This story takes place some time after book 10, Small Favor, though it is not a direct continuation of the story.

First fan fiction in the category. Hope I live up to your expectations.
Thanks to Crystal Dragon's Lament for beta reading for me

For the record I live like 10 minutes from Chicago and I'm an idiot for making the story take place somewhere else.
If you are from Normal, Illinois I'm sorry for massacring the description of the area. I've never been there.

Sight Unseen

Chapter 1

Finding a small, quiet neighborhood in Chicago is like trying to find Bigfoot in your backyard. You might think that Chicago, being the active city it is, has neighborhoods more suited for its elderly or family-oriented population. You'd be wrong, but that hasn't stopped people from assuming. Every neighborhood around here has some sort of trouble. Anything from street gangs to drug dealers, to vampires and ghosts liked to make their home here. Most of the baddies that make their nests here, both supernatural and not, I've never seen. That's how deep the underworld lies. And the ones I have, I've never seen again. It takes something serious to get me out of the office and track down one or more low-lifes. Most of the time, stopping them included either scaring them badly enough that I never spot them again, or they never made it around to tomorrow for me to worry about seeing them.

There was one neighborhood that I'd come across that was an exception to that rule, and that was Michael's. The Knight of the Cross must have had some external mojo floating around him that extended to the surrounding mile or so in each direction of his house. I had to think an arch angel or two probably visited his place regularly. It sure as hell kept the bad side of the supernatural community away. Maybe there was something to be said about Michael's unwavering belief. Then again, belief never got me that far. I may have been on someone's naughty list a few to many times.

In my neighborhood, well, I was the problem in my neighborhood.

That was why my latest client had me running through half the state. Like any regular person out there who wasn't making money off the drugs they get from their friend down the street or an ex-con, itching to reaffirm his power on new turf, they were looking for the quiet life in the great city of Chicago. And they found it several hours away.

That life that my client had found wasn't so quiet anymore, and I had to travel nearly five hours by train to get to the middle of nowhere, street thugs and whining children alike wandering around said machine of death to make my life hell. I'd never been very fond of trains from the start, preferring my small, beat-up little Beetle over a rolling metal behemoth. My little Volkswagen couldn't handle more than an hour's drive in my presence though, and a train really was the only option open to me. Magic and all. Sometimes it really sucked being a wizard.

As if the train ride, which was delayed halfway through with only open fields full of dead grass to watch wither wasn't enough, I got off in Bloomington, surrounded by a whole lot more nothing and no client in sight.

I sighed. This day was turning out real promising.

Then again, I wouldn't have come out here for nothing.

The man had agreed to meet at the station because I wasn't going to cross the open field for a total walking distance of over two hours and I had no money for a cab. Looking around, I couldn't imagine that such a small place would have many travelers, so hoping to find a cab service didn't have a very good outlook anyway.

Yeah. A gas station, a service mart, and a whole lot of nothing. More dead grass snuck up my worn boats in an attempt to open my eyes to the wonders of the wide prairies before me.

I kicked at the grass. Yeah right. Growing up in Chicago left little for another landscape to impress upon, and the absence of the towering buildings was nerve-racking instead of calming. I knew my home. This wasn't it.

I waited at the station for all of five minutes before my patience wore out and I started walking down the street, heading towards Normal. There was great irony to be found in that. Ryan Fairwell had a nice, small, two story house somewhere in the city of Normal, Illinois that was anything but what its name implied. It was why I'd made the exception to travel for this case. Heck, some of the supernatural stuff in my own neighborhood couldn't get me out of bed, if that was any indication for how my day was looking out to end.

Over the phone, while Ryan was giving me the same old sob story about spookies haunting him, the same type of call that I got at least once a month, I could hear the inflections of power running through his voice. No additional whisper of a second speaker, but something that was making it hesitate or quiver at parts in his speech that no disease would hinder, as if the influence behind him didn't want him to talk about what was going on. That, even with the phone static, is hard to to miss when you've seen things like this happen before. I can't explain how I knew. There was no physical sign or anything overly unusual about the amount of static over the line that usually came from magical interference. It's like someone a trying to figure out what separates a Bordeaux from a Burgundy wine. The average man doesn't know, and neither did I, but that didn't mean there wasn't a huge difference to someone who's made a living out of it. Mind control spells were hard to notice when they didn't want to be, but this one was done by someone just learning their ABC's of magic. Easy and sloppy.

