Ater Life

by Yygriega

Hank Mitchell succeeded in killing Karen before she could help Harry, and now even Harry is dead. (ongoing. more will be added later.)

1. Chapter 1

After Life

(Ghost Story and Cold Days)

Chapter One

So there I was, running for my life… only I had already died and I was for some reason running toward the train. I slowed to a stop and stared down the dumb train with my hands on my hips and feet planted. "You listen here, Train, I'm not a-scared of you!" I bellowed defiantly. "I've faced off voodoo sex cult drug dealers, fought werewolves, lycanthropes, and a loup-garou in the same 24 hours, lost my girlfriend to vampires and the ghost of a wannabe Joe Carol practitioner almost killed my best friend Captain Colin Murphy while cosplaying as me! I've stopped fairies from starting a war that would have rained down apocalypse on the common folk, stopped fallen angels and their psycho ride-alongs from taking an ancient holy relic for goodness knows why, and rescued an old porn mogul from a coven of porn star witches."

"I've stopped a psycho necromancer from becoming a god, stopped a friend's daughter from becoming a warlock, and saved hundreds from being murdered by their favorite movie monsters. Admittedly when there was a power struggle within the white court, leaving a bunch of witches alone with a couple of vampires was ill advised, admittedly almost getting myself arrested hours before an epic showdown with said vampires was in poor taste, as was sleeping with that other vampire… but I killed the ones responsible, and kept Lara in office! I've saved a mobster from fallen angels, though I'd endangered the archive in the process, and let her bodyguard die, but I put her up with the Carpenters, and they love her. I found a mole in the wizard council, and found out I was a daddy in time to touch off a genocide of the Red Court of vampires!"

"And now you've talked to a train. You mind getting off the tracks before the damn thing hits you?" a woman's brisk voice shouted as I felt small strong hands pull me off the tracks in the nick of time.

"Where does that saying come from?" I asked her as she labored to drag me away.

"What is wrong with you?" she asked as she dropped me, falling to her butt. She brushed the long blond curls from her cornflower blue eyes. She looked somewhat familiar, cute as a basket of week-old kittens, and her pert little turned up nose was lightly dusted with freckles. Freckles and dimples get me! She wore a simple pair of jeans with a white V-neck shirt and gray suit jacket that hid a black shoulder rig. "Uh, hello, McFly!"

"Sorry, I was just thinking where does the phrase 'nick of time' come from?" I said, coming to my feet and helping her up. When I looked around I realized we were in an eerily clean subway station, no flyers, ads, decorations, just a single bench, and no one but me and Shirley Temple.

"Yeah, something is definitely wrong with you. Well this is fun and all but we better get a move on." She said in a tired tone, leading to the stairs up and out. We got to the top where a black Harley Davidson Heritage Soft tail with whitewall tires sat ready for us. I recognized it mildly, but couldn't put my finger on where I'd seen it before. She straddled the hog and was suddenly in leather with a helmet that looked solid black all the way around. "Get on the bike."

"Is it safe?" I asked skeptically.

"You're going to be a pain in my ass aren't you?"

"Lets just start with dinner and see how things go from there." I retorted, getting on the bike. She snorted a laugh. Suddenly my head was in a lipstick red helmet and a matching BMX looking jacket rather than my familiar black duster.

"Safety first." She said. I could hear a smile. After riding for a while, I go use to riding bitch on a motorcycle, but most importantly I recognized where we were. I had seen it once before with Agatha Hagglethorn, it was like Chicago's greatest hits all crammed in one place.

"I've been here before…"

"So I heard. We call it Chicago between."

"Between what?"

"Between what, between where, between how, between when." She shrugged.

"Between why."

"No. We're all about the why round here."

"Why am I here?"

"I thought you said we were going to take things slow? See how things go from here?" she jested.

"Why here instead of hell?"

"Or other? From your report I'd say you were a pretty good guy."

"I've made mistakes. Big ones."

"Who hasn't? I was given a choice; heaven or here, and boy do I regret that one! Heaven just sounded so boring." She giggled. "Well since we're skipping foreplay now, I'll just give it to you straight."

"Its been a while, but I think that's my job." I muttered while she spoke.

"You're dead. Big surprise. This place is where folks like me watch over folks who can't let go or died when they weren't supposed to. You weren't supposed to die. Someone cheated."

"I got shot, or drowned, no body's invincible."

"The universe is allegedly infinite, you dig?"

"Sure." I agreed, wondering where she was going with this.

"But that's just each dimension. There are a finite number of dimensions, albeit an unfathomably large number of such, but if too many are crammed in there… think the Mortal Kombat movies. Dimensions overlap; people start seeing things', remembering two different lives at once- chaos and in theory- eventual implosion. Someone altered the natural course of events to create this course of events in which you died. Your mission, if you so choose to accept it, is to unravel that mystery after which you can move on to wherever. I'll help."

She cut the engine and let the Harley glide to a halt in front of a duplex that looked like it belonged in California. The light blue stucco walls were accented with orange stucco window frames. There were black iron bars on the windows, and a stone half-foot-tall wall with decorative iron fence up to my waist resembling a grave yard, and an iron archway as the only way in through the front was overgrown with lavender and vanilla. A cobbled stone path led from the gate to one of the doors through a jungle of violently fragrant plants that gave the same impression as walking past the Dillard's perfume counter. Butterflies and humming birds darted hither and thither and I swore I saw some genuine pixies at a tiny table set by a babbling water feature made to look like a brook with koi chasing each other inside. I rolled my eyes.

"Mortimer Lindquist?"

"Yep. You are dead. Whom else can you turn to?" she said, giving me a skeptical eyebrow. We had shed the biker gear and were normal again. I wore my long destroyed black western shirt, black jeans, black cowboy boots, black leather duster, and… where was my pentacle and shield bracelet? I patted my pockets as my guide knocked on the door. "What are you looking for?"

"My necklace. It's the only thing I have of my mom."

"Mamas boy." She retorted with a snort. I wondered how such a cute little nose could make such a sound but before drawing a conclusion I felt a sudden chill. On marathon night at the drive in, I got to see Harry Potter's prisoner of Azkaban. These floating drowned Russian sleep experiment victims must have been the models. But these looked like after a torturous withering death their eyes were gouged out, and then they were loosely dressed in tattered old thin grey shrouds. It disturbed me on every level.

One looked like he managed to eat off his lips before his teeth rotted out, another didn't seem to have nostrils, instead a melted lump vaguely resembling a nose decorated her face. One was maybe five yards away from us, beyond the iron gate, the other was down the street while a third was far enough away that it couldn't terrorize me.

The woman tisked and pushed me against the door, then drew a SIG 1911 out of the shoulder holster under her jacket. At that moment a tall man in colonial dress emerged out of the overgrown garden with a musket, cleaned it, prepared it, then dropped a peculiar looking ball into it. He took a knee and aimed in. the creature almost passed the gate then glided back like a current pushed it in, then it swept one foot over the ground in the slightest of motions to propel it after us.

"Is it friendly?" I asked sheepishly. The woman aimed in on it. "Didn't think so." I stood between the two armed ghosts and held my hand up to the creepy one. "Back off, buddy!" I tried to command. It didn't listen. "Alright, you asked for it! Fuego!" uh, that's when fire is supposed to pour out my hand and… "Fuego!" I tried again with feeling. Nothing.

"Stop fooling around." The woman scolded me, tugging me behind her. Womp. womp. Womp. The woman let loose three rounds from her pistol. It sounded almost like it happened far away, heard only because I had a metal horn in my ear. The recoil action left ripples in the air that expanded until they vanished. The bullets flashed colors and light and even rays of darkness in constant play until tearing into the creature's head melting it like a flame held to a crayon. Fog bellowed out of the growing wounds that gave the impression someone was projecting a film over it. I said into because instead of passing through the thing, the bullets stayed inside until the apparition's reel show was gone and the puddle evaporated, which actually occurred in short seconds. The woman loaded her bullets back into the clip and holstered the gun.

"What the hell was that?"

"Wraith." The colonial marine grunted, scanning the street.

"Dangerous?"

"Especially so for you. They eat fresh shades such as yourself: there is a sense of life that clings to you… to you especially. What brings you here?" the musket wielding man asked, coming to his feet. He was big boned, brawny, long hair tied at his neck, blue coat, white shirt and trousers, and tall black boots. Aside from his musket I realized he wore an ax.

"Business." The woman said as she banged on the door louder. Suddenly we both toppled into the building. Tingling pinpricks met my skin where I was one with the door until I was through, and then it just felt cold and numb all over. The girl recovered effortlessly and followed the colonial without a word. The house was comfortably furnished and beautiful. What was once a cheesy séance room looked like an old lady's living room, the rest was a man's house but not a bachelor without taste. We were led to an office with a fireplace and a wall lined with books where a short bald, but healthy looking man stood wringing his hands.

"They're back? Where do they keep coming from?" he asked. The colonial bowed courteously to Mort then cleared his throat.

"Young Miss Murphy is here with another new shade, Mortimer." The colonial announced. I looked at the girl.

