Rating: Some iffy language, violence
Book or TV verse: All TV verse
Disclaimer: Dresden Files belongs to Jim Butcher and Scifi Channel
Warnings: Some violence, hints of gore, Butters, Polka, and angst

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It was dark in spite of the streetlights. Deep shadows claimed the small parking lot behind the tiny church. Raquel was there alright. Dead. Her eyes stared up into the nearby building, her face frozen in utter horror. I pulled my piece and quickly looked around, checking for signs of the killer. There were none, only her footprints, and mine.

Smoke and lights turned into Bob. He knelt down, looking at the corpse. When he reached his hand into it I screeched.

"Don't do that!"

He pulled his hand out abruptly.

"Forgive me, I was merely trying to ascertain what killed her, I meant no disrespect to her, nor did I intend to alarm you."

"You can do that?"

"Oh yes, Mi-Connie."

"For heaven's sake, Bob, would 'Murphy' be easier for you? Call me that – and please, by all means, find the cause of death if you can."

"As you wish, Murphy"

He put his hand into Raquel's body again. His hand moved about, searching. I couldn't watch. I started to check the body for a wallet or other ID. Nothing. No – wait. In the back pocket of her jeans, a driver's license. She looked much better in her driver's license photo than she did dead, but it was her. A name and an address. Now we're talking.

"Her real name is Glenda Forth." I read off the driver's license. She lives nearby. I used my cell to report the body.

Bob stood up, frowning thoughtfully, looking down at Glenda.

"She died like the young girls. Thaumaturgy. It's a bit out of pattern for your killer."

I looked at the driver's license.

"She's 49, you're right, she doesn't fit. Why did he kill her? Could the killer be her son? 'It's him…he knows' that's what she said right?"

Bob nodded and repeated the message verbatim. He even sounded a bit like her.

"It's him, please help me, he knows. He knows. Oh Gd, he knows. I saw the book he has. Its real, Jesus help me, it's real. Please, Mr. Dresden, meet me at 8 tonight, behind Broadway Methodist."

I could get used to this.

"Bob, you are certainly useful."

He chuckled, then turned serious.

"The mention of the book worries me. It must be a grimoire – a book of dark magic. If this young man has somehow found a real one, he will have access to some powerful spells and potions. He could do much more damage than he has so far, and the more he uses the black magic, the more twisted he will become. Black magic is a trap that can consume even the strongest most experienced people – and if this is indeed Glenda's seventeen year old son, he stands no chance. The boy is most likely damaged beyond repair. The only thing we can do is stop him from harming anyone else."

Black magic again.

"You don't believe me when I mention magic." his light green eyes searched in mine.

Bob stood up straight, his eyes never leaving me. He rolled up his sleeves slightly to expose two metal bands covered in strange symbols. They fit neatly around his wrists. He held his hands out to me palms up and spoke with quiet dignity.

"Connie, you have claimed ownership of my skull. The curse, these shackles and my own will compel me to obey you. I am your servant. I will not, cannot lie to you."

Damn.

"Come on, Robert, let's go find this kid."

We left before the police arrived.

The Forth apartment was empty. Three bedrooms, one for Glenda, one for her son, and one was apparently the world's largest walk-in closet. The son's bedroom was way too neat for a teenaged boy's. This kid was a serious Goth. Black clothes. Black candles. I was surprised he hadn't painted the walls black.

I put the skull down in the doorway.

"Come out here, Robert."

He materialized. We went through the room. I opened the doors and search through the closet and under the bed. Robert examined everything I found. There was a bathroom attached to the bedroom. I found some blood on a razor. The kid was trying to shave.

Robert touched a finger to the blood. I almost objected before I remembered he couldn't physically alter the evidence. A bit of light showed around his finger and suddenly Robert was gone and a kid stood in his place. In Robert's clothes. He said (In Robert's voice)

"The blood would seem to belong to the boy."

I gaped. Robert was standing there again, grinning. He was showing off.

"You are enjoying this way too much, show off."

He laughed.

"Forgive me. I'm not used to someone who knows nothing of wizards – or ghosts."

Uh huh.

I found a small diagram taped inside the door of the medicine cabinet. We looked at it.

"Can you do something with this, Robert?" I asked.

He reached out his hand and covered the diagram with his palm.

"All I can tell is, it's a map of some kind." he told me.

Great.

"On the reverse he has written 'Monty's Tire Warehouse' there's an address."

I rolled my eyes and muttered something about smartass wizards and ghosts.

He smirked.

"Let's go."

I set off again, with the diagram and my pet skull.

This time Robert materialized he was sitting in the passenger seat. He even appeared to have his seatbelt on. Neat trick. He looked worried.

"You should not go in there alone, Connie"

"Harry's been gone too long, we have to move quickly. Besides I'm not alone, you're with me."

He looked down, I barely heard him.

"If you are threatened or injured I can do nothing to help you." There was some old pain in that statement. I left it alone.

"Connie, please reconsider. "

"Drop it, Robert." He did. Too bad that didn't work on Harry or Kirmani. Maybe it was better if I didn't get used to this.