A/n: So this idea was spawned around Christmas when I was dreadfully bored and without a computer in sight. I asked Basium1 for a Dresden/Molly prompt and she asked me to write Femdom.

My initial response of "That's impossible" wasn't followed by a new proposal so I gave it some more thought and shit went somewhat out of control, leaving this at about 10% smut and 90% plot desperately trying to justify it.

It ended up being quite far removed from femdom or even smut, really, and creepy to boot. Be warned and blame Basium1.

Maybe telling Ferrovax to go fuck himself had been a bad idea. I guess I should've had that figured out before saying it - and I sort of did - but in my defense, he was a dick and he had it coming.

So when a vortex cut a hole into reality and began to suck me in, I wasn't unprepared. Defenseless, startled and utterly fucked, yes, but not unprepared.

It sucked me in, as surely as with a tractor beam, and all I could do was think about that lecture I'd given Molly not three hours earlier about self-control and the importance of minding one's words carefully. I've always supported the "Do as I say, not as I do" school of thinking, though.

I plopped down onto the asphalt a moment later and managed to land on my feet. My head spun and I held onto a lamp post until it stopped, then looked around to take stock of my surroundings.

It looked like Chicago. Normal Chicago. At least I hadn't ended up in the dimensions of the hyper-intelligent rage monkeys. I actually wasn't more than few blocks away from my apartment.

I kept my eyes peeled for any differences but the walk to my apartment didn't show me any. Then again, sometimes the deviations are very, very small. I'm a comic book nerd. Trust me, I know this multiverse stuff.

I approached the door to my apartment warily. If bizarro me lived there it might be weird but who better to find out what was going on from? I'd probably be safe from paradox or breaking the space-time continuum since I wasn't actually moving around in time so much as in between worlds. was a risk I'd need to take sooner or later, in any case.

I felt for wards, my palm an inch from the heavy steel security door. None were to be found. There was a threshold - stronger than the one that I'd had back when I lived there - but no magic. I knocked.

It took a few moments and then a bleary-eyed woman in her late twenties or early thirties opened up the door, a young child at her hip. She blinked at me and then eased back half a step, hand on the door. I get that a lot. Being closer to seven feet than six, unshaved, in a long leather duster and toting a staff with mystic runes tends to do that.

"Yes?" She asked tentatively.

"This is going to sound weird and probably stupid but does Harry Dresden live here?"

She frowned at my question. "No. Sorry."

The kid began to stir and I could tell her mother was already losing her patience with me. At least this wasn't my alternate self's girlfriend and child. That was something. I thanked the woman and resumed trudging down the streets, heading for the headquarters of the Chicago Police Department to see an old friend.

It took me awhile to get there on foot and for the old clerk at the desk to reach Murphy on the phone but eventually, I found my way towards the office area reserved for Special Investigations.

Murphy had a little office in a nook and I knocked, then waited outside. I'd been too eager once when I'd made a breakthrough in a case and had ended up frying the hard drive of her computer. I did not want a repeat of that.

"Come in," Murphy barked.

I did so and quickly closed the door behind me, settling in my favorite chair just inside the room, the one with the loose leg you had to be careful not to put too much weight on, and looked her up and down.

She hadn't seemed to change any from one world to another. Maybe this was just the world where I won the lottery and gotten a nicer apartment. Then Murphy drew her gun and leveled it at me. So maybe I was wrong.

"Uh - Murph. Let's not do anything hasty and violent here."

I raised my hands above my head, slowly, displaying open palms.

"We won't," Murphy assured me. "As soon as you prove you're the real Dresden and not a vampire or some sort of spirit."

Ah, yes. Of course. Murphy had gotten attacked by a demon wearing my face once upon a time. Right in this office, at that desk, in point of fact. She had every reason to worry. I'd made sure of it. I couldn't even tell her something only I would know because there was always a chance those things wouldn't fit in this reality.

"If you throw me the swiss army knife you've got in your pocket, I can draw blood. A spirit wouldn't be able to do that. Oh, and it's still day, Murph."

She watched me for a while, then threw me the knife. I fumbled with it with my stiff fingers and Murphy froze. The gun that had been lowering slowly leveled at my head again.

"What happened to your hand, Dresden?"

Ah. Something different at last. Shit.

"Okay, listen," I said quickly. "I'm Dresden but I'm not the Dresden from… Here. From this reality."

Murphy gave me her "Are you fucking with me?" look. I was very familiar with that one.