"Murphy? Like Captain Collin J. Murphy of CPD?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's my pops." She shrugged.

"That makes you… Karen." I said slowly. Colin was an old stereotype of a cop. He was built like a weightlifter, just small enough to still be agile. His military cut hair was more salt than pepper, and he didn't put on a badge without a nice suit. We met when he was investigating a cleaving; I was looking for a lost girl. Apparently a troll was going crazy, hacking and eating anyone on his bridge after dark. The little runaway Faith Astor was about to be his next victim but Colin and I stopped him, and saved the little girl.

He asked me to consult for him on his weirder cases. He stayed in CPD long after normal retirement age until we dealt with one of his guys getting possessed. He broke down after that. It hit him harder than I thought it would. He retired that second, and unfortunately a phantom practitioner wearing a Harry Dresden costume stopped by and gave him nightmares shortly after that.

It was hard and awkward not having him around. I really liked the guy. He didn't hold me responsible but it was obviously hard for him to be around me. I had to rely more on my second best friend, Michael Carpenter. It was a good thing though, because I figured out his oldest daughter was a practitioner, and taught her some stuff. She got a little out of hand as a teen, but I digress. All I really knew of Karen is that she died at 11, and while parents say they love all their kids equally they relate to only one and Karen was Colin's one.

"Oh perfect!" Morty said snapping me out of la la land.

"Hiya Morty!" I said waiving cartoonishly.

"Whatever it is, the answer is no!" he shouted, passing through our comedy trio to head down the hall into the kitchen. "No. no. no." I followed Mortimer, wiggling off the prickly cold numbness and found Karen and the Colonial already in the kitchen looking aloof; Karen seated at the breakfast table, the colonial standing against a wall with arms crossed and lips smirking. Mort continued his "no." mantra and got a single Oreo out of a cookie jar then passed through me again to head into his office and close his door.

"Help me out, mister?" I turned to the colonial.

"Sir Stuart Winchester of the Colonial Marines." He saluted.

"Sir Stuart Winchester of the Colonial Marines?" I asked.

"it is a protracted and complex tale." He answered teetering his head side to side.

"Well Sir. I need to talk to Mort, can you get him to listen?"

"Ye have the looks of a scoundrel, a dandy sprat, and a ragamuffin! No doubt your conduct in Mortimer's presence among the living had led to his disinclination to aide you as a shade." Stu replied, poofing out of the room. Karen giggled again, and then shrugged like she couldn't help either. I shook my head and strode determinately back to Morty's office and SMACK into his door. As I sprawled on the hallway floor, Karen bent over me with a smirk.

"Ghost dust in the paint." She said as if it explained everything. It did actually but damn, it hurt. I touched wetness at my nose as the tiny blond hauled me to my feet.

"I'm bleeding ectoplasm."

"Well duh, what else would ghosts bleed." She said with a fair bit of humor. I felt another chill and snapped my head around, eying the hall and the big old lady room, then rushed to the front windows.

"Uh, the whole house is painted with that stuff right?"

"Heavens no. Just Morty's office, why?" Karen asked, leisurely strolling after me. Just then, chimes began to play until the cacophony was too much to handle. Sir Stuart returned and materialized his musket and axe again then brushed through the front door. I followed after him with Karen on my heels.

"To arms!" Stu shouted to the garden before leading the way off the property. I was expecting to return to Chicago between when I followed but instead, I found myself in the real Chicago, under a foot or so of snow. An entire swarm of soldiers from every decade of American history, Native Americans next to civil war soldiers, next to soldiers from maybe World War II, all side by side as one. There were civilians mixed in; a pair of children the most noticeable.

"Now this is something you don't see every day."

"There was a time I would have agreed." Sir Stuart nodded. "This has gone on for five nights now." I looked at him and Karen's matching look of worry as she produced two kitanas from nowhere, then followed their gaze to a wave of wraiths approaching. Darting through their massive force I noticed black-cloaked figures in small glimpses, filling me with the dread of a swimmer who recognized a shark's fin in the distance. "Tell me, wizard, what do you see."

A breeze carried a chorus of rattling dry screams to my ear. The hoarse call penetrated me to my spine. I looked over them drawing nearer but seemingly held back by something. "A butt-load of wraiths."

"I see now your intellect has been greatly exaggerated." Karen said, jacket gone, feet planted, eyes darting.

"Six in the back… they seem to be riling the wraiths up somehow." I observed after careful attention.

"Good. Those are the true enemy."

"But don't get too close to the other things either." Karen added.

"What are those?"

"Lemurs." Sir Stuart said, sounding it out like lay-moors.

"Shameless, pitiless, -" Karen snarled.

"Fearless? They're always fearless." I suggested.

"I was going to say unrestrained and malicious." Karen shrugged.

"They may not have known fear before, but since they began their attacks on this house, they've learned it fast and well." Sir Stuart added triumphantly. "Positions!" He commanded. The spirits made a four layer dome around the house, possibly even under ground into a complete bubble.

"Wow, when do I learn to fly?" I marveled at the dome of spirits.

"You do not learn how to fly, you must learn not to stand." Sir Stuart advised me.

"There is no spoon" Karen translated. I gave it some thought then decided to drop it until all this was over.

"What do I do?" I asked.

"Survive." Karen snarled as the wave of grey broke whatever held it at bay.

"Talley ho!" I expected Stu to say, no such luck. Instead he said "give it to them lads!" and ear splitting shrieks, manly howls, and numerous other cries of challenge erupted from behind me. Distorted weapon fire, whirring thrown tomahawks, and other sounds of destruction met my ears. I ducked away from wraiths as they glided toward me and watched Karen use some shaolin two bladed water dragon something-or-other technique, and Stu hack through the droves of wraiths with his ax.

I felt a little impotent, ducking danger while letting two complete strangers risk their existence for me. Granted, Sir Stuart was protecting Morty, not me, but maybe Karen was. All the same, I wanted to help. A wraith came up behind us and I spun to deliver a weighted punch, but Stu pulled me back and axed it's head off. "I see that you were a fighter, boy, but now you're a child. You've neither the tools or knowledge to fight in this battle." He warned me. I watched as each wraith was injured, the Lemurs would swarm them, drinking the bleeding memories from the open wounds. If I had a stomach I would have retched.

When the lemurs sprang on us, it was lightning fast. One second they were a comfortable distance across the street, the next I was ecto-pissing myself, flinching away from a loping grab at my face. Karen cut off the arm, shoulder, and head in one angled slash of her sword, then in one liquid movement cut another down the middle with the other. Stuart gutted the third, causing it to stagger backward to get out of his ax's reach. A fourth attacked his back, but he spun in time to chop it at the midsection in a diagonal trail upward as it landed a bony fisted punch to his jaw. Karen cut down the fifth, and the sixth backed away unharmed… yet.

Sir Stuart dashed, as fast as the lemurs had, right past the sixth lemur. It jerked around to look at him, but its head dropped off it's shoulders. The wraith horde receded like a reverse video of smoke filling a room, and the dome of warrior spirits howled yipped and cheered in triumph.

As we headed back a grey nebulous figure rose out of the ground and zapped Sir Stuart with green lightning. Karen attacked with her swords, but was tossed away with green kinetic force, and then Stu raised a pistol and fired at the grey ghost just to have it deflected like magic. Magic, hells bells, it was using magic! I dashed toward it, fast as I humanly could then threw all my 210 lbs. of wizard into the middle of what I decided was it's back. I stared, wide eyed at it's silver green motes of flame for eyes on a skeletal feminine face and punched it hard as I could, fast and frequently as I could, just glad I was hitting something solid. I didn't know what I would accomplish, but I knew I wanted to hurt it bad enough to keep it from re-killing any of us, and I couldn't let up for a second or it would use it's magic against me.

"Help!" she demanded, covering her face with one hand and trying to roll us over and push me aside with the other. I began punching ribs, neck, and chest. Say what you will about hitting girls, undead magic flinging back zappers don't count. I heard impact, saw a flash of cold blue, then found myself breathless on the sidewalk in front of Morty's. I looked up to the nearly ten yards down the road I was knocked from to watch the grey ghost come to her feet by-

"Hells Bells… Bob?" This was Necro-Bob, as I called him, characterized by his cold blue fire eyes, lack of humor, and desire to kill me. The grey ghost dashed forward at the same time I heard a gun cock and a woman grunt "down" then, I dropped to the sidewalk and watched three rounds tear into the ghost, only instead of deflating, the ghost screamed like a teenager that got the wrong car for her birthday and burst into sparkling green mist that retreated down the street in a similar fashion as the wraith army.

"Bloody hell, that smarts." The colonial said, breaking the silence and startling me. Sir Stuart helped me stand while Karen went looking for her bullets. "The damn thing got away again." He grumbled. "Oh well, they will return"

"And in greater numbers." I added in my best old Ben impression.

"Tomorrow, I'm sure." He said beckoning me to follow him back into the house, grabbing his axe off the ground on his way. Just then, we spotted a man in a black hood trying to break into Morty's house. He was actively tugging the framed bars off the window as I spotted him. I ran toward the house, smacking against the iron barred fence like a brick wall, realized duh, ghost, and went around to the front gate.

