A/N: Once again, I want to remind everybody that I am not using Butcher's concept of a Soulgaze. Mainly because, like last time, it's not relevant to the story at all and I don't want to introduce a new topic. For those who know what I'm talking about, sorry if this upsets you. For those who don't, don't worry about it. For both groups, enjoy the chapter.
McAnally's was a small diner in the middle on the centred on the outskirts of a busy Chicago street. The entrance had been placed in a way that whenever somebody walked in, they had to take several steps down into a room with a potentially lethal combination of a low clearance and ceiling fans. There were thirteen stools at the bar and thirteen tables in the room. There were thirteen windows set up high into the wall that allowed some light to filter in from the street and thirteen small mirrors had been placed on the wall, making the diner seem a lot bigger than it really was. Thirteen thick wooden columns were located in random places around the room, carved with intricate mythical, and not so mythical, creatures, making it hard to walk around the place. Everything in the room had been strategically placed to restrict the flow of magic in the room. The diner's strange layout, combined with a sign on the wall just inside the door that proclaimed, ACCORDED NEUTRAL TERRITORY, made McAnally's a popular haven for the various two-bit supernaturally-inclined of the city.
There were about two dozen or so diners chatting and muttering to each other in friendly voices when Harry walked in, a perpetual scowl on his face. He barely took notice of the sign hanging on the wall and ducked to avoid a ceiling fan as he stomped down the stairs, apparently talking to himself quite animatedly.
“I'm just saying,” Harry protested, coming to the bottom of the stairs and walking towards the bar. “It's a big world out there.”
The patron of the bar, Mac, looked up at Harry with a squinted gaze. He was a tall, almost gangly man of the age where he looked as if he could be anywhere between thirty and seventy. He didn't speak much, which Harry found to be a valued trait, and was never disconcerted by the strange happenings in his bar.
“A steak and ale,” Harry ordered without stopping, his eyes resting briefly on Mac. “And put it on Dresden's tab. He's a regular here, right?”
Mac grunted and stared at Harry stonily, folding his arms over his chest with a stern expression clouding his features. Harry stared back with a challenging lift of his eyebrow but Mac was unmoved and Harry sighed, rolling his eyes in defeat.
“Just give me something to drink,” He muttered.
Mac grunted and reached under the bar for a bottle of soft-drink. He hurled it at Harry, who easily caught it, and moved towards the old wood-burning stove while Harry took a seat next to one of the wooden columns, seemingly ignoring the strange and wary, stares he was getting.
“Well, I was thinking somewhere tropical,” Harry replied after a moment. He raised his eyebrows and turned his eyes towards the chair next to him as there was somebody actually sitting there. “You've been around the world, you should know about all of the good places.”
Some of the diners shifted in their seats and a pair of middle-aged women stood up and quickly left as Harry frowned, folding his arms over his chest petulantly.
“No, that's no good,” He grumbled. “That warlock is still pissed at you.”
A few of the other diners also put down their forks and left the diner as Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation.
“Well, maybe you shouldn't have cut off his arms. He probably would have given you a refund anyway,” He muttered. After a moment's pause he let out a deep breath and a scowl appeared on his face. “Hey, don't get snippy with you, I'm just saying…you know what, forget maybe I'll ask…”
Harry glanced around at the room and stood up. He clapped his hands together once and was rewarded when the bar went completely silent, the diners staring at Harry with blank faces.
“Hey, does anybody know of a good travel agent?” Harry asked with a puzzled expression.
The bar was completely silent and Harry blinked, noting how many of the people were looking uncomfortable.
“Okay then,” He drawled slowly. “Be a bunch of tossers then.”
He sat back down just as the other half of the diners stood up and shuffled their way to the exit, many throwing Harry wary looks as they walked past. A few moments later, Harry was pretty much alone in the diner. A smug smile curved his lips as he watched them leave and he let out a sigh of satisfaction.
“It's good to see that I've still got it,” He remarked and glanced back over at the chair. This time, he could actually see somebody sitting there as Meciel manipulated his brain to produce a visual representation of her figure for his eyes.
“You are incorrigible,” Meciel said, although a small smile crossed her beautiful face. Her silvery eyes watched Harry with an almost-unseen expression of affection and her long black hair swayed, as if the fans were actually moving it. She was clothed in a very delicate and very beautiful white and sliver dress and wore a necklace of glittering diamonds across her chest.
