Chapter Text
...
Harry watched as the house exploded. Next to him Jared watched his expression impassively. A man was killed, a warlock. His student was in that house as well. It was a necessary action. They couldn't give him a chance to escape and regroup.
He knew this. He knew why they had to kill DeMore. It didn't make the fact that someone else was killed, a girl the same age as him. He felt sick. He wanted to vomit. Maybe they missed something. Maybe there was another way to kill DeMore without setting explosives.
Jared didn't say anything. There wasn't a point to it. He had the same talk with the teen before the mission started. It didn't matter how much of the job was black and white, the grey area was always present. This was the world they lived in. No one was going to save them and the only rules were the ones you made yourself. Harry was still soft despite his training and the orphan's life before.
Together they watched the house burn. The night was quiet. Only the fire dared to interrupt. Finally, when the sun began to peak the horizon did they move.
"The Council will be here soon," Jared said. "Let's go. We need to check the basement of the house according to our client. Come on, whelp."
It took a while for the flames to die down enough for them to enter the building. Or rather what remained of the building. Charred wooden planks stuck up like a jagged broken tooth. Harry was the first to move forward, stepping into the remains of the home.
The wards and threshold were gone now. There wasn't a trace of magic. Harry felt nothing. It was empty and hollow. Even the natural energy of a wooded lot was silent. The air smelled of ash and heat. But there was the underlying scent of something else.
Sulfur. On instinct he shook out his shield bracelet and reached a hand for his gun. Jared gripped his shoulder and shook his head. With a jerk of his chin, he pointed to a spot where a circle had been drawn. Within was the outline of a human body. Magic clung to the edges of the circle. It was a binding ritual that didn't end properly.
"Is that a..." Harry trailed off, mouth dry.
"Ritual for summoning a demon," Kincaid answered.
He eyed the scene, searching for the demon. Harry cast his senses out searching for trouble. The remains of the house were saturated in black magic. It was a heavy feeling, the weight of the sins committed there. And the sulfur was a lingering presence, not a current one. Whatever was summoned wasn't in the immediate area anymore.
"Think a demon was summoned?" he asked aloud.
"Probably," Jared answered tersely.
"Jared?" Questioned Harry, "Do we need to worry about a loose demon?"
"Maybe," Jared told him, "Not sure yet. Let's hurry this along and get the hell away from here. This is no place to face a demon. If there was one summoned it's long gone now."
The two of them stepped over rubble, making their way to the back of the house. Once past the old living room and into the kitchen. Harry found a charred body there.
"Hey, I think this is the apprentice's body." He called to Jared.
Jared poked walked into the kitchen and knelt beside the corpse. With a gloved hand, he prodded at the body, looking at the hands. The bodu was too small and thin to be DeMore. He took the shield bracelet as proof of death.
They then began searching the rest of the house looking for DeMore. Upstairs they found him in what used to be a library. All the books like the rest of the house was destroyed. A shame.
Both he and Jared approached the man's body. Harry had his shield bracelet at the ready in case it was a trap. The first thing he learned from his guardian. Just because they look dead didn't mean they were. Always expect a double cross and betrayal. That was his world. One that Harry was slowly getting accustomed to.
Jared kicked the body. Nothing. He bent to take the man's identifiable rings and pentalce. Again, nothing happened. The warlock was very dead. Harry didn't feel bad about that. Not after learning everything the guy did.
The only regret he had was his apprentice. A kid that was forced to endure the abuse of the monster and was killed. There was little information on her. No name or history. Just a photo and a note saying the girl had magical potential and that was it. DeMore must have taken the file with him or destroyed it in the fire.
While Jared did more checks on the house Harry went looking for the basement. If there was anything of interest there. With any luck it wouldn't have been destroyed by the explosives.
The basement was easy enough to find. The stairs were mostly intact, the door blown off its hinges. Carefully the teen made his way downstairs. His boots were loud against the wood steps. At the bottom was a large open room. In the center, was a summoning circle. It was a larger space and better maintained that the one upstairs.
Harry walked around the summoning circle taking it in. It was a fairly standard circle though the runes were different, denoting a call to the NeverNever. DeMore must have been confident in his skills. As he turned he caught sight of a skull on a shelf with runes inscribed into it.
He grabbed and asked curiously to himself, "Why would DeMore have you I wonder?"
"I am a Spirit of Air and Intellect," said the skull making Harry jump in surprise.
