Seven Times
Son of Zues0001
Chapter One: The Apprentice
Idea: This is a Danny Phantom and Dresden Files crossover.
Rating: This story is rated T at the moment. However, it might increase to M later on.
Pairings: You'll have to wait and see. Dresden's love life is pretty much intact. But, I promise you, the lucky Lady who gets with Danny creates a series of events that leads to a somewhat frightening difference in character destiny for several people. Actually no, I've changed my mind. It's definitely Danny who's the lucky one.(Yes, I did just give it away if you look closely. Good for you for noticing.)
Timeline: The story begins two years after the portal accident, and after The Ultimate Enemy, in terms of Danny Phantom. As far as Dresden Files goes, this story begins in early summer before Dead Beat.
Full Summery: Seven. That's how many times the ignorant fools of the council had tried to kill him. But… he was smart. Mad, yes. Insane, probably. A monster, definitely. But, he was smart. He was patient. And so, he waited. He drifted, a shade waiting to return to its former glory. And… he planned.
He had to test his theories first. He had to make sure it would work. So, when the portal opened for the first time, with an unwitting potential host present at the other end, he did his test. He chose a ghost, and he hurled it into the rift between worlds. He watched as his genius, his madness, was proven correct. What he planned to do… it would work.
He knew he would have to be patient. Centuries would likely pass – perhaps even millennia – before he could re-emerge into the world to continue his work. It would – like all great things – take time. But, he was willing to wait. He was willing to wait as long as need be, if it meant he could rejoin the mortal world.
When the portal opened for a second time, a mere twenty years later with yet another individual present at its mouth, he was surprised. He had planned on waiting centuries – perhaps even until the idiots in the Council were long gone to dust, swallowed up by their own foolish ideals. But, he had never been one to turn down opportunity…
Disclaimers: Hello to all! I would love to claim credit for the idea of exactly how Danny's powers fit into the Dresdenverse. But, I can't. That honor goes to Ryuugi, over on Space Battles, who has generously allowed me to use it. Also, the fact that this is being posted on this website to begin with, should indicate that I am neither Jim Butcher, nor Butch Hartman. I am merely a college student enjoying his break between semesters. So, please keep that in mind and don't try to either kill or sue me. I wouldn't have the money to pay you anyway. Please, have a good day and enjoy.
Daniel James Fenton was not having a good day.
In all honesty, it was more accurate to say that he wasn't having a good past forty-eight hours… but he always had claimed to be bad at math.
It had started when the big guy in the grey cloak had appeared in front of him, carrying a mile-long silver sword and looking like he was ready to kill… a lot of stuff. Following that it had been the realization that the guy's sword could cut right through his usual shield – the shield of cold emerald energy that he used to protect himself when ghosts attacked the city – that had made an attempt at ruining an otherwise normal day. After that wholly terrifying realization, the pain in his shoulder as the sword's blade clipped him had really put a damper on his mood. Once the pain had been firmly pushed to the back of his mind, the realization that the large and muscular man was actually good with his sword had stopped Danny's thought process cold for about three seconds.
From there it had spiraled into something of an "Oh CRAP!" moment for the young man as the ensuing fight proved something that he had not expected: The deadly serious man was actually equipped to fight him. Or, more accurately, the man seemed to possess truly frightening mastery over… well, the word magic leapt to mind. Blasts of fire. Sudden bursts of gravity that seemed to flatten him to the ground. Yes. Magic seemed like a good word.
For a while after that it hadn't really been that bad. But, Danny hadn't been conscious for that part, so he wasn't actually sure if that assumption was accurate or not. Once he'd woken up, he'd found himself on a hard concrete surface, his muscles aching and his wrists tied under him.
He'd done the logical thing, and promptly tried to escape. Obviously the sword-wielding magical lunatic had been aware of his powers, so there wasn't really any reason to hide them. He'd briefly wondered if the psycho worked for the Guys In White, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it appeared. The guy was too competent… and he didn't wear white. So, reaching out to that endless, cold, sweet power, he let the ropes binding his hands, and the hood over his head, fall to the ground. Then he'd made a break for it.
He'd failed miserably and been knocked out again.
Apparently the guy had been watching him…
Danny had repeated his escape attempt two more times. After the third attempt, the guy had put some sort of cuffs on him that pierced his wrists and hurt like hell whenever he tried to use his ghost powers. So, embracing his more pragmatic side, Danny had opted for a more… mundane tactic.
He'd kicked the guy in the junk as hard as he could.
That had earned him another bout of unconsciousness, apparently brought on this time by the pommel of the man's sword connecting with his head. Or, at least, that's what Danny thought it had been. He wasn't sure, and he couldn't really think too clearly afterwards. The throbbing of the bruise that he was sure now adorned the back of his head had made such activities somewhat difficult.
And… that left him laying unconscious in the corner of a warehouse, bound and gagged, with a black hood over his head.
Ebenezer McCoy adjusted his grip on his staff as he shifted his weight to his left leg. He'd been rousted out of bed about an hour earlier than usual the day before, when some apprentice had driven up to his farm in a beat-up old jeep that looked like it was about to fall apart. The idiot apprentice had then proceeded to bang on his front door for what he was pretty sure was an ungodly amount of time, but was actually only two minutes when he'd checked the clock that hung on the wall of the main room.
The stupid kid had then started rambling on about some urgent meeting set to occur the next day that – for some reason – couldn't wait until he had gotten another hour or two of sleep. After grumbling something to the apprentice about shutting up, he'd wondered over to the small kitchen area of his home and brewed a pot of coffee. Once he'd had a small cup-full of the stuff, he'd turned back to the gibbering apprentice and listened to the much clearer and easier to understand story.
And now he was here, after driving for almost eighteen hours and having his pick-up break down, in some godforsaken warehouse in a town that was so full of dark energy that it made his skin crawl, staring down at a kid with a black hood over his head. Poor kid, he grunted as he watched the boy on the ground squirming uncomfortably. Can't be older than sixteen. The image of another sixteen year old kneeling on the ground under a black hood swam through his mind, this one taller and lankier than the unfortunate kid facing away from him now.
"Warden Morgan, would you please inform the gathering of the warlock's crimes?" the Merlin's voice echoed in the large, metal-walled room.
Ebenezer's jaw tightened as the second in command of the Wardens stepped forward. According to the rumor mill, he'd been the one to capture the kid. He pitied the kid. First, getting tangled up with dark magic, then having Donald Morgan be the one who found him. Morgan was not known for his gentleness. Stars and Stonse, the man was known as the council's guard dog for a reason.