Something was imposing its will on Ryan and several of people in the houses, or farms in this case, surrounding him. That was a big no-no in the magical world. Killing a human is worse, but bewitching them to act against their nature is high up there too, and judging from situation, it sounded like whoever was doing it was a wizard. No supernatural baddie would bewitch people to make them to, let's say, look the other way after their house had been graffitied.

I'd let Molly slip up once and I didn't want to see another kid coming into power fall victim to the White Council. Whoever it was, they were young and stupid. If I got to them first, the Wardens never needed to know about it, aside from the fact that I was working with them now. I didn't count. I wasn't like them and they weren't afraid to let me know it.

A rusted old Ford pulled up beside me, my long legs already having eaten up a mile and working on the second, though with all the exercise I'd been getting in I wasn't tired from it. The weather was nice, but the train ride and lack of any familiar surroundings left me in a bad mood. I'm sure my irritation is what made the man driving slowly beside me look like he wanted to pull away. His truck must have thought the same thing, whining when it caught a whiff of my magic, as unintentional as it was. Wizards couldn't control the whispers of power running through them when they're angry, and happy I was not.

"Ryan?" I asked innocently, trying my best to calm his nerves while settling my own anger. There could have been a dozen reasons he was late and being spelled couldn't be helping. While I had no idea what the man looked like before now, so I couldn't be sure this was the person over the phone who I had talked to. I, on the other hand, was hard to miss me anywhere, let alone the yellow field around me that made my black duster stand out like a beacon. My coat and staff were currently getting the look-over. Most people in Chicago were tolerant of the way other people dressed, or more accurately, didn't want to get involved with anyone strange enough to carry around the things that I did. Ryan, if that was him, didn't seem to have the same upbringing in liberalism.

"Mr. Dresden?"

Ah, so this was my man. I nodded to him, sending out my senses in a cursory sweep, hearing the truck buck again, and narrowing them to focus solely on Ryan. He'd definitely been spelled, and more than once. His eyes still had a thin glaze over them to show that someone had been tampering with his memories.

Ryan wasn't a weak person either. He looked like he had a will as strong as his burly arms. I was sure he could lift something three times my weight and, no matter how gangly I am, I outweigh most of the people I know. Ryan's t-shirt declared 'PEACE' in rainbow colored letters and his stained jeans spoke of long hours in the mud. His dark hair was folded over to one side of his head, but aside from the cataract glare in his hazel eyes, he looked very much like Michael. So in other words, he was the fatherly type of person who, while they had strength, would rather use it to pick you up off the ground then put you there. Then again, looks had deceived me before.

"Yeah." I nodded again to the truck. "Can I come in?"

Ryan blinked a few times, vacant stare clearing some. "Sure. I'm sorry. I've never had to… do anything like this before. I'm not used to-" Ryan didn't continue and I didn't really need him to. Not very many people were used to believing someone who called themselves a wizard, at least, not until they were in a bad enough situation and had nowhere else to go.

"I know, Mr. Fairwell. Now tell me, exactly when did you notice that you were missing gaps of time in your memory? How long would you say the worst of it lasted?" I hoisted myself into the seat, feeling the worn material wrap around my body and relax me. I was never a fan of new things when old things just had so much more comfort in them. Once I was in the truck and Ryan pulled away, the tension eased.

"About a month ago. " He said after a silent, boring minute of driving. I had to figure to was taking time to compose himself. That, or he was afraid of any scarecrows listening. "It's happened at least three times that I know of. The first, I was going out to my front yard to get the paper and I saw… something. I can't remember what it was. The next thing I knew, there were these markings all over my house that hadn't been there when I walked out and the coffee I had just made was already cold. I couldn't have been out there for more than a few minutes but, the way everything was, even the time, it was like a half an hour had passed."

Half an hour. Damn.

