Summary: Harry Dresden, the only wizard in the Chicago phone book, is being interrogated regarding an unfortunate incident he was involved in. Could it be a case of murder or is it something even more disturbing?
The Wizard That Got Away
The room was completely dark except for one lamp shining directly into my eyes and I was seated in the most uncomfortable chair I had ever had to endure. It wasn't so much that the chair was old and squeaked every time I moved. It wasn't even the fact that the chair was too small for me and made from hardwood with no padding of any kind. I could live with those things. What bugged me was that one of the legs was slightly shorter than the others and I couldn't figure out which one it was. Every time I thought I had it, I discovered it was one of the other three. Looking back, I suspect there was an enchantment on the chair that every so often would change which leg was the short one.
Sounds crazy, doesn't it? Not in my life. I'm a wizard. No. Not a magician. I don't wear a cape. At least, usually I don't. I certainly don't stand on stage in a tux with a frilly shirt pulling rabbits out of a hat with a leggy assistant who I saw in half as a finale'. That was my dad's line of work. He never had the leggy assistant, though. Me, I'm the real deal. I can light a candle at twenty paces or I can throw a fireball two-hundred yards. I can call up a gentle puff of wind to blow the candle out or a gale that would knock the third little piggy's house into the next time zone. I deal with the forces of nature on a daily basis and bend them to my will. I am a wizard. My name is Harry Dresden. And I was suspected of murder.
The room I was in was straight out of a forties crime drama. It was even painted in shades of grey. The previously mentioned lamp was shining in my face so that the two Wardens of the White Council of Wizards, the organization that controls, maintains and regulates the use of magic in the world, could interrogate me more effectively. Either that or they just didn't like me. I would bet on the latter more than the former. Ironically, I was also a Warden, albeit, one that had been drafted. I had been brought in for questioning regarding an incident I had reported. There were some ambiguities involved that needed clearing up and some of the folks on the White Council were really pushing to throw the book at me. The book was actually a sword and they wouldn't be throwing it at me. No. That would be silly. They wanted the sword to pass right through my neck, separating my head from my body. That wouldn't be silly at all.
"So tell us, Dresden," said one of my interrogators. He was the taller one who stood only about a foot shorter than me. "What exactly happened?"
"Again?" I growled. I had just finished telling them the whole story. I had sort of lost track of how many times I had told it by then. Maybe seven times? I don't know for sure.
"Again," said the Warden mildly.
"I could write it all down for you," I suggested.
"You did that already." I was assured.
"Then why don't you just read through it? You could use the lamp if you want. I think my eyes might start to adjust back to normal in time for you to spotlight me again." I was tired and hungry and thirsty and sore all over and I didn't want to play anymore. It had been a long couple of days. They met my suggestion with silence.
"It's like I said," I began again with a sigh. "It all started outside of Mac's."
That was the absolute truth. It had all started outside of McAnnally's, a pub I like to frequent. Mac served the best steak sandwiches cooked over a real wood fire accompanied by his award winning micro brewed beer. I had wrapped up a fairly simple case of haunting and for a change I had been well paid for it thanks to a very enthusiastic wife and her husband who just wanted to get rid of me. I was not only going to be able to pay the rent on both my office and apartment, I was going to be able to buy the new tires for my car that I desperately needed.
I first noticed it in the parking lot after my steak and beer. It was that feeling of being watched I get from time to time. You know. Like whenever I'm being watched. In my line of work you ignore that feeling at your own peril. The parking lot isn't big, especially by Chicago standards. It's reasonably well lit and that night there weren't many cars in it. When my instincts twigged to the feeling, I stopped in my tracks and gave a casual look around. Nothing my eyes could see, but that didn't mean there was nothing there. I was tempted to use my Sight. The feeling wasn't strong enough for me to risk it, though. Wizard's have what some people call the 'third eye'. It enables a wizard to see things of the spirit world or things that are hidden from mortal eyes by spells or veils. No wizard that wants to remain sane uses it casually. I decided to get on with my evening and climbed into my battered, old VW Beetle to head home. There I would be more or less safe. I resolved to stay aware on the way. If something was watching me it might be nothing or it might be deadly. Vigilance is the cost of staying alive.
A short drive through the Chicago evening and I pulled into the little gravel lot outside the old boarding house I call home. Actually, I call its basement apartment home. In the summer it stays fairly cool, even in the hottest weather and in the winter it's easy to keep warm with only a small fireplace. Both of these facts are important to me. As a wizard I find technology troublesome. That's why I drive a vintage car, I have a rotary telephone, I use a revolver instead of an automatic and I have no electricity in my apartment. A nice side effect is that I have no utility bills to speak of except for cold water and the prodigious amounts of wood I have to buy in order to stay warm and to cook.