"The warlock is charged with repeated violation of the third law," the second in command of the wardens began, "invading the minds of numerous citizens of the warlock's home town, most of them being students of the local high school. I contacted warden Brooks and asked him to see what he could find out about the victims. He located over twenty-seven, all suffering from gaps in memory, as well as a number of other side effects consistant with the violation of the mind, in some cases more severe." Here he paused and took a deep breath.
"Is that all, Warden?" the Merlin asked in a calm, commanding tone.
Ebenezer scowled and shifted his weight back to his other leg. Mind magic was… tricky. Dangerous. There was a reason it was one of the laws. He had used it several times while performing his duties as the Black Staff. Most of them hadn't ended well for any involved. Dropping satellites from orbit was far less complex… at least in his opinion.
"No Merlin. The warlock is also charged with repeated violation of both the fourth and fifth laws. We could not confirm if the warlock's violation of the third law was in some way related to that of the fourth, but both warden Brooks and myself believe it was. One victim in particular – a student at the local high school by the name of Dashel Baxter, showed signs of repeated enthrallment. Other students reported seeing the student perform tasks such as stuffing rolls of toilet paper into his own locker or punching himself in the face, among other similar events."
The youth on the ground twitched slightly, drawing attention to the red-brown stain on the right shoulder of his shirt. Three laws. Ebenezer felt a churning in his stomach. It wasn't uncommon, especially in cases where they went unnoticed for long periods of time. An unfortunate commonality recently. The White Council just didn't have enough people to search out every upstart warlock and dark lord. And, in small out-of-the-way towns like Amity Park… well, he was looking at the results.
Ebenezer wrinkled his nose, noticing that most of the others in the room looked sick. His stomach churned again, the image of the other, taller, boy flashing before his mind's eye for a second time. How much worse it could have been…
"And, the fifth law?" one woman asked hesitantly, sounding as if she was repressing the urge to throw up.
"The warlock," Morgan said, stone-faced, "frequently used advanced forms of necromancy, reminiscent of 1961. We were unable to locate the text or individual he learned these techniques from," Morgan sighed. "After soul gazing the warlock, both Warden Brooks and myself feel that there is also some evidence to suggest that the warlock may have broken the sixth law, but we could not confirm this…" Morgan trailed off, the wrinkles in his face deepening.
The entire room was silent now, all staring in stunned horrification at the young man in the black hood, and for the first time Ebenezer noticed a set of thorn manacles around the boy's wrists. Yes, Ebenezer sighed regretfully, it could have been much worse. Who, or worse… what, had driven this boy to dark magic… Well, he'd make it his business to find out. And he'd destroy it. Judging from the stories that had been floating around, it was too late for the boy. But, he could make damn sure it didn't get to any other kids ever again. A sinking feeling entered his mind at the thought of what exactly it might have been, but he pushed it aside.
If he were in the mood to be optimistic, he'd probably joke that kicking Morgan between the legs had shown some hope for the boy. It might have even done the man some good. But, the oppressive atmosphere of the room and the ungodly early hour were making it difficult to be optimistic. The heat of early summer and smell of the warehouse they were meeting in didn't help cheer his mood either. Besides, the poor boy had broken three – possibly four – of the laws repeatedly, and with some frequency if Morgan's report were to be believed. He was probably so far gone that removing the boy's head would be a mercy.
His stomach churned at that thought, and how true it actually turned out to be on occasion. That boy in Ireland who'd gotten mixed up with the Unseelie Court a little over twenty years ago, for example. Dealing with Warlocks was not pleasant. It was often nightmare educing work. And, it rarely felt rewarding. However, it was a necessity. They could not be reasoned with, past a certain point.
That didn't mean he liked it. The truth was quite the opposite. He hated dealing with warlocks. Most of them were ignorant kids who had no idea what they were doing until it was too late. Until they were so twisted by the dark magic they had used that they were little more than a gibbering mess that saw nothing more than their power, convinced of their own immortality. Hoss was right about that much.
The least he could do was show them some respect and be there when the council passed judgment. It was hard, knowing that without the Staff, he'd likely be the same by now. So much killing. So many horrible acts that went against everything he believed about magic and how it should be used. The New Madrid earthquake. The Krakatoa eruption. The explosion at Tunguska. The list went on… and on… and on. His stomach churned again at the thought of… everything. It seemed to be doing that a lot today.
"What do you think, Ebenezer?" a grey-haired older woman asked, stepping up next to him. She looked roughly sixty, though he knew her to be much older. She wore one of the grey cloaks, and carried a staff that labeled her as head of the Wardens. Her silver rapier rested at her hip.
"Captain Luccio," he said, inclining his head curtly in her direction.
"You seem unusually uncomfortable with this."
Ebenezer grunted sourly.
"Morgan soul gazed the boy himself."
Ebenezer snorted.
"Eb –"
Before she could finish the first word of her sentence, a commotion near the captive warlock drew their attention. While the pair had been talking, Morgan had apparently moved to deliver the death-blow and sever the boy's head from his body. Ebenezer gaped as the boy spun to his feet, raising his arms and severing the chain of the manacles against the sword's blade . Apparently the boy's squirming around earlier had had some purpose: freeing his arms from behind him so that he could move them properly.
A snarl of anger and pain escaped the boy as he – apparently – tried to use magic. The manacles, their chain severed but their sharp spikes still embedded in his wrists, prevented such an action. The boy's hands came up to feel at the hood before pulling it over his head. There was a quiet "Glerk!" as the hood pulled at the clamp on his tongue, before he let go and reached to undo the clamp.
There was absolute silence in the warehouse for what seemed like an eternity. Even Morgan and the Captain seemed startled. Ebenezer could tell because the boy still had his head, and Luccio still stood beside him. Stars and stones, the old wizard thought. He did that without even looking! The boy was either extremely skilled and disciplined in hand-to-hand, or possessed levels of luck and stupidity to rival even his grandson. As the old wizard raised his staff to send a blast of force in the boys direction, Ebenezer realized that he wasn't sure which would be scarier.
The boy raised his head, the dark hood dangling from his mouth where the clamp still held his tongue. The youth's face was pale and filled with pained exhaustion. Almost as if he'd been sleeping in an uncomfortable position on the floor of an old warehouse, the little voice that sounded like Ebenezer's grandson deadpanned in the back of his mind. The boy's eyes were a bright, angry, sapphire blue, hidden behind a sporadic curtain of unruly black hair. His gaze swept the room, glaring around at everyone present before they found Ebenezer. And for a moment… their eyes met and Ebenezer's spell faltered.