By then he was prying open the window and wriggling in. I passed through the front door and in a direct line instead of going through the halls, I ran to Mort's door. "Mort! Mort there's a gunman in your house!"

"A what? Where's Stewart?"

"He's hurt."

"What?" this what wasn't a question as much as a sign of alarm.

"He's coming to the door. Get a gun aimed at it and shoot when I say."

"I don't have a gun! I'm an ectomancer not an action hero! Oh god, they cut the phone!"

"You are wanted, little man." The hooded man rumbled. "Come with me if you want to live." Oh I wish he had an Austrian accent when he said that.

"What do I do? Whatdoido?" Mort changed his mantra.

"Oh now you wanna talk to me." I replied indignantly. "What happened to all the spooks? Can't they do something?"

"They're sane! Only crazy spooks interact with the living, and sane spooks can't exactly go around acting crazy." The gunman kicked the door down in one try, folks can't normally do that, and I sped in to stand between him and Morty. Mort was gripping a golf club and swung it through me and across the gunman's face. Rage, fear, and pain howled out of him in form of a scream, then the wild-eyed gunman produced his weapon to train on Morty, while holding his face with the other hand. I felt pulled backwards into Morty, and suddenly I became aware of everything.

As a ghost I had been looking through a cyan filter, but now everything was bright, noisy and stinky. The room was actually dark light-wise, and the attacker smelled like he'd borrowed his clothes from a dead guy and not bathed or washed his clothes in weeks. I lifted my- Mort's arm and called "Defendarius!" just as the gun barked and the bullet shattered against my shield spell. Five more bullets bounced off the shield until the gun clicked empty five more times and dropped. Mort opened his eyes, shot me out of him backwards, and then called "to me." I watched from the floor as a dozen Native Americans poured into the room and spun around him till their turn to fill his body. The gunman grabbed Mort's dropped golf club then swung it at him, but Mort grabbed it out the air, held his hand out to corporealize a tomahawk then in an old apache move with the power of 13 men, threw out the hooded gunman.

"Hells Bells, I thought you said you weren't an action hero!" I laughed. Mort fell to the floor and let the ghosts fade out of him until he could sprawl on the plush carpet.

"Been some time since you've done that." Stuart said proudly from the corner of the room. "Thought you forgot how."

"Me too." He panted from the floor.

"Was that possession? When the ghosts took over?"

"Please, give me more credit than that, Dresden. I controlled them, not the other way around… but for lack of a better word I suppose that was possession. I of them, not them of me."

"How were you not shot?" Karen asked from the doorway, kneeling to examine the gun.

"Dresden was handy, I used his magic." Mort panted slightly less. "Woo, I'm out of shape." He said exuberantly, rolling to come up.

"So can you help me now?" I asked.

"No." he said flatly. "I'm a coward. Whatever ruinous plot you're scheming, ill have no part." Stuart and Karen cleared their throats at the same time.

"Would you not admit that your contact with Dresden has in fact improved your way of life? By his example you had quit swindling poor wretched fools and become in yourself healthier and happier." Stu vouched for me.

"Besides, you're a crucial part of Harry's mission. It can't happen without you." Karen added.

"Mission?" Mort and Stu asked, looking from Karen to me.

"The poor kid can't move on without your help." Karen elaborated. I was mildly insulted being called kid by a technically 11-year-old. "You know how Uriel gets with the ambiguous language, withholding information, and suggestive anecdotes. From what I gathered: this isn't an imprint of a crotchety old wizard who couldn't let go, this is a soul! He has to figure out what collection of events led to his murder in order to pass on."

"Time out, Uriel is involved? Heaven's secret service?" I asked, holding my hands in a T. Karen gave me the 'look around stupid' face and held up the 'here' hand gesture from where she leaned against the door frame.

"He was instrumental in your defense today, Mortimer." Stuart added.

"You sent me in here as a test didn't you?" I asked the colonial. His cocky shrug answered that. Mort sighed, shrugged his shoulders a few times to limber up, then led the discussion to his kitchen so he could take another cookie.

"There's something else to consider as well Mort." Karen piped up.

"Indeed." Sir Steward nodded as if he knew what she was thinking. "The grey ghost has targeted you personally, attacking every night, wearing down the defenses, sending all manors of specter and undead and living alike after you. We cannot hold the defenses together forever. Dresden was apt at finding things before. Have him find and stop this ghost as recompense for your services." Stu suggested.

"Bah." Mort said as an angry agreement.

"Dresden has friends in this city. Folks who can help protect you. And you can always go to my father." Karen suggested.

"No I… I can't do that to Jack." Mort said quietly. "Get your friends to help me, find and dispatch this grey ghost, and I'll do whatever, provided it doesn't involve me fighting or getting possessed by you to make clay sculptures or something."

"You give my love life way too much credit." I advised him as we shook hands. "Thank you." I said to him and sir Stuart.

Chapter Two

I stood in font of the Carpenter family home and looked at Karen standing to my right. She crossed her arms and looked up at the radiant ring of angelic sentries with something like fear or at least apprehension. "You okay?" I asked. She nodded and walked through the fence gate to the front window. I walked up after her and peered at the gathering. Daniel and the little ones plus Maggie who I had asked the Murphy family to watch after, were in aprons and covered in flour, cheerily serving cake to Father Forthill, Billy the werewolf, Marcie the werewolf, Ivy the Archive, Colin Michael Murphy, Charity, Michael Carpenter, and a man in a suit I didn't recognize.

Maggie! My little girl. I remembered Susan showing me her picture, seeing the vision of her huddled hungry and tired but alive, then seeing her at Chichen Itza… holding her until I fell asleep, waking up at St Mary of the Angels in a panic to find her clean, fed, and sleeping in the cot next to mine. But then I had some things to attend to, I left the church, went to my brother's boat, and was just about to pull out the harbor when…

I heard a noise and turned to see my half-brother Thomas come to the fence and stop. The driver of the silver Rolls behind him honked the horn.

Michael tried to stand, painfully, but Michael Murphy stopped him and went outside to meet with Thomas. Karen and I followed him and listened in on their conversation. It was an odd thing; both of us watching our brothers meet each other. I remembered sitting in a trophy room lined with life-sized portraits of women Lord Raith was married to. I sat on the floor under a picture of my mother, crying like a baby. I remembered Thomas showing me his pentacle to match mine, and after soulgazing him to confirm it, we hugged like two bawling children who were just rescued from the dark.

"Hi. I'm Thomas."

"The less evil of the evil vampires, yeah." Michael Murphy talked back. "What do you want?"

"I want to help. The Fomor invasion affects the white court too, and the black court infestation had never been dealt with. Your city is being picked clean; Practitioners getting kidnapped by fomor, innocent mortals being stolen away by vampires. We're trying our hardest to fill the power vacuum left by the decimation of the red court. If there could be cooperation between us-"

"Let me stop you there." Michael stopped Thomas. "Cooperation with vampires?"

"White court is different."

"Because you're the sparkly-no-mess vampires?"

"In part, yeah." Thomas snapped back. "My brother would have had me along to help. You don't have to trust me… I doubt he ever did… but you can use me. You could use the entire white court." I felt bad letting my brother think I didn't trust him. It was a bit more complicated than that. Silence passed, Thomas scoffed at Michael's stern look then shook his head and handed Michael a card then without another word got back in the car and took off.

We went back to the window to watch Michael Murphy report to the others his conversation with Thomas. "It was Harry's brother. He wanted to strike an alliance with us." Father Forthill and Michael had moved to the fireplace, suddenly unable to keep warm. I swear they both looked at Karen and me before shrugging. Mister, my giant cat with a notched ear and bob tail purred against the window where I stood, pawing at me.

"Indeed. Marcone and Raith have been the lead buyers of all the reds businesses and properties. It was startling to see how much of the world the red court truly had power over: All of South and Central America, most of the southwest United States, southern Florida, and Chicago. I wager the CEO of Silverlight industries is traveling too much and left Thomas in charge of Chicago. He's a small force, and his attention would be split between supporting his sister, holding down the fort, and us, but it's an offer that should be considered." The Mediterranean looking man in expensive suit explained.

"Wow, Childs, I wasn't expecting Marcone's best murderer-" Charity began.

"Troubleshooter, please. My repertoire consists of far more than murder."

"-Troubleshooter. I wasn't expecting you to support an alliance with the vampires." Charity continued.

"I don't think of them as vampires. It helps keep my opinions of each of them unadulterated. They are just like us; some have pure intentions, some do not, and some were not in a position to choose before, and are presently trying to make it right." Childs explained.

"He'll eat us if he's hungry enough. Just like when he tried to help those women." Joseph Murphy said, coming out of the hallway. Joseph and Michael were identical triplets. Their brother, James was likely at work at this hour.

"Those women… that was not his intention." Molly argued from somewhere I couldn't see from the window. I thought of watching my apprentice grow from just a little kid.

