended in the death of the suspect in the ritual killings and the detectives finding proof of his guilt upon later entering his house.

“If he’s dead, then where’s the body?” Banks demanded.

“Do you really want to know, Captain?” Jim asked. Banks gave him a suspicious look.

“This is one of those Sentinel things that give me headaches,” he surmised.

“Sort of,” Blair agreed. Simon held his hands up in surrender.

“Then no, I don’t want to know. As long as I can say ‘case closed’, you two can write up the damn reports,” he muttered before waving us out of his office.

Blair snickered as we walked out to the bullpen.

“That’s going to be an interesting piece of fiction,” Jim commented with a grin. “Sounds like a job for the king of obfuscation.”

“Oh, no! I wrote up the last three reports, it’s your turn, partner,” Blair replied, poking Jim in the chest to punctuate his words. Jim shook his head and laughed.

“But whose idea was it to bring in Harry in the first place? Not mine. Besides, I have to requisition a new gun and you know how many forms that takes.”

I grinned at the bickering partners, enjoying their back and forth as much as they were. I wouldn’t have chosen to help the unusual detectives, but I was glad that our paths crossed. I’d finished the job I’d been paid to do; perhaps I’d stick around for a couple of weeks, teach Blair a little more about being a Shaman.

Besides, I figured I deserve a vacation.