The young man lay crumpled on the floor. A figure stood above him, gazing down in contempt. A flowing, ghostly cloak, torn in places and stained with blood, rippled around the man's form. Its eyes shown red as it looked upon the helpless youth, filled with hatred and malice. The being seemed to glow, emanating a dark, uncaring, hungry power.
The creature kicked at the boy lazily, its eyes bright with sadistic joy. As the foot landed against the young man's ribs, he buckled and rolled painfully to one side. His face turned to face the ceiling, an expression of tortured horror and unshakable determination was revealed.
"You don't get it!" the tall man in the spectral cloak shouted at the child. Its lip curled in a sneer as it lifted its head to stare at the world around it with scorn. its arms flung out wide in a grandiose gesture. "I'm still here!" the man laughed. "I still exist! That means you still turn into me!"
"No!" The child's voice was quiet, torn with exhaustion and pain, but firm and unyielding.
"No?" the twisted horror asked, delivering another sharp kick to the boys ribs before stomping down on them with supernatural force. "Why? Why not?" the man roared. Another kick. Another crushing blow to the boy's chest. "Why?" the voice of the ghostly terror echoed furiously around the warehouse. "What makes you think you can change me? What makes you think you can change?"
The boy shuddered under the force of the beating. Bruises showed where his clothing didn't cover. Scars that seemed old, reopened under the sharp strikes. Whimpers of pain and hurt escaped the boys lips. "Because," the boy croaked out, his voice still somehow unshaken. "Because I promised."
The dark figure laughed derisively. "You promised?" it asked, a tone of incredulous amusement and disgust infusing every syllable. "You are such a child."
"Yes," the young man managed to say. "I promised!" The last left the boy's mouth as a horrid wailing, a haunted scream of pure stubborn will.
Ebenezer stumbled backwards as the soul gaze ended, his eyes wide and sweat forming on his face. The power he had gathered was gone. He'd released it, unformed, at some point during the soul gaze. The old wizard shuddered, firming his grip on his staff in an attempt to stay upright. Soul gazes were rarely… pleasant, but they were far from the worst thing you could see with your sight… most of the time. This though, this was up there.
Someone gripped his arm firmly, Captain Luccio he noticed belatedly. "What happened?" Her voice was quiet and concerned. Soul gazes weren't flashy. They didn't take much time either. A soul gaze could seem like it went on for a while, but it never took more than a second or too. It was entirely possible that the entire experience had gone unnoticed by the council at large. Even Luccio, who had been standing directly at his side, seemed to miss it.
He watched the youth who just stood there, hands hanging limp at his sides, sapphire eyes wide with a mix of emotions that Ebenezer didn't want to delve too deep into. The black hood hung from his tongue, the clamp still attached where the boy had apparently forgotten it. It probably said something about the boy that he wasn't balled up on the ground like… like he had been in that vision, his mind supplied, gifting him with another flash of what he'd seen mere seconds ago.
Ebenezer drew in a shaky breath. He was probably going to get one or two nightmares from that one before everything else he'd seen and done overshadowed it again.
There was an abrupt shout from Morgan, followed by the sound of thundering footsteps and the whistling of a blade through the air. The boy's eyes, still locked with Ebenezer's in a stunned sort of daze, widened, filling with terror and realization. He knew there was no way out, that much was obvious from the boy's eyes. He was going to die, and he knew it. Maybe his earlier action had been just a combination of stupid desperation and luck after all…
The youth's fear etched itself into Ebenezer's mind, and for a moment the old wizard didn't see the young man before him. It wasn't some unknown warlock – charged with breaking three of the laws, and accused of breaking four – but a boy that looked back at him. Barely more than a child. A kid, who had been misguided, or stumbled into something he couldn't understand.
Ebenezer's mind was whirling. He could see the kid, scared and about to die, Morgan no more than three feet away, sward already arcing through the air. The image of the boy, beaten and bruised and still defiant, glaring up at the older cloaked figure. The kid's firm denial, shouting that he had promised. And the image of another boy – also sixteen – kneeling in a warehouse like this one. A boy, who he had vouched for, who he had taught and guided into the man he was today.
"I'll take responsibility for him." The words left his lips before he had even realized what he intended, the image of the other boy firmly plastered across his mind's eye.
His words were quiet, but they carried. Morgan stumbled, and looked towards the Captain of the Wardens, unsure. The boy looked like he was either about to pee himself, or try to tear the grey cloaked zealot's head from his shoulders, and couldn't decide between the two. Several nearby council members stared at him incredulously, and he could see the Merlin's face turning a dark red in anger.
Luccio's grip on his arm tightened painfully, her nails biting into the skin and drawing blood. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked, her voice taking on the same strict authority that she used with the warden recruits.
He turned to look her in the eye. There was no need to worry about another soul gaze. Those only ever happened once between any two individuals, and they had shared a soul gaze almost one-hundred years previously. "I will take responsibility for him," he repeated. His voice may have come out calmer and colder than intended, but the effect was noticeable.
The Captain of the Wardens took a firm step back and looked at him with anger. When she spoke, her voice was so filled with her anger that it almost came out a snarl. "You can't possibly think –"
He cut her off with a steady glare and a sharp gesture of his hand. "Don't you trust my judgment, Captain?" he asked, putting emphasis on the words to get his point across. He was the Black Staff of the Council. The White Council's personal wet-works man. Free to break the laws of magic, if he thought the cause was justified. And using her title had made sure that she understood he wasn't fooling around. He was serious. Though, he wouldn't joke about anything like this.
He may not have been acting from a purely logical standpoint. But his gut told him that killing the boy would be the wrong move. Something about the vision in the soul gaze… killing him would be a bad idea. That, and damn it, he was a kid. He had been kidnapped and was probably scared out of his mind, unable to use the powers he'd – likely – grown used to leaning upon. That, and he'd kicked Morgan in the pants. He may not have shared his grandson's active dislike of the man, but he had to respect that. Damn it Hoss, he thought, keeping his face carefully blank.
Luccio's eyes widened for a moment, obviously understanding his meaning. Then they narrowed as she nodded. "Very well," she said, her voice steady with restrained irritation. She turned and walked towards the Merlin, barking "Put down your sword, Morgan," before conferring with the Merlin for a moment.
As he watched, Ebenezer could see the Merlin's face grow dark with suppressed anger. Things hadn't quite been right between them since the French and Indian war in the mid 1700s, and he couldn't help but wonder how much worse this particular incident would make things…
"You know, boy," the old hillbilly sighed. "This'd go a lot easier if you talked."