I remember the day she changed. Her powers were coming in, and I started advising her about them. She must have gone researching the subject and run into occult fan-boy mortals. She started dating this boy who was into the whole Goth-punk scene… and drugs. She would sneak out at night, then Daniel would call me and make me track her down and bring her home before she got into too much trouble. It was getting to be a bi-weekly occurrence. He knew she was under age but pressured her to have sex, She at least remained firm about that. So one day he got doped up with her other friend and got that girl pregnant. Her friend's boyfriend left her, but Molly didn't leave Nelson. So I told Charity and Michael what was going on. We grounded Molly, but of course with her considerable talent at magic, she escaped.

I tracked her to some horror convention, where I saved a man from being beaten to death by Hammer Hands- yeah from the movie- and a crowd of folks from being killed by Reaper. In the long run, it didn't help a whole lot. Many people died, but at least Molly never passed that point of no return into becoming a dark witch. "You don't understand how it happened. Skavis killed all of them, Thomas just fed off of Elaine, but Harry stopped him before he could kill her." Molly sounded like she was trying and failing to put a lid on her emotions.

Elaine… my first love. There were too many emotional memories there. The most recent and vivid was Elaine, withered and white haired in a hospital bed, telling me she still had feelings for me. She thought she was dying. When she recovered, she told me she couldn't be with me: that I was capable of moving on and I should, because she was weak around me. I remember breaking half the things in my apartment after that and hooking up with Lara for the night. I was doubly grief stricken. Give me a break.

"How can you defend him, he's gone after you too." Michael Murphy demanded.

"I've soulgazed him. I know him better than all of you." Molly said sternly. The others murmured arguments.

"Enough of this bickering. Its clear you've all already made up your minds. So we won't trust the vampires, even Harry's brother. But we should admit to ourselves even good people make mistakes." Will shouted over the arguing people. "Now down to business." He nodded to Marcy who stood. Marcy was a mousey little thing. In a crowd she would be overlooked, but she was second in command of the Alphas even though Georgia was Will's wife. Georgia wasn't an Alpha any more after Kirby and Andi died. Since I met the Alphas, they had dwindled from 12 to 4. She decided she would focus her one-trick act on healing magic and continue her education as a shrink.

"I've tracked the Fomor activity to Jackson Park. They have fortified the island in the middle of the lagoon and begun construction of strongholds within." Marcie reported. "They must have been working on the fort at Jackson since Harry died. Six months is the kind of time it would take to build those walls. I'd be startled if it took them any less."

"We have to coordinate a raid- now." Daniel chimed in. "We have the swords."

"Daniel." Michael Carpenter warned his son. Daniel sat obediently among the others. As I looked at each person assembled memories fled to mind. And I thought it was an internal reaction, keeping to myself about it, but when I heard a car arrive and saw James helping his injured old warhorse of a father out of the car and walked with him to the door, I looked to Karen and saw her memories play over her skin like a projector image.

I saw Marion holding two newborn babies while Colin asked Karen if she wanted to hold the third. Then Colin complimenting Karen on her costume and her turning to look in the mirror at herself dressed as a noir detective with gray makeup making her look obscured by shadows except around her eyes. She was a husky tomboy with hair to her hips. Her mother must have forced her to look like a girl most of the time. Her mom rolled up her hair in a classic up do then put the fedora back on her and handed her a long cigarette filter, like Cruela DeVille had. Karen posed in noir fashion and slowly lifted her head to reveal her eyes and her parents laughed and applauded.

I tore my eyes away from Karen's memory show to find Sir Stuart beside Morty, being led in an arm lock by Elizabeth, James's girlfriend and another cop, and Butters close behind. Colin went on inside but James stood between Morty and the door. "He was sitting in his car watching the house for a while. He says his name is Mortimer Lindquist." Elizabeth reported.

"He's a colleague of Harry's; an ectomancer." Butters explained.

"Why are you here?" James asked.

"Harry needs your help." Morty stammered.

"Harry's been dead for half a year." James snapped at Morty.

"Half a year?" I asked Karen. I looked back to her and saw a little 11-year old girl in a night dress with Cinderella depicted across the front. Her socks were pulled all the way up to her knees; one striped, one star spangled. Her arms were about the only skin that showed and even those were cloaked in the mass of thick long curly blond hair. She was husky, with chubby cheeks, sturdy trunks for legs, and strong looking arms. Aside from her baby doll face, she probably never thought she was a pretty girl, just one of the boys. She was pressed against the window staring at her father.

She turned to nod to me then turned back. "Its May 9th." She whispered in a child's voice.

"But there's like a foot of snow." I said looking under my foot like there was a dog poop smell investigation under way.

"Hellooooo- ectomancer!" Butters added. "He must be talking about Harry's ghost."

After careful deliberation, James nodded sternly and grunted, "Bring him in."

I, through Mort, was extensively interrogated before people felt sure enough that he was legit. They started work shopping ways to streamline the process, especially considering Mort repeatedly asking if he could leave now.

"Perhaps you should remain here. The angels would protect you from spirits." Sir Stuart suggested.

"These are violent dangerous people, Stuart." Mortimer whispered to his ghost companion. I looked around at my friends and aquaintances. They had changed since I'd seen them last but I didn't think any of them were bad people.

Despite our puppet act, I think what really convinced everyone I was me was Mouse standing on his hind legs and licking my face. After that there was hardly a dry eye in the room. Mort was allowed to go home and Butters asked Bob, who he kept stored in the shell of a flood flashlight, to do something. Everyone seemed to think Butters just learned new tricks but I knew he had a lovely assistant who was the real magician. Bob made a sphere around him like those at-home planetarium lights. Everything went tinted in cold blue, and little Karen and I became visible while inside Bob's ecto-tarium.

"Karrie!" Colin said, sliding from the couch to the floor. His knees were bad, it had to be painful, but he got down on her level and tried to touch her face. He of course went through it. He blinked away tears. "What are you doing here?"

"Daddy." She whispered. I saw another scene pass over her; a memory of her seeing a demon every time she closed her eyes, and of her laughing hysterically, killing baby birds, their family bunny, and the neighbor's dog. I saw her at psychiatrists swearing and screaming and telling in detail about the war at the gates and how she figured out a way to bypass the winter forces into the mortal realm. The whole while the real Karen was creaming for the demon to stop and leave her body. She would hold iron nails from her father's shed to keep the demon away, and in a struggle against it carved holy symbols into her own skin before stabbing herself in the leg with it.

She remembered the searing pain like someone was digging through her back and out her chest, crying while exorcists tried and failed to stop it, then the memories were no longer first person, but from the corner of the room. She looked at her body and it sat up, laughed at her, clawed the marked skin off her body, and tore out her hair until raw bloody meat in the shreads of a Cinderella nightgown were all that was left. The bones popped and protested as she moved like a creature not intended to walk upright to the window to break out, laughing into the night.

"I'm so sorry, baby…" Colin cried. "It was inside me. I tried to stay away from home, to keep you safe, but that man took it out of me and put it into you. He said if he couldn't have you, He Who Walks Beside would get you." Colin bowed his head and James and Michael dropped to his sides.

"Holy hell, He Who Walks Beside is a big time bad ass outsider. There's our dimension, then the nevernever, and the story goes: the Fairy Queens keep us safe from a third dimension called the outside. The Outsiders are basically steroid pumped super demons from the galaxy of terror! No one could have stopped it."

"I should have shot you in your sleep that night, and saved you from all of that suffering." He said a bit darkly for the always calm and cool man I had come to know Colin as. "Or maybe if I had known Harry sooner." He looked up at me and sighed shakily.

"That's why you were so shaken up by what happened to Maloney." I surmised, thinking about the man, tied to his bed stained in sweat and waste, laughing and screaming. "What ever happened to the mystery man and the outsider?"

"Still at large." Colin growled angrily. "Why are you here, Karrie? Can't you move on?" it took Karen considerable effort but in a blink she was the 30-year-old again and she smiled sadly at her brothers and father.

"You kidding me? Who else was gonna look out for you?" I thought of all the times Colin should have died in action but was saved by small coincidences. Was that all Karen? I shook the thought. There was business to attend to-

What sounded like trumpets began to blare and Charity shouted for everyone to get down, pulling the stiff legged Michael Carpenter to the ground with her. A rip of gunfire shattered the windows, and I hit the ground. Karen snorted. "Already dead, remember?"

"Oh yeah." I answered sheepishly. The shots stopped, tires squealed and Karen produced her motorcycle and pulled me by the collar to hop on. After revving it, she peeled out, ramping off the couch and leaping through the wall of the house to hit the lawn, bypass the white picket fence and barrel down the street after a pickup truck full of- Jesus they were just kids! "What are we doing here? Its not like we can do anything to them, can we?"

"Watch and learn rookie!" Karen exclaimed exuberantly. "And listen close. We can't touch flesh or objects interacting with it. While shades can interact with physical objects, we don't expel enough energy on our own to really do much."

"You have to borrow that energy from somewhere else."

"Yep, Fig Newton's first law. An apple that is in motion stays in motion until an outside force eats it." She said back to me "Or whatever; I never made it past middle school remember?" she laughed.

