Courting the unconventional

by Willofhounds

Summary:

Harry Dresden was never put under the Doom of Damocles. He was still taken in by Ebenezar McCoy to finish his training and to heal. However Harry is reluctant to open up to anyone. The day after his eighteenth birthday he leaves the farm in favor of going to Chicago.

Harry works part time at a diner, and takes small time odd jobs to support himself. Even with his his business as a PI, not much work ever comes his way. What work he does get, gives him a good reputation of being reliable. Word gets around even to the Underground that if you needed something unusual go to the PI. Harry just wants a normalish life away from most people. However he has gathered the interest of the Outfit.

There is a new PI in his town. Normally John would ignore someone so new. Even as the young man gained respect as he did odd jobs. He avoided being drawn onto any one side instead working for whoever paid him as long as it didn't involve hurting someone. John ignored him until on a job several of his men were injured saved by this strange PI.

Chapter 1

...

A yawn escaped Harry as he walked back to his apartment. Another late night and his eyes were burning from looking through all those police files. His new friend in SI was wanting him to jump in full time with the police. He wasn't sure how good of an idea that was.

Currently he did a lot of shady odd jobs for whoever was willing to pay. He didn't ask them who they worked for and they didn't question how it got done. Due to those connections though he really shouldn't be seen working with the police too often. Especially not with Murphy.

It wasn't that he disliked her. In fact he found the petite woman rather intriguing. She was fierce and stubborn, a real pit bull when it came to doing her job. She wasn't about to take shit from anyone. But she did have a bit of a temper, not to mention a strong prejudice against anything different.

Harry was the epitome of being different. Even amongst his own kind he wasn't normal. At sixteen he'd killed his first mentor and got off with little more than a slap on the wrist. Most people didn't see magic, or believe in the things Harry could do. Then there were others like him who didn't see the world the same way. They were afraid and reacted without thinking. That got people hurt. So he tried to only be used only as a last resort.

Murphy didn't belong in his world. Not really. She saw things in black and white only. When on reality it was full of different shades of grey. Things were complicated. Life and death situations were not easy. A lot of the time what was right and wrong could depend upon the person doing the judging.

As Harry passed by a building he froze as a chill went down his spine. Glancing back he didn't see anything. But something felt off. With a shake of his head he continued his journey. It wasn't any of his business. Besides the fact he was already running late.

His steps were quicker now and soon he was climbing the stairs of his apartment complex. Unlocking the door he let himself in before turning and locking the door again. Dropping his bag by the sofa he pulled off his duster.

Bob would be downstairs ready to start on the potion for the night. While he could use a spell to help it along. They would lose the effect if he stopped. Bob also liked getting out of the skull. Being bound wasn't pleasant. Harry had done a lot to make him comfortable. Still, it wasn't a substitute for living.

"I'm going to hop in the shower, I'll be right down," Harry said down the trap door before disappearing into the bedroom.

He stripped in the bathroom. Leaving his clothing in a pile he started the water. The water was barely above freezing. Sometimes he hated being a wizard.

With a quick scrub down, not lingering on his sensitive skin. Harry climbed out and dried off. Once dry he wrapped the towel around his hips and exited the bathroom. He moved quickly. The temperature inside the room was even colder than the water had been.

Shivering slightly Harry dressed and made his way down the stairs. There he found Bob waiting, his glowing orange orbs watching Harry with an amused expression.

"Fuck off Bob," he growled, "If you can figure out how to get electronics to work around me I'll give you a three day pass out of your skull."

That earned him a chuckle from Bob and Harry turned to the candles. With a wave of his hand a flame danced upon his fingers and he lit the first candle. Soon all four candles were lit and the flames were dancing merrily.

His magic swirled and twisted around him as Harry focused his attention on the cauldron and its ingredients.

...

A loud pounding was pulling Harry out of a dream. Grumbling under his breath he opened his eyes. Sunlight was pouring into the small window and Harry was lying spread out over his bed. His body was sore and his ass ached.

"If someone isn't dead," he yelled loud enough to be heard through his door, "Come back during office hours."

The knocking didn't stop and the yelling was giving him a headache. Sitting up was hard. Every muscle and bone protested. His mouth was dry and his ass hurt. With a sigh he climbed to his feet. He wobbled a little before regaining his balance.

Opening his door he snapped, "What?!"

Only to blink at two members of the Outfit. Mid ranking members if he had to guess. The Outfit was the mafia that ruled Chicago from the shadows. Their boss Gentleman Johnny Marcone had taken control over the mob a year after Harry came to Chicago. He had treated several members of Marcone's side when they ended up bleeding on his doorstep.

Most though Harry stayed out of mob politics. He did odd jobs for anyone who could pay no questions asked. So while the pair before him was a surprise. It was a surprise not unwelcomed. Money was money.

"I need you to find someone," grunted the one on the left.

Yep that's about what he expected. With a nod Harry waved them inside and shut the door. The two followed him further into his apartment. Both were tense and ready for trouble. They weren't armed, at least not that he could see.

"Let me grab some things and I'll meet you in the kitchen," Harry said with a gesture towards his kitchen, "Next time call the office."

Nodding both of the men went towards the small table. The apartment wasn't much. He had an open floor plan and his sofa, chair, and television sat between the front door and the kitchen. He had a small bathroom and a decent sized bedroom.

Going over to his bookshelf he pulled the first two volumes of the Encyclopedia Magica. He cast a charm on them so that the men wouldn't realize what they were. As well as grabbing a pad of paper and his pen. Carrying them back into the kitchen he took a seat.

"You know how this works," he declared, "Half up front, half once the job is completed. Any information you can give me will make the process go smoother. If you lie to me, it'll end badly for everyone involved."

Nodding the taller one of the pair said, "The girl is part of the boss' new club. Two nights ago she never showed up for work."

Harry heard about the new club through the grapevine. Something he respected about Marcone was how he treated his people. From the most important to the newest member they were protected under his banner. Hurt one of the Outfit and you'd better be prepared to face them all.

"She have a name?" he asked.

"Sandy," the guy replied, "But her given name was Sandy Johnson."

Harry wrote the name down on the top sheet of the notebook. Next he jotted down a note about the club. A photo and a locket was handed over. They didn't know why he always asked for something of a person's but they always brought it now.

"Her boyfriend is worried. He hasn't seen or heard from her in days," the guy continued, "Boss wants her found by any means necessary. That's why we are here. You can find her faster than anyone else."

"You have my usual fees?" Harry questioned.

Both nodded and pulled out cash. They placed the amount agreed upon before the job began.

"I'll let you know as soon as I find something," said Harry, "You still have your last number?"

"We'll have our phones on," the one sitting closer to him stated.

Nodding Harry pocketed the money and grabbed the photo. Tucking the picture into his coat he picked up the notepad.

"I'll find her," said Harry.

They nodded and watched him carefully. He walked over to his front door. Holding it open they both passed him. Once they were starting up the steps he closed the door.

Right. First food. Then searching spells.

...

John looked up as two of his men entered his office. They were the ones looking into Miss Johnson's disappearance. Had they found something already?

"Have you found Miss Johnson?" Questioned John as he put aside his paperwork.

"No sir," said the taller man, "We asked one of our discrete contacts to look into it. He's done odd jobs for me before."

"An informant?" Asked John.

All of the Outfit had contacts they regularly used. John had a list of those that were approved who wouldn't go to the police. Though by what they said, it wasn't one from that list. He frowned.

"In a way sir," replied the man, "He's a private investigator. I've used his services in the past."

"How discreet is this individual?" Questioned John carefully.

"He's discrete that most people know of him if not used his services for one reason or another," admitted the man, "He has rules about what he will and won't do. But who the money comes from doesn't matter. He won't betray his clients though."

"What are these rules then?" John asked.