Danny stared uncomfortably out the window of the man's beat-up old pick-up truck, avoiding the guy's eyes. It had been nearly three hours since he had gotten the hood off his head and locked gazes with the old man and seen… what? He wasn't really sure. The only thing he was sure about was that he didn't want to think about it. But, every time he did, it popped right back up again in full detail.
He hadn't made the mistake of meeting people's eyes since just after freshman year began, when Dash had pinned him against a locker and demanded his lunch money for the first time.
He shivered, not for the first time, and tried to think of something else. Jazz would be worried sick about him. He'd been gone for almost three days now. Something that, while not entirely uncommon, was usually filled with phone calls where he would check in and make sure neither she, nor their parents, were worried. "Why'd he have to break my phone?" His gaze traveled to the only remaining piece left after the fight with the jerk who'd tried to… decapitate him. That one was definitely an "Ew."
The old man snorted from the drivers seat of the parked vehicle.
"What?" Danny demanded, turning to glare at the old man, not meeting his eyes.
The old man sighed, shaking his head. Something about his face though had told Danny he had filed the comment away in his head somewhere. Weird. "Just thinking that it's funny that you almost get executed, and the thing you're worrying about is your phone."
Danny stiffened, beginning to fidget with the scrap of green plastic again. "Oh," he said, turning back to stare out the window as his face heated.
It was awkward, sitting in a car with someone he didn't know, who had – from what he could understand of what had been going on – been the only one in the warehouse who thought he shouldn't be killed. It made him want to throw up, that so many people could just… not care like that. That they could just calmly and coldly execute someone, much less a teenager.
The idea was sick. It wasn't "kill your father, marry your mother, take you as a son and evil apprentice, and let your sister starve on the streets" screwed up… but it was way up there. The idea that they actually thought he deserved it… He shook his head violently. Ghosts don't have feelings, his father's voice, calm for once, echoed through his mind. Because, all ghosts are evil sweetie, his mother's voice sighed. Me? My future? I'm inevitable, his evil older self sneered.
He didn't want to believe them. The idea that he was just evil because of an accident that had happened two years ago… it was sick. Wrong. But… if these wizards thought that he was evil too… Were they right, a frightened little voice whispered in the back of his head. After everything. After all the battles to keep his friends and family, and the town in general, safe. After the – what Jazz claimed to be – psychological hell of having his own parents denouncing him as malevolent. After watching his older self try to kill his family… he didn't want them to be right.
The old man cleared his throat. "You okay, boy?"
No. I'm not okay. I was just almost executed by a bunch of zealous nut jobs for violating laws that no one ever told me about, the part of Danny that was still angry shouted. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I… I guess?" he shook his head. "I don't know. What…" he trailed off, hoping that the question he was about to ask wouldn't get him in trouble. "What…" He hesitated again, his jaw firming before he tried for a third time. "What was that all about?"
The older man grunted, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "The trial?" the man asked after a moment, as if to clarify exactly what Danny meant.
Danny shrugged uncertainly. It hadn't really seemed like much of a trial to him. There had been the guy asking what the charges were, and the guy with the mile-long broadsword had answered with what was probably a pretty long list. But, apart from that, it hadn't really seemed like a trial to him.
"The White Council," the man began, "exists as a governing body for wizards." The man looked over at Danny, and he nodded to show he understood. "There are seven laws that the council enforces. Thou shalt not kill," he began, raising one finger from the steering wheel. "Thou shalt not transform others." He raised another finger. "Thou shalt not invade the mind of another. Thou shalt not enthrall another. Thou shalt not reach beyond the borders of life. Thou shalt not swim against the currents of time. And thou shalt not seek knowledge beyond the Outer Gates." By the end of the explanation, the man had raised seven fingers off the steering wheel and there was a haunted cast to his face, like he was remembering something horrible.
"Oh…" Danny blushed, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. Yeah, Danny thought. Way to go Fenton. You really screwed up this one. He fidgeted with the shard of his ectoplasm-powered phone as he watched a heated conversation going on between a small group of wizards he remembered seeing inside the warehouse.
I don't want them to be right.
After what seemed like an eternity, he turned back to the man in the driver's seat of the pick-up truck. Neither of them had spoken in a while, and the people he'd been watching had left some time ago. "This… umm," he fidgeted. "This might sound like a weird question, but… umm… I never asked your name?"
"Ebenezer," the man grunted, his eyes sliding from the metal wall in the back of the warehouse to stare at Danny. The guy – Ebenezer – had been a lot nicer than… well, pretty much anyone else in the warehouse. After the old hillbilly had spoken up, there had been a period of about two hours where they'd had to talk to a bunch of different people, and where the guy with the mile-long sword had practically been foaming at the mouth. During that time, no-one had introduced themselves to him. It had always been someone else telling him their name. Or, in a couple weird cases, people had been introduced through their job descriptions, like "The Merlin" and "the Captain of the Wardens."
They had taken off the creepy hand-cuffs and bandaged his wrists and shoulder after making him promise – to the derision of most in the room – not to run away. He had promised reluctantly, and the handcuffs had been removed. Following that, everyone had been a lot more wary around him. Even Ebenezer had seemed to keep a much closer watch on him. But, true to his word – once again reluctantly – he'd stayed. God, Danny thought. Jazz must be having a heart attack right about now.
Danny squirmed uncomfortably under the gaze, feeling like he'd done something that he shouldn't have. Which, technically, if one were going to bring up the laws the old man had just recited, he had. But… damn it! It wasn't fair. He'd been trying to help people. He'd saved lives over the past two years. And, despite most of the people in the town hating him, at least the people who knew thought he was doing the right thing. But… well, now there was an entire governing body of people who thought he was in the wrong. Not just that, but that he should have been executed for it.
The thought was very disheartening.
A little, hopeful smile flitted across his face as an idea occurred to him. "I… umm… I'm Danny… er… Daniel," he winced. "But, please don't call me that. It's just Danny." As he said this, he hoped that it would somehow ease the man's – Ebenezer's – watchfulness around him. About two seconds after saying it though, he could feel his face heating uncomfortably. He'd been introduced to a lot of wizards – apparently they didn't like the term witch – while still in the warehouse. Ebenezer had probably heard his name spoken at least a dozen times.
The old man observed him for several seconds before nodding. Then, in a stern voice, he said "Lesson one: Don't hand out your name like that. A lot of nasty critters can do a lot of nasty things with your name, if you give it to them." The slight smile of… it wasn't really approval, on the mans face softened the remark.
Danny gulped and nodded nervously. "I, umm, okay."