It was good to be home. I was looking forward to relaxing by the fire and reading a new book I'd picked up. Officially, I had given myself the night off. I was considering having another beer as I closed the car's door when that feeling of being watched came back. I extended my wizard senses, doing so very gently to limit the risk of alerting whoever it was to the fact I was aware of them. I felt nothing supernatural. I frowned at that. More than once I had been stalked by mortal enemies, and though they were not as scary as most of my enemies, they could be every bit as deadly.
I pulled out my keys and pretended to lock the driver's side door. That lock hadn't worked in five or six months, but going through the motions gave me a few seconds of delay during which I might be able to spot my tail. I failed. So, I moved around to the front of my car, opened the trunk and pulled out the gym bag containing my shotgun. It was completely illegal for me to own, but I'd rather be alive facing criminal charges than dead. If it really was a mortal enemy out there, I couldn't use magic to deal with it. At least, I couldn't use lethal magical force. 'Thou Shalt Not Kill With Magic' is the first law of the White Council and it's a good one. It can also be really inconvenient when someone less scrupulous was trying to do unto you before you could do unto them. Bag in hand, I made for the steps leading down to my apartment. I never made it.
At the top of the short flight of stairs I heard a hiss as of something flying through the air. Instinctively I dove to my left and rolled across the gravel. There was another hiss and I was hit in the side with a polished dart about the size of a railroad spike. It hurt but bounced off the spell reinforced leather of my duster. I didn't spare it a glance as I shoved my hand into the bag and began calling up my will. An instant later I shook out my shield bracelet just in time to intercept another of the gleaming spikes. It thunked into the shield and tumbled away bent like a banana. I was scanning the darkened street, wondering who the hell would use something like that when I saw a pair of gleaming eyes in the branches of the old oak tree in the neighbor's yard. I brought the shotgun out of the bag and was just about to turn the barrel on whatever it was when three dots of red light appeared on my chest. I got a real bad feeling all of a sudden and made a choice. Knowing there wasn't time to get in my car, I bolted for the back yard. I'm not ashamed of it. Sometimes it's just good sense.
I've been in plenty of hairy situations over the years but very few of them have occurred on my front doorstep. I knew this neighborhood well and I knew most of the folks that lived there, at least by sight. I didn't want any of them to get hurt because of me. If I started shooting, or if this bozo started laying down fire with God only knew what sort of weapon, there might be some serious damage done. People could get hurt or killed. So I was running for the board fence at the back of the yard and I wasn't going to stop until I reached the big parking lot two streets over. This time of the evening it was likely to be deserted, or nearly so. On the far side of that was a small park with a playground where only a few people would be shooting hoops under the lights. After that were some alleys and some vacant lots I thought I could get to and those would take me towards some warehouses and an old furniture store no longer in business. I didn't plan to stop until I reached it. After that I would have to figure something out. In the mean time, I kept my senses sharp and my legs pumping.
The six foot fence was no trouble for me, but I did get peppered with splinters when a ball of light smashed into the spot where my torso had been a second before. I hit the ground hard, rolled with the impact and came up on my feet. I was moving again before a second ball of light struck where I had fallen. Dogs barked from a pen to my left. Horns blared and people shouted at me as I sprinted across the street. Another ball of light zipped past on my right. My instinct was to dodge left but I jinked right instead and watched bricks explode from the wall of an old brownstone. Down the alley I wove back and forth between dumpsters and trash cans. No more balls of light came at me until I had cleared the second street and was half way across the parking lot. This one flashed by on my left. I felt pretty sure the character throwing them expected another jink. So I gave it to him. His next ball struck my shield and fizzled out with a sound not unlike an egg hitting a hot frying pan. Frankly, I was a little surprised. Here I had been expecting some enormous wallop and all I got was a fizzle? I hadn't even felt any heat run to my wrist from my bracelet. It had just sort of tingled a bit. I took a few more long strides and was running between swing sets and merry-go-rounds.
I left my body to its own devices as far as clearing the populated areas and put my mind to thinking about the attack. I had felt the impact of the spike when it had hit my shield and it had bent under the conflicting forces so I knew whoever or whatever was after me could deal out some real hurt. I also knew the balls of light were dangerous because one had blown the crap out of those bricks, but why had the last one done nothing more than fizzle? Could they have a minimum effective range? Or was it something slightly more complex? I'd felt nothing supernatural when I had reached out with my senses. Magical weapons and the like would have given off some level of energy that I should have been able to pick up on. But there had been nothing. Weird.