“No, you're inco-rabity-babity,” Harry shot back challengingly. There was a pause as Meciel blinked, her expression not changing for an instant.
“Don't know how to say the world properly?” Meciel inquired.
“Nope,” Harry drawled slowly and shot her a clearly-mocking look of sadness. “Remember Meciel, I'm challenged. Use small words.” He held his fingertips apart for emphasis.
“I do not need you to tell me about the sad state of your mental faculties,” Meciel said and with a glimmer of amusement. “Remember, beloved, I live in your brain. I experience them every single day.”
“Whoa,” Harry said, throwing his hands out and stopping Meciel before she could go any further. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “Let's not make this personal.”
“You started it,” was all Meciel said.
Harry gave a mocking sigh of sadness and shook his head.
“And to think, you're my 'responsible' adult role model,” Harry muttered. “It's a wonder that I've turned out right at all.”
Meciel let out a soft snort and Harry chuckled at the disgruntled look on her face. He glanced up and saw Mac place a plate of steaming food on the counter. With a sigh, he stood up and walked across the room.
“Have you ever thought of hiring out some waiters of something?” Harry asked the balding barkeeper, who stared back at him with a stony expression on his face. “You don't have to pay him much. Just grab a few Mexicans or something, that way; you can pay them in bread.”
“Eat your food,” Mac said gruffly and turned away, busying himself in cleaning one of the glasses with a rag.
Harry rolled his eyes and took his place, walking back to his table and sitting down. As he did, Meciel blinked and simultaneously, the two of them swivelled their head's around to see a new arrival entering the diner.
He was a tall, lean man with wearied brown eyes and dark, messy hair. He had hawkish nose and a sharp chin, Clothed in a long black duster and a pair of dark jeans, the man strode down the stairs, his wary eyes scanning the entire room before falling on Harry. Harry noted a slim rod hanging from the man's waist and his suspicions were confirmed. It was a blasting rod. So, this was the True-Wizard, Harry Dresden. Almost instantly, Harry ducked his gaze and waited as the man walked across the room and paused over his table.
“Okay, I'm going to be honest with you,” The man said slowly, his smooth baritones rolling over his tongue. “I was expecting somebody a little older, considering your reputation.”
“And I'm going to be honest with you,” Harry retorted and gestured to the steaming steak in front of him. “See this meal? You're paying for it. Now that we've got the small talk out of the way…”
Dresden ignored him as he scanned the room, a slight frown appearing on his face.
“Where is everybody?” He murmured, more to himself than Harry. “Usually this place is full about this time of a day.”
“It's amazing what people will do to go to lengths to avoid a person talking to themselves,” Harry shrugged and paused, a wicked smile coming over his face. “Well, it was either that or I left a bad impression the last time I was here. They're all convinced that I'm a serial killer.”
Dresden blinked and regarded Harry carefully, not letting an iota of his true feelings show on his face. He looked at the seat that Harry gestured to and, with deliberate ease, took the one opposite it. Harry blinked as Dresden settled into the chair and stared at Harry impassively.
“You don't have to be a paranoid fuck,” Harry mumbled under his breath but Dresden must have heard him.
“Paranoid?” Dresden exclaimed. He paused and then conceded. “Probably. But just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that there isn't an invisible demon about to eat your face.”
“Okay,” Harry said slowly, staring at Dresden strangely. “I don't know where that came from…I probably don't want to know, either. You know, you'd get along great with this wizard I know, if he weren't dead and all. I mean, he was pretending to be somebody else for the better part of the year, but some of that must have come from his true heart.”
“Okay,” Dresden said slowly. “I don't think I want to know either.”
“Eh, suit yourself,” Harry said and popped the top off his bottle of his drink. He took a swig and leaned back in his chair, hiding any anxiety or anticipation he may have felt and waiting for Dresden to continued.
“So…Denarian, huh?” Dresden said awkwardly after a few moments had passed.
“Yep,” Harry answered in the same tone, eying Dresden carefully.
“How's that working for you?” Dresden asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Harry blinked.
“Eh, not too bad,” He answered, making a shaky motion with his hand. “She can get snippy about the rent, though.”
“Believe me, I know how that is,” Dresden mumbled and Harry gave him a strange look. Dresden picked up on the look and hesitated, a painful expression crossing his face. “Personal experience.”