"He refuses to do any illegal activities himself, though he'll turn a blind eye if you bring it up. Also no killing or hurting innocent people. He's known for not charging a fee upfront unless the client is able to afford it," said the man, "When you want something done right you contact him. I'm not sure how the hell he does it, but when he says he'll get it done it'll be done."

John steepled his fingers in front of him considering the words. He'd never heard of the young man before. However the Outfit was vast. It wasn't too strange to not have heard of him. Especially a P.I. who had certain restrictions.

"Is this Mr...?" asked John.

"Dresden. Harry Dresden," replied his man.

"Has a good reputation in the underground," finished John, "Do you have his number?"

"His office number is public information," answered the shorter, "Though if you call it be prepared for static. Apparently electronics don't like him."

John raised a brow. Now that was an interesting tidbit.

"He doesn't use a computer or a cellphone. All the files and his phone numbers are kept in books," continued the man, "He's old fashioned like that."

Who the hell still kept paper records in this day and age? Especially when it wasn't even a case. What type of business did this Dresden conduct?

"You're dismissed," ordered John.

He watched his men leave before standing he'd have Hendricks look into this man. Better safe than sorry.

Chapter 2

...

Nathan watched as a scraggly looking man left Dresden's apartment. Harry Dresden didn't look like much. He was tall but skinny and underfed. His jeans were faded and worn. There was a tear at his knee. His duster made him look like he belonged in a western movie.

He didn't know why John wanted him to check in on this man. There wasn't anything special about him. He wasn't a criminal. Well not one that would attract John's interest. Unless the guy was an idiot.

Nathan took a picture of the man and sent it to John. Maybe there was more to the man. John did have a sixth sense about things. It wouldn't be the first time Nathan thought the person was just a normal schmuck and found out otherwise.

Halfway down the street Dresden pulled out an object. It looked like a crystal on a string. He stared at it for a few minutes before taking a corner. Curious Nathan followed.

There were only a few people on the streets. It was getting dark and the snow was piling up. Dresden walked quickly and purposefully. Whatever his destination was he wasn't bothered by the snow.

At the next block Dresden turned again and crossed the street. The street lamps weren't lighting the area. In fact they weren't turning on. Technology did in fact hate Dresden it seemed.

He had stopped outside a small park and was staring intently at the crystal. A shiver went down Nathan's spine. This wasn't normal. Something was off.

Dresden walked into the park, a path was cleared from the snow. The wind wasn't blowing and the trees were frozen solid. He followed a trail a little deeper in and froze. Nathan didn't have to ask what caught his attention.

The dead woman wasn't hard to miss. Her skin was pale, almost blue and her brown eyes were lifeless. She wasn't wearing any shoes and her legs were torn up. It was their missing person.

Dresden bent to a knee and pressed two fingers into her neck. He was checking for a pulse. Why? Nathan knew she was dead. Dresden shook his head.

"I'm sorry," murmured the man before reaching for his coat pocket.

Nathan retreated before he could be seen. He would have to call John.

...

Harry sighed as he waited for Murphy to arrive. She hadn't been thrilled when he called her. The crime scene wasn't going to be easy for her. She didn't know what she would walk in on.

It didn't take her long and the officers with her were not pleased. They didn't like him. Not that he blamed them.

"Jesus Harry," she said, "What did you stumble onto?"

"A murder apparently," sighed Harry rubbing a hand down his face, "Sorry about this. A client tried me to find her. She had just disappeared. No sign of her and no leads. Then the boys contacted me last night. She's gone."

Murphy nodded and waved him away, "Go, I'll get your statement tomorrow."

Harry nodded, "I'll swing by the station then."

"Just be careful Dresden," she warned, "That's one of the Outfit girls."

Harry waved her off. The Outfit had a rule. They wouldn't come after him directly. Not if he didn't mess with them.

He headed home. It was cold and late and the sun was nearly up. He didn't need a repeat of yesterday.

Climbing the stairs he entered his apartment and locked the door behind him. He raised a hand towards the candles.

"Flickum Bicus," he muttered and the candlelight brightened the room.

With a sigh he moved to his couch. Sitting on the cushions caused a slight ache to go through him. His body was protesting everything.

He would have to contact the Outfit. The cops were good. However they didn't have the same reach.

Leaning his head against the back of the sofa he closed his eyes. Just for a minute.

He was startled awake by a banging on his door. Blinking blearily he stared at his clock. 8 AM. He had a few hours before he had to be in the office.

Getting up slowly Harry opened his door.

"I'm sorry to wake you," greeted an unfamiliar man, "but could I speak with Mr. Dresden."

"I'm him," muttered Harry leaning heavily on his door frame, "If you're looking to hire me come back during office hours."

"My employer would like a meeting with you," informed the stranger.

"Look buddy," sighed Harry, "I don't work for the mob. Tell your boss to shove it. And again, if you want to meet me. MAKE AN APPOINTMENT!"

Then he slammed the door in their face. Three. Two. One. The banging on his door continued. Harry ignored it in favor of leaving to make breakfast.

After the smell of eggs, bacon, and pancakes wafted throughout his apartment the knocking finally stopped. He finished eating his meal and went to clean up the dishes. The man would be back and probably with friends. He would need to carry his kinetic rings for the next few days.

...

"Dresden refused the summons," grumbled a pissed off Hendricks.

John raised a brow. Few people refused a summons by the Outfit. Either the person was an idiot or very powerful. Since no one had ever heard of this Dresden, perhaps he was the former.

"Did you explain the consequences of refusing a summons?" questioned John.

Hendricks scowled, "He didn't give me the chance to. He slammed the door of his apartment in my face. It's almost solid steel."

Now that was curious. What kind of man would have a door with steel lining it? Especially since no one would have noticed a thing.

"What time did you knock?" asked John.

"About eight," stated Hendricks, "He appeared to have just rolled out of bed. He said and I quote, 'Tell your boss to shove it. And again, if you want to meet me. MAKE AN APPOINTMENT!'"

Well isn't that interesting. It seemed their Mr. Dresden wasn't an idiot. He also didn't appear to be afraid. That would not bode well.

"Find out his routine," ordered John, "And have a car available."

Hendricks gave a nod before disappearing. He needed a break. This whole mess was annoying.

Chapter 3

...

Giving his statement didn't take long. Murphy was irritated and a little sad. The victim was barely nineteen and a good kid. She worked for the Outfit but not as a member. Just as one of the employees at the club.

Harry already decided he'd get involved more than he already was. Something about this was rubbing him the wrong way. So he didn't mind sticking his nose where it didn't normally belong.

As soon as he was free he walked the streets. His eyes were peeled for the Outfit's men. Hopefully they got the hint. If not, then he had no problems teaching them a lesson.

A shiver ran down his spine and Harry tensed. Glancing around him he couldn't see anyone. But there was someone nearby. Someone magical.

Was it a Warden? Had Ebenezar sent someone to keep an eye on him? He doubted the old man would. He wasn't under the Council's watch and Ebenezar would have just called.

Was it a Warlock then? Or maybe just a practioner. Though those weren't common. There weren't many born every year. Even fewer with the raw power needed.

The presence faded and Harry shook his head. If they were looking to talk, they'd have made themselves known. He was sure of that.

Stopping at the small coffee shop a few blocks from his place he ducked inside. The smell of fresh brewed coffee and sweets was welcome. Coffee the ambrosia of the gods.

"One large coffee," said Harry holding out a few bills, "Keep the change."

The barista glanced at his kinetic rings and said, "Neat rings. Where did you get them?"

"Made em," replied Harry easily.

She smiled and handed over the large coffee, "Cool."

Nodding once Harry walked away. There were a lot of people and the shop was a popular one. It would have been difficult not to notice a person in here.

He was walking a block over when it happened. One minute the street was empty the next there was a black van in front of him and the doors were being yanked open. On instinct he dropped his coffee and prepared for a fight.

He punched the first one using a little energy from the rings. The man's head snapped back and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Three more surrounded him and Harry didn't recognize them. By the way they dressed he guessed they were part of the Outfit.