Maybe this wasn't an amateur. Even I could only affect memories within, maybe, ten minutes without causing damage. Not that I had done it before, but that didn't mean that I couldn't. Then again, it was still a possibility that I was dealing with a new wizard that had recently come into their powers and they were just gifted at mind manipulation like Molly was at veils.

Yeah. Maybe if I keep telling myself things like that, I'll believe it one day.

"What about the other two occasions?" I asked, trying to get a better read on who I was up against.

"Same thing, really. I went outside a week later, at night with my son, Joshua. He's twelve years old. We were going out to the garage because the frame of his desk in his room was falling apart and I needed some screws. We were halfway there when I saw this- I don't know, black shape of some kind. The next second it's gone and my wife is screaming to us from the door, asking what's taking us so long. When I asked her later that night, she said we'd been gone for over twenty minutes."

Things were going from bad to worse. It was one thing to bewitch one person. Once. To do it to the same person and simultaneously do it to his son as well, and for such a long period of time... That was something else. I couldn't do it and I could name the number of wizards who could to the number of girls who turned Thomas down. For those who don't know my half-brother very well, that would come to a total of zero. And I knew a lot of powerful wizards.

There were no ominous thunderclouds yet, but the way this story was shaping out, it wasn't leaving me with much doubt that I would regret ever traveling to the middle of bumblefuck when I knew almost nothing about the job aside from the fact that I needed to act before anyone higher up found out about it.

I let my senses wander around Ryan again. The magical residue was human, no doubt it. Maybe something from the Never-never could pull of what he was describing to me, but not a mortal. But damn it if anything from the supernatural side of the fence wanted to be remotely linked to anything human anymore than a dinosaur would want to be compared to an ant. For the most part, it was true enough.

"The last time it happened was just a few days ago. I was with Joshua again and- I knew I had to get help before it got any further. You, Mr. Dresden, were the only person who believed what I was saying. I've gone to so many others already that, I have to tell you, you're my last hope."

"I understand." I nodded to him, feeling the weight of his worry settle around both of us. I detected something underneath that worry. "What happened the last time that has you so scared?"

Ryan jolted as if I'd shocked him. His eyes remained on the road, steadfastly determined not to give anything away. "I'm not sure."

I waited. That was how I had to deal with skeptics. Go blabbering on about the supernatural and all the dangers that came with it, and you wind up scaring the average Joe enough that all they want to do is yell at you about what malarkey you're throwing around and force you to leave. I've lost more cases that way than I care to think about. Not that I'd ever let something like this slip through my fingers, but it would certainly be a lot harder without his cooperation, seeing as I couldn't relay on Murphy this far away from Chicago.

Ryan sighed. "Joshua has a mark on him. The last time, we were in the house, watching a television program. It's the reason I can't lie to myself about this anymore. The show was halfway through when it happened. I kinda knew what to expect this time. When I blinked. the lights outside the window had gotten darker, as if someone turned off a light, and the show after had already started. I never fell asleep. I know, that sounds crazy and you're going to tell me I did fall asleep and just don't remember it. But I didn't. I found Joshua passed out just as I realized that something had happened. He has this dark mark on him now, almost like a hand print that had black paint on it. No matter what we try, it won't come off. At night he has these nightmares. I don't know, Mr. Dresden. Do you have any kids?"

"None of my own, but I know the feeling." Molly was currently staying in my basement apartment, taking care of my cat and dog while I was out of town. It was a full-time job. "You want what's best for him, and right now you don't know what's wrong or how to help."

"Yeah."

Everything was silent for a few minutes as we traveled down the sparse road. "So? Can you help?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I've never come across this kind of thing before. I'll do what I can to make sure that you and the rest of the people in town are safe."

"Thank you." The relief in his voice calmed my own nervous heart, as well as his.

I ignored the fields that surrounded us. We really were in the middle of nowhere. In the last mile I'd seen two farms, some little shacks that pop up like weeds, and a whole lot of nothing. This was wild country and I was in it now. I almost hated being the only car on the road compared to Chicago's bustling traffic jams that left you and half the city hoarse.