“Who was it?” Harry asked in surprise, staring at the True-Wizard in front of him carefully and searching for any sign of a lingering, Fallen presence.
“Lasciel?” Dresden answered and Harry could have sworn he heard traces of sadness in the man's voice.
“The temptress herself?” Harry asked with interest and leant forward. “How is that manipulative slut, anyway?”
“Well, she did a brief prison stint in my basement for a few years,” Dresden answered.
“Huh,” Harry muttered lightly, although Meciel gave off a flash of pure amusement. “Bet that was fun. So, what, you really buried her?”
“Yeah,” Dresden answered with a nod. “Buried, cemented, the whole works. I gave the coin to the Knights a while after. I really don't think she liked that.”
“Your skills in empathy are truly outstanding,” Harry remarked dryly and took a bite out of his steak. As usual, the meat was absolutely delicious and Harry tucked in.
“Yeah and I make a mean martini,” Dresden said lightly.
“Really?” Harry asked sceptically and was rewarded as Dresden paused.
“Well, no,” Dresden admitted, casting an envious look at Harry's lunch. “Not really.”
Harry paused, giving them the other man an odd look. Noting the look at his steak, Harry smirked and took a delicious bite, enjoying the way Dresden's jaw clenched as he followed the young Denarian's movements.
“Then why would you say you can?” Harry asked with an exaggerated motion with his hands.
“It's called being a smart-arse,” Dresden offered helpfully. “I'd offer you to try it out but I can see that you've got some practical experience in it already.”
“Okay,” Harry drawled and paused to take a sip of his drink. “So, are we going to get down to business anytime soon or should I,” and here he paused and emphasised his English accent. “Go and get the crumpets so we may have a spot to eat. Maybe we can talk about Mr Biggleworth's delectable daughter. I tell you, sir, she is one saucy bitch.”
“Yeah, definitely have some practical experiences,” Dresden chuckled and adopted a wounded expression on his face. “And here I was thinking that we were just getting to know one another, a real bonding experience.”
“Well,” Harry said slowly, making a deliberate show to shuffle a little further away from the True Wizard. “You don't sound like a rapist or anything.”
“Nah,” Dresden scoffed, waving the comment off with his hand. “If I was a rapist I would say something like 'nice underwear you've got on today, but tomorrow, can you put on something that's not blue?'
“How the hell do you know that?” Harry snapped, slamming his bottle down onto the table and giving Dresden a withering look. “Hell, you haven't been really been peeking into my shower, have you?”
Dresden blinked in surprise and observed Harry with an amazed expression on his face.
“Really?” He asked and paused, scratching his head. “You and blue underwear?”
“Yeah,” Harry answered slowly and scowled, irritation flaring up in his eyes. His next words were delivered with a mixture of wariness and hostility. “What about it?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Dresden said quickly and paused, giving Harry a quick once-over glance. “It's just that I thought it would be black silk boxers or something.”
“Whoa, did you just check me out?” Harry demanded and frowned. “And why would I wear silk?”
“Well, you are a Denarian,” Dresden started but Harry interrupted him by slamming his hand down on the table and shaking his head vigorously.
“Okay, this conversation has moved from amusing and quickly travelled down the path of 'I'm being stalked by a wizard'. Maybe we could get back on topic. You left a message with my landlord, something about a job and, more importantly, some money.”
“Molly was telling me about you the other day,” started Dresden, his face hardening and a serious glint appearing in his eyes. “She said you were good at killing things and had a knack for staying alive. What I need is…”
“Hang on,” Harry interrupted and stared at Dresden with narrowed eyes. “Molly as in Molly the prostitute who works on the corner of my street or Molly as in Molly 'Stuck-up bitch' Carpenter?”
“Molly Carpenter,” Dresden answered and a flicker of annoyance flashed on his face at the end of Harry's sentence.
“How the hell do you know her?” Harry demanded.
“She was my apprentice,” Dresden answered and smiled in amusement at Harry's disbelieving stare. “Technically, I suppose she still is.”
“It sucks to be you,” Harry said earnestly, shaking his head in sympathy. “Just…ouch, man.”
“She's not that bad,” Dresden said lightly and gave Harry an annoyed glare when the Denarian gave a loud snort of disbelief. “Anyway, what I need to do is to kill some vampires. I could use some extra help.”
“What type of vampires?” Harry asked, his sarcastic demeanour completely disappearing and being replaced with a serious expression. “And how many?”