The pick-up truck lapsed into silence again as Danny took that in. So, names were dangerous. A slight shiver ran through him at the thought. It put Vlad's constant use of his full name into a terrifying new perspective. Though… he seemed to remember his father being the one to introduce them at the reunion. Did that mean he was safe? Is that why people usually ask someone to introduce them, he wondered in a brief flash of insight. Is it a wizard thing? It was gone a moment later when the thought that wizards – that was still weird – were probably one of the things that could use a name, entered his mind.
"Can I ask you something, boy?" the old man asked.
"I umm… You just did, didn't you?" Danny grinned weakly in the old man's direction, hoping to lighten the extremely oppressive mood in the car.
The old man snorted in what Danny hoped was amusement before nodding his head. "I guess I did," he sighed. A moment later he shook his head and muttered something about Danny getting along well with his last apprentice.
"You had a question?" Danny asked hesitantly after a minute of silence.
The man nodded. "Where did you learn this stuff?"
Danny stared at the older man in puzzlement, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Whadya mean?"
Ebenezer turned and fixed him with a hard stare. "Where did you learn to use magic?" he asked. "Who taught you? I get if you feel some sort of loyalty towards them, but they have to be stopped. Or, if it was a book," the old man said, his voice becoming even more serious if that was possible, "than we have to destroy it." The old wizard sighed. "Dark magic. It twists people in really horrible ways sometimes, and very few people are much more than a gibbering mess by the time the council finds them."
Danny stared at the guy who had gone from a stern and slightly on-edge grandfatherly figure to almost frightening in about half a second. "I umm… no one taught me," Danny trailed off at the skeptical 'go on' gesture from the Ebenezer. "I, my parents made this machine," he gulped, unsure if he should really be telling the old wizard this. "It was supposed to be a portal to a place full of ghosts called the Ghost Zone." Danny stumbled on as the man's stare intensified, his eyes narrowing slightly in interest. "It didn't' work at first and they kinda gave up on it. They were out of the house one night, and my friends and I were studying in my room…" The older man snorted at the word 'studying, as if he didn't believe him.
Danny started again, his voice slightly louder, annoyed at the man's attitude. "I umm… they convinced me to show them my parents lab, and I… I did." He licked his lips, noticing the man's slight frown. "When we got down there, one of my friends, Sam… She convinced me to look inside. It was pretty dark, and I reached for the wall to steady myself. I-I think I brushed against some exposed wires or something. The portal. It umm… it turned on." He rubbed the back of his neck.
Ebenezer looked slightly sick, but gestured for him to continue.
"I umm…" He licked his lips nervously. "There was a whole lot of green light and stuff. And it hurt." He stopped again, recalling the soul-wrenching pain of being inside the portal.
"And?" the old wizard asked after a minute of quiet, staring off into space.
"And, I don't know. I woke up a while later outside the portal. But…" He closed and opened his eyes several times. Should he be telling this stuff to this guy? He was pretty much a complete stranger. All Danny knew about him was that his name was Ebenezer, he was a wizard of some super secret governing group for his fellow wizards, and he'd told them not to execute him. That… and what he'd seen. That... wasn't really much. After another minute, he grit his teeth and continued. He'd already shared most of the story anyway. In for a penny… e-cetera. "I was different."
"Different?"
Danny nodded. "The colors of the hazmat suit I was wearing had inverted, and my hair was a different color. My eyes were this ghostly greenish glowing color too." He finished.
The old man's face didn't give anything away. "Anything else?"
"I uh… I could do things."
Danny fidgeted with the remains of his phone, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with this line of conversation. "I uh… I could tern invisible, and sometimes turn other people and stuff invisible too." Danny paused uncertainly, not sure if Ebenezer believed him or not. "I could turn myself and other stuff intangible, go through solid objects, that kind of thing. And I could fly when I was in that other… umm, ghost form."
The man nodded, apparently lost in thought.
"A couple months after it happened, I was getting better control over it. limbs and stuff wouldn't turn randomly intangible, or invisible, as often. I started being able to do other things too. I uh… I could overshadow people – go inside them and make them do things. I mostly used it to play pranks on the people who picked on my friends and I." He tried to joke, but stopped when he noticed the sharp look to the man's eyes. He hurriedly continued. " I also started being able to manipulate ghost energy, throw around these green blasts and stuff… make shields to protect myself…" He finally trailed off, not really wanting to mention The Wail. It was one of his scarier abilities, and he still couldn't control it that well… or much at all really. And the guy already looked frustrated.
Ebenezer gave him a suspicious look before sighing and shaking his head. "Okay. This is going to be harder than I thought."
"You believe me?" Danny asked, hesitantly.
The older man's suspicious look returned. "I can generally tell when people are lying to me. Is there some reason I shouldn't believe you?"
"I… no, it's just…" Danny shook his head. "People don't generally tend to like ghosts…" He trailed off, looking back out the window.
"You're not a ghost," the old man sighed from behind him. "You're a kid who got in over his head."
Danny's head spun around, but the wizard didn't seem like he wanted to elaborate on that at all. After another long pause, and more nervous fidgeting and feeling at his neck – still attached – on Danny's part, Danny asked the question that had been bothering him since they'd gotten into the car. "What now?"
"Well, there's a few things we could do. First Danny, you have to understand that in the eyes of the council, I'm responsible for what you do. If you break the laws… well, a lot of unpleasant things could happen to both of us."
Danny swallowed hard. That didn't sound encouraging.
Ebenezer continued. "I'm responsible for training you up. You've got power, and if you're story's true, some really scary talent." He paused and glanced sideways at Danny. "I'm guessing since you didn't mention your parents, they don't know about this," he gestured vaguely with his right hand.
Danny shook his head, getting a bad feeling that he knew where this was going…
"Danny!" Jazz shouted as she opened the door.
There was a shattering sound from the living room. Well, jazz thought cynically. There goes the last of the tea cups. The pounding of feet against the floor could be heard coming closer and, several moments later, Sam and Tucker emerged into the entryway. Both looked about as bad as Jazz was sure she did. Sam's hair was all over the place, like she'd forgotten to brush it for a couple days, and Tucker's red beret was rumpled. Both had bags under their eyes, and an almost feral, lost cast to their faces.
"Hey, Jazz…" her little brother – the little brother who'd been missing for nearly three days and hadn't answered any of their calls – sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in that nervous habit he'd somehow inherited from their father.
Her eyes scanned him quickly, looking for any signs of trauma. She didn't let it show on her face, but she was worried. There were bruises and scrapes. His clothes were torn in a number of places, and… Oh god, Jazz felt her stomach churn. Is that blood on his shirt? In addition to the brownish-red stain covering his right sleeve, there was also a long dark patch on the lower left leg of his jeans. She filed that away and continued looking him over for injuries, trying to restrain herself from running to the bathroom. "Danny," she asked carefully, her voice shaking. "Why are your wrists bandaged?"
