Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Dresden Files or any characters in that universe. But you knew that already.

Part 1

The phone rang.

It was the old kind, and the manic jingle gatecrashed Elaine's skull and threw a party inside. She staggered out of bed, wondering what the hell the time was. Her apartment was pitch black, and as quiet as it ever got in LA.

Well. Apart from that blasted phone.

Elaine murmured a spell to light a candle — just one, but even that was blinding for a second or two. She hurried into the kitchen, thankful that there was very little in the way of clutter to trip over. She yanked the phone off the hook.

"Hello?" she said.

"Um," a woman said. "Is this Elaine Mallory? The investigator?"

Elaine frowned. She'd had a few late night calls from the Paranet, but this voice was unfamiliar. "That's me," she confirmed. "How did you get this number?"

"It was in the phonebook."

"My ad doesn't mention my home number."

"But your personal entry does."

"Fair enough," Elaine said. "Who are you, and why are you calling me at … what time is it?"

The woman drew in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, I couldn't wait. The police said you could help. It's my daughter. Kelsey. She's been taken."

A missing child. Right. That would explain the hour of the call. But the police? "Madam, what's your name?"

"Naomi Jones."

"Naomi, are you married?"

She hesitated. "Divorced, actually. Is this important?"

"The police don't usually refer people to me so soon after the crime," Elaine explained. "When they do, it's because the case isn't serious —" more like non-existent "— and they've got more pressing issues to deal with. They're busy people. Do you think your ex could have taken her?"

"What? No!"

"It's quite common for a jealous parent to —"

"I'm friends with Gary," she snapped. "We share custody. He wouldn't do that. And he certainly wouldn't murder Jessica while he was at it."

Elaine froze. "Someone was murdered?"

"Jessica. The babysitter. I went out to dinner, and when I came back, the place looked like a bomb had gone off. Blood everywhere. And Jess …" Naomi's voice cracked. "Someone tore her apart. With their bare hands. I didn't know you could do that. Please, they've got my little girl …"

Elaine felt a prickle of envy, which she smothered. It was ridiculous to resent this child, just because her mother was afraid for her.

"Naomi, what did the police tell you, exactly?"

"They said — well, one of them said, anyway — that it looked really bad, and that I should go to you because you might be the only person who can help me. They're still investigating, though."

"All right, I'm going to need to examine the crime scene. Are the police still there?"

Naomi sniffed. "Yeah. Yeah, they said they're gonna be a while."

Of course they are, Elaine thought. But Naomi couldn't know that wasn't a problem for her. "Any dogs?"

"No. Not anymore."

Elaine hoped that meant they hadn't found anything. She had a few contacts on the police force, officers who were sympathetic to her work — and more importantly, knew a thing or two about the supernatural — and the tip had obviously come from one of them. But even they wouldn't have directed the case to her so soon unless the situation was very, very bad. Any cops who tracked down whatever did this would get themselves killed.

"Well, I'll be there as soon as I can," she said. "Don't worry, I'll get your daughter back." Of course, it might be in a coffin.

"Thank you," Naomi said fervently. "I've got money, I'll pay you anything you need, just … you've got to find her."

A quarter of an hour later, Elaine hung up. She looked at the clock. It was three a.m.

It was a fifteen minute drive to the scene of the crime. Elaine made it in ten. She parked out of sight in the next street, never quite comfortable around authority figures, and strolled towards the address Naomi had given her.

Naomi wasn't kidding when she said she had money. Her suburban home was no mansion, but it looked like one. It looked like someone had thought long and hard about what the essence of a mansion really entailed, and captured it all at half the price. The shoulder-high wall of tan bricks gave the place a stately appearance and, Elaine noted, would also bar wayward children and pets from the road. The entire front of the house was festooned with some kind of climbing plant.

It probably would have been eerily peaceful if it wasn't swarming with bulky figures in police uniforms, with yellow and black tape everywhere and the flashing lights on their cars casting strange, unnatural shadows. The harsh-voiced officers did not belong here. The glaring spotlights they'd brought drowned out the soft glow from the solar lamps that marked the gate.