“Red Court,” Dresden answered curtly. “And around fifty of them.”
“What's the cut?” Harry pressed on, his eyes narrowed.
“Twenty-grand,” Dresden answered seriously.
Harry said nothing but his nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath. Twenty-grand…now, that would go a long way in making his life a lot easier. Dresden must have noticed his reaction but said nothing, although his lips quirked into a smile and he took the opportunity to take a piece of Harry's steak.
“Hey!” Harry snapped in annoyance.
“Sorry,” Dresden mumbled, his cheeks full. He swallowed the bite down and continued on with business. “Here's what's happening. A few dozen Red Court vampires are meeting in seven hours. Some of them are nobility to, a pair of Counts and a Duke- all very respected for their battle-strategy. I can't get any Wardens or White Council members to come in and from what Molly's tole me, you'd be perfect.”
“Whoa, the White Council?” Harry asked in disbelief.
“Huh,” Dresden uttered. “I thought you would have known about us. The White Council is the ruling body of all, what do you call us, True-Wizards in the world. Some of them most powerful wizards in the world serve of the White Council. It's ruled by the senior council, seven dully nominated representatives who…”
“I all about the White Council and your little soldier Wardens,” Harry interrupting impatiently. He rolled his eyes and scowled. “I'm not an idiot, which, coincidentally, is why I wouldn't touch the White Council with a ten-foot dick. They execute people like me, Dresden, because I don't follow their pathetic little 'laws of magic'.”
“A ten-foot…” Dresden started, looking bewildered. He stopped, took a deep breath and composed himself. “Look, the White Council can't make it on time. That's why they've given the money to hire somebody with your…specialised…talents. You won't be meeting any member of the White Council at all, well, apart from me.”
“You're on the White Council?” Harry asked in surprise, leaning forward in his chair and staring at Dresden with confusion. “You, with your infamous reputation? Weren't you on probation a couple years back for killing your guardian with black magic?”
“Hey, self-defence,” Dresden said defensively. “He tried to bewitch me, and when that didn't work, he tried to kill me.”
“Didn't you start the war between your White Council and the Red Court vampires?” Harry pressed on with a malicious glint in his eyes.
“Technically, yes,” Dresden admitted. “But there were innocent lives at stake and they had already broken the peace accords.”
“Whatever,” Harry muttered, waving the explanation away with a dismissive flick of his hand. “That's not the point. The point it, I really don't think I should be getting involved in the war. It could be bad for my health.”
“Fine then,” Dresden said and paused. “Fifty-thousand.”
Harry, who was in the process of rising up from the table, promptly sat back down again and stared at Dresden with interest. Dresden sat there, his shoulders squared, and waited for Harry to speak.
“You seem really keen on getting my help,” Harry noted shrewdly.
“I heard that you were a wand-wizard,” Dresden asked, and leant forward to stare at Harry intently. “Can you make a magical device known as a 'portkey' or can you do that spell that lets you travel from one place to another?”
“You mean apparate,” Harry said and nodded. “Yeah, sure, to both of them. Why do….wait, where are these Vampires meeting again?”
“That's the thing,” Dresden said. “The meeting is in Indonesia. So, without your skills to get us there, there's no point in organising a raid. This is why none of the other White Council members can get there; it's a bit short notice.”
“Where'd you here about this meeting then,” Harry asked curiously.
“Oh, a little faery told me,” Dresden said airily.
“So, I just make the transportation to get you there and you'd do all the rest?” Harry questioned in disbelief.
“No, no, no,” Dresden said quickly, shaking his head. “For that much money, you'd be expected to fight. It shouldn't be much trouble for you. I heard you were pretty good, that you'd taken on a Drakon and won, that you killed old Nico of the Denarian's, and that you'd taken down some warlocks and even some kind of Outsider.”
“I am pretty good,” Harry admitted with a smug smirk. Suddenly, he frowned and stared at Dresden curiously. “Where'd you hear all of that? Especially the last bit about the Outsider?”
“From me,” Somebody called out from the entrance of the room. Harry's head shot around as another man walked down the stairs leading into the diner and he groaned.
“Fuck,” He cursed softly under his breath.
“It's not polite to swear, Harry,” Michael chided. The man had dark against silver hair, a well-trimmed black beard with worry and laugh lines around mouth and eyes. He was a tall, well-built man with grey eyes. As a Knight of the Cross, Michael was an expert tactician and hand-to-hand fighter, and also possessed some spiritual power of his own.