Now, to think on this. Problem one, I knew of no human that could create and use this type of power. Sure, I could whip up enough force to be able to impose my will on someone, but not on this level. It was too perfect. This magic more resembled the hypnotic seduction of vampires than my own brand, and yet the presence hanging off of Ryan was definitely mortal. Either someone got their hands on a lot of magic and knowledge and was using it to play pranks on this man, or this was something new. Something that was going to be a hell of a lot harder to fight than what I'd planned. Hell, this was something that I'd want my back up to have back up for.

Problem number two, the only thing that I knew that would leave that type of imprint on a person like the way he'd described his son was marked, was black magic. Not your ordinary, run of the mill, dark wizard either. What happens with mortal black magic is that it leaves you and your victim with physic damage, or physical. It didn't actually mark you. Burn you, sure. Paint you tie-dye? Not a chance. Only something like a Denarian could make this type of mark, if they chose to make one at all, and damn it to hell if I was ready to take on one of those again. I'd needed help surviving every single one I'd encountered, let alone defeating one. Considering Joshua didn't sound like he'd sprouted extra eyes and was intent on murdering everyone in sight, that also meant that whoever, or whatever this creature was, it had marked him for something and was bidding it's time until be boy became necessary.

And that leads us to problem number three. I was planning to go up against a person just coming into power, not a demi-god. I had my staff and blasting rod, but that's like dueling a killer with a squirt gun. I could make them angry, maybe get them a little wet, but I wouldn't be the one laughing when it was all over.

Oh boy. Yep. Just my kind of day.

"Mr. Dresden?"

I blinked, looking around when I noticed a more similar looking landscape. No more farms but the houses were closer to suburbia than I'd seen in some time. I was in some layman's definition of a neighborhood, consisting of a total of maybe twenty houses grouped together before the fields once again ate at civilization. Yes, the fields were the ones eating away at us. Forget the activist movement, I'd rather face down the dangers that I knew were out there than fight off hungry animals that hung around places like this.

We were parked in front of a small house with off-white siding clutching at walls that had survived years of weather damage and survived to tell of it. A splintered wooden fence divided the property from those around it. There was a fire somewhere inside, judging from the smoke, and a forgotten soccer ball lay half hidden near some shrubs under the front windows. It had a very nice homely look to it that completely went against the vibe I was getting.

Dark magic had been done here recently, and lots of it.

"Nice place," I said, only half sarcastic, as I shut the door. I started walking towards the house before Ryan had the chance to get around the car. Mortal magic and magic from any other being is different because humans have something that the supernatural community does not; we rely on our feelings, our raw emotion, to reach it. That type of draw leaves sensations that nothing from the Never-never could. I let myself stand there, feeling out those traces.

Whoever this was, taking them on alone was the stupidest thing I think I'd ever be doing, and here was the proof. Not even one person, or creature, that I faced down had left traces that lasted after the sunrise has washed them away. And this was days ago.

"Can I use your phone?" I turned to Ryan, watching him jump as at the suddenness of it. I must have been still enough before for my question to surprise him.

"Phone?"

"Yes, phone. You know, that new fangled technology that lets us talk to the person next door because we can't get off our lazy ass and ring the bell. That kind of phone."

Ryan was speechless for a few seconds. I watched his forehead crease as he stared up at me and I realized what words came out of my mouth. "Now see here-"

"Sorry!" I raised my hands in defense and took a step back. Ryan may have been a good foot-and-some shorter, but he looked like he could bring down and elephant. "I didn't mean that. Sometimes my mouth doesn't consult my brain. I really am sorry. I need to make a phone call to check in with a friend of mine and see if we can't figure out what's haunting you." I let myself take in the other houses, feeling traces of the same magic, but nowhere near as strong as what was coming from Ryan's. As if the ground itself were absorbing the power, patches of the lawn were dying and other areas were a strange mixture of green and gray that I had never seen grass turn before. "-and the others. I've never run into something like this before but maybe I know someone who has."

Ryan shook his head, his hands clenching into fists before he calmed down and nodded to me. I'd lost his trust because I let my stupid nerves get the best of me. I admit it, I have a bad habit of running my mouth when I'm scared.

