Pressing his staff on the floor of the apartment, Harry looked around the walls in satisfaction as the newly drawn sigils glowed a brilliant yellow, indicating their function. The fabric banners he'd hung on either side of his entrance way also fluttered and shined, indicating that the protection wards were now re-enforced and solid. For good measure, the wizard had also taken the time to draw a few symbols into the floorboards as well, in case anything was thinking of digging its way in.
Studying the handiwork, Bob raised an impressed eyebrow. "Very thorough," he remarked.
"Thanks," said Harry proudly. The egg timer that had been sitting on his desk went off. "Potion's done," announced the wizard and hurried back to his lab. He took great care in lifting the heated mixture from the flame. As he poured the green mixture into a small vial, the ghost moved through the lab's wall and eyed the vial that Harry was about to add to his growing collection on the side table.
"Harry, not that I don't find this new zeal for precaution of yours inspiring, but perhaps you're over doing it," the spirit hedged.
"Just covering all my bases," said Harry, corking the brewed solution.
"You don't even know if those two will be coming back."
"True. But if they do, I'll be ready for them."
After the visitation by two very odd potential clients last week, Harry had contact Morgan to try and gain some information. As he'd explained to the warden, two men calling themselves Mr. Ziraphale and Mr. Crowley had come to his store, supposedly to ask for his assistance. Instead, they'd obviously been after Bob's skull and when caught in their deception had calmly exited the store front, despite the sealing wards Harry had activated.
"And you're certain your wards were properly drawn?" Morgan had asked, skeptically.
"Take a look for yourself," Harry had invited. "Completely sealed. Not a single break in the sigils and they just waltzed out without even a grimace."
While the warden had done a sweep of recent magical activity in the city, he informed Harry that nothing out of the ordinary had been detected. His words had the direct opposite effect of what the wizard had been hoping for. Because instead of being relieved, he now had greater worries. If these two men were able to conduct magic without leaving any traces, than god knows how powerful they were. They might not even be wizards. They could be extraordinarily powerful demons. It was in that thinking that Harry had prepared nearly every vanquishing potion in the book as a precaution.
"If they attack you, do you intend on throwing that entire box of potions at them at once?" asked Bob, practically.
"Look, Bob, I just want to make sure I have everything I need in case they come back," Harry defended. "Hopefully the wards will keep them out so it won't come to this. Besides, aren't you always telling me to be better prepared?"
"Yes, but there is such a thing as overkill. And how will you even know which potion to use? Do you plan on holding a short Q&A first to find out what they are to select the correct vial?"
Harry gave the ghost a frustrated look. "I'm doing this to protect your sorry dead ass, you know."
"And I do appreciate it," the spirit replied, sincerely. "I'm merely pointing out that you can put yourself under lockdown for so long."
Ever since Harry had spotted the two men across the street last week, the wizard had been sticking around the apartment. The piles of takeout cartons a testament to the self-performed house arrest.
"It won't be forever," said Harry. "I just want to make sure they're good and gone."
"You have to promise me on your angelic honor that we're not leaving that store until we settle this thing," said Crowley. "I'm tired of this city. I want to go home."
"I promise," replied the angel, amiably. "We'll just explain everything to Mr. Dresden and I'm sure he'll be open to helping us come to a solution."
"I'm only giving this to you to speed things up. I know in the end it's all going to come down to us taking the skull by force anyway."
Aziraphale remained looking optimistic as they two approached the wizard's store. "If you say so, my dear."
"Oh, I know so," the demon insisted.
The store's door was closed and locked with the blinds firmly shut. Reaching the entrance first, Crowley ignored all signs that screamed "Go Away" and tried the door. He felt a mild tingle as his fingers closed around the brass knob. With a smile, he blinked from behind his sunglasses and the protective wards that were barring the entrance quickly dissolved away.
"Cute," the demon drawled as he pushed the door open with Aziraphale following him.
The wizard was waiting for them, it seemed. He was standing at the front with a hockey stick in one hand and a vial of something clear in the other. Aziraphale barely opened his mouth before a bolt of light shot out from one end of the hockey stick. Both the angel and demon ducked the blast, though it caught the end of the angel's coat, singeing it.
"That was a warning shot," said Harry, evenly. "So do yourselves a favor and just walk away."
"Oh, we'll just explain everything to Mr. Dresden," mocked Crowley in a sing-song voice as Aziraphale examined his tattered coat end. "And I'm sure he'll be open to helping us come to a solution. Brilliant plan, angel."
"Now, Mr. Dresden, if you'll just calm down a moment," Aziraphale requested politely, though his mood was visibly dampened by the damage done to his wardrobe. "My colleague and I only wish to talk to you."
"Hey, no need to talk on my behalf," Crowley interjected. "I still vote we take the skull."
"No one is taking anything," Harry said, firmly, holding up the vial in preparation. "How did you get past my wards?"
The demon gave a disparaging snort. "Wizards," he said, shaking his head.
"Crowley, do be quiet," ordered Aziraphale.
Ignoring the angel, Crowley gave Harry an impatient glare from beneath his sunglasses. "Look, Dresden. You're in way over your head with us. Just hand over the skull and save yourself the hospital bill."
"Don't think so."
Seeing where this was going, Aziraphale took a step forward. Unfortunately, the gesture was taken as a move in the offense and Harry pitched over the vial in his hand. The glass easily broke on the angel's shoulder, splashing him in the face with holy water that it had contained. While most of the liquid drenched Aziraphale, a few drops splattered on Crowley's sleeve and immediately began to smolder.
The angel wiped a hand across his dripping face in exasperation as the demon cursed blue murder and immediately stripped off the suit jacket. He threw it on the ground where it continued to smoke. Harry gaped at the polar reactions.
"Right!" Crowley exclaimed angrily as his jacket melted away. "You've done me in a mobile, a flatscreen and now my suit! I liked that suit!" He moved to advance, but Aziraphale held out an arm.
"Crowley, calm down. It's your own fault for conjuring up your clothing instead of purchasing them," the angel admonished. But he did surreptitiously examine the demon to make sure the holy water hadn't actually hit Crowley's skin.
While the demon ceased in moving forward, he glared at Harry through his shades and blinked. The wizard found himself clutching a live duck by the neck instead of his usual hockey stick. The bird honked in protest and flapped its way into a corner when Harry let it go in shock. Rendered staff-less, the wizard pulled out the drumstick he'd been keeping in his belt when Aziraphale forcefully moved in between Harry and Crowley.
"Mr. Dresden, we don't intend on harming you or the skull," the angel promised, accenting his words with every bit of sincerity he was capable of.
To Harry's continued surprise, he felt a natural wave of trust at the words. But after the last few events, he fought the impulse to put down the drumstick and remained staring warily at Aziraphale's placid eyes. "Who in the hell are you two?" he asked.
"That question probably only pertains to me," Crowley volunteered. Snapping his fingers, he ordered up another suit jacket that obediently formed over his shirt.