A/N: I do not own the Dresden Files. I only own Rowan, her parents, and her guardians. This particular fanfic is based off the TV show as I cannot find any of the books.
Chapter 1
Harry's POV:
I stretched out on my couch and closed my eyes. The rain beat upon the roof in a hypnotic beat. I could hear the sounds of tires splashing in puddles and the hum of cars as they passed by my office.
I felt so tempted to fall asleep. The last few days had been so exhausting. I had been helping several clients with their paranormal problems. Being the only openly practicing wizard in the world, it wasn't like I had any help with my caseload.
I was just dropping off to sleep when the shrill ring of the telephone shattered the peaceful silence. I shot up and stared around in alarm. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that it was just my telephone and not some demon coming to do me in.
Heart pounding from my scare, I answered the devil machine. "Dresden speaking," I tried to make my voice as pleasant as I could, considering the fact that I had just nearly had a heart attack.
"Dresden, how fast can you get to down to the park on Sixth Avenue?" Lt. Karrin Murphy's voice asked.
"Good morning to you, too, Lt. Murphy," I greeted her pleasantly.
"Forget the pleasantries, Dresden," she barked in reply. "How fast can you get down here?"
Something in her voice made me sit up straighter. Murphy prided herself on the fact that she was tougher than most of the guys at her job. Now when she has a note of panic in her voice, I know it's something that I probably have to worry about.
"How bad is it, Murphy?" I asked slowly.
"You need to see it for yourself," she replied. "How fast can you get here?"
"Twenty minutes; tops."
"Good. Hurry." Murphy hung up.
Rowan's POV:
I sighed to myself as I exited the book shop. The plastic bag dangled from my thin wrist. The weight of the books meant nothing to me as I strode down the sidewalk.
The rain that had been falling all morning had finally ceased. A brisk Chicago wind blew and I pulled my black leather jacket tighter around my slender figure.
My eyes scanned the street for a passing taxi. None showed. I sighed again, this time more heavily. Suddenly, a tall figure of a man ran past, nearly knocking me to the ground.
A cry escaped my lips. The man had taken my bag! I shot after him.
I may not look it, but I'm actually quite fast. When I first moved to Chicago two years ago, the coaches at the school had wanted me to on the senior's track team despite the fact that I was just a lowly freshman.
I followed the man past a park, some people (I didn't quite pay attention to who they were because I was a bit indisposed at the moment), and down an alleyway.
I stopped and glanced around. I couldn't see him. Something was wrong.
I heard the sound of shuffling feet and whirled around. To my complete shock and dismay, I found myself staring down the barrel of a gun.
I felt my eyes widen. My feet decided to take a couple of steps back. I felt my back hit the wall. "Damn," I muttered.