I followed him into the house. I really should have been more sympathetic anyway. It was obvious people in this place didn't get many disturbances, and this one was not only disturbing beyond what anyone could be prepared for, but it had found a way to attack this man's son when he was right next to him. That had to hurt.

I was up the wooden stairs and past the balcony with two comfortable looking rocking chairs before I had myself together again. I knew who I wanted to called. The only problem was, I didn't have Ivy's number memorized and it was sitting at home on a the back of some paper somewhere. The second person I knew never carried a cell. Not that he could. The Council always had him running all over the place, so it wasn't like I could get a hold of him even if I did have a way to contact him. That left me with Michael. Who was not up for the task of helping me on this one. So that would make this two phone calls, one to Michael for information, and the other one to Thomas, if he could be dragged away from the girls long enough to be of any help to me.

The living room had a nice, old world feel to it, much like my apartment. There were thick rugs on the wooden floor with a slow burning fire, and even a cat to boot. The small creature padded over, light footed with four white paws and a paint-splash of white that marred its black body. Mister was almost double his size, but there was something to be said about smaller animals. No matter what they were, they were cute.

"Here." Ryan stood with his arms folded in from of a mounted phone on the wall. "If they can help, then I'm all for letting you make as many calls as you need."

"Just two," I assured him, pressing in Michael's number as I did so. "I shouldn't be long."

Ryan stood next to me as the phone rang. I didn't mind the obvious eavesdropping, as long as I didn't have to skirt around anything important to get my information. Michael picked up on the second ring with his kids screaming in the background.

"Hello?"

"Hey." I didn't introduce myself. I didn't need to at this point. "I need you help identifying something. I thought I may be connected to your old work. The only problem is that it's human." I let that hang in the air for a second. "A kid's in trouble. If you can help, I'd appreciate it."

"Harry, I'm retired." He held no argument in his voice though, only worry. "What is it?"

So I rehashed the situation back to him. It took only a few minutes to state a problem that it would take days and a lot of help to fix. If I could. I was holding the phone with my left hand, feeling it shake unsteadily in my fingers.

"That doesn't sound like anything I've run into before." Michael hesitated, drawing away from our conversation to scold young Harry when he tried to get his father's attention in a creative sounding way. I couldn't help smiling. It disappeared when Michael turned his attention back to me. "Have you seen the child that was infected?"

Infected? Not the word I would have used, but I guess it worked in a way. Dark magic was like a disease when it touched you, on the receiving or dealing-out end. "Not yet. I was hoping to figure out what I was up against first. If there's something that possessing him..." I didn't know how to finish the sentence. I wasn't that I was afraid of whatever had placed its mark on the kid, but going in there unprepared when the person, or creature somehow using human magic, could have set up any number of spells to guard against its prey falling into the right hands, was like asking to be killed.

"The child comes first Harry."

I sighed. Yeah, I knew that too. The only problem was that I liked to be rational in my approach. Me, rational, go figure. Michael believed everything was destined to turn out the way it was supposed to, no matter what actions we took. There was a plan for everything. Well, if I believed that I wouldn't have stayed sane for so long. If I believed every victim I'd come across, every killer I'd seen go free, and every child I'd seen attacked followed the path that was plotted out for them, for that to happen, I wouldn't be able to go on with my life. God wasn't the one down here, doing the dirty work, so someone had too. But of course, Michael thought that was our civic duty to be the tools He used, so that most of the crap didn't hit the fan. I wasn't okay with that either. If God made me with this stubborn streak of rebellion, hey, blame Him then.

"So you've got no idea what I'm up against and you want me to waltz into whatever person or who-knows-what's territory like I own the place? Works for me." I paused. "Thanks."

"Sorry that I can't help you, Harry." There was a pause before he said my name, obviously meant to address both me and young Harry who I could hear still annoying his father in the background.

"No problem, man. I'll talk to you later." I hung up, feeling a new weight settle over me. He was right; I had to check up on Joshua. Who knows what happened to the kid or what dark magic was still hanging over him. Thomas first though, for rational reasons of course. I wasn't putting anything off. It made more sense for me to get him on his way out here, since he wouldn't arrive before nightfall even if he left that second. Yeah, I was just being smart.