"Come quietly and we won't have a problem," the closest demanded.

"Go fuck yourself," retorted Harry, "You don't give orders to me. Leave I don't work for any of you."

Rolling his shoulders back he drew upon his will. He raised one hand and prepared to make them regret life choices. Only to feel the shifting in the air. Harry threw himself to the side narrowly avoiding a baseball bat to the skull. He no longer had any reservations about fighting.

He danced around them using his kinetic rings to land ringing blows. Each blow landed hard enough that a crunch could be heard. It was four on one. They weren't playing fair.

But neither was Harry.

In moments the group was on the ground unconscious.

"Shit," he cursed.

Now what? Should he just leave them here? Would the Outfit take kindly to their men being left in an alley like this? Decision made Harry dragged the four towards the van. It was difficult because the guy weighed a ton. At least they wouldn't die of frostbite. Maybe next time they'd listen to him.

After closing the van doors he looked mournfully at his coffee. Fucking mobsters ruining his day by not letting him have his coffee. Shaking his head he continued walking.

Hopefully that was the last surprise attack.

...

John stood and stared down at the four men laying in his living room. Each had broken bones and bloody lips. Bruises were beginning to form and one was even sporting a black eye.

Hendricks said, "They tried to pick Dresden up. He apparently is more scrappy than what he looks like. I tried to get surveillance from the alley and they all failed as soon as the fight started."

That wasn't normal. Not many could cause electrical failures. Especially not by accident.

"I think its time to try another approach," commented John.

"We have his schedule," replied Hendricks, "When we do the pick up we'll have plenty of guys and won't use the van."

"Don't," he ordered, "Let's try this by his game."

"You mean you want to make an appointment? John that's a terrible idea," Hendricks replied.

"Yes," agreed John, "But Mr. Dresden is proving interesting."

"If you say so," shrugged Hendricks.

"Call his office number and see if we can set up an appointment," ordered John.

"If you say so boss," grumbled Hendricks.

John watched him leave and considered his options. What type of a man was Harry Dresden? Was he really a P.I. who didn't have an interest in the mafia?

Or was something more going on?

...

Harry leaned against his work desk flipping through the coroner's report. She hadn't died in the park. No she'd been killed elsewhere. Probably the woods and they dumped her. The pictures showed two puncture wounds in her neck. The coroner wrote it off something ritualistic.

Well they weren't wrong on that. It was ritualistic. Of a vampire.

Vampires weren't unknown. Most stayed in their own areas and the White Court was usually the most reasonable. Currently the Red Court were the ruling body of vampires in Chicago. Which meant he would probably need to speak with Bianca. He really didn't want to speak with Bianca.

A sigh escaped him as his phone rang. The noise grated on his nerves and the static was getting worse. Maybe it was time for an upgrade.

"Dresden," drawled Harry as he searched for Bianca's number.

He wasn't stupid enough to show up to her place unannounced. That was a sure fire way to end up dead.

"Mr. Dresden?" asked an unfamiliar male voice.

"Yep," answered Harry, "Is there something I can help you with? Ow!"

Harry banged his head against his desk as he finally found the paper with Bianca's number. Fuck he wanted a nap.

"Are you alright sir?" inquired the voice.

"Yeah, sorry," Harry rubbed the sore spot on his head, "Ran into the corner of my desk. How can I help you?"

"My employer wishes to make an appointment," informed the voice, "Can we drop by your office this evening?"

Harry glanced at his schedule. This evening probably wouldn't work but maybe this afternoon? Especially given that he was intending

"Can you do this afternoon instead?" Questioned Harry.

"We can," agreed the man, "Three thirty work for you?"

"I'll be here," confirmed Harry, "Thanks for the call."

"Not a problem," answered the voice before the line disconnected.

Shaking his head he dialed the number he'd found.

"Bianca Vargassi's office, how can I help you?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

"This is Harry Dresden," he greeted in return, "I did some work for Bianca a few months back. I was wondering if she'd have time to meet me tonight under the laws of Hospitality? At her convenience of course."

There was silence on the other end. Then the sound of shuffling papers.

"Of course Mr. Dresden," came a smooth voice, "I'll have someone meet you at the club to guide you up. Is nine too late?"

"Nine would be great," confirmed Harry.

"See you tonight," said the person before hanging up.

At least he'd be there under the laws of Hospitality. He'd have to be on his best behavior. Vampires weren't something a person fucked around with.

His eyes drifted over to his bag and his spell components. With a sigh he began pulling everything together. He wasn't going without protection.

...

When his 3:30 appointment came around around was refilling the kinetic energy in his rings. A knock sounded on his door making him look up then look at his clock. Right on time.

Harry stood and walked over to his door and opened it. Two men stood outside of his door. One was slightly taller than average and very built. The other was an inch shorter and muscular.

The taller of the two had dark hair and eyes the color of old money. He wore a suit and his hair was styled neatly.

The shorter one was built like a linebacker. He had red hair and cold blue eyes. Like what he assumed was the man's boss he wore a suit.

"You're punctual," greeted Harry, "Come in. Would either of you like a drink? I have water bottles and coke?"

Both men entered and the boss held out his hand and said, "Mr. Dresden, thank you for seeing us."

Harry shook his hand and avoided direct eye contact as he said, "Please have a seat. Would either of you like anything?"

"Water is fine," responded the boss taking a seat.

The smaller man didn't respond so Harry closed the door and grabbed three bottles of water. Returning he offered them out and both took a bottle.

"Now then, how can I help the two of you?" inquired Harry taking his own seat.

The one with money green eyes was looking through his pamphlets. Some of which were on magic. Oops forgot to put those up.

"What sort of services do you provide Mr. Dresden?" Asked the man, his gaze meeting Harry's.

"I find missing people," stated Harry, "Occasionally I'm hired to retrieve objects."

"What about information?" Pressed the man, his gaze intense.

"If it's within my means," said Harry leaning back in his chair, "I don't sell the lives of others or children. I do have morals after all. What is it you need from me? It might be put on hold for a time as I have a major case I'm looking into right now."

"I would like to have you on retainer," offered the man.

"No," denied Harry immediately.

"Why not?" Inquired the man.

"I don't play well with others," he simply replied with a shrug.

Besides the fact that he had secrets that would make the mob look open. His magic was just the tip of the iceberg. He'd rather not have anyone look into his past. Which was one of the reasons he refused Murphy's offer of the same thing. And he didn't know this guy.

The man looked insulted and Harry continued trying to soften the blow,"If you have a specific job you need me to do. Make an appointment. But I answer to no one."

The man sat back and eyed him. Harry returned his gaze but carefully avoided full eye contact. No soul gaze for Harry today.

"You don't have much faith in people," stated the man.

"Trust is slow to come for me," retorted Harry.

There was a faint look of amusement in the man's face. Was he laughing at him? What Harry had said was true. He didn't trust people. Trust had only gotten him hurt and nearly killed.

"Tell me Mr. Dresden," asked the man, "What would change your mind?"

Harry chuckled and said, "Listen, I don't know you. I assume you're one of the higher ups of the Outfit. I've worked with one of the middle ranking members in the past. He's trustworthy, I can do odd jobs for him. You, not so much."

"Fair," admitted the man, "What would it take?"

"It would have to be an extreme situation," he replied, "Something beyond the normal. I won't take cases that go against my personal beliefs. Or cases where children are involved. Children are not toys and will never be pawns. They're innocent. There's already too much cruelty in the world."

Harry did his best to hide the shaking of his hands. The memories of Justin still clear in his mind. It had been five years already. Would the scars ever heal?

"You dislike when kids are used," remarked the man, "That is good to know. I refuse to have that involved in the Outfit under any circumstances."

The man sounded calm about it. But his green eyes flashed at the mere implication that he'd use a child. Who was this guy?

Then he stood and offered his hand. Harry accepted it.

"Thank you for your time," said the man.

Harry nodded and watched the men to leave. What the hell just happened?