He was also the last person that Harry ever wanted to meet. Despite Harry's new status as a Knight, there was a deeply ingrained survival instinct embedded within him that made him want to fight-flight his way past the man whose order was originally designed to kill Denarian's like him.
“I didn't say anything!” Dresden said defensively and Michael paused, his grey eyes showing a fair amount of amusement and exasperation.
“I meant that Harry,” he said slowly, gesturing towards Harry. “It's good to see you again, Har- Dresden.”
“Michael,” Dresden greeted warmly, standing up to shake the other man's hand while Harry looked on with a disgusted scowl on his face. The two men sat down and Michael turned to Harry, assessing the younger boy with critical eyes.
“You're looking much better than the last time we met,” Michael said conversationally.
“I wish I could say the same about you,” Harry said in pseudo-warm tone. “But, unfortunately, your face still looks like some kind of slimy frog that a horse trod on too many times.”
“So, I take it that you two have met,” Dresden said slowly, eying Harry carefully.
“Have you ever wondered what happened to Fidelacchius after you gave it back to me?” Michael asked and gestured at Harry. “Meet the newest member of my Order.”
“Hang on,” Dresden said, his mouth dropping with shock. He stared between Michael and Harry as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Isn't he a Denarian?”
“Yes,” Michael said simply with a small smile.
Harry sighed and palmed his forehead against in hands as Dresden paused, trying to struggle through the impossibilities of what he had just been told.
“Don't you guys have rules against that?” Dresden asked Harry. Harry blinked. “Won't your union be angry at you? You could get your pay docked from you. Hey, they may even take away your sick leave.”
“Okay, if I'm going to do this then I have one rule,” Harry said coldly, jabbing a finger in Dresden's direction. “I'm the smart-arse here, not you.”
Michael snorted and seemed unaffected by Harry's anger when the young Denarian turned his gaze upon him.
“Alright, alright,” Dresden said, raising his hands in a placating manner. Suddenly he looked very serious and Harry blinked as a change went through the man, making him seem much more dangerous than he had looked previously. “It will just be us three and Molly going in. I've got the layout with me and I'll show you when we meet up again. We'll use the portkey, arrive there at dawn, blast the door down, kill the vampires, rescue any innocents we can find and get out of there before the reinforcements come.”
“So, fifty-grand,” Harry said musingly, taking in the plan.
“Yeah,” Dresden said and paused, eying Harry carefully. “Can I count you in?”
“How much are you paying him?” Harry asked, jerking his thumb at Michael.
“Nothing,” Dresden said, his eyes flickering over his friend, “He volunteered.”
“We all have our orders,” Michael said simply.
“I'll do it for seventy,' Harry said firmly and stared at Dresden with a stony expression. “No less.”
“No deal,” rebuked Dresden almost immediately, looking almost amused. “The White Council only gave me forty-five, so five of this is coming out of my own pocket. I can't afford that much.”
“Ah well,” Harry said lightly with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, looking totally relaxed. “I guess you don't get to go to Indonesia.”
“I guess you don't get fifty-thousand dollars,” Dresden replied and Harry's expression hardened. The Denarian Knight chewed on his for a few moments as he considered the proposal.
“Ah, why not?” Harry muttered and slammed his hand down on the table. “Besides, I've already pissed the vampires off today. May as well do it right.”
“I'll drink to that,” Dresden said heartily.
“So will I,” Harry said and rose from the table. “But I'm going somewhere where I don't have to see his,” here he gestured at Michael, “ugly mug, Feel free to eat my steak, Dresden.”
“We'll go in six hours from now,” Dresden said and also stood. “Meet me here with the portkey, ready to go. After the mission is complete, I'll give you the details of the bank account the White Council has already wired the money in.”
Harry nodded curtly and extended his hand. Dresden cocked his head but took Harry's hand in a firm handshake. A moment later, Harry let go and without walked from the Diner without another word.
“Well, he's interesting….” Dresden said slowly, eying Harry's retreating back as he stomped up the stairs and disappeared through the door.
“You have no idea,” murmured Michael.
“What do you know about him?” Dresden asked curiously. He settled down and took Harry's leftover steak and soft-drink as Michael opened his mouth and began to recite everything he knew about Harry, including what he had personally experienced and what his daughters had told him.