There were two quiet gasps of shock behind her.
He fidgeted under her horrified gaze, looking hesitantly behind him towards a short, stocky old man.
"Danny," she repeated cautiously.
"I uh…" he trailed off, his face turning red as he stared down at his shoes. "Are mom and dad home?"
That caught the auburn-haired young woman off guard. Contrary to popular belief, her brother was fairly self sufficient, and probably one of the most responsible people she'd ever met. It just happened that his responsibilities weren't exactly normal when compared to most teenage boys. Rare were the times that he asked if their parents were home, or even approached them for advice. But… to have him ask for them in that voice… Her eyes tracked over the bloodstains again as she nodded nervously. "Yeah… hang on. They're in the lab."
As she left the room, she could hear quiet, frantic whispers between her brother and his too friends. Judging by the tone it seemed likely that an argument was going to break out between her little brother and his gothic female friend. But, judging by the fact that she hadn't heard any shouting or violence by the time she reached the door leading to the basement, it seemed like a likely guess that Danny had somehow defused the situation. How, she had no idea. If she were the astute kind of person, she'd probably take it as a sign that things were far more serious than his nervousness had let on. God Danny, she fretted, biting at her lower lip. What on earth did you get yourself into…
She knocked firmly against the hardwood door with her right hand curled into a fist, knowing that their parents were probably engaged in one of their experiments and unlikely to hear anything short of a fog horn sounding in their ear. After waiting a minute, she tried again, this time all but hammering on the thing. Still no response. There were times when her parent's single-minded obsession could be useful, like the fact that they hadn't noticed much of a change in Danny's behavior over the last two years. God only know how they'd react to that. But, there were other times – times like now – when their obsessive natures could be an incredible pain.
After another several minutes with no answer, she tossed her head back and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb. She counted backwards from ten three times very slowly and reminded herself that whatever Danny wanted to talk about probably didn't involve the end of the world as they knew it. It was probably… Oh hell, Jazz swore mentally.
Gritting her teeth tightly together, Jazz opened the door and –
She was abruptly bulldozed into the carpet by a giant, solid wall of orange.
"We heard banging!" her father boomed in his usual over-loud, too-boisterous voice from somewhere above her.
Jazz suppressed a string of swearwords that would have likely gotten her grounded, despite the fact that she was almost eighteen. She loved her parents dearly. She really did. But there were times when her patience was sorely tested. God I can't wait for college, Jazz moaned.
"Jazz? Sweetie? What happened?" Her mother's voice was far less over-the-top than her father's. Though, where his was full of enthusiasm and an almost childish happiness, hers was more cautious. More alert.
Jazz gave her mother a flat look as she climbed to her feet.
"Jazz?" her father asked, noticing her for the first time. He did not, however, notice her irritation. "What's up, Jazzerincess?"
Jazz took a deep breath and suppressed the gut reaction of telling him to call her by her name, not one of his made-up baby names from when she was four. She reminded herself that convincing her father to stop calling her by those names had not worked the previous forty-three times – She had counted – and as a result was unlikely to work now. It would be a waste of effort when there were more pressing matters to deal with, like her little brother being covered in blood and asking for a family meeting.
"It's Danny," she said finally, careful to keep her voice clear of anything that might give her worries away. Hopefully he would have the sense to switch into clothing that wasn't covered in blood before their parents caught sight of him. "He wants a family meeting."
She watched her parents carefully, wanting to see how they reacted to the odd request. The last family meeting had been about two years ago, when her parents had announced the completion of the Fenton Ghost Portal. Well, Jazz corrected herself. The last real family meeting, anyway. Every subsequent meeting had either seen the absence of Danny, as he didn't particularly want to listen to their parents rant on about how they would dissect him, or been utterly pointless and unproductive. They had not approved of her request that they stop ranting about tearing ghosts apart in front of her impressionable little brother.
Her father seemed largely unaffected by the news. A little surprised, yes. But, otherwise, unaffected. He hadn't ever been the most observant individual, at least not when it came to anything outside of the lab. But… Jazz had expected something at least. Some recognition that he'd noticed Danny's more and more frequent absence. On the other hand, her mother's face had gone threw a whole slew of emotions that said plane as day that she knew something was up.
"Right!" her father announced after a few seconds of awkward silence. "We'd best go see what Danny-boy wants." And with that said, he thundered off towards the kitchen with his usual exuberance. After sharing a brief, indulgent smile with her mother, Jazz turned and the two of them followed her father into the kitchen.
The hours that followed were among the strangest and most world-shattering of Jazz's life. After the initial hour-long fuss over her little brother's condition – he hadn't saw fit to change clothes – and a brief five-minute ranting threat directed at the old guy from their father, the family and their guest had retired to the living room. Once there Danny proceeded to tell a story of abduction, wizards, possible execution, and – to Jazz's horror – an explanation of why this had all supposedly taken place.
He had excluded certain details, like the fact that he was Phantom and a number of other minor things, but to Jazz's shock, her brother told the vast majority of the story. Fights against ghosts – edited carefully she suspected – that had her parents on the edges of their seats, were a large part of his explanation. However, he mostly focused on the events surrounding his absence over the past few days. Every so often, the old guy – a man named Ebenezer – would chime in to help clarify some detail.
The thing that worried Jazz the most, however, wasn't that her brother was telling their parents all of this. The thing that worried her was that it had to be true. There was no other explanation for it. Her brother, she knew, dreaded the day that he would have to tell their parents the truth. There were few things in the world that scared him more, if anything at all. As his explanation continued, she could see the nervousness and fear showing through. Every so often he'd glance worriedly around the room or at their parents. He'd stutter to a stop occasionally and rub the back of his neck before looking at the old guy as if to ask "Do I really have to go through with this?" The old wizard would nod and give him a stern look. Danny would sigh in as if resigning himself to a horrible task, and continue.
When the topic of necromancy had been brought up, there had been several comments along the lines of "That's my boy! Show those ghosts who's boss!" that were quickly silenced by angry looks from both Danny and the old wizard who, Jazz noticed, had taken up a position where he could keep an eye on everyone in the room and watch the door at the same time. She suppressed a quick shudder, not wanting to ponder why the old man would do such a thing. Does he really see us as a threat, she wondered. But, after further scrutiny, she decided no. He sees Danny as a threat.