"Seriously. I don't know where the Dresden from this world is and I'm just trying to figure out what's going on here."

Murphy considered me for a while. She was trying to decide if I was lying or not. She'd always been very good at it and I'd never been a good liar.

"You're either crazy, a demon, or you're being honest."

"Or all of the above," I said, shaking my head. "My hand got burned fighting Black Court vampires. You were there - in my world."

"Never happened. Not here. Harry Dresden left years ago to Central America. I haven't heard from him in a long time."

Susan. I must have left with Susan. I had to go check a few things. Right now. I had to - There were so many things that could have and would've gone wrong without me butting in over the past few years.

"It's lucky I came, then," I said, getting to my feet. "Chicago's going to need a wizard."

Murphy gave me a somewhat puzzled look.

"We've got one already, Harry."

I froze with my hand on the doorknob.

"Who?" I asked. "What's his name?"

"Her name," Murphy said, with a touch of emphasis, "is Molly Carpenter."

Fuck you, Ferrovax. Fuck you.

I peered into the apartment Murphy had directed me to, moving from one side to the other by the doorway. I could see a sofa in the center of the room, a bed to one side, with a curtain suspended by the roof and going most of the way around it. A door led off to a bathroom and a cranny had a little kitchen. Books were strewn on the floor, the spines bent and torn by a careless hand. Pizza boxes were piled by the door, though none of them smelled.

I didn't go in right away. There was a threshold in place but it wasn't a particularly powerful one. The apartment looked more like a temporary place, somewhere you crashed, showered and then left. I'd keep about fifty percent of my magic if I went inside which would leave enough for me to deal with most wizards. It would have to be enough.

Pushing past the threshold I strode in for a closer look, spotting a little worktable in one corner, by the bed. Clothes were piled by the bed, most of them black. I could detect the faint odor of mildew under the smell of scented candles.

One moment I was taking in the sights, finding myself rather liking the place. The next, the world vanished into utter blackness. Panic struck me like the blow from a hammer and I called light into my staff on pure instinct. Heat surged up through the wood as I did but the darkness remained.

I flailed around, sweeping my staff in a wide arc and it whistled through empty air. There was the sound of feet moving across the floor behind me. A moment later something hard slammed into the back of my skull and consciousness fled.

I'm not sure how long I was out. Probably not long. By the time I came to again, the blindness was gone. A spell, then. A veil or psychomancy.

I was still in the apartment, facing back toward the door I'd come in through. I'd been put in a chair and tied by my legs and hands to it. It wasn't the first time I'd been tied up and so I didn't panic. Not visibly, at least. I'd only get out of here by using my head.

I scanned the apartment and found it empty. Then again, it had been empty before, too.

"I know you're in here," I said. I didn't actually know but I had a hunch.

"You're just as observant as Murphy said."

I shuddered at the breath against my neck and at the voice. Feminine, definitely. Young. Familiar… And yet not. There was sarcasm in it but no warmth. Underneath all that, there was anger. No. Not anger. Rage. I flinched and pulled at my bonds but they didn't budge.

"Don't bother," she said. "I was a girl scout once. You're not getting loose until I let you."

She stepped around the chair and my eyes widened in surprise.

I recognized her.

She was in her late teens or early twenties, tall and statuesque, with chin-length, straight black hair that I knew was honey-blonde under the dye-job. She wore a tartan skirt that showed off an intriguing but not indecent amount of leg, and a leather jacket over a white dress shirt. It was a decidedly disconcerting sight but I pushed that aside the time being.

"Molly," I sighed in relief. "I don't know what you're playing at but now is not the ti-"

She backhanded me across the face. Hard. I rocked to the side and my face lit up in a flash of pain.

"Don't fucking talk," she snapped. "Not until I ask you a question."

My head swam and I blinked. What the hell was going on? Fortunately, confusion has never stopped me from running my mouth off

"Does that sound likely to happen?"

She slapped me again. She must've had some practice because it hurt like a bitch. Her smile was almost feral.

"Guess not. You never could shut up, or so they said." She shook her head, pacing back and forth. "Just like you to come butting in where you're not wanted or needed. Mom always said you did. Kicked the beehive and let someone else deal with the fallout."

"Molly, I don't know what-"

The girl turned sharply on her heel and stalked over.

"You let my dad die!" she screamed, spittle spraying at my face. "He stood up for you and you deserted us all to go chase your fucking girlfriend, and all that trouble caught up with him instead of you!"