There was no way that Elaine Mallory, private investigator, was getting past that. But Elaine Mallory, renegade wizard, was an entirely different story.

It was the work of a moment to centre herself, a move which would have once taken her half an hour or more. It wasn't an easy skill to master, but it was absolutely essential. When a wizard cast a spell, any spell, they asserted their will in order to shape the world around them. Magic did not leave room for woolly thinking. It had no mind of its own, either. The practitioner had to direct it. There would be no self-cleaning dishes or automatic brooms unless you were clever enough to map out every single action involved. While Elaine did not know much about computers — her mere presence was enough to destroy anything resembling modern technology, and warranties be damned — she had heard that they worked in similar ways.

Elaine drew in a breath, and gathered in the magical energy from her surroundings. Gently, she wove beams of light so that they slid around her without so much as touching her. If anyone had been looking, they would have seen the road, the bushes behind her, a plastic bag by her shoe. They would not have seen a woman.

Not even an owl could have picked her out.

Elaine ghosted past the beat cops guarding the crime scene, snagging some protective gear from a supply truck when no one was looking. Twin plastic bags went on over her shoes, her hair was tucked up under a flimsy hair net, her hands thrust into latex gloves. It wouldn't do to leave trace evidence of herself at a murder site.

The door was cracked in two and hanging from its hinges. Inside was pandemonium. Furniture had not only been overturned but, by the looks of it, hurled across the room. Shards of glistening glass littered the floor, like ice underfoot. And everywhere, blood. Smeared on the walls, soaking into the carpet, dripping from the ceiling. The air was so thick that Elaine could practically taste it.

Her head swam. She reached out to steady herself, misjudged how close that damned chair was because she was too busy staring elsewhere, and ended up with blood on her wrist. It was sticky and horrible, but she clamped down on the urge to rush to the kitchen or the bathroom and wash it off. That could wait. She dabbed at it with some tissues instead.

The body was in the living room. It was bloody and broken beyond repair, but the girl's features were relatively intact, and she would be recognisable to those who knew her, if they could ignore what had happened. Her face was contorted with agonised terror — the norm, really, in her situation. Cartoons danced across the large flatscreen television, which was dented and lying on its side, but had missed out on serious damage. It seemed like a gross injustice, that a mere entertainment device, flashy and overpriced, should survive when a human being could not.

Elaine knelt by the body, examining the injuries. She frowned. The drawback to any veil was that messing with the light inevitably made it harder to see details around you. This effect could be lessened with practice, of course, but no matter how well-crafted the spell was, you never had perfect vision. The trade-off was usually worth it, but just now … there was something there, Elaine was sure of it. Some liquid, perhaps. The shine wasn't right. If she could just get a better look …

She glanced around quickly, confirming that no one was watching. The forensics must have moved on. Then she dropped the veil. Yes, she was right — there was a transparent, gelatinous liquid mingling with the blood. She reached out with her clean hand and scraped some up with her latex-clad finger. Cautiously, she sniffed it, and barely stopped herself from shoving her hand in her mouth and sucking the venom from her fingers as though her life depended on it.

Because that's what it was. Venom. It wasn't the kind of thing you forgot.

A voice reached her ears. "So here I am, minding my own business, as much as I can when I'm wading in blood, and suddenly I'm going mad."

Shit, Elaine thought. She straightened up and turned to face the newcomer. A young man stood in the doorway, somehow managing to give the impression of leaning against the frame despite not touching it. His hair and eyes were dark, and the long, grey cloak he wore suited him, even if it didn't suit his jeans.

"Mad?" Elaine said. "You?"

"I'm hearing footsteps," he said. "Disembodied footsteps. That's kind of like voices, right? Do you think I'll get a straitjacket?"

"I'm sure you'll charm your way out of it," Elaine said. "Put that time spent in front of the mirror to good use."

He winced in mock injury. "You mean you don't think I'm really this good looking?"

"Hell, I barely recognised you without the sword," she said.

"You wound me," he said.

Elaine rolled her eyes. "How can you blame me? What's a Warden without a sword?"