"Physics lessons from an 11-year-old." I mused. Just then, the truck hit some ice and jostled a bit. Then Karen sideswiped the truck and while it wouldn't have normally completely lost control, the truck spun, through us, and hit a pile of snow left beside the road by snowplows. The truck stuck sideways into the cylindrical berm of mud colored snow and the engine rattled to an end. The four boys in the back were thrown from the bed into the piled snow, and the driver sustained a cut on his head from hitting the steering wheel too hard, but everyone was alive. I felt relieved.

The stunned gunmen stayed where they landed, dumbfounded for a while. We were where they spun out, a few yards away and side face in the middle of the road. "You rebel." I complimented Karen.

"Lesson number two." She said cheerily, getting rid of the ghost bike. Be over there." She pointed at the wreck. "Don't think- just be… over there." She explained, poofing like before, and showing up by the boys on the snow. I recalled using an escape potion, flying apart, and coming back together in another place. With surprisingly less effort that I thought it would take, I poofed and reappeared by Karen, facing the wrong direction. She giggled and turned me around. "You'll get the hang of it." She advised me.

"So now what?" I asked her.

"You tell me, smart guy." She answered.

"Can we possess them and make them turn themselves in?"

"We can't possess the unwilling. That's something only devils can do." Karen replied curtly. Duh, she died of demonic possession- then you went and said the p word like a dolt. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"Lets follow them to their hidey hole then tell the others where to find them."

"They're kids."

"Ill be sure to mention that part too." I assured her.

"There's another thing to consider." Karen advised me as we watched the gunmen collect their things and abandon the vehicle. "The sun is coming up soon. We have to be on hallowed ground or behind a threshold by then."

"You go on. No use both of us risking it."

"You don't get me at all." She scoffed. "Its my job to protect spirits like you- especially you. I'm not leaving your side." She slugged my arm. "So don't fuck me on this."

"What this? I'm more romantic than this." I said gesturing at our surroundings. She snorted and rolled her eyes as she tugged me after the boys. I got to practice poofing while we followed the kids to a long abandoned manufacturing facility, where they slipped between two doors held together with a sturdy chain and into the darkened building. The leader, a well-bronzed redhead, flicked on a red L-shaped flashlight and led the way.

"I wonder…" I broke the silence. Karen was a step behind me and to my right. She flicked a look of askance to me but continued her vigilant sweeping glances at the new surroundings. "I'm not exactly biological any longer. There's no reason I should need light to see, right?"

"Nope." She agreed. As if on cue, the room became as vivid as if someone turned on all the lights.

"There is no spoon!" I exclaimed triumphantly, kicking off the ground and hovering over the kids. The leader stopped then looked around.

"Fitz?" whispered the shortest kid.

"Thought I heard something…" the leader, Fitz said. Karen hovered to his right while I was to his left.

"Hells bells, can he hear us?" I asked. Fitz's shoulders got tense and he tucked his head between his shoulders like he was cold.

"I'm thinking that's a yes." Karen said examining the boy. "Amazing. Another medium, what are the chances?"

"We should tell Mortimer. He might help the kid hone his talent."

Karen snorted. "What sane mortal child would want to be better at communication with the dead?" Karen asked.

"The dead?" Fitz asked, stopping in his tracks.

"Yeah buddy, were dead. And you can hear us." I answered.

"What's going on Fitz?" another kid asked.

"Nothing. I need some rest is all." Fitz excused. I took a good look at the kid. He looked abused, neglected, but strong willed, well built, and tall. He wasn't even done growing yet. If he were in a different environment, he could be something. They came to an open space with skylights, a couple half busted tents redneck rigged to stand right. One was almost entirely covered in duck tape with a ruler and wire hanger holding it up.

There was a man waiting for them, baldhead covered with spell tattoos, beard patched with black brown and grey. He was cooking canned beans on a grate over a fire in a steel barrel. "Did you kill them?"

"We shot into their home. Sent them a message." Fitz reported.

"I asked if you killed them." The man demanded. Fitz took some time literally chewing, weighing the decision of how to answer.

"…No." instantly the man strode across to Fitz and backhanded him, in a blink of an eye. He had a little bit of power.

"Food is hot, boys. Eat. But not you Fitz. You deliberately disobeyed me."

"Yes sir." Fitz grumbled, holding his cheek. Baldy sneered then spat on the boy and walked away.

Karen slid her fingers over the boy's red hair and whispered, "don't." I examined the boy and saw true rage in his eyes.

"Its what he wants." I added. I remembered Justin DuMorne, my old mentor. I remembered the cult-like upbringing and how afraid I was of failing him… then how afraid I was to stay with him. "He wants to make an example of you. Don't give him the chance to knock you off before you become a real threat."

"Think of the children." Karen added. Fitz looked back at the others who hadn't touched their food yet, watching and waiting to back the boy up or run or whatever they would deem appropriate. Fitz puffed out air and climbed into his tent the duck tape tent. The boy curled up inside a sleeping bag, shivering and gut gurgling from hunger. There was a clanging sound of a can being set by his tent flap then he opened it and a mostly-eaten can of beans was left, with no one responsible. Fitz reluctantly if not cautiously accepted it, ate the two spoon fulls graciously, and then tossed the can. When he got back into the tent another similar sound brought him back out to see three more comparably emptied cans.

"I got the feels." I said to Karen.

"Heh, yeah, me too." Fitz agreed, quickly eating his food and tossing the evidence. We had a circuitous conversation with Fitz about our existence and his options to get out of this bad remake of Oliver Twist, but we came to realize nothing short of Dorothy's house was going to free him of his oppression.

"Harry, the sun is coming up." Karen tugged on my sleeve. When I looked that way, she was standing on the ceiling, looking out the East window.

"Crap… Hallowed ground. Graceland Cemetery! I told her. Before I knew it we were on her bike, tearing down the road at autobahn speed. She leaned forward and ordered me to hold on. Once my arms were tight enough around her, we poofed half a mile forward facing another direction to go down that road, and the other two turns we had to make were done in similar fashion until I was pointing the way to my grave. I half expected to find my body, but it was still a gaping hole. We teleported- yeah, way cooler word than poof- into the hole sans Harley, then sat in the hole watching the light move down the wall toward us.

"Do ghosts sleep?" I asked idly.

"We can." Karen answered. I nodded, and then put my head on her shoulder before drifting to sleep.

Chapter Three

"You're new." A sweet child's voice said to me. I opened my eyes to see little Cinderella Karen curled up snoring with her head on my lap and another young child in Victorian dress with parasol peering down my grave from where she swung her feet over my headstone. I woke the sleeping child then teleported to stand by the girl.

"Hello."

"How do you do?" the child asked.

"Well thank you. My name is Harry."

"Yes the late Harry Dresden. It's a pleasure. My name is Inez." I blinked at her then turned to the open glass case her statue belonged in. the stone crafted to look like a wooden bench sat empty within the case. "So is it true?" she asked as my mind reeled with questions. Karen, an adult again, flanked the child.

"What true?" I asked.

"Did you die, doing the right thing?" she asked, spreading her feet and pointing to the inscription on my head stone.

"Ah… I'm starting to doubt that." I said pensively. From what I gathered, killing the entire red court caused a bunch of chaos, and the nastiest of nasties were crawling out of the woodwork to order it to their liking. And I had been too dead to help protect my loved ones. Inez shook her adorable little head.

"You want to play with me? I like to play a guessing game."

"I have things I must do. Will it take long?"

"Oh yes, years, but you can do both."

"Okay…" I trailed off.

"I guess what you shall be, and in a few years we will see if I'm right."

"I get it now. Okay, what shall I be?" I asked, spreading my arms for her careful appraisal.

"I think you shall be… a monster." She said, satisfied with her deduction. Karen sniffed as an odd sound of disagreement. "No?" Inez asked Karen.

"No." I answered.

"Oh but people do so enjoy monsters." Inez replied. "They sing about them, read about them, and shape themselves after them. Monsters have incredible power… and choice. They shape the world."

"And hurt people." I added. Inez laughed.

"Harry Harry, hung from a tree. Afraid to face his destiny." She sang. "And you… you will be an angel" she referred to Karen.

Karen snorted again. "I'm no angel."

"You aren't the ghost of a little girl." I realized aloud.

"Oh? Then why do you look so haunted?" she asked pointedly, turning to skip away. I heard a child's giggle but Inez was nowhere to be seen. Another ghost resembling a man wrapped in a big black sheet over his head, hovered by my grave. I could barely see a face in the hood, and decided he must be Eternal Silence.

Karen and I both jumped at the sudden appearance. "Oh hello." Karen greeted it, holding her chest to display her shock. Silence bowed. "I don't suppose you're run-of-the-mill undead either, huh?" Silence shook his head.

"Okay…" I said, exchanging a look with my little blond friend. "What do you want?" we stood watching the cloaked figure hover, sheet flapping in the wind for some time, deliberating on how to answer.

"TO SHOW YOUR PATH." If foghorns could form words, it'd still not contend with the voice of Silence. My body nearly vibrated apart. Karen and I staggered, clutching our heads. "UNINTENTIONAL. MORTAL FRAILTY."