...

Harry Dresden was a strange man. That was his first thought as he left the man's office. John looked back at the building. What made the young man tick? What made him so wary?

"Do you think we should watch him?" asked Hendricks.

"Yes, let's do that," decided John, "Put a tail on him. Find out his usual routines."

He pulled out the pamphlet he swiped from the coffee table. A beginner's guide to magic and the supernatural. It was written and made by Dresden. Just a pamphlet like one would see in a museum.

He'd already know that the supernatural was real. It was hard to do business in Chicago's underbelly without knowing. Vampires being the main source of the issue. However he had not know that magic was real as well. Until he saw it for himself he'd reserve judgment on that. He'd learned not all of the supernatural were real. So it was possible that magic wasn't either.

"Also look into these," ordered John handing over the pamphlet, "Magic and the Supernatural."

"Sir," muttered Hendricks.

They climbed into the waiting car. Hendricks took the wheel. The trip was short and soon John was entering his office.

"Find out everything you can about Dresden," he told his computer tech, "Everything."

"Yes sir," she replied.

Chapter 4

...

The Red Court were assholes. There was no other way to say it. They were evil and they'd do anything. Well except for one little rule. Under the Laws of Hospitality they would not attack.

Harry bowed to Bianca as he entered the meeting room. Her smile was sharp and her eyes were calculating. She was wearing a dark purple dress that hugged her body. As a vampire, her looks were enhanced, a trap to lure in unsuspecting victims. Once a vampire bit you, that was it, you were theirs. They could influence you and even control you. If a human was bitten and survived, that was. Most didn't survive an encounter. Especially not from a member of the Red Court.

"Ms. Vargassi," greeted Harry politely, "Thank you for seeing me on such a short notice. I am Harry Dresden, Wizard."

Bianca raised her chin in acknowledgement as she said, "Welcome to my Court, Mr. Dresden. I assume a busy wizard like yourself has a reason for contacting me?"

"I do ma'am," answered Harry with a polite nod of his head, "But first may I invoke the Rite of Hospitality?"

Her smile became more mocking and her voice was laced with a warning, "If you feel the need to. You are a guest here, Mr. Dresden. Be welcome in my house."

"Acceptable," agreed Harry, "My apologies, but the news brings the worst in people. I had to be certain there were no misunderstandings between us. Forgive me, please, if I have given offense."

There was no need to make an enemy out of the Red Court. Besides he brought a gift in hopes of easing the ways of information.

See godmother. I do listen sometimes. He thought wryly.

"Of course," murmured Bianca, a slight tilt to her lips, "I'm sure we can work something out. Now, what can I help you with, Wizard?"

"Sandy Johnson," stated Harry, "She's the woman the police found murdered in the park. She was drained of blood. I was wondering if you or yours knows what happened?"

"No," answered Bianca, her tone clipped, "We were not involved in the matter. We are aware of the situation. The girl was not part of our Court. Nor was she employed in any of our businesses."

Internally Harry winced. She wasn't happy. This was not a fun conversation. Hopefully she didn't take offense to his questions.

"That is unfortunate," sighed Harry, "I was hoping to have some news for the family and the authorities. Do you have any information that could possibly help with the investigation?"

Bianca relaxed slightly before she shook her head. Her expression was apologetic. Not that Harry believed it was sincere. Still he'd keep his manners in check. No need to piss her off further.

"Unfortunately not. My court is in the dark as well," she informed him, "Should I discover something, I'll be in touch. Is that all?"

"For now, thank you," he replied, "A pleasure speaking with you tonight."

"Good evening, Mr. Dresden," she said in return, "May you find the answers you seek."

Nodding in farewell Harry turned on his heel and followed the guard towards the front doors. It was only once he was outside and half way home did he breathe easier.

...

Well... Bianca was right. The vampires, of course there was more than one. His life could never be so easy as to deal with one vampire at a time. They weren't directly part of her group. They were vampires from out of country and were just fledgling.

Good to know. But did not help him much in trying to keep his head on his shoulders.

"Fuego!" He snarled.

The blast of fire hit the nearest vampire in the chest. The creature shrieked and the others leapt forward. Their faces were twisted and ugly. Fingers were tipped in claws and their fangs were on full display. Blood red eyes glowed in the darkness of the night. Their mouths were stained with fresh blood.

"Ventas Servitas," ground out Harry.

One of the vamps was flung backwards. Another came at him from the side. With a snarl on his lips he sent another blast of fire. Then kept running.

Harry turned a corner and nearly ran straight into men in suits. He grabbed the one closest to him turned him around and shoved him to get the man to run. The vampire was fast on his heels. Shrieking and scaring in anger.

"Run," ordered Harry, "Go! Go! GO!"

That was the moment the vampires needed to catch back up to Harry. Without a second glance Harry began to fight.

"Forzare!" He bit out extending the hand with the force rings out.

The second took two shots to the head from one of the men in suits. Apparently the guy could aim. Nice to know. But also a pain. Bullets wouldn't do a lot of damage to a vampire unless they were blessed or enchanted. Which he counted they were neither.

It was a brief respite though. Because a second later the vampires were on him. Snapping and clawing at him. The four of them were snapping at him and his companion. His new ally was bleeding. But not severely.

"Back the fuck off," growled Harry, his power rising to his call, "Ventas!"

Wind rushed from him and the creatures stumbled. It wasn't a long reprieve. One managed to wrap their claws around his arm. With a quick spell the ring on his middle finger heated and burned the monster. It screamed and recoiled.

"Fuego!" Cried Harry and the flame danced across the monsters' skin.

It was unable to get away from him. The heat and flames engulfing the creature. It's screams echoed throughout the street. When the screams stopped the street was silent except for the pants of the humans. Looking down at the ashes and the ruined clothing.

There were three bodies on the street in total. None of them were moving. Harry was not feeling sorry that they were dead. No one was going to miss them. They were fledglings and by Bianca's own admission they didn't belong to her. So she wouldn't come after him.

He nearly collapsed against the wall of the closest building. He was tired and sore. His body was aching. All he wanted was a cup of hot chocolate and to sleep. Instead of doing that, however, he pushed away from the building. Taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, Harry turned and looked at the man beside him.

Harry blinked. Wasn't that the man that was with Marcone earlier? Hells Bells. What was he doing out here?

A quick once over told Harry the man was fine. He wasn't seriously injured and the injuries he had wouldn't scar. Just a few stitches at the most.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked him, "No major bleeding wounds I should know about? They didn't bite or get saliva on you?"

"Mr. Dresden," greeted the man, his blue eyes were cold and assessing, "Do you want to explain how you killed those things?"

"Vampires," corrected Harry, "They're young and stupid. Easy to kill in small numbers. More dangerous if there's a lot of them. One of them was Johnson's killer."

"Explain," snapped the man, his eyes narrowed.

"They were looking for their next victim," retorted Harry, "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why are you following me?"

"You're an interesting person," answered the man, "Boss wants to learn more. You're not exactly in the phone book."

"I am in the phonebook actually," retorted Harry scandalized, "Under wizard. I'm just not on the internet."

The man's brows furrowed. Almost like he didn't believe that. How odd.

"Look, thanks for the assist," began Harry, "But I have to be going. People to see. Things to set on fire."

He started to walk past the man. A large hand on his arm halted him. In a move faster than he expected the guy had him pressed against the wall. Well shit. This wasn't good. Not at all. He was too tired to fight. At least not effectively.

"We're not done talking," snapped the man, his expression was closed off, "Who are you really?"

"I'll give you one warning, Cujo," hissed Harry darkly, "Let go. I might be tired but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve to put down a vanilla mortal."

"Cujo?" Questioned the guy, his voice low and a little menacing, "Really? That's the best you got?"

"It's a term of endearment," replied Harry, his tone waspish, "Now let me the fuck go."

"Or what?" tried Cujo.

