"The Dresden Files" is the Property of Jim Butcher. This story is based in the universe of "The Dresden Files". This work is just for fun and still being edited. Please write a review or just make a comment if you have any thoughts!

Thanks,

Mr. Muse

Chapter: 1

I smelled blood, human blood and for a moment it stole my mind from me. Its sudden intensity was intoxicating, and I was not prepared. I lost my focus for several heart beats, forgetting time, place and company alike. I caught myself though and desperately I fought to regain my grip on reality. When I came back to myself I realized I had paused for seconds in telling a story. The Summers family sat around me all of them blonde and blue eyed they stared at me in anticipation. I struggled mentally once more to remember where I was in the telling.

Playing off my momentary distraction as dramatic pause I continued, " an aAAANNND THEN! … the coyote spirits came rushing into the camp eyes burning red, teeth bared. They devoured the remaining members of the camp in the dust-storm they brought behind them! Their screams could be heard even fro where I stood above them, at the canyon's edge." I paused again for dramatic effect and then drew out the last words with ominous tone, "The treasure hunters…. we never found a trace of them." The Summers family all gasped in shock when I ended the story. Their faces lit by the dying embers of the camp fire we sat around were cast in sharp shadowed relief.

"Oh that was sooo good," said Mrs. Summers. "I haven't heard a ghost story that good since I was in the girl scouts." Mr. Summers nodded. His wife had been leaning into him like a cheerleader who had gone to see a horror film with her captain of the football team boyfriend. It was a wonder she managed it; what with both her and her husband sitting in those deep canvas collapsible camping chairs. Mr. Summers had his arm around her, holding her close, completing the tableau. He had a smile on his face, perhaps he was the nostalgic type.

"Thank you," I said, "I'm glad you liked it." I made sure to separate my panic from my expression and fixed a genial smile on my face. Sensory information flooded into me in direct proportion to the adrenaline being dumped into my bloodstream and I welcomed it. As is the way of half-turned vampires in the presence of blood, I became hyper-aware of my environment. Bobby, their son was sunk down into his camp chair clutching his fire poking stick as if it were the only thing in the world that could defend him against the unknown evils of the surrounding darkness. Little Sandy, his younger sister by about three years, was on the edge of her seat. I had enraptured her with my tale, her reaction had been much the same as her mother's. Hector, their old Labrador shifted nervously in my lap as if he sensed something too. Then obviously unconcerned, the big guy licked me on the side of the face, wagged his tail and then snuggled back down in my lap again. My eyes scanned the trees around me and I silently berated myself for becoming night blind in front of the fire.

"Tell another one!" said Sandy pleadingly. I wanted to get away. Not for my sake but for theirs. Why all of a sudden did I smell blood? Where was it coming from? Is someone dead? I had to find the source of the smell or I wouldn't be able to sleep.

"It's gotten pretty late," I said, making a show of looking at Mr. and Mrs. Summers as though I was concerned about bed time. The pair of them gave me appreciative looks. "I think it might be bed time for somebody I know."

"Not mee!" she said, "I'm not tired at all." Little Sandy had put on a brave face but I could tell she was fighting hard to stay awake in her bundle of blankets. Though I had now an urgent reason to get away, now would have probably been the best time to leave even had I not felt the call of my demon.

"We need to let Mr. Sharpe go to bed Sandy," said Mrs. Summers.

Mr. Summers added, "I'll bet he's been up past his bed time just like you have missy."

Sandy let out a moan of disappointment, "Awwww. I don't wanna go to bed!" She looked at me with big, blue, sleepy, pleading eyes. I smiled back at her. I had to. She was just so damn cute. "Can't you stay?"

"No, I best get going." I chivied a drowsy Hector out of my lap, stood up and folded up my camp chair. Hector leaned against me and wagged his tail.

"I'm glad we met you Sharpe. You certainly tell a good story." He said it like I was actually good at spinning tall tales. He had no idea that it was a real accounting of my last trip to the Grand Canyon three years ago. I turned around to face him. He was holding out his hand for me to shake it and I did.