Michael. Dead. It hit me like a punch in the gut and for a moment I couldn't breathe. I just stared at Molly, horrified beyond words.

The girl shook her head. "You didn't even know. Didn't even care, did you?"

Molly stood with her foot between my knees, resting against the edge of the seat of the chair. She stood bent over so that we were at eye level but avoided actual eye contact. Even with everything going on, I wasn't too busy to notice the curves of her breast. The angle, the top and the heavy breathing made it one hell of a captivating sight… Until I spotted the silver coin dangling in the cleft, tied to a necklace. It bore the mark of a creature I'd hoped I'd never see again. Lasciel. The Seductress. The Webweaver. One of the fallen angels. Hell's fucking bells this was bad.

Molly smirked at me and her foot scooted forward across the grain of the wood until she pressed it up against my crotch.

"You always swept in like a hurricane. Took what you wanted, what you needed, and did your thing, consequences be damned."

I cringed in anticipation of a kick and shivered slightly when she instead rubbed her foot in a slow circle against the denim.

"Molly. What're you doing?" I croaked.

I strained against the bonds of the ropes and they bit into my wrists and ankles as I tried. Molly stepped back at my squirming. She'd been worried, for a moment, that I'd get loose. It wasn't a big tell and she covered it well by settling across my knee, but it was there. She was still human - still a person that could be beat. She was being careful because she was worried of what might happen in a fair was useful information but not right now.

Molly slowly sank down with her legs at either side of mine, skirt rising as she settled. She ground herself against my thigh, breath hitching, as she moved a little closer. The heel of her palm pressed down against my crotch and I grit my teeth to stay quiet.

"I had the biggest crush on you for a while, you know," she murmured against my neck. "I dreamed up all sorts of silly scenarios."

She began to rub her hand idly back and forth against the fabric of my pants and smiled when she felt me harden slowly against her fingers. It wasn't a voluntary. It wasn't even related to arousal just a reaction to stimuli. It didn't seem to matter to Molly who traced along the outline it made in my jeans with her fingers.

"That was fast." She sounded genuinely surprised and soon her face twisted with scorn. "Maybe that's why you were so fast to run away to chase some tail."

Her fingers dug in to the point of pain.

"Fuck sake, Molly." I said. "This isn't you. Don't listen to what she's telling you. She lies. She twists words and everything she gives you she does to get control over you."

The laughter was disturbing. It was Molly's laughter. Sweet, joyful. Almost innocent. It was horribly out of place.

"She tells me nothing, Harry," she said quietly. "I'm not an idiot. I'm not letting her dictate my actions. I want to do this. I want to see you squirm."

Her fingers moved a little quicker and I couldn't contain a shudder.

"I want to see you helpless, the way you left us. The way you left him."

Her voice was trembling a little now and she was undulating slowly down against my thigh. She splayed one hand against my shoulder to balance her weight, fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt.

I could tell her I wasn't the same Harry she was angry at but she wouldn't believe me. It'd probably make things worse if such a thing was possible. For now all I could do was wait for an opening. Something to use. I just hoped I'd find it soon.

"Fuck…" She sighed, thighs clamping down around mine.

I snorted. "You kiss your mother with that mouth, kid?"

The girl's expression twisted from lust to revulsion and then to anger. She stilled for a moment, glacial blue eyes meeting mine briefly, and then a slow smile reasserted itself. It was a promise of things to come and it frightened me that it intrigued me just a little.

Again, she scooted up along my leg until I could feel her hot, eager breath on my ear. Her fingers slid along the length of my aching, rigid cock and popped the button of my jeans, then yanked the zipper down.

"I think you'll be singing a different tune when you've come a few times," Molly said primly. "When it'll hurt so good you don't know if you want to beg me to stop or keep going."

She bit down on my earlobe - hard - and I bucked up against her fingers as they curled around the outline of my erection through the fabric of my brilliant flash of insight that'd provide the idea that, in turn, would provide my escape really needed to work on its timing.

"I never was much of a singer, one way or another," I said. "Can't carry a tune in a bucket."

Molly ignored me. I suppose I wasn't the only one getting distracted. I could feel the heat of her where she pressed against my leg, could feel how wet she was getting. She pushed my boxers down and curled her fingers around my dick.

"This is a mistake, Molly," I told her. It came out sounding somewhat feeble and distracted.

"Oh? Is that a threat, Harry?" She shivered.