I was nearly to the bushes that marked the far side of the playground before my attacker struck again. I was in full stride when I felt a cord of steel whip around my calves. I dropped like a felled tree. The wind was knocked out of me and I bounced my chin off the grass clacking my teeth together hard enough to loosen fillings. Fortunately I had held onto my shotgun. I rolled onto my back just in time to be missed by a bizarrely fashioned spear. Something indistinct was above me. It was tall. I couldn't tell just how tall because it wasn't precisely visible. That and I was laying on the ground trying to get my breath back. It yanked the spear out of the dirt, clearly intending to drive it through my chest. I was disinclined to allow it such liberties. I pulled the shotgun's trigger. Tired and frazzled as I was, I hadn't aimed at any particular part of the blurry image above me. No surprise that all I did was hit it in the thigh. Now it was my attacker's turn to tumble over like a felled tree. As it did, it howled in rage, pain and disappointment.
I sat up gasping and drew in my will. I was calling up a hammer of force that would have knocked a dinosaur for a loop, but something happened that caused me to hesitate. The instant I called up my magic the thing began to flicker and blue sparks danced slowly over it. Whatever had veiled the creature was shorting out. Technology, not magic had hidden the being from my sight. It struggled to one knee as bright, florescent green liquid oozed from its leg wound. Ignoring me, it brought up its left arm and flipped open some sort of device there. I had no idea what it was and I didn't care at that point.
"Forzare!" I shouted and loosed the blast of force I had drawn in. The thing was knocked thirty feet across the ground, digging a furrow in the dirt as it skidded into an old concrete drinking fountain. The concrete shattered and a spray of water geysered into the air. I thought I'd killed my attacker. Really, I sort of hoped so. If it were human, I would be in trouble, but I didn't think that was the case. We generally don't bleed glowing radiator fluid. Just in case I was wrong about it being dead, I jacked a fresh round into my shotgun before pulling at the cable around my legs. They were nearly free when the thing moved.
It sat up and shook its head. It was wearing some sort of helmet or mask and it gave this a few smacks with its palm. Apparently this did no good so it snatched the mask from its head and tossed it aside. I wished it had left it on. I've seen ugly before but holy cow! The face revealed was one only a mother tarantula could love. Glowing green blood dribbled from its...mandibles. More dripped from the side of its head. To me the thing seemed to be moving much slower and with difficulty. I rose to my feet and stepped a little closer. I knew the cops would respond soon. I needed to finish this and get the hell out of there. Let them figure out what it was. I'd report to Murphy and she could follow up as she thought best. As I looked down on it I realized whatever it was, it was more or less helpless. I could have killed it in the heat of battle but not like this.
"Hands up," I slurred. Running on a full stomach and the fall combined with the magic I had just tossed around had worn me down quite a bit. At least my breathing was getting back to normal. I pointed the shotgun at my enemy and waved the barrel up and down hoping the thing would get the hint. Instead, I got hit with a net.
I tumbled back a few feet and heard a whine as small servos began to ratchet the lines of the net closed around me. After only a second or two there were a series of little coughs and fizzling noises. The net stopped constricting and that was really good for me. The interwoven lines that made up the net were some sort of fine wire. One had already cut the back of my left hand where it lay on the slide of my shotgun and another had sliced neatly through the leather at the heel of my old hiking boot. I lay there on the ground as another of the things appeared. Its form wavered as the electronic veil failed. I'm sure it was wondering what the hell was happening but I didn't have time for that.
"Solvose," I growled. Instantly the net burst apart. I ducked my head and rolled out of the strands, coming to a knee with the shotgun aimed at my new attacker. Just as it pulled its mask off I fired. The blast caught it full in the chest and laid it out as dead as stone right next to the buddy it had come to rescue.
Rather than wait for another net to be thrown over me I got up and hoofed it for the bushes. I wasn't running away this time. I just wanted to get under some cover. It didn't do me much good, though. More of those zipping balls of light started burning the shrubs to ashes just as I got turned around. Again I threw up my shield and quickly edged away from the flames. My shield would have protected me but the fire and smoke was masking my view of the playground. Even while the balls were flying a new weapon slammed into my shield. It was really weird. The thing flew like a frisbee but it had a pair of blades forming its edges. When it struck the shield I was rocked back from the force of the blow and it shattered into about a dozen component parts.
"Enough of this shit!" I growled and rose up pushing more will through my shield bracelet. Balls of light splattered off the half dome in iridescent flares. Tracing their origin I jumped sideways dropping the shield and spat, "Hexus!"
Instantly the shooting balls fizzled out and there was a puff of smoke and sparks from a spot under the old slide at the far side of the playground. Another of the creatures was revealed. Like his pals, this one seemed confused at the loss of his veil and all the electronics. He tore his mask off and flipped up the little panel on his left forearm.