"Stop! Stop, we get it!" I shouted at Silence. We need a way to communicate. "My path… is this related to what Karen is helping me do? Find how I died?" Silence bowed slightly. Before I got anywhere with my interrogation I noticed wraiths all around, their ragged cry haunting to my ears. In a flash I was on the back of Karen's bike as she fishtailed before taking off through the front gate. I looked back. "Those are supposed to be shut at night."

"Well it was good for us it wasn't."

"But bad for Morty." I added. We rushed to Morty's too late. His home was ablaze and the spirits stood on the street watching CFD put out the blaze. We came to find out the grey ghost brought mortals with fire, then had him taken away. Sir Stuart gave me his musket and turned into a dumb normal ghost, no longer solid as fire even burns away memories. That was when three lemurs attacked us.

Karen ditched her bike and produced her sword. I wished I had my staff for all of a second before realizing something. The musket wasn't my weapon of choice, but the staff was. With some effort of will the musket in my hand became a wizard staff. The first lemur whizzed past my left, bumping me into a spin. I used the momentum to arc my staff in a violent swing, then teleported to the lemur so I cracked it in the jaw. Poof I hit it, poof hit it again, poof again, until it was leaking memory mist from it's head, face, and stomach.

Karen had a similar tactic for dodging their clawed swipes at her. With one liquid movement she sliced up the center of one lemur, poofed behind the second, who had lunged at her from another direction, then dropped to a knee to slice the other in half sideways. Then the swords vanished without special effect or pretense. There was a crunch of snow nearby and we realized we were inside a garish orange spotlight coming from a flashlight held by a man in full white snow gear and ninja mask.

"That was cool!" Butters exclaimed, coming closer. "I came to chat with the medium a bit but the house was on fire."

"They took him! They took Mort." I told Butters.

"Let go tell the crew."

"Back at the Carpenters?" I asked.

"It's the safest place in the city. The angels keep supernatural threats away and play trumpets when potential danger approaches. They don't have the best judgment of what's a threat or not but they try I guess." Butters explained. "Molly, and Charity put up wards around the house."

"Yeah I felt them. Wait, Charity is practicing again? She gave it up, said it went away." I asked Butters.

"You knew about her power?" Butters asked.

"Harry. One can't actually lose their natural ability. That's why Charity still passed the magic gene to Molly. Charity is becoming powerful too. Faith changed her. She might even be wizard level." Bob explained.

"How did Michael take it?" I wondered aloud.

"He talked to Father Forthill. Spent the night at the church, but when he came back, he forgave her for lying, told her she had repented enough, and they've been happier. She does this spell that kind of looks like armor made of light, and the ward was mostly her." Butters reported.

Back at the Carpenter home I found my way to a room with a bunk bed and pull out bed. Mouse was on his dog bed at the foot of the top bunk ladder; Maggie and Ivy were cuddled on the top bunk, while Holly and Alicia Carpenter were on the bottom. Molly had the pull out bed to herself. I scratched my dog's ear then watched my daughter snore, one leg out of the blanket, the other over Ivy's hips. Some fallen angels shaved Ivy's head a couple years back. She said she actually didn't mind and maintained a pageboy haircut since. I brushed my fingers over the girls' heads and the two bundled their blankets closer from the chill.

I went to the living room and explained to everyone what had been going on with Mort and how I found the kids and their cult master so a plan was enacted. Elizabeth, James, Daniel, and Father Forthill would handle Fitz and company while the other Murphy triplets and their Vikings, yes Vikings, Einherjaren to be exact, would storm whoever had Mort. All that was left was finding where Mort was being held. There was one more thing I had to tell them; Necro-Bob.

Karen cleared her throat from where she stood to my right and I realized I was in the middle of my own investigation. "Oh yeah, anyone know who killed me?"

"Hank Mitchell." Joseph answered. "Forensics found a range of where you were shot from and we had uniforms sweep the area. We found a deer rifle with his prints all over but here's the odd part. Hank Mitchell is some college kid studying quantum mechanics or something. The hotel security cameras showed an old guy whom kind of looks like the kid. We thought his pops Arthur Mitchell could be our suspect, but the guy is already in prison, and beside that, he doesn't look a thing like the kid. Its like there's two of them." Joseph explained. "And pops swears up and down that the guy who transferred the outsider from Dad's body to Karen's is the same guy as the shooter."

"What if he is? Why kill Karen and then kill me?" I asked confused.

"Beats the hell out of me. Through facial recognition software we caught him at the airport. When we checked it out he had gotten on a plane to Australia with some big booty red head. They seemed really close." Joseph looked at adult Karen intently, and then dug into his bag to pull out the case file. "We got an agent… Tilly from the FBI and Chung from Interpol aiding us. I'm head of the investigation within CPD actually. Here they are." He produced two photos.

One was Hank Mitchell in a University of Connecticut ball cap, shoulder length iron hair in a ponytail, a stubbly face that could pass for 30, and a generally unremarkable appearance. The other was the woman. She wore a stretchy yellow pencil skirt that drastically accentuated her wide round hips and shelf of a rear, Kelly green silk blouse that had a small peephole to show a bit of her modest cleavage, and gold jewelry. She was pushing her vintage sunglasses up onto her head in the photo, revealing a face startlingly close to Karen's. I reevaluated the woman against Karen and realized they were the same, only colored different. The woman had black irises and dried-blood-red hair with a slight tan, while Karen had angelic golden curls and blue eyes with pale, dare-I-say pasty, freckled skin.

"Why does she look like you?" I asked Karen. She stared at the photo in disbelief, disbelief that became terror, denial, and then terror again. Reading her expressions and kicking my brain into wild leaps mode I asked, "Is that He- She Who Walks Beside?" I asked Karen, holding her shoulders. Ghosts cant really breath, but Karen was hyperventilating. Her chest heaved with panicked breaths, and she shook like a Chihuahua. I tucked her into a tight hug and looked over to Joseph's pained face.

"When it was all going on… Mom took us to our aunt's house in Wisconsin… we had a sister for six years, went to aunt Robin's then came back to the house stripped of any sign she ever existed." Michael Murphy said from another corner of the room.

"I missed her so much, and Dad… Dad just drank and worked and drank and… Mom almost left him. We all moved out the house, had it torn apart, and agreed to move on. Us boys went to boarding school, Lisa got spoiled rotten, and Dad still buried himself in work but stopped drinking." Joseph explained. "Lets hunt this bitch down and tear some vengeance out her fat ass!" Jo hissed. Karen made an indignant sound considering she had the same exact ass.

"Vengeance sounds pretty good." Michael agreed.

"Slow your roll boys. These two are in another country. Let Interpol find them."

"What's Interpol going to do against a steroid pumped super demons from the galaxy of terror?" James demanded.

"Right now we have to save Morty. Put your feelers out for large groups of vagrants that wear hoodies. The ghosts said a bunch of folks in hoodies took Mort after torching his place, and from the smell of the one I met, I'd wager they don't live in traditional society." I told them. I bent down to check on Karen. Its wrong but she was adorable, all pink nosed and blushing from crying. Her eyes were too blue and bloodshot, still pouring viscid ecto-tears.

"I'm okay. Jeeze I'm not a baby." She said defiantly, elbowing me away then smearing the tears and snot off her face with her sleeve. SO CUTE!

"Good, cuz I wanna stop by Fitz's to let him know help is on the way. And then I want to test a theory I got from something Bob mentioned earlier."

"Something I said?" Bob asked, making the cold blue ecto-tarium flicker orange for a moment.

"Yeah… ready?" Karen nodded then produced her bike.

"Hey Dad's Soft tail! That thing has been out of action for ever." Jo said, standing to admire it. Memories of riding around the neighborhood clinging to her dad's broad comforting back from the back of the bike played across Leather clad Karen's surface. I smiled at her exuberant cheers as her father picked up speed. Karen fishtailed, phasing through most of the furniture then popped a wheelie, as we took off in the direction of Fitz's place, in a straight line through half the house. After some of my complaining Karen made the bike ramp from roof to roof, not needing a surface but using them regardless.

"You're like Ghost Rider!" I told her. "All you need is a flaming skull for a head and a chain as a weapon!" she puffed a breath out her nose as a laugh.

We got to Fitz and let him know the Calvary was coming, then I focused for a good two hours before figuring out how to let go of preconception and use my magic again. I didn't need a circle, a detailed spell-enhancing pentagram appeared at my feet around me, Karen stepped back so not to be standing in it and watched me. I pointed the staff and called "Fuego!" and fire, sweet spectral fire puffed out the end like a dragon's breath in a thrill ride.

"What the?" Fitz asked backing away from me and the fire.

"You saw that?" I looked at him, bemused.

"The fire? Yeah!" Fitz exclaimed in a whisper. Okay so not spectral fire. Real magic made fire. I laughed. I laughed like a scientist who just brought a super babe made of mixed babe parts to life and she was like 'how may I serve you, master?'

"It's alive!" I shouted with my hands in the air.

"Too excited." Karen said making a slashing motion in the air with her hand.