"No," I groaned. "It's not a threat, Molly. I'm just telling you because you need to - need to hear it."

Molly sped up her efforts, slick fingers sliding easily along my skin. I could feel the pleasure building, rising, despite my effort to quench it.

"I don't need anything from you, Harry," she breathed. "You're nothing. You should've stayed gone."

I bit my bottom lip and tried to look away from Molly and I only managed it for a few moments. A bead of sweat ran down along her neck and down between the curves of her breasts. Their tips were pushing prominently against the threadbare fabric of her shirt.

Molly's kept up the quick, unrelenting pace, her grip just right. I squeezed my eyes shut. I wasn't going to come like this. I refused. Mind over matter, Dresden, I hissed at myself. Keep it together. Don't let her win.

Molly was patient and she kept at it, the rocking of her hips quickening as the minutes ticked by.

"Come on," she said urgently. "Come on. Just let go and it'll be over."

I tried. I really did. I gritted my teeth together as I came, staying quiet as the pleasure pulsed through me in waves, drawn out by the continued pumping motion of Molly's hand. She chuckled shakily and glanced up at the clock hanging on one of the walls.

"I'd hoped to keep you around longer but I've got things I need to be handling."

She wiped her hand off on my pants and then dipped it down underneath her skirt, a slow hiss of pleasure slipping past her lips. She stared straight at me as she touched herself, and didn't bother keeping quiet. She seemed to be drawing pleasure from my growing discomfort and how my eyes kept drifting down to the little bulge of her hand under her skirt as it moved.

She kissed me and despite everything that had happened up until that point, it was the worst violation she'd inflicted upon me. Her moans spilled against my lips as she came and she clung on hard as she trembled, thighs clenched hard around mine.

She stilled slowly and sat back. For a moment, her eyes caught mine, and for that short second, I saw something there. Hesitation. Regret? Maybe. Then she steeled herself and stood.

"Someone will be over to cut you free in a while," she said. "If I ever see you in my town again, I will kill you."

She plucked a strand of long dark hair off my shoulder and put it in her pocket. Between one step and the next, her outfit morphed from the provocative affair from earlier to proper business attire.

I wondered for a moment which of the outfits had been an illusion. While I did, Molly straightened her knee-length, figure-hugging skirt, smoothed out her blouse, and turned around. She left without another word.

I had some time to consider things between the time she left and some flunky of hers came to cut me free. He almost seemed to feel sorry for me and hurried away the moment my bonds were gone. I considered chasing him down and questioning him but odds were good he wouldn't know a damn thing. It had been a long day already. I let him run.

I scoured the apartment for clues but there was nothing but the bare necessities stashed there. It confirmed my theory that this place was a temporary base of operations for Molly. She probably wouldn't ever come back here.

I glanced towards the shower on my way out and decided, fuck it, hopping in and washing up. Getting back into my clothes afterward was awkward and I skipped the ruined underwear entirely, opting to go commando.

I grabbed my staff and headed out of the bathroom, shivering at the sudden change in temperature and blinking at the darkness that had fallen.

How long had I been in there?

It was time to find a hotel or something and then work out a plan. Whatever Molly had said I wasn't about to leave my town. I left the door to the apartment open and took the stairs down to the bottom floor.

Murphy probably had a few more details and if that failed, I'd go to ask Father Forthill. He'd always been close to the Carpenter family and he was a good man. If there was anyone I could depend on, it was him.

I pushed the door open and frowned at the darkness. The streetlight overhead had been vandalized. I sighed. Kids these days, I tell you.

That got me thinking. Maybe one of Molly's younger siblings could help. It was a possibility but one I'd keep as a last resort. It was too likely to backfire if big sister found out and reacted badly.

I was so busy thinking that I didn't notice the shadowy figure approach until I felt a cold slithery sensation crawl down my back. I may have reacted late but I reacted quickly, slamming my staff into the ground and sending a surge of power outwards into a shield.

A creature out of a nightmare slammed into me with the power of a speeding car. It's foot-long lolling pink tongue lashed out at my face and got clamped in between its jaws as it smashed its face into my shield. The pain of the impact distracted the creature for a moment. A moment has been all I ever needed. Uh - Don't tell anyone I said that.

I pointed my staff at the sprawling vampire and snarled "Fuego", carving it in half with a searing beam of fire. I turned around to walk away dramatically, coat flapping in the wind like a big god damn hero.