The idea was frightening. She'd seen her brother fight before. She'd seen him face off against tons of ghosts without flinching. She'd even lost count. But, she'd never actually considered the kind of power that her brother held. She'd heard stories from Sam about what he'd done while under Freakshow's control. And she'd seen the news reports surrounding the incident. But, she'd never actually thought about what her brother could do, much less what he could do if he went bad. There had been that incident with his evil future self a month and a half ago. And, she would be the first to admit that he had scared her. And Danny had never talked about what he'd experienced or seen during that whole fiasco. Neither had Sam or Tucker.
But… she'd never really thought about it before. She'd always been too occupied with reassuring her younger brother that he wouldn't go bad. And now there were people who actually thought he already had. Who thought that he was irredeemable. The concept was frightening in a way that nothing else she'd ever experienced had been.
"So," her mother asked finally. "What do we do now?"
The old wizard shifted awkwardly against the wall, drawing all eyes in his direction. "It depends," he said. "We have a few options."
"Options?" her father asked in a rare moment of absolute seriousness. Somewhere along the line, he'd apparently gotten the message that this was serious business. His – and also his wife's – obsession had to take a back seat for the moment. The idea that his son could – and had been – hunting ghosts for the past two years, had been pushed to the back of his mind as well, replaced by the fact that his son – her little brother – had almost been executed for it.
Ebenezer nodded, as if trying to choose his words very carefully. "In the eyes of the council I'm responsible for him now, and for what he does with his magic. If he misuses it, we could both have our heads chopped off." He frowned for a minute in the direction of her little brother, his beard shifting slightly with his expression, before continuing. "The first option is probably the easiest, but from what Danny's told me, I don't think he'd like it."
"And that would be," her mother asked, ignoring Danny's nervous fidgeting for the moment.
"He could let it go. Magic is like a muscle in some ways. If you don't use it, it eventually fades away. I've known a few people who've done that," Ebenezer shrugged. "Most of them either ended up regretting it or disliking anyone who didn't make the same decision." He paused for a moment, frowning. After a second though, he nodded. "I don't think the wardens would let you do that though, kid."
"And the other option?" Danny asked, rubbing the back of his neck as their parents watched him carefully.
"I've had a few apprentices over the years," the old man smiled. "I could train you."
Jazz could see her brother perk up slightly at this, but before he could say anything, their mother cut him off. "What would that entail, exactly?"
The old man scratched at his white beard. "Hard work, mostly. I have to confess, I don't really live around here. I was called because of the…" He cleared his throat meaningfully. He didn't need to say it. They all knew what he meant. The trial. "Well, the point is that I don't live around here. And, long-distance apprenticeships don't really work."
"Why not?" her mother demanded, her eyes narrowed in anger at what the man was suggesting.
He wants to take Danny with him, Jazz realized with a jolt.
"Because, Mrs. Fenton, magic is dangerous. If you mess up, it isn't a pink shirt or a rainbow-colored pair of pants. It's people's lives," the man said, his face now full of intensity and irritation. "You don't mess around with the power of life and death lightly." He waited for a moment, watching her mother's conflicted emotions on the subject pass across her face. "Besides," he continued. "Teaching combat magic in a populated area is a notoriously bad idea. There's a reason the iconic image of a wizard involves a fireball."
Jazz stared at the man, noticing the light smile on his face and the far away look in his eye. Like Mr. Lancer remembering a favorite student, she grinned. The argument was… well, frankly it was terrifying. If he wasn't lying – and she highly doubted he was – teaching Danny in the middle of a town like Amity Park would not be a good idea. The mere thought of what could happen if the aforementioned fireball got out of control was enough to send a shiver up her spine. Are wizards really that powerful, she wondered before cursing herself for being stupid.
She'd seen her little brother face down the horrors that plagued their home town. If that was untrained, what could he do with training? Would he be able to pull a satellite out of orbit, she wondered, remembering the news report about an old Soviet satellite the previous February. After a moment of horrified contemplation, she shook her head vigorously. That's what the laws they mentioned are there to prevent silly, she decided. Besides, he cant be that powerful… could he?
Not for the first time during this conversation, she realized that she didn't actually want to think about what her brother was capable of.
"So what would you suggest?" she asked the old wizard – Ebenezer – she reminded herself.
"Jasmine!" her mother scolded, giving her a sharp look. Their parents had not taken the revelation that she had been aware of her brothers extracurricular activities well.
Jazz frowned, but decided explaining things calmly would get better results than a Fenton Family Shouting Match. It almost always did. "Mom," she started carefully. "It's not like it's a tough decision. They threatened to execute him." She stared her mother right in the eyes, trying to make her understand. "If training is what it takes to get them off his back, than I say let them!" Okay, she admitted to herself. Maybe I got a little loud near the end there. But, darn it! She didn't want to see her little brother get executed. Or, worse, find out about it after it happened.
Her mother looked like she'd been backed into a corner. Her eyes darted between her daughter, son, and husband, looking desperately for some kind of support. With every pair of eyes she met – though Danny seemed intent on avoiding eye contact – she seemed to wilt slightly. "Why can't –"
She was cut off by a large, black-gloved hand resting on her shoulder. "Mads," Jazz was shocked by the complete lack of boyish enthusiasm in her father's voice. "If Danny wants to –" Here he sent a hard look at Ebenezer. "– than let him. I mean –" Her father grinned, some of his childlike joy returning. "– how many people get to claim they have a real wizard in the family?"
Jazz grimaced as her father's attempt to lighten the mood failed miserably, her mother sniffling and giving her father a reproving look. "Would it be possible," Jazz asked, turning to face Ebenezer, "for us to visit?" If she were being entirely truthful with herself, Jazz was fairly certain that her mother and father would be buried in their work again within a day or two of Danny leaving. But, having just found out that their son had been practicing dark magic without knowing it, and had almost been executed for doing so, had probably knocked them a little out of their normal comfort zone. They probably wouldn't actually end up visiting Danny, but knowing the option was there would probably help them calm down in the short term. Besides, it might make Danny more inclined to go as well.
Ebenezer shrugged, his mouth pulled slightly to the side in a smile, clearly seeing what she was doing. "I don't see why not," he sighed. "Don't get many visitors at the farm these days anyway."
The farm, Jazz suppressed a groan. The closest thing to a farm she'd ever been to was Aunt Alicia's cabin in Arkansas, and even she had almost gone insane from lack of access to the internet. Maybe keeping in contact with her little brother would be harder than she thought. Darn it Danny. Nothing's ever easy with you, is it?
Jazz was pulled out of her thoughts by the cough of one of the overhead light bulbs as it flickered and went out.
"That," the old man said grinning bitterly, "actually leads me into my next question."
"Oh?" her mother asked, resignation in her voice.