Calling up my shield again I strode forward trying to stay aware of my surroundings. If any more of these things were around I didn't want them getting the drop on me. Whatever the device was the creature couldn't get it to work. Like I said, wizards are hard on technology and the more advanced it is the more susceptible it is to magical disruption. Apparently it decided to give up on the electronics and went old school. Out came a blade that was somewhere in length between a bowie knife and the Sears Tower.
"Compensating for something, hook face?" I sneered. It might not have been honorable but I was fresh out of sympathy. I brought up my shotgun, dropped my shield and plugged the ugly bastard right in the guts. My next shot took it in the chest dropping it full length in the wood chips meant to cushion the fall of any little kiddies who might tumble off the slide. I was ready to blast it again but there was no need. Monster, alien or mutant, it was very clearly dead. I heard movement behind me. I dodged to the left turning to face the new threat and very conscious that there was only one round left in the shotgun.
"Uh-oh," I breathed. You ever have one of those moments where you realize you aren't as clever or lucky as you think you are? Yeah. That was one of those moments for me. There stood three more of the beings. They were dragging the wounded one to his feet. Something about their body postures told me, though, that they weren't going to start anything with me. I held my shotgun ready all the same.
As two of them turned to drag the wounded one away the third turned his attention on me. He wasn't wearing a mask and he seemed to be older than the others. His arms and chest were laced with old scars. He was wearing a variety of what looked like bones and metal trinkets. I pointed the shotgun directly at him. He raised his chin and glared at me before turning to walk off.
"Hey!" I shouted at him. He paused and turned back to me. "Don't try this again. Don't come here anymore. My name is Harry Dresden and this town is under my protection. Get it?"
I don't know if he could understand me but he narrowed his eyes in consideration. His hand slipped to his belt and I drew in my breath ready to blast him. I needn't have worried. He just pulled something free and tossed it at my feet then continued to walk away. Once they had faded into the shadows I looked down. There in the grass lay an old .45 Webley revolver.
"And they just walked away?" asked the short interrogator.
"Yeah," I said. The chair creaked under me as I shifted in another vain attempt to get more comfortable.
"What did you do when they left?" asked the tall interrogator.
"Well, by then I could hear sirens coming so I scooped up the pistol and got out of there," I said.
"And you just left the bodies?" the short one asked getting to his feet. He was about to go on when the door from the hall opened. In stepped Anastasia Luccio, Captain of the Wardens of the White Council. She gave a brief glance around then frowned. Both of the interrogators stood and came to attention. I was about to stand but the short one glared daggers at me so I remained seated.
"Wardens," Anastasia said coming into the room. "Get that light out of his eyes."
One of them reached out and turned the light away. Anastasia may look like a pretty college grad student thanks to a body switching event some years ago but she retains the hard, controlled personality of the commander she had been before that night. Coolly she stepped up next to me and placed a can of Coke in my hand before turning on the two knuckle heads who'd been questioning me. I popped the tab and guzzled half of the soda in one big swallow.
"I've read this man's statement, gentlemen," Anastasia told them. "I listened to his story three times since he was brought in. He came here willingly, in case that had escaped your attention. His story has been consistent throughout."
"Captain," interrupted the tall one. "He hasn't explained what became of the bodies. He hasn't explained where these attackers came from."
"Nor does he need to." Anastasia turned her eyes on him. Her frown intensified. "Did you expect him to carry the bodies away with him? Did you get the impression he knew what these creatures were? Or where they had come from?"
"But he killed them, ma'am," said the short one. "If they were mortals it's our duty to prosecute and try him for murder."
"Really?" Anastasia shifted her gaze to him. "He killed them with his shotgun. He was defending himself and seeing to the safety of the civilians under his protection. He only used his magic to defeat whatever technology they were using. Or did that part of his story not get through to you? On top of that, the Laws of Magic are to protect human beings. Clearly these creatures were not human."
"But, ma'am," began the tall one. She cut him off.
"Enough!" Anastasia stepped forward to the edge of the table. "Release him. Make sure he gets something to eat before you send him home. This interrogation is at an end."
Later that evening I was sitting in my favorite chair contemplating the old revolver when my phone rang. It was Murphy. I'd asked her to look up a serial number for me.
"There wasn't anything in our database, Dresden," she said. "I was able to track it back to the manufacturer, though. Where did you get a Webley from the Second World War?"
"I never said I had one," I said. "If I did have one I would have to turn it over to the proper authorities, namely you."
"Right." Her tone was not amused. "You just wanted me to look up a serial number for one because you were curious. Does this have anything to do with the ruckus the other night?"
"You ever watch Hogan's Heroes, Murph?" I asked.
There was a long pause before she said in a comically bad German accent, "I know nussing! I see nussing! I hear nussing! Nussing!" and then she hung up. Ah the classics.