That's when vampire number two jumped out of the shadows. It was faster than its buddy and the split second made all the difference. There was no time for a spell but I managed to interpose my staff between myself and the attacker. The vampire's claws sliced clean through the oak, slowing down enough that when it scored a hit high on my calf it cut deep but didn't sever the entire leg.

Its momentum had the slimy bastard barrelling into me a moment later and we hit the asphalt hard. I managed to turn the fall into a roll that took us into the overhang of the building and I kicked the vampire off me and sent it crashing into the door. That only bought me a second before it was on me again.

My staff was gone. My blasting rod was still tied to my coat, only a couple inches away though with a vampire up close and personal, it might as well have been left in a neighboring state.

But I did have my force rings and my arms were already covering my vulnerable belly on pure instinct. The second was enough for me to reach out to the rings and the power stored there, sending it all surging out in a flood of kinetic energy.

The vampire was blasted off me, up into the air, and crashed into the concrete roof. Bones cracked audibly and I winced in… Well, not sympathy, but something like it. I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled. Pain lanced down the leg the vampire had slashed at, and it almost buckled under my weight.

I glanced around and then back at the injured vampire. There were people watching from a safe distance but I couldn't take any chances. I plucked my blasting rod off its holder in my coat, pointed it at the twitching vampire's head, and blasted it to pieces. Pointedly avoiding the gazes of the onlookers I hobbled off into the night.

I managed to get ahold of a cab after a few blocks but considering the scene I'd just made I decided to err on the side of caution. I jumped off a few blocks away from Murphy's house and walked the rest of the way. That turned out to be a decision I'd regret and by the time I knocked on her door I could barely stand.

Murphy opened with gun in hand and a harsh reprimand on her lips, both of which faltered the moment she saw me.

"Jesus Christ, Dresden," she said. "What happened to you?"

"Vampires and crazy teenage girls," I muttered.

She hurried to step aside and worked herself under my arm, supporting some of my weight as she led me over to the couch in her living room. It was a tiny couch, made for someone hobbit-sized like Murphy, and I had to put my legs up over the armrest to fit. With my injury that was probably just as well.

"Did you and Molly get jumped?" Murphy asked.

She'd disappeared for a moment and fetched a medical kit from somewhere and began to cut up my trouser leg, wincing along with me at the long, deep gashes there. Those were going to leave a very sexy scar.

"No," I told her, pausing and gritting my teeth for a moment as she swabbed my calf down with alcohol. "I visited Molly, got jumped, left and then got jumped again."

My vision was going a little blurry but I could still see Murphy frown.

"I'm not sure I follow. Did you run into any of Marcone's people?"

"No. I ran into Molly. The girl's seriously unhinged so I'm going need for you to talk to me here, Murph. What happened since… Well, since the other me left?"

Murphy didn't quite wince. She was too much of a badass for that but she might as well have.

"It was bad for a while after you left, Harry," she said. "The vampires made it a point to be active here. Flaunting how they hurt people. Marcone fought them and we tried our best at SI but we just didn't have the resources. Then one day, out of the blue, Molly came swooping in."

She shrugged. "We needed her help, even if Marcone never would've admitted to it, and she did a lot of good."

I forced myself to open my eyes and look squarely at my old friend.

"She's dangerous, Murph. She's made some deals to get her powers and that kinda stuff always comes back to bite you in the end."

"We've all made deals we'd rather not have, Harry. Do you think I like working with scum like Marcone?"

I sighed. "Enemy of my enemy, I know. I need you to tell me everything about Molly. If I'm going to help her, I've got a lot of catching up to do."

Murphy heaved a sigh as she finished up wrapping bandages around my leg. "Alright."

We talked. There was a lot to cover. We had to take a quick break for dinner and then kept at it. I'm not sure for how much longer because at some point, the painkillers Murphy had given me with dinner kicked in and I must have crashed.

When I woke the next morning, it was with a glass of water, another two painkillers and a spare key laid out on the little coffee table. My back ached from the sofa, though not nearly as badly as my leg. I'd probably need to go see a doctor about it eventually, but right now I was on a mission.

With no staff available I grabbed a slightly curved cane in Murphy's umbrella stand and hobbled out onto the streets.

The talk with Murphy had been… Illuminating and her words weighed heavily on my mind.

I didn't know how to make any of this better. I just knew that I had to try.