He barely kept himself from dropping the skull. Harry stared at the skull in his hand. Of course, the skull was talking to him. That's normal. Skulls talk. Maybe if he tried hard enough he could convince himself of that. Right, that probably wasn't going to work.
Instead, he was left gaping at the skull trying to wrap his mind around the impossibilities that were thrown at him all too often. This was his life, wasn't it?
The skull had blue and amber lights in its eye sockets. It's voice was undoubtedly male. It sounded bored. Like this was a regular occurrence. Which, to be fair, was possible. He had no clue to the abilities of spirits. Though, the question begged how a spirit was in a skull. And, was the spirit a ghost or a separate entity?
Most of his tutoring in magic had been in controlling his power and battle magic. Jared hired tutors for him in magic. Though his training to be a mercenary was dome by Jared personally. Magic was not the Hellhound's specialty.
"So," Harry drawled, "You're a spirit. How did you come to be a skull? Was that a choice or did someone make that decision for you? Did DeMore seal you in it?"
"No," hissed the skull, "DeMore is, oh my, was my old master. Since he is dead that would make you my new master."
"Master?" Asked Harry incredulously. He looked to the top of the steps for his mentor. "What do you mean, 'master'?"
"Simple, boy, you have picked me up. Now I am yours," the skull informed the young wizard. "The previous owner is dead now. You can choose to take me with you or leave me."
"Do you have a name?" The teenager asked.
"No," answered the skull, "My previous masters have not named me."
"Would you like a name? Or should I just call you, 'Hey, you,' or 'spirit' or something." He questioned the being.
"You can give me whatever name you want," the spirit said, sounding indifferent, "Now are we leaving or are you leaving?"
"I'll call you, Bob," declared Harry, "I'm Harry."
"Whelp," called Jared from above them, "Who are you talking to?"
"A spirit," replied the youth, "A spirit of intellect. Apparently, the former owner, you know, the one we killed, was his owner. And, since we killed his master and I touched the skull, that means I'm his new master."
Harry heard Jared sigh annoyed, "Alright, let's go. We can talk about this later. We have a report to deliver. We'll talk to itlater. Get up here."
"Coming," Harry replied after stuffing the skull in his bag.
...
Jared struck out at Harry. It was a short jab at the gut. The teen danced out of reach. He moved to the right, putting distance between him and the older man. He ducked under the next punch and dodged left, circling the room.
He was on the defensive, keeping away out of the Hell Hound's longer reach. Jared Kincaid was had been a mercenary for centuries. Harry didn't know how old he was exactly. Only that his guardian was old. Older than anyone else the two of them worked with. That included the other supernatural beings and wizards.
Every day they were on a job they were training. Jared hired tutors when Harry showed signs of magical talent but kept from the White Council. They were mercenaries. The White Council didn't bother them. Wizards were arrogant and didn't pay well.
Go where the money is. That was Jared's motto. It was a good one. One that Harry would follow in the future. He was the closest thing Harry had to a family.
He ducked under the blow meant for chin. He took the opportunity to send a quick kick to the side of the knee. It didn't connect. Instead, his foot was knocked to the side. His leg was swept out from underneath. With a crash, the younger fighter hit the floor. Before him could react a fist was raised to strike his face. Harry went into a blocking motion, stopping the fist from touching him. He glared at the fist and looked to his teacher who smirked at him.
"Better," praised Jared, standing, "But not quick enough, still. Keep practicing."
"One day I'm going to knock you on your ass," growled Harry.
"The day you do that without magic is the day I retire," snorted Jared, "That will be the day that I decide to settle down and find a nice little home to spend the rest of my years."
"Whatever you say," grumbled Harry, rubbing his shoulder, "I'm gonna shower."
Jared's hand landed on his shoulder before the teen could walk away, "I'm proud of you, whelp. You did alright at the scene. Not every mission will be easy. There will be collateral damage. What you have to do is not let it rule your life. Understand?"
"Yeah, thanks, Jared," Harry said softly. "Yeah, I understand. It's just...we were the same age. That could have been me."
"Don't dwell on the could have," his guardian advised, "Focus on what is and plan for the could be. Let's get cleaned and head to bed. We're meeting the client in the morning. You're taking point this time."
"Wait really?!" Harry's mood improved dramatically, "Yes!"
"Yep, remember to not be so enthusiastic when we meet the client," reminded Jared, "We are professionals. Professionals don't act like an overgrown puppy."
Harry rolled his eyes but he nodded. This was the first time he would be taking the lead. Even if technically Jared would have the last word it was a big deal.