"Yeah, this was fun," I said.

"Are you going to be here tomorrow, Mr. Sharpe?" asked Sandy looking up at me hopefully.

"I'm going for a hike tomorrow. I don't think I'll be back till late," I replied. What I said was true, but depending on what was out there in the forest I might not be back at all.

"Oh, yeah? Where you headed?" asked Mr. Summers.

"I haven't decided yet. I'll probably wander around a while and see where the wind takes me." Well the scent trail, where it will take me is where I'll go.

Mrs. Summers spoke up then, "Well we hope you have a good time."

"I'm pretty sure I will," I said, "I love the outdoors."

Sandy stood up abruptly, something of fear and panic in her eyes as she looked in my direction. I wheeled around looking for the source of danger. But there was nothing, just the dirt road of the campgrounds and other dimly lit campsites. Then without warning something soft and child-sized hit me from behind and wrapped itself around my knees holding me in place. I looked down to see Sandy staring up at me with genuine fear and concern. I was immediately uncomfortable. Sandy was not my little girl. We had only known one another four days and now she was clinging to me. Broad shouldered, narrow hipped and built like a centurion, I towered over the diminutive girl and could only stare back uncertainly.

"You can't go! What if the V'mpires come?" she said stumbling over the word 'vampires' as she struggled to get all the words out as fast as she could. What was with the change of heart? I had thought she enjoyed my stories.

"Sandra!" admonished her mother. She came out of her seat and finished, "Let him go. We've talked about this. You can't just grab people."

"But Mr. Sharpe, you're the only one who knows all about the monsters!"

I was suddenly even more uncomfortable. I had certainly made an impression on this little girl. I tell these stories whenever I can so as to disseminate facts; facts about the supernatural world. I try as hard as I can to inform people without scaring them. I considered Sandy for a minute. Glancing at her parents I knelt down to speak to Sandra on her level. "I tell ya' what Sandy. You need to think about this for a bit. She stood back and I took her little hands in mine and said "Why would a hungry Vampire want to come eat you? You're wee bitty little thing. You wouldn't be much to eat, would you?" Ironically, I did know of a few children who had been bitten; most of them turned.

Without missing a beat she said, "But what about Mom and Dad. Bobby's bigger than me too. What about him?"

"Remember what I said about your house? If you stay inside your home, the Vampires can't get you."

"Unless you invite them in!" she finished nodding.

"That's right. Besides, you've got Mommy and Daddy to protect you and I bet Bobby would beat'm all up for you. It's what big brothers do." I saw Bobby sit up a little straighter and mustering himself he wrenched down on his fire stick and gave me a determined look. I didn't know where Bobby stood on my story, but I liked the look he gave me.

"I think you're pretty smart, kiddo. They won't be able to 'get' you."

"I'm still scared," she said.

Sighing I said, "Knowing beats fear Sandy. If you want to stop being afraid of something. You need to learn about it." She nodded.

I looked up at her parents now and I could see the concern on both their faces. If they didn't like what I was saying I'd had no doubt that either of them would have put a stop to the conversation immediately. Mrs. Summers came over and picked Sandy up and put her on her hip. "Everything is going to be alright hon'. There are no such things as vampires or monsters." What would she say if she knew she was speaking those words in front of something close to both those things?

I just smiled at the pair of them, standing back up. To deny that would be an outright lie on my part. I don't lie if I can help it. Sandra was still looking worried and I wondering if I could do anything further, acted automatically. I reached into my back pocket took out my wallet and handed little Sandy Summers my card. It's something I do when I find someone worth protecting. I give them a way to get in contact with me. She took it uncertainly and tried her best to read it.

"Nathan Sharp-y. F. O. S. G." she read aloud and then the phone number that came after it. Mrs. Summers took hold of the card and read it to herself. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

I smiled at her and said, "Have a good night ma'am. You too Sandy, sir, Bobby."