"Trust me, you don't want to find out," warned Harry, his tone dropping to a near whisper, "Last chance, big guy. You saw what I did to them and they weren't human. You are. Let me go or else."

With a sigh the guy backed off. Putting distance between the two of them. Stars and stones he was thankful. He was in no condition to keep fighting.

"Have a nice night," called Harry as he walked away, "Thanks again. Next time leave the monsters to the professionals."

...

"You're positive?" Asked John carefully as the doctor finished patching Nathan up.

"Yeah boss," agreed Nathan, "There is no way he faked throwing around fire like that. He protected me when he didn't have to."

"Then we've been underestimating the man," commented John, "If magic is real, how much are we still missing?"

"Apparently a lot," muttered Nathan, his face was pale.

John gave Nathan's shoulder a small squeeze as he ordered, "Get some rest Nathan. We'll figure out what to do tomorrow."

Chapter 5

...

Pounding on his apartment door woke him far too early. According to his Mickey Mouse alarm clock it was 6 am. Groaning softly Harry buried his face back into his pillow. Whoever was at his door could fuck right off. He was not getting out of bed. Nope, nope, nope. His wards were up. If someone wanted to take their chances with his wards, they could do so. He on the other hand was going back to bed.

Then the banging stopped. Oh thank the sta... his phone started ringing. There were no words to describe how badly he wanted to rip his landline out of the wall. But that would mean he'd have to replace it.

"Dresden," mumbled Harry, "If you are not dead or dying, call back at a more reasonable hour."

"Murphy," snapped a female voice, "And no. I'm not calling back. I have a problem of two mysterious dead bodies. You wouldn't know anything about them would you?"

"Vampires," Harry answered through a yawn.

"You're joking," blandly said Murphy.

"Do I sound like I'm lying or trying to be funny?" Countered Harry, "They're vampires, Murph. Fledglings, meaning newly turned. No more drained bodies. Listen Murphy, I like you but I don't work for you. It's supernatural business. Unless you want to get a crash course on the Vampire Courts and bring me enough coffee to poison me drop it."

"Harry," sighed Murphy, "Come on. Help us out here. Just tell me where to look."

"Murphy," stated Harry, his tone flat, "You barely believe me when I say I'm a wizard. And you saw me take down a troll once. Drop. It."

Before she could reply he hung the phone up. This was why he was reluctant to do more to help SI. They didn't believe in the supernatural, not really. The money wasn't worth losing his allies and current clients. It's not like it'd be steady.

Rolling to his side, Harry pulled the blankets tighter and fell back asleep.

...

That evening Harry was working at MacAnally's. Mac was a decent guy and his bar was in a neutral territory. Plus he served great beer and food. After burning through so much energy yesterday he needed the extra food. With his luck maybe he should have expected Cujo to track him down.

Though the man from the meeting in his office was a surprise. Why couldn't regular people take no for an answer? Or better yet, not follow Harry to a Supernatural hotspot where they didn't understand the rules.

"Mac," called Harry softly, "Two vanillas."

"Got it," murmured the man, his expression unchanging as he glanced towards the two men.

Money eyes was watching Harry. His expression was blank. Though his posture was at ease. Instinctively Harry shook it his shield bracelet. Magic thrummed quietly against his fingers.

"Harry," reprimanded Mac.

"Sorry," muttered Harry, "I have no idea what they are doing here. I didn't invite them or even suggest this place."

Hells Bells he barely knew them. He'd met them twice before tonight. Once in his office and then on the street.

"Neutral grounds," reminded Mac shortly.

Right neutral grounds. Unless they attacked him first. Then and only then could Harry retaliate. Besides he could always retreat.

"Mr. Dresden," greeted Money Eyes, "How are you?"

"Working," Harry answered shortly, "Listen you don't belong here."

A few of the regulars looked up at his tone. They knew him and thus knew that he wouldn't speak like that unless there was trouble. There weren't any of the serious heavy hitters in today. But still.

"I'll buy you a drink," offered the man, his tone calm, "What's your poison of choice?"

"Nothing," retorted Harry, his shoulders tense, "I'm on the clock. Leave. Go home. Don't come back."

"Your manners leave much to be desired, Mr. Dresden," coolly remarked the man, his tone light despite his words.

"You've stepped into something you don't belong in," warned Harry, "Leave."

"Boss is stubborn," interjected Cujo, "And a quick learner. He'll catch on."

These idiots didn't get it. Did they? They didn't belong in his world. Before he could say anything the green eyed man stepped closer to Harry.

"I don't believe I introduced myself before," said the man, "I am John Marcone."

Oh. OH. OH FUCK. This wasn't just a member of the Outfit. This was the big boss.

"Look, Mr. Marcone," sighed Harry, rubbing his forehead, "Let's try this again. I'm not interested in joining the Outfit beyond the little jobs I do here and there. But you do not belong here."

"Is that a threat, Wizard?" Asked the man, his posture still loose but now his eyes were calculating.

"Warning," corrected Harry, "This is a Accorded Neutral Territory. Unless you know what that means, you don't belong."

"And what happens if I stay?" Inquired Marcone, his brow raised, "Are you the enforcer of this place?"

No. Unfortunately he couldn't force Marcone out. Frustration built in Harry's chest.

"I just want to talk, Mr. Dresden," continued Marcone, his tone mild, "Perhaps we started on the wrong foot. Let's start over. Call me John."

This man was very reasonable for a vanilla mortal. Why couldn't he ignore the Supernatural like a normal person? Instead of following a wizard around.

"Fine," conceded Harry, his shoulders slumping, "Mac?"

Mac gave him a short nod. Harry paid and picked up the drinks. He nodded to a table that was slightly more secluded and led the way to it. Taking a seat, Harry waited until the other two were sitting to speak.

"Why are you so insistent we don't belong here?" Asked Marcone after a moment.

"Because you don't," answered Harry as he took a sip of his beer, "To put it politely, you're a vanilla mortal. You have no ties to our side of things."

Marcone leaned back, his head tipped to the side. His expression was thoughtful. Like he was weighing his options. What did the mob boss see?

"Magic is real," said Marcone, his eyes not leaving Harry, "The supernatural is real. How far does this go? Are there laws and organizations? Who keeps the peace between the different species?"

Smart man. Too smart. Honestly Harry wasn't sure how much he could answer. He was an outsider amongst the Supernatural. Had been since he killed Justin DeMorne in self defense and made it look like an accident. All at the tender age of 16.

"Depends on the group," shrugged Harry, "Most stick to their own. The Accords are a set of rules that the different factions who've signed onto them have agreed to. As a Mortal you don't really need to worry about it."

"Yet Nathan was nearly mauled by vampires," pointed out Marcone, his eyes hardening, "Which you easily dispatched of. Tell me, is that common? For mortals to be attacked by the monsters of myths and legends."

"Vampires will do vampire things," said Harry giving a non answer, "They were newly turned. They're more blood thirsty than your older ones. Most of the older ones only take a little rather than killing. Killing draws too much attention of mortals."

"Like the police," added Marcone.

"Exactly," confirmed Harry, "So usually fledglings aren't a problem. Someone will deal with them. Usually whoever their Sire is."

He went to take another sip of his beer and found it empty. Already? Damn it.

"Sire," repeated Marcone, his brows furrowing, "As in the one who changed them?"

"Turned," corrected Harry, his tone a bit absent, "But yes. Not all vampires are turned. There's a group that can only be born but they look the most human. Why are you so insistent on this, Marcone? Why do you want to know?"

"The people of Chicago are under my protection, Mr. Dresden," explained Marcone, his tone even, "If there are creatures stalking the city and taking victims, I should be aware of that."

"They'd turn you into food," sighed Harry, "Take some free advice. Forget you saw a little bit into my world. Keep control over your empire."

He'd live longer this way. It was safer. Why was he even answering the man's questions? He should just turn Marcone away and go about his job.