The worst part was that I didn't even know where to start. Molly had been very careful during our exchange to get rid of anything I could use in a tracking spell. That meant I had to do this the old fashioned way, by utilizing my skills as an investigator.

You'd be surprised at how often those prove more useful than actual magic. For example; A normal wizard probably wouldn't have noticed the mortal shadowing him at a careful distance, but I did.

I'd kept track of who was walking behind me in the reflections in windows and the like. It wasn't long before I spotted the young man in a suit who carried around a briefcase. He had one of those swanky earpieces and I recognized him even if I couldn't for the life of me remember his name.

I kept my eyes peeled and after a couple of block's worth of sneaky scouting, I spotted the car. It kept a careful distance, trusting that their man on foot would be close enough to let them do that. If I knew Marcone's people, there'd be another car out of sight, forming a secondary net. In case I escape the first.

It could be a hit team, waiting for me to move somewhere less conspicuous where they could then whack me. Or call the people who would. Or Marcone was simply trying to keep an eye on me and make sure that I wasn't about to intrude on whatever business he was conducting. The man had been known to do so in the past.

I suppose it was fair to say I was bad for business.

It presented me with a problem and an opportunity. The first being assassination, the second being a chance to get some information. Ideally the second.

It wouldn't be easy, though. With the car watching from afar and the fellow on foot communicating, I couldn't turn around without them warning my fellow pedestrian. Unless I cut the communication.

When the next corner at the end of the block appeared, I made a little effort of will and hexed the earpiece. I saw the man's step slow for a moment but he didn't stop walking and I rounded the corner, then leaned up against the wall. The driver would no doubt be shouting warnings to his friend without getting through.

A moment later, the young man rounded the corner, frowning as he tapped his malfunctioning piece of hardware.

I faced him and he jumped in shock, dropping the briefcase, eyes widening almost comically. Yikes. I hadn't gotten a look quite that horrified since I'd tried growing a mustache. Maybe my alternate self had a mustache and it was the lack here was what scared him. I'd find out later.

"Hi there, Jared," I said, smiling warmly. "It's Jared, right?"

He blinked and looked around for his back-up. They'd be coming soon but it was far too public a location for Marcone to warrant an assassination. I should be safe.

"Dresden," he said. "Nice day for a walk, huh?"

Had to give the kid some credit for keeping his wits about. His voice shook a little but at least he had enough sense to be a smart-ass. I appreciated that.

"Now, Jared. I'm going to be asking you a couple of questions and your answers will determine whether or not I blast you. With me so far?"

He nodded and I wondered if Marcone told his people what I could do. Probably. The question would be whether or not they believed their boss.

"Perfect. I want to have a little chat with your boss about boundaries. Where can I find him?"

Jared scoffed at me. "You think I'm gonna sell out the boss to you? He'd kill me for sure. I'll take my chances with you."

I grabbed my blasting rod from its holder inside of my coat and pushed enough power through it to light the tip with scarlet fire.

"See, that's the thing," I said, rolling the rod between my fingers. "I've been out of town for a while. Done some soul searching. Things have changed. Now, I'm not asking you to betray your boss but I need something from you."

Jared looked nervously over his shoulder as if Marcone would be standing right there with a parental look of disapproval… And a gun.

"He was gonna head off with that creepy dark-haired chick. The one with the killer rack. I've no idea where they're going and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"I believe you. Thanks for the help."

I began to walk away, then stopped after a few paces, looking back over my shoulder.

"Oh, Jared? Stop following me. Tell Marcone you lost me or something. Next time I see you, I'm going to assume you're up to no good and jump straight to the pyrotechnics."

If only there'd been tumbleweeds it would've been perfect.

It wasn't that I minded getting a bit of exercise in but despite all the walking, the million dollar question remained. If I was a criminal scumbag, working with a young impressionable wizard, where would I be?

In the end, I had to resort to a tried classic in the field of private investigation. The old stake-out. It's one of the suckiest of all of the things I've had to do in my professional career, somewhere right behind the slime golems, but it's surprisingly often what got the job done.

Marcone had a bunch of sites that he worked off in Chicago and he tended to move around on regular intervals and so I went with gut feeling. I settled at a little cafe opposite the street to Executive Priority Health and sipped at a cup of something ludicrously expensive they thought to profane the name of coffee with.

It must have been my lucky day because I only had to wait for twenty minutes before Hendricks came through the door. He paused in the middle of the sidewalk, eyes scanning the street. I swear to God that I wasn't just picturing the sound of the gun-turret of a tank swiveling as he turned his head back towards the door and said something.