Chapter Four

Its swell having a crew of cops on your side: Fitz and his crew were at St Marry of the Angels with fresh food, clothes, and showers, and the location and identity of Mort's kidnappers was hashed out well before Karen and I climbed out of my grave to drive to the Carpenters. Everyone, including the wolves was ready, and a SWAT Bearcat sat in the street with five rhinoceros sized Scandinavian men in full tactical gear with giant battle-axes on their backs. I whistled.

"When do you sleep?" I asked Michael.

"Oh I got this all done by nine. The rest of the day, I played some COD then went to bed." Michael bragged like it was nothing. I thanked him and everyone, then suggested I recon first. There was no need. Michael did that too with two werewolves, James, and Elizabeth. It was go time, Baby!

I went back to Mort's and gathered his ghost defenders then launched a strike from the nevernever. I first summoned my fairy godmother as a guide sense I lost my pentacle. She agreed and through a bit of discussion I came to find out she was training my apprentice and having fun fighting supernatural crime in my absence. For a while I thought she couldn't keep it up forever. She had obligations. "Oh this isn't forever, just until your return." She said reassuring me.

"I'm dead. There is no-" I stopped myself. We were at the destination and Lea had already gone. Aside from that, I wouldn't get a clear answer out of her any way. We arrived on a beach with fortifications like something out of a WWII movie. So we used tactics that worked and made our way through. At the end it was rough and we had to face off against Necro-Bob. Lea's voice rang over the battle urging us to follow, as true Bob showed up and held Necro-Bob at bay. We poured out of the portal and true Bob joined us, sealing Necro-Bob inside with Lea.

The way opened behind a group of cloaked figures standing in a protective ring around where the Grey Ghost was torturing Morty, which was unfortunate… for them. My spirits of murderers past, whom I dubbed 'the Lecter Specters' came out of the portal as a wave, engulfing the lemurs in seconds. The soldier spirits took on the wraiths. Able to cut loose, my Lecter specters became hideous mutated creatures out of a Japanese nightmare.

Something resembling a centipede but the length of a school bus skittered across the floor, gripping with pincers made of a child's arms, and pulling whole lemurs into it's face, which resembled the little ghost boy but with the predator's mouth. The tail end of the centipede was his sister's head, but her pincers were her feet. I could tell because she still had one frilly sock and shoe on one foot. The hundred legs were an assortment of arms and legs no doubt from their victims, the children that they drowned in their river.

And that was the least disturbing thing I saw among the murderous spirits. "Look, the shrines!" I commanded my ghosts. The mosh of spirits rumbled up the stairs as a solid force, plowing through the shrines, weakening the wards. The Grey Ghost wailed furiously and lowered her hood to reveal… well actually she was quite pretty. She was a dead ringer for Maud Adams, though her eyes were a startling jade green, intentional scarring of spell symbols, burns, and tattoos undermined her beauty, and as I looked at her the beauty underneath was layered upon with signs of age, wear, and pain. I was seeing the real grey ghost. I blinked and it was gone, the bond babe visage returned in time to screech in outrage and lash lightning at me.

I lifted my left wrist instinctively, as if my shield bracelet (that I wasn't actually wearing) would protect me. And I never assumed otherwise. A cold blue semi-sphere of revolving circles of protection spells appeared between her green lightning and me. It looked like the inner workings of a combination lock made out of runes. The clockwork churning of spells that made the visualization of my shield shattered the energy of her lightning into sparkling motes. The perfect summoning circle appeared at my feet again and I raised my staff to aim in on the Grey Ghost. "Forzare!" all shades of purple to blue streaked from my staff in a cola of light like a softball-sized meteor. It blew her back from Mort so I could poof to him and conjure fire by his ropes.

"Dresden, get those ghosts away from here!" Mort demanded.

"Its okay, were here to help you."

"You don't understand! She can control them!"

The Grey Ghost smiled brilliant and fierce at me, lifting one hand. My wave of nightmares froze, seconds before smashing the final shrine. I couldn't hide the shock from my face as they turned their heads in unison and trained their too many eyes on me.

"Destroy the shrine!" I commanded. They vibrated, being torn between two impulses until their own wills, the will to kill overcame their indecision, and they abandoned my mission to come after me. I lifted my shield, the spinning cogs of spells rotated to stretch from overlapping in front of me to surrounding me. The specters washed around the bubble then regrouped a few yards behind me to make another pass. I tried to ignore them and free Mort. Another focused fire snapped his bonds at last. He fell toward the pit. "Ventas minimus!" I called. Instead of the circle appearing at my feet, it showed at the bottom of the pit, and wind slowed Mort's fall. I briefly watched him roll then lifted my shield to the wave of spirits. They brushed against it like fish attacking the glass at an aquarium.

"To me!" Mort's voice rang out. The Lecter specters stopped, back in humanoid bodies from the nightmare figures. They swarmed into a funnel over Mort until every one of them was inside his body. Grey Ghost screamed and directed her malice to me. In a flash she was in my space, slashing long black talons at my throat. Poof I stood on the ceiling looking up at her, but poof she followed me with another loping slash. We carried on like this all over the space until the power of the wards went down.

We both stopped, standing on different walls, to look at the final shrine. A creepy chopper motorcycle that looked like it was made of warped, half cleaned human bones revved it's eerie flaming v engine and headlights like two flaming eyes glared across at the Grey Ghost. Atop this bike was what looked like Alejandra, the female Ghost Rider. Armor plated her shoulders down, ending with red wrist guards, her face was a skull, but instead of being engulfed in flames, fire licked around her face and flowed behind her like red hair caught in the wind. She wore a black leather cat suit with tall black motorcycle boots, and a creepy looking sword was slung on her back.

"That's what I'm talking about!" I exclaimed victoriously as she imploded into embers and ash then reappeared about to land on the Grey Ghost. The ghost vanished under the weight of the bike then reappeared behind me, sweeping another blow at me. Alejandra was already on the move, driving along the walls like gravity wasn't a thing. Trailing smoke and ash behind her. I ducked the attack, teleporting back so that I was behind her and swung my staff. When she dodged my swing Alejandra ran her down atop her chopper. An angry shriek pierced my ears; the spoiled sound of a child who was denied a cookie.

"You have meddled in my affairs for the last time Harry Dresden!" the Grey ghost screamed.

"And you messed with the wrong ectomancer!" Mort snarled from behind her. As one voice and yet dozens of voices, the army of serial killers and deranged individuals inside Mortimer Lindquist let out terrifying howls of bloodlust. Mort conjured Freddy Krueger claws, only these were formidable tallons like miniature reapers and they grew out of his fingertips. He threw himself at her, slashing and cutting, and in her panic she forgot she could teleport… for a fraction of a second.

After clumsily dodging two slashes, then being flayed from ear to breast by a downward claw, she teleported behind Mort and tried to drive a knife hand into his back. Dozens of children's hands and a few feet came out of Mort's back to block the blow and hold her still. Mort spun, a scorpion/centipede tail formed of dead child body parts extended from his tailbone to hold her still while he did so. After a few struggling tugs, The Grey Ghost poofed in the nick of time, and got a cut on her face for her trouble. "Seriously, where does that phrase come from?" I asked aloud.

Alejandra was making her way to the fight. Mort's tail reared away from his body and the lecter specters congealed into one sinister terrifying creature. It had 6 knobby legs ended with ape hands, its body was vaguely froglike but when it opened it's mouth the entire top half of the body opened up like a Venus fly trap. The centipede tail whipped side to side. A seven year old girl torso tipping it. She sagged limply, her stringy hair shrouding her face. A scorpion/spine-like stinger protruded from her back, arching over her. The arms of the centipede groped the air. The beast warped across the space to the Grey Ghost snapping its frog like tong at her. She teleported away so it leapt somewhat teleporting too after her.

A thing so big and cumbersome looking should have been slow but what would give me nightmares more than it's looks was that it was not slow. It looked awkward but moved gracefully albeit twitchy like a spider or an octopus. It's teeth almost looked like they were in the gums upside down, the serrated tips resembled the roots of a pulled tooth. The tong had taste buds that looked more like fangs, and perhaps they were; pink fleshy fangs ready to drink in a spirit's memories given the chance.

At last, after watching the poof and punch rutine for a while, with a few well timed slashes from a flaming chain by Alejandra, the lecter specter nightmare beast swallowed the Grey Ghost. Alejandra and I came to Mort's side and he sagged to the ground panting, releasing the beast from his will… and then a strange sound drew our attention to it. I felt drawn in somehow like a black hole had formed in that general area. The nightmares began trying to break off of the beast but to no avail, then mists of memories began leaking from it and sucking into it's mouth. This continued until it imploded and a dramatic burst of eerie green light revealed the Grey Ghost, more powerful than before.

"Hoo Boy." I muttered to the others. The Grey Ghost laughed and howled in triumph then turned her green fiery eyes on me. "You will not deny me my birthright this time, wizard!" she screamed defiantly.

"You've met before?" Mort asked me.

"To hell if I know." I answered. She stretched out her arms and began to draw in energy until a dark cloud formed above her. It became a funnel and lowered toward her. "Oh Hells Bells! She's one of Kemmler's Necro-babies! Corpse taker." I understood. "And if she gets to eat enough spirits she's going to become an undead goddess!"