Then I turned and left without another word.

Part of me wanted to turn back and make absolutely sure that little Sandy would be okay, but the smarter part knew that it would be weird. I had only known the Summers family for four days. In that sort amount of time I had apparently developed an overly strong relationship with their young daughter. I hadn't realized I had made such an impact on her. It would be best to distance myself from her and the Summers in general. If not only to maintain the acquaintance level relationship, than to deal with whatever was out there killing humans.

If I hadn't been so worried about the where the smell of blood was coming from I would have taken more than a glance up at the gorgeous night sky. But as I was afraid of what might be lurking out in the forest, all I did was find the moon. It was almost full. For a normal person a full moon in the sky is a god send. It allows the average-joe a reasonable level of vision where otherwise they would have none and be forced to rely on other means to navigate the darkness. For me it is actually somewhat of a detriment as it levels the playing field against beings like me who can see just fine with almost no light at all. As it was I had no trouble at all making my way down the dimly lit road back to my own campsite.

I paced swiftly and silently down the road for the few minutes it took me to get to my own campsite. Taking the corner around a copse of oaks into my campsite I paused. I saw everything as I had left it. My humvee was exactly where I'd parked it. The fire in the fire pit in the center of the dirt area was undisturbed. There was no one around. All was quiet and there were no foot prints or smells I didn't recognize. Even my hammock seemed entirely undisturbed. So when I opened the driver door of my oversized truck and heard a voice from 3 feet away I nearly jumped out of my boots.

"Fine night, is it not?" the voice was deep, pleasant and sophisticated.

God dam-it!" I cursed and turned to look at a frog the size of corgi sitting on the hood of the truck. I roared at him in a whisper remembering I could easily wake my neighbors, "Holy sister Mary Francis, Al! I almost blew you away. I had in fact drawn the Glock-17 from the shoulder holster inside my Carhartt.

Algernon, the frog prince, sat on the hood of my truck clothed in fine silk robes of deep burgundy, looking at me with a smirk of mild amusement. He guffawed at me and said, "You are jumpier than I am. What is wrong, Wild Thing?"

"You scared the crap out of me! That's what's wrong! Why do you keep doing that?" Why was he here? Did it have to do with whatever was going on out there?

"I am no sneak. If you had been paying attention you would have sensed that I was here." He turned up is nose, in mock indignation. "You're so preoccupied by what your nose is telling you that you've forgotten everything your new family taught you."

"No one is going to notice when you jump out of godforsaken nowhere!" I roared at him in whisper.

He used one webbed hand to adjust the folds of his robe. "Really, one would expect a beast with your eyes would be accustomed to the darkness. I mean really, it has been five, almost six years since you were changed."

I gave him a flat look. "What do you want, Algernon?"

"I've come for you," he said matter of factly, "You are quite the nuisance."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I said.

"You are always making me run about after you. I have to make sure that you aren't doing anything uncouth. The last thing I want is to be associated with a mortal who has no manners."

I looked at him uncomprehending. "Al, I don't have time for this."

"The Summer's family of course," he seemed to blurt it out. "Do not think just because they share the same name as that of our court we are in any way connected."

Algernon the frog was referring to the Court of Summer Fey. A court he was only distantly associated with, him being one of the Wild Fey. "I hadn't thought anything of the kind," I said, incredulous, "I was telling stories."

"You have ulterior motives. I have watched you humans for centuries! You never do anything for another unless it will bring you profit!" he said waggling a webbed hand at me.

"That's capitalism for you. Welcome to America," I said. I turned from him and felt around for the rear hatch release. I found it and gave it a yank and I heard the low thunk of the hatch mechanism's lock releasing. The way I see it the more mortals know about the magical world the better. Maybe, should the worst happen, they'll flinch in the right direction."