Marcone came through a second later, followed closely by Molly. A dark car pulled up onto the sidewalk and they filed in.

I drank the last of my coffee and headed over to the street with my trusty cane. I aimed my blasting rod at the car and waited until it was already moving to send forth a light, tightly focused strike of kinetic force.

It struck the fender of Marcone's car with barely a sound and I watched them drive away before crossing the street.

I found the spot where I'd tagged his car and with a light surge of will and a whispered word, called the little fleck of paint up into my palm. I probably got a few looks as I drew a circle right there on the sidewalk, did the spell, and hailed down a cab at the same time, but I was pressed for time.

The cabbie looked at me like I was crazy, too, when I didn't have any address for him and simply told him to drive and that I'd point him along as we went. We headed down the streets of Chicago until, finally, I found Marcone's car parked across the street from an apartment building in the shadier side of town.

I was just wondering where things might be going down when I heard a single, sharp crack of a gunshot. Straight on ahead, then.

I opened the door and was immediately met by one of Marcone's goons. He didn't have a weapon drawn but I could see the outline of his shoulder holster on his suit jacket. I smiled at him and held my hand out as if to shake his, then triggered all the force rings at the same time. Having expended most of the energy the previous day, it didn't do much more than shove him backward and off balance, but that was enough.

The force of the blast pushed him up against the wall and by the time he'd began to reach for his weapon, I already had my blasting rod leveled at him. He froze as though it had been a gun pointed at him, which for all intents and purposes, it was.

"Take the gun out slowly. Drop it to the floor and kick it over."

Marcone's guy rolled his eyes at me but obeyed. He was a professional and knew better than to make a fuss. It was interesting how Marcone had kept his people informed of who I was and what I could do. I wasn't sure if he'd been quite that open with the information in my reality. It might be that they'd been forced to deal with practitioners that never came to my Chicago.

I picked the gun up and dropped it into a duster pocket.

"I'm headed up to see your boss. If you try to shoot me in the back I'll be upset and I'll be really creative about which body cavity I shove your gun up."

He just nodded.

"Good. Keep up to good work down here. I might get twitchy if there are any surprise visitors."

Again, he nodded, pointedly turning towards the door. He probably had more guns hidden somewhere but I didn't have time to risk searching him thoroughly. If I actually got close enough to him for it to turn into a scuffle, I'd probably lose even without my hurt leg. Best not tempt fate. He seemed cowed for now.

Taking the stairs sucked but I didn't trust the elevator and hurried as best I could to the third floor where I thought I'd heard the noise. The door at the end of the hallway was still open and I walked over.

Hendricks loomed inside, his beady little eyes boring down at me. I gulped. The man was almost as tall as me and probably weighed over 250 pounds, all of it muscle. Magic or no, it was difficult to shake the knowledge that he could probably twist me up like a pretzel.

"Hiya, Hendricks," I said, waving at him. "Mind if I come inside and say hi?"

Hendricks growled and my fingers tightened on the blasting rod.

"Mr. Hendricks," came a voice from inside, calm and authoritative. "Please see Mr. Dresden inside."

Hendricks didn't seem thrilled about that, but he stepped aside.

Without his considerable bulk blocking the way I could see the inside of a small one-room apartment with a little bathroom to the side where Hendricks stood.

Marcone waited inside, looking at me as though we'd run into one another at the golf course and not at the scene of a murder. There were several corpses in the room. Two of them fresh, another three in a corner most of a day old.

As far as I could see, the fresh ones had been taken care of by Marcone. Both had been plugged in the head with ruthless efficiency. The others had bled out. There were teeth marks on their necks and wrists.

Aside from the one man still alive, whose head he was currently pointing his gun at, he was alone. Either Molly was in the bathroom or she was somewhere in the room under a veil.

"It has been quite a while, Mr. Dresden," he said. "How was Central America?"

"None of your business, John," I said. Using the familiar name pissed him off. He didn't let it show, but I was certain it did. "I see you've kept busy."

I took advantage of the momentary distraction and opened up my Sight. I'd probably regret it but, it was the only surefire way to see through veils.

In the clarity of my Sight, I could see Marcone for who he truly was. He wore the garb of a general or emperor of Rome, with a sword in the hand that had previously held his gun. His hair was a little bit longer and windswept, and I could see his emotions as tangibly as I could see the red of his cloak. The anger he kept off his face, hidden behind that crisp, cool facade. A little bit of it had been inspired by my comment but most was directed at the man at whose throat he held the blade.