"Advice taken," replied Marcone, his voice low, "But not followed. I have a proposition. Come work for the Outfit. You'll still run your private investigative business. However, the Outfit will call upon your services in matters of the supernatural. We can keep the streets of Chicago safe from the monsters."

"You're not listen..." sighed Harry but was quickly interrupted.

"I'm listening," disagreed Marcone, "I am. Your concerns have merit, Mr. Dresden. But that doesn't change the fact that the people of this city are in danger. From what I can see, there is no one who will stand up for m... our people. I want to change that now that I know there is a threat."

Harry shook his head and stood. He should get rid of the bottle and go back to work. That would probably be the smartest option.

"You're not hearing me, Marcone," said Harry, "You are mortal. You don't have magic or teeth or claws to protect yourself. Guns only work against a few of the creatures. Even then you need the right kind of bullets. Do you want to end up a monster's dinner?"

Harry couldn't in good conscience allow this. He couldn't. He wasn't responsible for these men. Even bringing someone like Murphy into his world was pushing what he was willing to do. Murphy who's job it was to explain the unexplainable.

Marcone should leave. Forget what he's seen just like everyone else. He made to move away when a hand grabbed his elbow. Turning his head to glare at Marcone, Harry froze. The man's gaze was intense and he didn't look away in time to avoid a Soul Gaze.

Marcone had the most organized soul Harry'd ever seen. Everything had a place. It was also that of a predator. It felt as if he looking into the soul of a tiger. He was a man of honor, a leader who'd sacrifice himself to protect his people. A man whose loyalty was unwavering and would never betray those in his trust. He'd die for his people.

And Harry realized, the man wouldn't stop just because Harry refused to teach him. One way or another he'd find a way to protect his city from the Supernatural. The protectiveness came from a dark spot in his soul. A memory of a child who'd taken a bullet for Marcone. His pain. Fear. Loss. Anger. And a promise that no child would be hurt in his city again.

Regardless of what Harry did, Marcone was determined to find his way in the new found world. If Harry did nothing, he'd die. No question.

What was it that Bob would say? Knowledge is power. Use it well. Learn or die.

The hand on his elbow changer it's grip as he came out of the Soul Gaze. Now instead of holding his arm, it was steadying him. Somehow the mobster was steadier than Harry after a Soul Gaze. Maybe it was due to the rigid organization of the man's mind. Stars and Stones, Harry hadn't met a more controlled person in his life.

"You're not going to give this up," stated Harry tiredly, "Even if I refuse to help you."

"Correct," agreed Marcone, his voice low and soft, "I will not let my city fall to the threats of the darkness. Even if it is a threat of mythical proportions."

Well fuck. What could he do? Send the man on a suicide mission?

"Okay," relented Harry, his shoulders slumped, "On certain conditions."

"Of course," answered Marcone smoothly, "We can negotiate."

Chapter 6

...

They put off the negotiations until the next morning. It gave them both time to think. John hadn't known what to expect when the wizard met his gaze. Dresden saw him for exactly what he was. In turn John had also seen Dresden.

There was a lot of pain in the young man's soul. Pain and loss and a sense of loneliness. Of being an outcast and shunned by his peers. However he was determined to never be caged by anyone. That he would be his own person no matter what happened. He'd do what he thought was right regardless of how many times it knocked him down.

John wanted Dresden by his side now more than ever. The wizard would make the best ally. He'd never betray his allies. What he'd seen in Dresden's soul told him that.

It was a gamble. Dresden was skittish and untrusting of people as a whole. It had to do with the flames John saw in his soul. Betrayal at the hands of someone he trusted. He then isolated himself. Only letting a few close to him. But always keeping them at arms length.

"Sir," greeted Hendricks, drawing his attention, "Dresden is on his way. He was early. I showed him to the office and offered him a coffee. Which he accepted."

John stood and brushed a hand down his suit. This was a formal meeting. He would have to tread carefully. With a sharp nod to his companion they walked to the office. Dresden stood next to the window staring out over the city. There was something in those dark eyes as he looked out over the city.

Oh John understood. He understood better than most. It was why he chose this building for his office. Quietly John approached the wizard. Standing beside the younger man, John glanced to the view outside of the window. People were moving to their cars or waiting at the bus station. Children were laughing and running home from school. Teenagers were walking downtown to meet their friends. There was a rhythm to the city. A steady flow.

Dresden seemed to be contemplating something. John waited patiently, watching the other's reflection in the glass. The young wizard was a mystery. He wore an old leather coat that looked like it had been through hell. Under it were t-shirt and jeans that belonged in an incinerator. His shoes were equally worn and dirty. Yet despite the lack of care in his clothing, he was clean.

"I never had a home before coming here," began the young man, his voice a low rumble, "Chicago is the first place that was mine."

"I understand," acknowledged John, his own tone solemn, "This is my home as well. I grew up here."

A smile graced the young wizard's face. It made him appear less worn than before. As though that simple admission of a shared interest lifted years of weariness from his shoulders. After another moment he reluctantly turned away from the window and John followed him. They went to sit across from each other at John's desk. Dresden set his coffee down on the desk.

"So," prompted Harry, his expression shuttering, "Let's talk business."

"Indeed," agreed John, his lips curling upwards slightly as he pulled out a contract from his top drawer, "I had a basic contract written up but it can be adjusted as needed."

The wizard nodded his agreement and took the contract from him. With a quick scan, Harry's dark brows furrowed. It was a simple enough document. A basic retainer that would pay Dresden a set amount monthly. Alongside the ability to call in the young man should any Supernatural problems arise. Also included was an insurance policy. Dresden would be covered in the event of an attack on his person. Any injuries would be treated at the expense of the Outfit. It called for 10 hours a week unless a problem arised. It also had a clause that Dresden would contact him if there was a major threat to the city. The compensation was significant but worth it in terms of having the wizard on his side.

"Your terms are generous," commented Dresden after a moment, "Why offer so much?"

"Because your skills are invaluable to the protection of this city," replied John, his tone sincere, "My people can only handle the mundane threats. You would have to deal with the monsters. I don't want money to be an issue."

"I won't kill for you," declared Dresden.

"Understood," responded John, "Nor would I ask you to. You'll be advising me, Dresden. Giving me the information that I need to know to keep the peace and protect the streets. Occasionally lending aid when necessary. Nothing more."

Dresden stared at him. His eyes were searching and guarded. It seemed like he was trying to determine the truth of his words. John waited. There was no reason to rush the wizard. Not in a situation where the wrong word could ruin the chance of an alliance between them.

"Alright," sighed Dresden, his head tipping forward, "If I accept, I have some requests. First, understand if I tell you that I can't tell you something. I can't. It's either dangerous to you, or to me. Second, if we are in a fight, listen to me. If I say run or to duck or leave, you will do it."

"Fair," agreed John, his expression thoughtful, "But I cannot promise to abandon an ally in battle. Especially one who has chosen to fight at my side. I expect loyalty from my people but I too am loyal to them."

"That's not..." began the wizard, his frustration evident in the tense lines of his shoulders.

"The first part is fine," continued John, his tone gentle, "However, I must refuse the second demand. Instead, please try to give a warning in a fight. That is all that is required of you."

"Damn it," hissed the wizard, "I'm not responsible if you get killed. Understand. I'm not."

John smiled a little at that. Dresden was a good man. Despite his attempts to distance himself. He'd break down the walls eventually. Now he just needed the man to sign his contract.

"You're not responsible," agreed John, his head tilting to the side, "Is there anything else that needs to be added?"

"I want the right to refuse jobs," stated the young man, his tone firm, "And a way to contact you or your second in command at all times. Just in case."

Smart...

"Very well," accepted John, nodding in approval, "You have the right to refuse a job and I will provide you a phone number and radio. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes," confirmed Dresden, his lips twitching.

John had the new contract written up and sent for lunch while they were waiting. Over the meal, which was from a local pizza place, they discussed a few more minor details. By the time the paperwork was finished, the food was as well. Dresden signed the document and John did the same. Both were provided with a copy of the official document. Once that was done, the wizard's mood improved. John's own mood was significantly higher as well. He had the wizard on his payroll.