"Adaptable," he said. "Nice veil, by the way. Didn't think you had it in you. Where'd you pick it up?"

Elaine paused.

Carlos Ramirez, Warden and Regional Commander of the White Council of Wizards, was too young for the post he held. The White Council was traditionally a geritocracy. As far as they were concerned, anyone under eighty or so was purely an honorary member, and they balked at putting their faith in someone for whom wrinkles were barely a blip on the horizon.

Unfortunately, they'd had no choice. The ongoing war with the Red Court of Vampires had decimated the Wardens, and they'd been forced to open their ranks to anyone with a wizard-level talent and a gift for combat magic. Girls and boys as young as sixteen were being trained to fight. Some survived. Many didn't.

Ramirez had survived. He'd been hailed by the Council as one of the best and brightest of his generation. He'd received his post after he and a handful of other Wardens — including the infamous Harry Dresden, hastily drafted — had prevented a number of necromancers from working a rite of ascension which would have wiped Chicago off the map. Elaine personally discounted the rumours that dinosaurs were involved.

He was probably a nice guy. But Elaine wasn't about to trust him on that account. If he knew that she had hidden her strength from him or, God forbid, her involvement with Justin, he could and would get nasty. Even if he didn't simply execute her on suspicion of black magic, her freedom would be over. The Council would be Watching. They'd probably want her to join up — as cannon fodder, that is. And Elaine was through with being used.

So she lied. "I don't. It was a one-off, it took ages to make, and now I've blown it. But then, we can't all be White Council, can we?"

"Aren't you a little early?" he said. "Don't you trust the police anymore?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Warden," Elaine said. "Shouldn't you be chasing warlocks?"

"Who says I'm not?"

"Sure, okay," Elaine said. "What makes you think there's black magic involved here?"

"Does it even matter?"

"It matters according to your boss. Do you get paid for this?"

"I'm on a retainer," he said. "And I haven't ruled out warlocks yet. The real question is, what are you doing here?"

"Just trying to earn a living. I'm not on a retainer."

He frowned. "You don't think you're a little out of your depth here?"

"Blame the economy," Elaine told him.

Ramirez bit his lip. He gestured at their surroundings. "Well, then, what do you make of it?"

"Honestly?" Elaine said. "No idea. I found what looks like vampire venom on the body here, but this whole thing isn't their style. They're too smart to go drawing attention to themselves like this. And where did all this blood come from? Did they bring it with them? Why?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Ramirez said. "But I think I might know why they took Kelsey."

"You do? Because I'm drawing a blank."

"It's simple," he said. "They're recruiting."

Elaine eyed him. "I don't know if anyone's told you, but little girls don't make very good foot soldiers."

"What about adults who've been trained since they were kids?" he countered.

"If that's all they want, they can snatch thousands of kids off the streets, and no one would notice," Elaine said. "Why come here?"

"Maybe not just any kid will do," Ramirez said.

"What do you mean?"

"Could be they're looking for something specific," he said. "Something useful. Brains, fitness, charm … or magic."

Elaine considered this. "Is there any way to tell if a kid's got talent? Before it manifests, I mean?"

"Nothing that I know of," Ramirez said. "Most magic kids have got magic parents, but if there's anything in the family here, it's minor. I'd have heard about it if this lot had any serious juice."

"On the other hand, going after a stronger bloodline is asking for trouble," Elaine said. "The Council have been pussyfooting around from the start, but if something like this got out, they'd go up in flames." And when they've thrashed the vamps, there'll be nothing to stop them from chasing after me.

"Can't lose the monopoly on magic," he said brightly. "If you can call it that. The Sidhe might object. And about a million other things."

"Heaven forbid we offend the Sidhe," Elaine said.

Ramirez shrugged. "Either way, you've got to stay clear."

"Excuse me?" Elaine said. "I told Mrs Jones that I would find her daughter. I can't back out now."

"If they're after practitioners, that makes you a target," Ramirez said.