And of course, Thomas chose that moment not to pick up his phone. Damn it.

For the heck of it, I tried a second time. Really, I wasn't worried. Not at all. My heart suddenly slowing twenty beats per minute when my brother finally decided to answer his cell was purely coincidental.

"'ello?"

"Hey, Tho-"

"Harry, I'm kinda busy right now. I'll call you back later."

It sounded like Thomas was panting. I raised an eyebrow that he couldn't see, but Thomas sensed it and let out a shaky laugh. "I'm not doing anything like that, Harry. I would have thrown the phone across the room and called you back in an hour, or four."

"Right. Go dancing on kittens for all I care, but I need you right now. Make time."

Thomas sighed. "It better be important or Lara's gonna kill me for running off before I finished one of her errands."

"Tell her to bill me. Now, I need you to get on the Amtrak and get your sister-dotting butt down to..." I recited the address to him "as quickly as you can. Be careful when you get here. I don't know what's going on but better to be safe than sorry."

"I never like hearing you tell me to be safe. It always means that, no matter what I do, there is no 'safe'. Why in the world do you want me to take the train though? I do have the vehicle."

"A loud, noisy, gas guzzling vehicle that will make whatever or whoever is out here notice you right away. You have to admit, it doesn't really work when you're trying to remain inconspicuous."

"I'm hanging up now, Harry. I guess I'll be there when I get there." Thomas laughed before ending the call. "You get to be the one to deal with Lara when we get back."

I hung up the phone. If I was making a big deal out of all of this, then sure, having a spout with missus Queen of the White Court didn't seem like a bad way to blow off steam. If I was right, going up against her would be like a walk in the park. Or if I was lucky, I wouldn't make it back to Chicago at all.

Okay, now to figure out what was going on with the kid. I tapped my fingers lightly against my leg, looking anywhere but at my client. There were a few more things that I wanted to check out, but they could wait.

"Where's your son then? Can I see him?"

"He's upstairs." Ryan led the way into a small hall with a closet built into the left side. Wooden, creaky stairs that were narrow enough for only one person to travel through at a time, provided the way to the second landing. I felt the wood creak almost comfortably beneath my boots. Dis old homes all you want, they knew their limits and the creaking just meant the place was kind enough to give you warning on how far to push before you fell through.

There were four closed doors, each spaced unevenly across from each other so they formed a type of zigzag. I followed him to the first door on the left. Ryan knocked softly. "Joshua, it's me. I'm coming in and I'm bringing a friend of mine. We're going to make you better this time, I promise.", his words only just loud enough to make it through the thick door. "

He turned the knob before waiting for his son to answer. I followed Ryan into the room. Nothing felt any worse than it had outside. The whole house was woven through with the dark aura of magic. Of course, that was the house, not the people. When I entered far enough to see the boy, I found myself clenching my staff as hard as I could.

The boy was sitting in bed. He was either short for his age, or hadn't hit puberty yet. His hair was darker than his father's, an inky black that should have mixed well with his tanned skin had he been healthy. His bangs fell in a wave across his face, oily looking and cut wrong enough to notice. His skin was slick as well. If I thought his father's eyes looked like they had film over them, Joshua's looked like someone had taken that fogged up glass they used in showers and placed it under his lids. It was so bad, I couldn't even tell what color they were.

"Stay here." I placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder, nodding to him as I stepped forward. I held out my hand towards the kid. I'd have to touch him to really see what was going on. I didn't think I could handle Looking at him for the time being. I could tell he was messed up, I didn't need to See it.

I brushed the tips of my fingers lightly through his hair, seeing what was supposed to be his eyes as they watched me with no apparent care that a complete stranger was touching him. What I got wasn't good.

No doubt his memories had been tampered with. When I looked inside, all I could sense was confusion from him. He had no idea who I was. He had no idea what was wrong with him. No idea anything was wrong with him. And no idea who Ryan was. I couldn't b believe that whoever - ah, whatever did this went far enough to erase his own father from his mind.

I tried to send my own feelings of comfort to him while I continued prodding.