...

Leaning over his desk in his sub basement Harry was copying down his notes on Red and White Court vampires for Marcone. While he wanted to start with the basics he decided practicality should come first. So far his work with the mob boss was limited. He'd only been on the payroll a week. Still it was nice to not have to worry about making rent. Having a steady income was amazing. He was able to buy more supplies and get groceries. Hell, his cupboards were full. For the first time since moving to Chicago.

"I still can't believe you signed onto the mob," cackled Bob from his shelf behind the new book Harry bought him.

"And I thought you wouldn't bring it up in exchange for the book, Bob," retorted Harry grumpily.

"Sorry, Boss," said the skull, his glowing eye sockets shifting to the book on the table, "Thank you for the gift. Where did you find such a treasure? It is an excellent addition to the library."

"A thrift shop," admitted Harry, "I hate buying those books for you. I always get the weirdest looks when I buy them."

"Oh the sacrifices you make," teased Bob, his tone was playful, "It's not like you're not already the odd one out. A bit of porn isn't going to change that."

Absentmindedly Harry threw one of his extra pens at the skull. Bob laughed in return. The pen missed and landed on the floor. Shaking his head, Harry ignored the teasing from his friend. Instead focusing on the writing in front of him. This was a way to keep the city safer.

Chapter 7

...

"Hey, Harry," greeted Murphy, her lips curving into a frown, "What brings you to SI today? Are you working on a case?"

Harry was not looking forward to this conversation. A week into his job with Marcone and Bob reminded him that Murphy would not approve of his new job. Nor would she appreciate hearing about it through rumors rather than through Harry himself. So reluctantly, Harry dragged himself down to the SI offices and closed Murphy's door behind him. Her office was small and cluttered. Papers were stacked on every available surface. She sat at her desk in the middle of a mess that gave his lab a run for its money. She eyed how close he stood to her computer before shutting it off not wanting to take the chance he'd break another.

"Not exactly," sighed Harry, rubbing the back of his neck, "I got a job. Steady income and all that. But the guy is... Well he's a big name in the Underground. I wanted you to hear it from me rather than the rumor mill."

He watched her face go carefully blank. She leaned back in her chair, her hands folded on the wooden surface. Her grey eyes were hard, calculating and a tad cold. Oh boy. This was not a great start. Murphy was smart, brilliant even. However, sometimes her desire for justice clouded her judgement. She saw things in black and white. Thanks to what happened with Justin DeMorne, Harry couldn't have that naivete. Not anymore.

"Who?" Prompted the lieutenant, her voice calm and collected.

"John Marcone," admitted Harry, his posture slumping, "I won't do anything illegal for him. Mostly my job is consulting on the Supernatural side of things. I saved one of his men from a pack of newly turned vampires."

She was silent. Her fingers were drumming against her desk. Harry then came to realize, silent Karrin Murphy was a scary Karrin Murphy. He wished she would say something. Anything at this point. Even if it was yelling at him.

"Murph," started Harry, his tone hesitant, "Say something. Please. Yell at me or whatever."

"You realize," she began after a moment, "That the FBI will probably flag you. That the police may arrest you. You won't be able to consult with us anymore."

Her words were slow, careful and her gaze never left his. She was watching his reaction to her statements. Oh it hurt. Knowing that he wouldn't be welcome in the SI offices. Or in the precinct in general was painful. The officers here weren't exactly his friends but they were the closest thing he had to friends.

"Yeah, I know," whispered Harry, his throat feeling tight, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Questioned the woman, her brow furrowing, her expression relaxing a fraction, "You're a grown man. Your decisions are your own. If you choose to do something stupid, that's on you. I'm not your keeper, Harry. You don't answer to me. Good luck, Dresden."

With that the woman turned back to her paperwork. Effectively dismissing him. Well. That hurt a lot.

...

There were days Harry regretted becoming a PI. Chasing Fairies that decided to kidnap children to the point he had to chase them through the NeverNever. Yeah this was one of those days. It wasn't the chase part that got to him. No it was the fact that it was a trap from his Godmother. Of course it was! His only saving grace was that he had not taken the deal she offered to him when he was sixteen but being a Fairy, she took offense to that.

So he really needed to run faster! Which would be easier if he wasn't carrying an unconscious child. His heart was racing and his breathing was ragged. He could feel his magic responding to his emotions. The branches were getting closer and the shadows were darkening. His lungs were burning and his legs aching. Yet Harry pushed his body to go faster, to cover more ground. To keep running until his feet would carry him no further.

"Fuck!" Cursed Harry, his grip tightening on the child in his arms as a branch tried to snag him, "Get out of the fucking way! Forzare!"

He blasted the tree that was in his path. Splinters flew and the cracking of the wood was loud in his ears. Then a howl rang out. They were close. Too close. Damn it. Why the fuck did his godmother have to set her hounds loose on him?

"Ventas servitas," snarled Harry, a whirlwind pushing him forward and away from the baying beasts.

Fuck, his energy was dropping. He could not afford to pass out. He had to get them through the opening he created between Chicago and the NeverNever. Once in Chicago they would be safe... safer.

The howls were growing louder and there was a crashing sound in the trees. Fuck. Shit. Motherfucking shit!

"Get the fuck out of the way," roared Harry, throwing his power at the trees and brambles, "FORZARE!"

He burst into the park in downtown Chicago. There was a scream from an older woman as he appeared from nowhere. He shifted the girl in his arms so that he could use his staff properly. Quickly he resealed the rift.

With that he could breath easier. Time to take her home. As he started walking, the girl stirred in his arms. She whimpered and curled into him. Her small fingers clutching his coat. With a soft sigh, Harry shifted his grip and murmured a few soothing words. Thankfully the little girl fell back asleep.

He turned to leave the park when cars screeched to a stop. Out stepped men in suits. One of whom was Hendricks. Oh goody. Reinforcements. A little too late to help him. For his part Hendricks was looking at him like he'd grown a second head. He hadn't right? Honestly he wouldn't put it past Lea to do it to mess with him.

"Dresden," greeted Hendricks, his brows furrowed, "Need a ride?"

"Sure," agreed Harry, his shoulders slumping in relief, "Need to get her home."

...

Of course Harry wasn't going to be let go that easily. As soon as the child was back home, Hendricks drove him to what Harry assumed was Marcone's estate. He'd only been to the office building. It was a large brick house. Three stories tall. The lawn was well tended. There was a wall that surrounded the property and a gate at the driveway. Hendricks pulled up the drive and parked the car in a garage. Reluctantly, Harry exited the car. His muscles were already starting to protest the abuse. He followed the red haired man to a door and paused.

There was a threshold at the door. Harry would easily be able to pass through it if he really wanted to as it was weak but it showed that people saw this place as home. Weird.

"Come on," prompted Hendricks, holding the door open.

"You have to invite me in," blurted Harry, his mind was still focused on the idea of the mob boss having a home.

"What?" Confused the bigger man, his head tilting to the side. His blue eyes were assessing. Like he was trying to determine if the wizard was messing with him.

"I need to be invited in," explained Harry, his tone patient, "To enter. Come on, I'm tired. Just invite me in."

"Fine, whatever," relented the redhead, his lips pressing together in disapproval, "Dresden, come in. Now, will you please follow me. Boss wants to talk to you."

"Lead the way, Cujo," retorted Harry, his voice a low drawl.

The inside of the house was decorated expensively. Dark woods, leather furniture, marble floors in the entrance, and expensive paintings on the walls. The stairs leading to the upper levels were carpeted. Hendricks led him up to the third floor. Where the doors were shut and the room behind the door was clearly a study. The walls were lined with books. In the center of the wall across from the door was a fireplace. There was a sofa and two armchairs in front of the fire.