That man was barely human. His skittish movements seemed almost insectoid, his eyes dark, his fingers elongated and tipped in claws. Disturbing, but not what was important at the moment. What was important was the girl creeping along the corner of the room, slowly and silently making her way over to me. Molly under one of her veils. She'd always been a natural at those and I imagine Lasciel had been a far more competent teacher than I.

She carried something in her hand and even in my peripheral vision, the light coming off it was blinding. Amoracchius. She had the blade in its scabbard and, thinking back, it was probably what she'd used to knock me out the first time.

I made sure to only watch her out of the corner of my eye, keeping my attention on Marcone.

"You left quite the mess in your wake, Harry," he said. "I've been cleaning it up."

He looked down towards the man, blade pressing to his throat.

"I want the name of your master," he told him. "And where he might be found. Tell me and leave my city today and you will get to live."

"I don't - I don't know - I fucking told you, man, I don't know. He never told any of us. We just kept him with food. We're gonna ascend, man. What's this trash to you, anyways?

Marcone shook his head with genuine sadness. "Very well."

The sword fell in a single smooth stroke and the crack of a gunshot. The man slumped to the ground and Marcone turned to me again, as though wanting my comment about a putt he'd made.

"This man and his companions were providing one of the vampires with food. They were, in turn, promised immortality."

I clenched my hands into fists. I wasn't here for them or for Marcone, I told myself. I'd deal with him later. I was here for Molly. She was creeping closer, moving along the wall twenty feet away.

"It's pretty common practice," I said. "Most of the time they don't follow through."

"No, they do not." He shook his head, as if in distaste. "One would think an immortal being would conduct business with a better view of the long-term."

Ten feet away. Molly raised her improvised bludgeoning tool.

"They think of us as cattle. They won't negotiate in good with faith cattle."

"Do they negotiate in good faith with their own kind?"

I grinned. "Nah."

I swept my cane out, arm outstretched, and its tip came to rest against Molly's chin. She stopped in her tracks.

"Drop the veil, Molly," I said. "And the sword, while you're at it. You've no idea the kind of damage you could do with that thing."

There was a creak and I turned to Marcone, dropping my sight. He hadn't quite raised his gun but he was ready to do so. He didn't tolerate anyone hurting his people and if he thought I'd hurt Molly, he'd fight. He hadn't moved, though, not yet.

Huh. That meant… Shit. The ceiling tore apart like tissue paper and a vampire dropped down by me and Molly. It took me by surprise but my arm moved on its own, grabbing the base of the cane with my free hand and pulling it down to bare a length of silvery steel.

Fidelacchius, the sword of faith, burned like a lit torch in my hands but its light didn't bother me as I stepped forward on my injured leg. It hurt but miraculously, didn't bend under my weight, and the sword fell in a single smooth stroke, missing Molly by an inch and taking the vampire's head off before it had even righted itself from its drop.

I stared at the sword. So did Molly. Hell, so did Marcone.

"Well, that's neat," I said, blankly.

Molly took a step back and I gathered myself, giving her my best, sternest look. One that would definitely have cowed her alternate self.

"Drop the sword, Molly." She obeyed and I turned to Marcone. "It's probably time you leave before someone reports all this noise. I won't hurt her."

Marcone gave me a long, thorough look and an understanding passed between us. He walked off and I could hear the door close behind us.

I wiped off Fidelacchius on the vampire wannabe's shirt and sheathed it, then knelt down where Molly sat.

"Come on, Molly. We need to talk but this isn't the place."

Now that I had time to focus on it, I remembered what she looked like under my Wizard's Sight.

A dark, oversized cloak was wrapped about her shoulder and cast an obscuring shadow over her face. I had to squint at to see what lay beneath.

A young blonde girl, afraid and uncertain, but dedicated to keeping the city safe and honoring her father's memory. Tied to her arms were weights of silvery steel, dragging her down, fueling her anger and her pushing her along despite her valiant struggle to stand up despite them. I could see the sigil that was Lasciel's name carved into the steel.

I held out my hand. She hesitated, then took it. My skin crawled at her touch and I had to force myself not to jerk it back and out of her grasp.

I could do this. I'd done it before and I could figure it out again even under these circumstances. For the first time in - pretty much ever - I had some measure of Faith.