Nothing was possessing him, that I was sure of. There wasn't enough of him there to possess. Metaphysical chunks of him were missing, but it wasn't what had left him in such a state. Whoever had been tampering with memories had gone all out on the kid. They were there, somewhere, but I couldn't reach them. I when I tried, something akin to a flash of heat struck me and I withdrew my hand.

That doesn't make any sense.

"What's wrong with my son?"

I turned to Ryan, realizing I must have spoken aloud. "I don't know. Something touched him, something dark. It was essentially eating him." But it didn't finish. That's where it confused me. What we are, who we are, is made up of our lives, our memories. Something or someone had taken those memories away from the boy, making it so he was nothing more than a living doll that was unable to fend for itself. If things were left this way, he'd die. Maybe not next week, but by the end of the year. People can't live without their spiritual selves. It was like taking away water from a person but worse because it was slower and a hell of a lot more painful. If he didn't have his memories to fight against all the missing parts of his spirit, they would only keep rotting away until there was nothing left. I'd seen several people lose bits of themselves before, but as long as they were strong and carried on with their lives, they were fine. Joshua was defenseless.

"Where's this mark?"

"Something was eating my son?"

"Where's the mark?" I snapped. I took a deep breath and looked away until I was ready to face Ryan again. "Yes, something was eating him, but not physically. I can't fix it, but I might still be able to help him. It will take a while before he's back to his normal self again, but it will happen. In order for me to do that, I need to track down whatever it is that caused it so that it won't happen again."

Our eyes met and I quickly looked away before anything started. Ryan had enough to deal with that adding all the crap that was me wouldn't help. "I'm trying to help you."

It took a while, but Ryan sighed, stepping forward and pulling up Joshua's shirt over his chest. On the left side, right were the heart would be, was a small hand print. There were half inch long veins that sprouted out from it that were equally as black. I would have thought it was a burn mark, but it looked more saturated than it did dried out.

I reached forward, hesitating over it. Even without touching it, I could feel its power. Power enough to eat the life out of the kid. Yet it hadn't. I drew back. Maybe when Thomas came, I'd try and see what I could figure out. Dark magic was unpredictable. If something happened to me, I wanted Thomas there to stop it.

"How long has he been like this?"

"Four days," Ryan whispered miserably. "I've had doctors and people like you come to see him, but none of it helped. The last person I brought up here- she took one look at him and left the house. She gave me your number before disappearing."

I raised an eyebrow. "What was her name?"

Ryan shook his head. "Tanya, I think. She said she didn't actually know you, but that you were the person that I should talk to."

That was a strange but not entirely unwelcome thought. Because of Elaine and I, it seemed that most of the members of the Paranet now knew my name.

"If this has been happening to you regularly, do you mind if I stay the night? My partner won't be getting here until later this evening." Gods, I was starting to sound professional. Maybe the black magic was getting to me.

"There's a guest room down the hall. My wife and I sleep on the first floor." Ryan didn't look very comfortable with that. "Joshua can sleep with us."

"I came out here to help your son, not kidnap him. If you're worried about it though, I don't see the harm. Once I get a trace of whoever's been coming around here, I'll see if I can get some information."

"I don't mean to distrust you, but so much has happened. We couldn't handle it if something worse happened to him."

"Now that you bring it up, where is your wife?"

"She works in town." Ryan brought up his wrist and stared at a copper-linked watch with confusion. "That's weird. She should be here. I was distracted, and Harper had needed some help at his house so I lost track of time. I'm sorry I was late getting to the station. She should have been home hours ago."

I am really someone who believes in coincidences. Heck, lots of things could go wrong in a day and chance is sometimes all I have to go on. But something small like being several hours late when someone who was claiming to be a wizard checked on your sick son - well, I didn't think this was a coincidence.

I went downstairs, hearing Ryan follow me. I paused at the bottom of the steps, passing the kitchen and a dining room that had a large door leading out to a veranda, before reaching two doors, one to a bathroom and the other to their bedrooms. I walked in, staring at the desk.

"This hers?" I asked, picking up a hair brush with chocolate colored strands.

Ryan nodded. "Why?"

"Because we're going to figure out why she's so late."