"I'm not a proper wizard —"

"You're the next best thing. We can't afford to let them take you." Ramirez shook his head. "Look, I know you want to find Kelsey. Anyone would. But this is too much for you to handle. I'll take care of it, I promise. And then you can reunite the happy family and we can all go home."

"But —"

"I'll keep in touch, Elaine," Ramirez said.

With a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

Dammit. Flying under the Council's radar was hard enough when she wasn't literally sneaking around behind their backs, hunting their own prey.

Elaine tried to think about how she could turn the situation to her advantage. Chances were Ramirez was going after them now, right? Straight chase and rescue? He was too smart not to realise that there was no time to waste. If he got the girl, then so much the better. And if not, then jumping in blindly would be about the worst thing Elaine could do. Even if she didn't get herself killed she'd have to explain to the Wardens how she, a minor practitioner, could swat vampires like pixies.

So she'd just get her hands on some of Kelsey's hair — there had to be a hairbrush somewhere — and see what she could find out.

Which turned out to be nothing. Everything she tried failed. Her tracking spell was about as useful as a compass in a steel factory. She couldn't determine a thing about Kelsey — whether she was hot or cold, dead or alive, east or west of the Pacific. And that didn't just happen to Elaine.

The vampires, it seemed, had come armed for wizard.

That meant they were interesting.

Elaine knew who to talk to next.

She managed to track down Cyrilla to a mid-range casino in the city centre. Cyrilla was one of the high Sidhe, the lords of Faerie, all of whom were infamous for their love of knowledge and secrets. Elaine had met Cyrilla back when she was beholden to the Summer Lady. They weren't close. But no one knew more about what went on in LA than Cyrilla, and she would be happy to share that information with anyone … for a reasonable fee.

The casino Cyrilla had chosen, the Sunrise Casino, looked like it aspired to being more than what it was, although that "more" seemed to amount to being an epileptic's worst nightmare. Flashing lights were all very well, Elaine thought, but maybe they shouldn't be stuck to every available surface?

At any rate, it had all the standard casino fare, card tables and pokies and so on. Security guards who weren't too overweight. Most importantly, it had people, their faces bland as they bet on cards and spinning wheels or pressed coins into slots. They didn't smile like they did in the brochures. They could almost have been on the train or at the mall, but their eyes were hard and they never looked away.

None of them looked like an ancient being of myth and legend, either. It was a good thing that Elaine didn't need to go by appearances alone.

She closed her eyes. Wizards could perceive the flow of magical energy around them, and if she concentrated, she could just about … there. On the far side of the casino was a flare of warmth, like fire.

Summer fire.

It didn't take long to track that warm energy to a shadowy, secluded alcove. That seemed about right. Cyrilla would want to carry out her business in private. She probably had an arrangement with the manager.

Elaine lingered nearby. She was close enough to be noticed, but not so close as to intrude or eavesdrop. That would be a serious breach of etiquette.

She waited.

"Hello." A voice spoke in her ear. It was a voice that Susan Boyle would have killed for.

It also did not appear to have a source.

Elaine smiled. "If it pleases you, lady …"

"It's wonderful to see you, Ms Mallory. Would you care to join me?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Elaine said. She crossed the intervening space and slipped into the alcove.

Cyrilla inclined her head, in an echo of the courtly bow she might have used in other settings. She was stunning, as all the Sidhe were. Her figure was slender and feminine, her skin soft, and she had masses of pale, shining hair. Her eyes were the deep blue of a summer sky, with the slit pupils of a cat. Her face was perfect.

Elaine took a seat opposite the faerie.

"And how may I help you?" Cyrilla asked.

"I'm investigating a crime that occurred last night," Elaine said. "I thought you might be able to shed some light on the situation."

Cyrilla raised her eyebrow. "The activities of criminals are hardly my concern."

"I didn't mean to suggest otherwise," Elaine said. "But this was no ordinary crime."

"I do not perceive …"

"A child was abducted from her home and her guardian murdered," Elaine said. "I don't know how many attackers there were, but at least one vampire of the Red Court was present. They covered their tracks with magic."

"And you object to their actions," Cyrilla said.