"Do not turn your back on me when I am speaking to you, Wild Thing! I am a Prince I demand to be treated as such!" he sounded angry, but I had dealt with him too many times to feel too threatened by him.

I walked and talked. "I don't care how tall your father is Al. Every man has to do his own growing. Besides, like I said, you're in America. We really do not understand the whole royalty-nobility thing. And you know what, I don't have time for one of your rambling conversations." I climbed into the back of my truck and pulled out the rifle case I was looking for.

"Very well Wild Thing. I have come to deliver a message and so I shall," he said.

This last part caught my attention. "A message? From who? And why do you keep calling me that?"

He raised his voice so I could hear inside the truck, though he really didn't need to. "The message is this, 'Do no favors for the sake of Summer, Wild Thing. If you are needed you shall be notified," he said. His tone was crisp as though he had made sure to memorize it well enough to repeat it word for word.

I paused in unpacking my M14. "What does that even mean? And again, why do you keep calling me Wild Thing? You don't say it like the song, you say it like it's my name. Are you insulting me?"

"It is what we call you now, Wild Thing. It is our name for you," he said.

"Well stop it. It's weird, and I already have a name."

"Yes. Yes, you do," he replied. "A name, for me, still incomplete, you still won't tell me your middle name. Even after all these years. You still don't trust me."

I finally decided to meet his gaze. It was awkward looking at him through the windshield. "Not at all. Especially, now that I know how important names are to y'all Fey folk and your magic." I lifted the battle rifle and checked it over. I made sure the chamber was empty and began inspecting its overall condition.

Al, seemed content to wait, for a while at least. "What a crude thing," he said. I looked down at the weapon.

The M14 was the United States military's last wood and steel rifle. It's powerful, stream-lined, reliable, and not to mention accurate over great distances; a good simple weapon. It's never once let me down. Yes it can spew its large bullets at a rate of 700 per minute, but it's designed for accuracy. It was made for a military that prized marksmanship. One that by and large, no longer exists in this day and age.

"What's wrong with it? It is a good simple weapon. You don't need more than this," I replied.

"It's a firearm, a coward's inelegant tool. Give me a blade!" he said. "One should stand and face his enemy."

I paused and glanced at him out the corner of my eye. Deciding to let the insult to my courage pass I said, "You can think what you want, Al. I know who I am. Besides, a man like me hasn't much use for honor on the field."

"What does that mean?" he said.

"Bullets made with iron," I replied.

At this last comment Algernon the frog prince flinched. The Fey cannot abide the touch of iron. It is no secret among the supernatural community; the relationship between the fey and iron is to say the least, bad. Human's can't breathe water, the Fey cannot touch iron. We drown, they sublimate at the contact point.

"Yes, well there is nothing in that statement to refute my argument" he paused. "For quite some time now we have all been aware of your predilection for ruthlessness."

"Al, if you're just going to talk in circles the whole night you can leave. I have a corpse to find." I pulled an old canvas ammo belt out of one of the many metal ammo boxes I keep for storing things in. I started stuffing loaded magazines into its various pouches.

"How very rude!" he said with his chin in the air, "I am a prince! You haven't the right to simply dismiss me peasant. Why I should…"

"Al, either tell me what's going on out there, or leave me alone!" He looked startled at my interruption.

"What is it worth to you?" he asked. His tone was business like. "What are you going to give me in return? Will you free me of my life dept to you? Will you give me one of your names? I am not some lowly wood-sprite or sparkling fairy to be traded bread and milk for information. Wild Thing, I know better. I know what is out there!" He made the word 'Thing' sound like it was meant to be an insult.

With a sigh I rocked the magazine into the rifle with the finesse of one who has done it countless times. I hopped down from the back the Humvee closed the hatch and tugged on it to make sure it was locked. Then I walked around to face the Frog Prince.

Without malice, or much emotion of any kind I said what simply came to mind "I've done this sort of thing before, I can do it again." I turned and locked up my truck.

With a silence befitting my predator's body I shot off into the woods.