Ebenezer grunted an affirmative. "Wizards tend to have trouble with technology. My last apprentice, he can't keep his car running most of the time."
Jazz perked up, not quite sure she knew what the man was getting at. But… Danny is on the computer almost as often as Tucker, Jazz spared a look for her brother. The confusion and surprise on his face were message enough. He hadn't been told that.
"Electronics in general don't tend to work around us, but you're son mentioned that Morgan broke his phone when he grabbed him."
Jazz tensed slightly, glancing hurriedly in her little brother's direction again. Is that why he was all bandaged up, she worried. Did this Morgan guy cause all those injuries? She licked her lips nervously and forced what was left in her stomach back down. The school bullies would beat him up occasionally. Sometimes they'd get carried away and leave bruises. But, on the whole, they were largely harmless. She was actually – in a kind of twisted way – proud that her brother didn't retaliate with violence. Stupid and immature pranks that she refused to admit were funny even when they were. Yes. But he'd never actually hurt one of them.
"But Danny-boy's on his phone all the time," her father said, apparently catching on. She could see the tight, angry lines forming though. The ones that always appeared when someone – usually something that had escaped the Fenton Ghost Portal – threatened his family. Apparently her father was already recovering from the shock of the day. Science called.
"But," her mother mused in that I'm-thinking-out-loud-don't-interupt-or-I'll-lose-my-train-of-thought voice. "The Fenton Ghost Phone" – Jazz winced – "doesn't run on electricity. At least, not entirely. We put an ectoplasm power cell in it."
Ebenezer blinked several times, obviously confused. "Ectoplasm power cell?" he repeated slowly.
Jazz groaned.
Her mother nodded, now in 'Obsessed ghost hunter' mode. "The idea is that you use ectoplasm in place of an electrical conductor, and run the electricity through it instead. When the electricity enters the ectoplasm, it's absorbed and an entirely new kind of energy is created, which the ectoplasm then gives off. We can harness that to power pretty much whatever we put the power cell in."
The old wizard scratched his head in confusion.
"Think of it," Jazz frowned. Does magic even follow the laws of physics? "Think of it like when you move energy around. You've got stored energy and Kinetic energy. The energy can be given off as heat, or harnessed to perform a task. The energy created by the power cell is just… different."
Ebenezer swiveled his gaze to look at her, nodding in understanding. "That's the problem with you young people," he said, gesturing towards her parents. "Too many complex words."
Wow, Jazz suppressed an uncharacteristic giggle as she realized they were drifting into a conversation about their parent's inventions. It's been almost five hours and they haven't brought up the –
"Would you like to see the ghost portal?" her father asked, his voice once again taking on its usual energy. His question – completely out of left field as it was – cut her train of thought off cold. Damn it! She fumed. Why can't we get through one conversation in this house without that coming up?
To her vast surprise, the old wizard actually nodded.
As her parents led the charge towards the basement, Jazz lagged behind. She didn't particularly want to go down into the lab to show the old wizard the portal, especially after his comment about electronics. Deciding to linger just a bit longer, she headed for the kitchen.
The dust pan and hand-held broom – stored in the far back of the pantry where her parents wouldn't notice them – where something of a prized possession of hers. They signified that not everything around the house had to be of her parents' invention, even if her parents didn't actually know they existed. They were there, and that was enough. She'd tried being completely normal, but that had fallen to pieces the moment she had discovered Danny's secret. Now, she had learned to settle for little bits of normal in their otherwise absurd life.
Once she'd finished cleaning up the shards of the previously last-remaining tea cups in the house, and replaced the dust pan and hand-held broom in its hiding spot, she could not logically delay any longer without annoying her parents. Though, she reasoned. They're probably so absorbed in telling the wizard about their work that they wouldn't even notice me gone.
Shaking her head, she dismissed the idea and resigned herself to joining them for her fifty-seventh tour of the lab. She'd kept careful track of that too. Much like trying to get her father to stop using his baby-names for her, objecting to a tour of the lab was a losing battle. Though, she could usually manage to get both herself and Danny out of it with a bit of fast thinking and an excuse that related to their schooling. Oh, Jazz frowned. What about school? This "White Council" they had mentioned probably wouldn't appreciate long breaks between her brothers learning. Though, she added reluctantly. As long as he didn't have to go to some magical castle named after a pig's skin disease, she would approve of just about anything reasonable.
When Jazz finally entered the lab, she knew immediately that something was up. Her brother was standing against one wall, looking down at his feet. His long bangs shielding his face from view. On the opposite side of the room, near the control panel that her parents usually redesigned about once a year, the other adults were talking in hushed, angry tones.
Choosing the better part of Valor, Jazz opted to join her brother near the wall furthest away from the arguing adults. "What did I miss?" she whispered.
"Ebenezer's trying to get them to close the portal," Danny said. "He sais it goes somewhere called the Nevernever." And only then did she realize why he was staring down at his feet: He was trying to hide his grin.
Author's Notes: Whoboy. There's about twenty-two pages of story there, written in about five days. Hope you enjoyed it. I know I did. This story idea has been floating around in my head for a while now, and it feels good to finally get it typed up. The plot bunnies kind of got into my head and started breeding like crazy. And, as a result, I'm not joking when I tell you that I have notes all the way out to Cold Days. Whether I make it that far, however, is still up in the air at this point.
Updates are likely to be sporadic at best, because I'm headed back to college for another semester near the end of next month, and will be spending the rest of my break working on my own original story(most likely). I might squeeze out another chapter for this in that time, but that depends entirely on how well my other writing goes.
Once again, the idea behind how Danny's powers work was thought up by Ryuugi over on Space Battles. The plot, however, is completely of my own construction.
Any thoughts, questions, or suggestions that you may have would be greatly appreciated. Please leave them in a review if you have them, or PM me. I will not respond to reviews of people who aren't logged in unless the point you bring up is so interesting or important that I literally can't ignore it.
Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed reading this story.
Writing Prompt: In The Ultimate Enemy, there is a scene right after Danny and friends travel into the future. They manage to get the time medallions off, and return home. Danny however, gets stuck in the future and it is his evil self that returns to "normal time." Following this, a pair of Observants speak to Clockwork, and their(admittedly short) conversation is as follows:
Observants: "Have you completed the task?"
Clockwork: "Everything's fine. Everything's the way it's supposed to be. There's your boy, returned back to his time. Safe. Sound. And clearly not evil. Now, care to observe the door?"
What is the door?
Since the story I'm writing currently is a Dresden Files crossover, I'm going to toss out the suggestion that it's the Outer Gates… but feel free to spin it any way you want.