"We have to stop it!" Alejandra cried out.

"We can't get too close or we'll be eaten too."

"We gotta try!" I wondered where the mortal cavalry was while I began desperately blasting fire at her, but my advances were being swatted aside. I vaguely recognized Mort calling my name, screaming for me to stop but I had to keep up the pressure. Karen's voice said something like I was killing my self so I looked down to see Alejandra only not on fire. Karen's face was worried. Her eyes widened, I turned back to Corpse taker and readied my shield. She slammed against me with great force and for a second I was barreling toward solid ground.

I realized I didn't have to fall and dipped in mid air before flashing to corpse taker's side and swinging my staff at her head. She grabbed it mid arc and pulled me to her, into her. Or at least she tried. I called a torent of fire around her so she made a shield spell around her while I used the chance to escape. I flashed over to Morty's side panting exhausted and Karen stared at me mortified.

"You have to stop slinging spells like that! You're throwing away your memories!" Karen scolded me.

"So?" I asked out of breath.

"You're made of memories!" Mortimer added.

"Just you wait, Dresden. I'll gobble you all up in due time. Once I devour enough spirits I won't need your little medium." She cackled. Then she began to drink from the funnel. I watched as ghosts from all over the city began to be drawn in again. Karen's bike rumbled as she slid sideways toward the vortex then she began to drive away. Gray smoke and embers flew off the bones like burning flesh, sucked into the vortex.

"Harry!" she said in an urgent tone. I teleported between her and the vortex and held her in place. The bike was partially dismissed, but some broke off and flitted into the storm. Karen drooped in my arms, still dressed as Alejandra.

"What am I supposed to do? What is she going to do?" I asked Morty. My coat whipped in the wind, jerking me toward the vortex. Coupled with Karen's weight, I slowly began getting drawn in as well.

"She can manifest now!" Mort realized fearfully.

"BOZ!" Corpse taker ordered loudly. There was a rumbling sound from somewhere far away that I assumed was Boz but I had no time to worry about it. I thought furiously how I was supposed to use magic if it was eating up all my vitality. It was like learning soul fire magic. It was exactly like it. Karen said I was a soul. I had been slinging soul fire all this time. But none of that knowledge got me any closer to defeating Corpse taker.

"Damn it its no fair!" I stomped my foot. "Why can't you be the super necro-god? Why can't I manifest?" I asked Mort. Mort began to answer then it occurred to me. "Stop! I'm tired of being told I cant. I cant because I'm new I cant because I'm dead. But you know what?" The vortex stopped pulling Karen and me, my summoning circle appeared below me, and I closed my eyes remembering all the times I was told no, I would die, or it's never been done, and I rose victorious.

With that thought I remembered my life; not the events but the sensation of being alive; the pain, the embarrassment, the pleasure, the pride. I closed my eyes and insisted upon doing- becoming the impossible. With focus of will I called ectoplasm to myself and formed a solid form. And as my spell word I shouted "I CAN!"

From what I was told by my friends later, every bulb with a current running to it or not within a block suddenly burned to life brighter and brighter until it exploded. The candles around the dark dank and dreary subterranean hide out became man-tall pillars of white flame. And a shockwave vibrated the torrent into a mere mass of spiritual energy that slowly clotted back into individual spirits.

"Manifested or not, she's still just a ghost, Morty. You can take her… and I mean literally. You should eat her."

"I'm a-"

"Yeah yeah, damn it Jim, I'm a doctor not a necromancer!" I mimicked Dr. McCoy at Morty. He sputtered then after some thought straightened up and nodded confidently at me.

"What will you be doing?" Mort asked me.

"Boz." I jerked my head toward the elephant of a man charging toward us. I teleported, sidestepped, and took a knee to land a crpling blow to the big guy's shins with my staff, then teleported again to bring a weighted blow down on his head. I did this multiple times, a technique I learned was most effective for ghosts, but Boz, as dumb as he looked, was a fighter. His thick skin, covered in scars and calloused knuckles told me so. That or he walked on his knuckles and was accident-prone. He blocked my next attack and swept both arms out, backhanding me by calculated chance into the nearest wall.

Though I had my ghost powers, as I assumed I still would, I also had pain again, as I assume that I assumed as well. The activity tired me out, my body grew weary and sore, and the big Lug's hit hurt. Some clattering gunfire grew near at long last, but I couldn't expect to be saved. I clamored to my feet and stood ready for Boz. Behind him I spotted Morty doing some Apache fighting move on Corpse taker, to land atop her and began to suck in her spirits out of her body. It almost looked like a kiss from my vantage point.

A downward swipe drew my attention back to Boz, I rolled to the side teleporting mid roll to come up behind him, staff suddenly back in my hands. I leapt onto his back, put my staff across his throat then leaned away, choking him and hopefully subduing him without the need to take his life. Despite being mindless and inhuman, he was still human and mortal. He bucked and howled then at last got ahold of my pant leg, swung me like a rag doll over his head, and into the ground, face first. "Ow!"

He swung me around again to do it a second time while I was still too dazed to poof away but three round burst broke the near silence to drop my attacker. He fell with three holes in a neat line from cheek up, and the back of his head red paint on the wall. "Dresden!" James said, descending the stairs first in the row. His triplets and girlfriend were in a neat line behind him, firearms trained in different directions including behind. He rushed to my side and patted my shoulder. "You okay?" he asked.

"How are we seeing you?" Joseph asked, never relaxing his vigilance.

"How am I touching you?" James asked.

"I was too stubborn to let a thing like death keep me from fighting." I smiled, clapping a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Is Mort okay?

"The little guy is fine. He's on his hands and knees over…" Joseph trailed off as he watched Mortimer levitate higher and higher. His skin glowed with hundreds of memories projected over it at once. It all blurred and soaked into him until… Morty dropped. The room was lit only by some diminished candles and the triplet's tactical flashlights.

"Well that was anti-climactic. Mort? Did you do it?"

"I… I think so."

"And what? How does it feel?"

"Exhilarating." He said, but hundreds of voices said it with him. I looked around.

"Where's Karen? You didn't eat her too did you?"

"And why wouldn't I?" Morty asked in one man's voice that wasn't his own. Creepy enough a woman's voice answered. "Just because you liked her?" yet another voice chimed in "because she's useful?"

"Mostly cuz she's adorable as a tap dancing baby penguin, but yeah, all that stuff!" I snarled at Morty.

"Relax. All he ate was Corpse taker and what was already in the vortex." Karen said from beside me, still in Alejandra cosplay. I was so relieved. When I looked back up at her I saw she didn't seem happy. She almost resembled the scared little girl shape she reverted to when she slept. She crossed her arms and looked to her right, and I followed her eyes to see Uriel.

He wore his favorite form, an Afro-Latino man about his 40s but still in good shape, wearing janitorial coveralls and work boots. A simple dark wooden rosary rested on his chest, and startling honey/grass hazel eyes looked wisely upon me with smile wrinkles at the corners. "Aren't you a little short to be an archangel?" I asked from the ground. Everything froze around us but Mort and me. Even Karen was still as a statue.

"Appropriate. I prefer it when good and evil is so clearly defined." He smiled openly.

"Hey, you know what 'the nick of time' means?"

"In the past, a marked time like a deadline was called a nick for short. In the nick of time means at the exact deadline." Uriel explained. I laughed.

"How relevant. So am I done here? I found out how I died, helped Mort… kind of." I said to the angel.

"You are." Uriel's smile faded. "Ready?"

"Hell no." I snapped. "Sorry." I mumbled.

"Its fine. There is always a choice, you know. Remain here as a shade or move on."

"To uh… down the southbound train to damnation."

"Why do you assume you're going to Hell?" Uriel asked in an all-knowing tone. I glared at him not daring to hope for any difference.

"Can I say goodbye?"

"Can you?" Uriel asked. I nodded. He smiled. Everything unfroze.

"Guess this is goodbye." I said to the collected Murphys. Karen looked down.

"You could stay here and help me out." Karen suggested, moving closer. "I could use a big dumb boy to help me blow stuff up." I laughed.

"No I'm not the hang around for eternity type, and I don't much cotton to sitting by and watching things happen that I can't affect." I answered.

"But you can." She grumbled like a kid not quite arguing with a parent. I scoffed and ruffled her hair. Poof I was with my daughter watching Colin tuck her in. I sat on the floor with mouse, ruffling his fur until Mister found me and demanded my attention.

"These two go everywhere with Maggie." Colin said into the empty darkness. "They love her like they love you." He leaned over and stroked Mouse's back. "I don't know if you're really here but I think you are… I'll watch out for your little one."

"I know you will." I said back. Mouse turned and licked Colin's hand to convey my message. Somehow Colin understood, then I poofed to Thomas. He was behind a desk, swamped with paperwork, hands in his face, nearly empty bottle of gin and no glass. He was in bad shape but Justine came into the room. Thomas looked up at her and leaned back, then she playfully began unbuttoning her trench coat. I knew where this was going. "Okay Uriel, lets go."