"Do you know anything?"

"I know many things," Cyrilla said. "But which, if any, should I tell you?"

"Those which directly pertain to the situation," Elaine said. "That which I cannot do without."

"I'm afraid that is still too broad to be useful."

"Where are they? Who are they? What are they doing?" Elaine waved her hand in the air. "Why are they doing it?"

"And, perhaps, whether or not there is any point in pursuing them," Cyrilla offered.

Elaine snorted. "I'm being paid. That's reason enough."

"Well, it may be that I know something of those whom you seek," Cyrilla said. "What would you be willing to offer for that knowledge?"

"My undying gratitude?"

Cyrilla didn't bother to respond to that.

When Elaine spoke, she took care to ensure that her voice was respectful. "Give me some credit, please. I'm not going to make you an offer until I know what the information is worth."

"Ah," Cyrilla said. "I suppose you want me to tell you how many of your questions I can answer before you even ask them."

"It's not an unreasonable proposition."

"The information is sensitive. Even the extent of my knowledge might tell you more than I wish you to know."

Elaine didn't like the sound of that. "Does it touch upon matters which concern me?"

"I couldn't say," Cyrilla said.

"You know my purpose," Elaine said. "You know the extent of my knowledge. I examined the crime scene and talked to the girl's mother, and I couldn't find any reason to target this kid in particular. Couldn't you make a guess as to how much your information would be worth to me?"

"It's not as simple as you think," Cyrilla said. "True, the information might not have much importance to you, beyond the immediate crisis. But it carries serious implications for greater matters."

"That's true of so much information the Sidhe have that it's hardly worth commenting on," Elaine said.

"All the same …"

"Madam, I don't deal with the White Council. Or the Red Court, for that matter. The fact that the Red Court is planning to reignite the war is interesting, yes. But —"

"I didn't say that," Cyrilla said.

"But," Elaine said, "it isn't nearly as important to me as it is to the Council, and I can't take it to them without attracting their attention. I don't want that. The price will depend on whether your info helps me find Kelsey."

There was a long pause. Elaine refused to look away.

"Yes," Cyrilla said finally. "I can see why my lady chose you."

"Aurora's dead," Elaine said.

"She underestimated you."

Elaine shivered. Truthfully, Aurora hadn't. Elaine had been so scared of everything that she'd allowed herself to be used in a plot which would have destroyed most of civilisation. She didn't want that. But what could she do about it?

The plot failed, thanks to the intervention of one Harry Dresden. Aurora underestimated him. Elaine wasn't going to tell that to Cyrilla. But sometimes she wondered if a higher power were at work that day. How else could you explain the presence of the one person whom Elaine wasn't willing to sacrifice?

"So will you answer my questions?" Elaine said.

"I can do better," Cyrilla said. "The responsibility for this situation lies in the hands of one creature in particular. I can take you to him. If you so desire."

"At what cost?"

"Little cost," Cyrilla said.

"I'll be the judge of that," Elaine said.

"I would like," Cyrilla said, "to know something of your history. The circumstances of your birth. Your parentage. Your time with Justin DuMorne — and his other apprentice, Harry Dresden."

"But not my involvement with Aurora?"

"Would you like to tell me about that, also?" Cyrilla asked.

"I think you know enough already," Elaine said.

Cyrilla's eyes glittered with something like amusement. "Very well." She extended her hand. "Shall we?"

Elaine didn't move a muscle. "Why? Why do you want to know about me?"

"Because you interest me, wizard. I adore interesting people."

"There's something you're not telling me," Elaine said.

Cyrilla burst into laughter. "My dear, what could that possibly be?"

This was it, then. The key to everything. Elaine had come here hoping for something, some clue that might open up a new avenue of investigation, but she'd got much more than that. Cyrilla was handing over her quarry on a silver plate. The silver was slightly tarnished, perhaps, but wasn't that always the case when you dealt with the fae? This whole ugly affair might end happily.

If she was willing to take a risk.

"All right," Elaine said. She placed her hand in Cyrilla's.

Author's note: Part 2 is complete and will follow soon.