Marcone looked up as they entered. He looked tired, as if he hadn't slept much in the last few days. His suit was crisp though. Green eyes assessed the state of him. Given what Harry had been through he probably looked like he'd been dragged under a car for a few miles. He felt that shitty at least. Bruises were blooming along his jaw and cheek. Scratches from the thorns that decorated his arms and neck. His clothing was torn and dirty. At some point he was going to have to find a new duster. Maybe tomorrow because the one he had was definitely ruined.

"Mr. Dresden," greeted the man, his tone mild, "Have a seat. You look... exhausted."

"Try getting in a fight with a fairy and then being chased by hellhounds and see how you feel," growled Harry.

He took the offer of a seat and slumped down onto the couch. It was soft and warm. Oh hell, he might not move for a week. This was far better than his lumpy old mattress. Damn, maybe he should invest in a new mattress. One that was this comfortable. It'd be an amazing sleep every night. For a brief moment, he entertained the thought of just falling asleep there. Then thought better of it. Marcone probably wouldn't appreciate having to care for Harry's injuries.

"Fairies are real?" Asked Nathan, his brow furrowing, "Like Tinkerbell?"

Harry snorted before he sat up a little and replied, "Not like that. At least not all of them. The closest to Tinkerbell would be the dewdrop fairies. They are mostly harmless."

"Dewdrop fairies," repeated the man, his tone flat and disbelieving.

"Uh huh," hummed Harry, his smile wry, "They're tiny and shy. Most of them are about six inches tall and have the attention span of a two year old. They were not the fairies that I went after."

"I have to admit," mused Marcone, his expression contemplative, "This is not what I expected from you. When we spoke about your work, Mr. Dresden, I believed that a day in the life of a PI was following cheating spouses. Not going after Fairies."

"It was a trick to draw me out," admitted Harry, "The Sidhe behind it, has a particular... obsession with me. I try to avoid going through the NeverNever for that reason."

"The what," deadpanned the mob boss, his brow arching upwards.

"Sorry," apologized Harry, "Nevernever is... guess the closest thing to call it is another dimension. In a way it mirrors ours. Only in a vague sense. Think of it like the reflection in a fun house mirror. It's distorted but recognizable. Time flows differently. Hours can pass in the mortal realm where only minutes pass in the NeverNever. Or vice versa."

John nodded his understanding before he asked, "Do you need medical attention?"

"Nothing I can't handle, boss," answered Harry, "Right now I just want to get something to eat and pass out on your couch."

"I'll have the cooks make you something," stated the mobster, his lips twitching, "But perhaps my guest bedroom instead of the couch."

Chapter 8

...

The next morning Harry and John were in the study. On the desk in front of John was the information Harry compiled on the vampire courts. Along with the notebook that the young man used to write notes on the subject. Most their strengths, weaknesses, and how to identify them.

"So," began John, his brow furrowed, "There are three different courts of vampires. All of which are fundamentally different. Do I understand that correctly, Mr. Dresden?"

"Yeah," agreed the young wizard, his posture was relaxed, his shoulders slouched, "They are. The Red Court are the most common in terms of who you'll see in Chicago. Though the White Court King does reside here. I've never had to deal with them."

"And the Black?" Prompted the crime lord, his eyes narrowing in thought, "You haven't mentioned much on them."

"Old school," explained the other, his lips curving into a slight sneer, "Think original Dracula book, old school. Though Dracula wasn't the original Black Court Vampire. That belongs to Drakul."

John was writing notes on everything he said. He was thorough and had no issues asking clarifying questions. Honestly, it was nice. Being treated seriously and not as a crook was refreshing. Usually the authorities looked at him like he was insane. Which meant the only ones willing to hire him were either the desperate or the crazy.

"Is there anything else I should know about them?" Asked John looking up.

Harry shook his head mutely. With a short nod, the older man continued to write. Taking that moment, Harry stood. Grabbing the thermos on the desk, Harry refilled his coffee and dumped sugar and cream into it. Then went to sit back down. While John's gaze was assessing. Harry tilted his head to the side in question.

"You're not what I expected," remarked the crime lord, his tone thoughtful, "I expected to have to drag secrets out of you, contract or no."

"I'm not a fan of lying or misleading people," admitted Harry, his voice was calm and even, "It's a waste of time. If they don't take my advice that's their choice."

John nodded to himself and they moved onto other topics.

...

In the last month and a half since joining the Outfit, Harry had spent more and more of his free time at the estate. It started out when it got too late for him to return home after a day of setting wards. So instead of making the commute, Marcone offered him one of the guest bedrooms. It was easier to just stay over. The room was nicer than his apartment. Yet, it was also because the meals provided were always good.

Setting wards properly took several weeks of work. Occasionally he had to sneak Bob in to double check his work to ensure they were being done properly. From time to time John or Hendricks would check in on him. Sometimes the mob boss would ask questions about the wards. However, the man seemed to respect the fact that magic was a delicate balance. So he didn't linger or distract him. Hendricks would just check in on him.

Other times, the men would bring him snacks and drinks. Or they would come to tell him dinner was ready. Which usually lead to eating with John and Hendricks. At first the conversation had been stilted and uncomfortable.

Currently Harry was at Bock's occult store trying to find wards that would work well with the ones he'd already set. He wanted to set an alert system that would be easy to detect by outsiders. Also something that would be subtle.

"Hey, Dresden, is it," called a voice from behind him, "Haven't seen you in awhile. What can I do for you today?"

"Hey, Bock," returned Harry, turning to the store's owner, "Looking to put an alert system for a house with non-magicals. It has a strong threshold."

"That's not an easy task," noted Bock, his brow furrowing, "Didn't know you started working for someone. Anything else I can get you?"

"Always," confirmed Harry, his lips twitching, "Need a crystal to turn into a wardstone."

Bock led him to the crystals and Harry picked a few to use as focus points. Each was a quartz. Two were small and the third was a little bigger. Those would be his anchor. Next to the crystals were some herbs that could be used in potions or spells. After a bit of contemplation, Harry bought a couple. There was plenty of time to make sure he got this right.

"Alright," sighed Harry, "Thanks, Bock. See you around."

"Take care, kid," returned the man, a smile on his face.

He paid and left. Before going to the estate, Harry checked in with Mac at the pub. The bar was the same as always. A small number of patrons were at the bar. Some were regulars who nodded in greeting to Harry. Others didn't glance up from their beers. Behind the counter was Mac, cleaning glasses. At Harry's approach, he looked up.

"Mac," greeted Harry, his voice soft, "How're things?"

"Quiet," grunted the barkeep, his stoic expression never changing, "Your usual, Harry?"

"Not today," he declined reluctantly, "Still have work to do today."

Mac gave a short nod and continued to clean his cups. It was the usual exchange between the two. Neither were talkers. Harry was content to enjoy his beer and leave Mac to his own devices.

"Been hearing rumors," commented Mac, his low voice breaking the silence, "That you're working for a big name. They aren't talking about the Gentleman are they?"

Well that didn't take long. Harry knew word would spread. Didn't expect the news to travel this fast. Fuck. This was probably not a great thing. Still, at least it wasn't the cops. Murphy was a friend but not a very forgiving one.

"Yeah," confirmed the wizard, his shoulders tensing, "We've reached an agreement of sorts. How bad is it?"

"Talk is mixed," shrugged the other, his gaze steady.

Harry sighed. That was better than he could have hoped for. However one thing still bugged him.

"Will it get me in trouble with the Council?" he asked.

Harry wasn't breaking any of the Laws of Magic. However he was still met with suspicion when it came to the White Council. Morgan, in particular, was quick to accuse him of the smallest infraction. Being on thin ice was not a good place to be.

"Shouldn't," remarked Mac, his expression thoughtful.

"Good," breathed the wizard, his posture relaxing, "Thank you, Mac. I appreciate it."

"Watch your back, Harry," warned the older man.

"Always," he replied, "Call if you hear of anything."

After a quick wave goodbye, the young wizard left.