Leo Dracos was bored. He ran his hand through his dark blond naturally buzz cut hair with its' arcane hairline and then his moustache and short chin beard, hoping he could find some lice. No such luck. He was a naked scaled European Dragon, not a Meso-American Plumed Serpent. According to Dad, Quetzalcoatl and all his kin had departed centuries ago when, because of a 30 year drought, Calakmul was deserted and human sacrifice was introduced to Copan just before it's fall. Quetzalcoatl's lot had their own pad somewhere south of The Dragon Towers.
The work was just boring paperwork. Really, Rex was more suited to this job, as he would have a whale of a time using his coercion to boss the overbearing cops around and cut them down to size. Which was why Dad had put Rex into the small private security firm that we relied on. The only good thing about this job was the uniform and even that could have better colour coördination. Leo had been manoeuvred into the Portland police force so that Dad could more easily get critical Intel. on what surveillance was going on without resorting to dream trance and astral projection. Many of the materials we needed were rare isotopes extracted from reactor waste, so apart from claiming they were needed for medical research, excuses could be hard to find. Other materials we needed were rare earth's, and with the Chinese partial export embargo there were problems here too. The most interesting part about the work was trying to spot new varieties of Wesen trooping in and out, and spying on that two timing murdering creep Captain Renard and his Hexenbeast sidekick. Leo wasn't a Grimm like that do gooder detective, he just sensed when Wesen were Wesen, and, if Leo concentrated, he could make out their true form in mental overlay. The Grimm wasn't too happy at the moment, and there was a double advantage to be had here.
Captain Renard had broken with his Hexenbeast sidekick just because she had lost her powers. Dad thought He could restore them, and a tame lawyer with her arcane criminal background could be useful, not that she could be trusted. We could use her to read out The Riot Act to Renard if he ever crossed us; Dad had used his psycho-creativity to produce a sort of white light paper hologram showing how Renard had murdered his cousin and the chauffeur. As for the Grimm, his fiancée's memory could be restored using a combination of arcane health restorative and The Water of Lake Nostos, as it has the power to restore that which is lost. So Trian had been set the task of diverting some of the production of magical essence to making experimental synthetic Lake Nostos Water. The result was unstable except in the presence of one's own bio-electric aura, but useable. Pity we didn't have Lady Azura's Soul Gem since Dad thought it would allow us to produce magical essence by passing an induction current around the Soul Gem. Our current method used lots of power, was very big, and needed lots of Dad's difficult to make high temperature superconductors.
Over the next few weeks the local situation worsened. The Verat were becoming more and more numerous, and we were having to be more and more careful. Dad felt that more of our doings might be being observed by clairvoyant means than was healthy, and there were open whisperings about The Dread Curse in certain quarters. There was even talk of the Royal Houses getting the services of The Dark One who can perform the most Unholy of Requests. Yet The Dread Curse was still unbroken, and the protective Warding that Dad had created around Storybrooke by tampering with the curse parameters, was holding firm. Normally only outsiders with definite business in Storybrooke could enter, i.e. suppliers and the mailman. Dad sent Trian to San Francisco to try and get some information from The Charmed Ones and their hangers on, but the addled headed feather brains were no help, not that we were on good terms with them because of problems caused by them during our student days. Another possibility was to ask The Source, that is the Daemon King, but that was ruled out; as Dad wanted to deal with Him directly as He had done in Tamriel, since there would have to be a payment made. Unfortunately, Dad had too much to do. Was helping to ghost write the next Elder Scrolls game so important ? Dad's excuse was that it would give us a real idea of what magic use, users and Tamriel were like. Frankly, the Plane of Oblivion is just unreal, but Dad says that it looks like home in some ways.
We now had three homes in Portland. Our original apartment was near the university; Trian sometimes used it when working there. Our main house was near the research labs, but recently we had obtained a mansion type property, similar to The Evil Queen's, abandoned after Wesen Banshee trouble. It came with some nice wooded park land, so we could stretch our wings and exercise the wyverns, err dogs, in private. Of cause there was inevitably some attention, and we had fun playing Show and then Hide and Go Seek with the Grimm and his doggy friend. We also scared them shitless.
Because there must be no prying eyes, Dad decided to do the final assembly of the magnetostatic converter at the mansion. It had required a fortune in rare earth's and radio isotopes, and the use of high temperature superconductors not yet known to current science. We loaded the fat torpedo like canister into a truck and moved it to the water mains repair site, which we owned under an alias, close to the centre of Portland. Unfortunately, there would obviously be objections by the workmen if we just dropped it into the shaft and then sealed the top. However, Dad had thought up a cunning plan which was why we needed a lot of magical essence.
Early next evening, I went up to the floor where Renards' Office was. He was having a cloak and dagger meeting with several Verat who were giving him orders to kill Ian Harman who had reappeared again. I chose the most inconspicuous place to be, which wasn't saying much. Once the Grimm started watching Renards' office, I unsealed the flask of magic essence. As the smoky purple essence billowed out and around me, I unrolled the crude curse and read it out. Activating my pyrokinesis, I then immolated the parchment and the curse activated. I sensed that behind me the Grimm was trying to apprehend me, but I just waved him into the air with my now magically enhanced telekinesis, and while I walked out, waved my hands and set every lightweight object in the room spinning round him, then dropped everything as I exited and ran upstairs to an obscured window. Behind me all hell had let lose as the curse took effect and all the Wesen within the influence of the expanding cloud of essence morphed. People and Wesen were now more concerned about the Verat than anything else, apart from the Grimm who had decided to come after me. I heard shots from the direction of Renards' Office, doubtless of Verat departing this mortal coil.
By the time the Grimm had got to the window, I had jumped, dropped 3 floors, and was scampering off. In the meantime, Rex and Trian were releasing their flasks of essence, the curse flowing wherever it could. Once at the construction site, Dad released the next flask, and in metaconcert with the aid of Rex's coercion and Dad's illusions, we easily cleared the area of workmen. We morphed into Dragon form and moved the truck next to the shaft. After unsealing the next flask of essence, with our combined telekinesis we levitated the converter into the shaft, activated it, and lowered it down with the aid of our farsense.
A blue green cloud of "Dragon Magic essence" now began billowing out as the converter transformed the Earth's local magnetic energy field into a "magical" energy field. All we had to do then was to plug the bottom of the shaft with quick setting cement. In the interest of public safety, Dad then cancelled the curse. We then tidied up so that no-one would suspect were the generator was, used a tried and tested age dependant fractal expansion spell to enlarge ourselves - Dad being enlarged most of all, and flew back home. Why walk when you can fly. We were also sending out a message to those who could understand it. This is Our Patch. This is Our Nest. Don't tread on Our Tail's. You are here on our sufferance. Behave or else.
Once we had rested, Dad evoked a new and stronger curse : all Verat within the Portland city and country area covered by the field of essence would morph into something monstrous. Next day, I considered handing in my resignation. Nevertheless, I went into work and was accosted by the Grimm. I told him bluntly not to look a Verat Free Zone in the mouth. I also told him that if he was a good Grimm, Trian would give him a memory washing treatment for his fiancée.
That shut him up.