"So," began the trickster, conversationally. "How was your vacation to the Other Side?"
"Enlightening, thank you," came Bob's clipped reply.
"You know I meant what I said about helping you out when I'm free of this."
"Only you never help anyone," said the ghost. "You help only yourself and if someone else benefits it is usually by happy chance."
"I helped Dresden get you back, didn't I?"
"You used my situation and his distress to your advantage. That is not helping."
"That's all in the matter of how you look at it," the trickster said, airily.
"What makes you even think you will be restored to your true self?" questioned Bob.
"You have very little chance of succeeding at this point."
"Oh, I'll get restored, alright," answered the trickster. His voice softened to a determined hush, giving an air of uneasy menace. "It might take longer than I'd anticipated, but I'll get freed. Make no mistake about that." He gave the ghost a pitying look. "That's your problem, Bainbridge. You've let being imprisoned for a few odd centuries get to you. If you'd remained as determined to get free as you were the day they chained you to your skull, you might have made some progress by now."
"By scheming and destroying innocent lives, I suppose," said Bob, tightly.
"Don't give me that," snapped the trickster. "Don't think you're actually BETTER than me." He inched forward to the edge of the binding circle, keeping his gaze on Bob. "I've heard all about you. You've done plenty more in your past for a lot more selfish reasons than mine. And then going from that to this? You might have Dresden fooled, but you can't con me. I know you're not satisfied with being some wizard's pet ghost."
Bob smiled, grimly. "On the contrary, Harry is quite aware of my feelings on the matter."
"Yeah? Does he know you're petrified about what will happen to you once he's gone?" asked the trickster. "Does he know that when he's not around, you can almost hear the shrieks of everyone who wants your soul to tear it to pieces on the Other Side?" The trickster bared his teeth in what could be a grin or a snarl. "Or maybe you don't share yourself with him quite as much as you pretend. Because the last time you shared yourself quite so much, you got a nice axe-shaped hole in the back of your head."
For a moment, the trickster thought he saw something akin to fear dance through the ghost's face. But before he could really be sure, it was gone and the mildly annoyed expression was back. "Or maybe you simply can't understand what it means to hold any affection for another soul," Bob said.
The trickster snickered. "Poor Hrothbert. You had the potential to remain one of the most powerful wizards to ever walk this earth. And you threw it all away because you got too attached to another human. Centuries later, you're doing it again. In that sense, your imprisonment hasn't changed you one bit."
Shifting, he rested his head back on the ground, turning it away from Bob, his features hidden. "Don't get me wrong," he continued. "I'm sure Dresden appreciates the loyalty. You remind me of my wife. Too emotional for her own good. She chose to remain with me in my prison, despite losing the protection of her peers in doing so. She could have remained a goddess worthy of worship, but gave it all up to be faithful to me. You know where that got her? A lousy death, that's what."
"I question her choice of you as the recipient of her loyalty instead," replied Bob.
"Ha, very nice," acknowledged the trickster, keeping his head turned away. "But at the end of the day, she gained nothing from her devotion. So what if your wizard keeper is more deserving of your affections than I was of Sigyn's? One day he'll be gone and you'll once again be alone. What will your loyalty to Dresden count for then?"
"Come on, come on," Harry muttered. He sent a third call out to his normally punctual warden and paced as he waited for a response.
As silence on Morgan's end prevailed, the wizard muttered a curse. Walking into the storefront, he dialed Murphy's cell phone.
"Where have you been?" demanded a highly irritated lieutenant. "You were supposed to come pick up Butters' report an hour ago."
"Look, never mind that," Harry said, quickly. "I need you to run a check on someone. His name is Selby Wagner. I need his address, where he works, everything."
"Why?" Murphy's voice held the barest tremor of hope. One that Harry would have gladly confirmed by telling her he was the killer. But if Selby had Odin's Eye at his disposal then he might be able to spot Murphy coming long before she even reached him. He couldn't risk her charging in to grab someone who could predict her every move.
"He might be linked to the killer," Harry answered, warily. "But listen, Murphy, just run a check and CALL me with whatever you find," he stressed.
"If he's involved in the murders, we can bring him in. I can't waste anymore time."
"Murphy, I can't be sure and if you bring him in….it can be bad," he finished, weakly.
"Please, just promise you'll call me before you do anything. Please?"
There was a pause, followed by a heavy sigh. "Fine."
"Thanks."
Harry replaced the phone on its cradle when a feminine voice intoned behind him, "You get more foolish by the day, Dresden."
Spinning around, the wizard found himself staring at a petite Asian woman flanked by two unfamiliar wardens. "Mai, I…called Morgan," Harry stated.
"I know you did," she said, simply. "I'm choosing to answer."
The unexpected appearance of Ancient Mai deepened Harry's earlier, niggling suspicions. And prickling sensation of dread snaked down his back. "The trickster," he began.
"Is here," Mai finished for him, her face unreadable. "So you said to Morgan in your last calls to him."
"Where is he?" Harry asked.
"On an assignment."
"What does that mean?"
The deceptively youthful face hardened. "His absence does not concerns you. What does concern you is releasing the trickster to finish his job."
"What? He was telling the truth?!" Despite himself, the wizard couldn't help the horror creeping into his voice. "You hired him to find the Eye for you? At the expensive of people's lives?"
The female figure took a step closer. And her demeanor, more than her bodyguards, exuded a dangerous air. "My affair with the trickster is none of your business. You have no place involving yourself. Release him."
"Mai, people are DYING because of that Eye."
"People are dying because the human in charge of it is abusing its powers. From what the trickster tells me he has descended into madness due to it and will not be able to control it any longer."
"You can't be serious about this," Harry protested.
Mai cocked her head. She would have looked cutely quizzical had it not been for the look in her dark eyes. "Have you ever known me to joke, Dresden?" she asked, softly.
Swallowing, the wizard looked from Mai to the two wardens standing behind her. He thought again on the missing member who was usually a fixture in Mai's service. "Morgan didn't like you doing this, did he? He disagreed with you for once so you sent him on some mission to keep his mouth shut?" he guessed, angrily.
"You fall under his jurisdiction and so you fall under mine," said Mai, keeping her voice at a disturbingly calm level. "I don't want to waste more of my time putting you through another trial if you don't do as you're told. Release the trickster. Now."
"Bad news?" asked the trickster, brightly when Harry re-entered.
"It's true," said Bob, confirming his suspicions from the expression on Harry's face. The wizard nodded, mutely.
"So now that we're all on the same page, are you going to release me or what?"
"Shut up," Harry ordered, darkly.
"Oh come on. No need to be sore just because I was right and you were wrong."
Raising the hockey stick, Harry slammed it down hard, dragging it across the floor. The trickster's body slid roughly against the wooden panels and nearly snapped back when it hit the invisible walls of the binding circle.
The brightly burning sigils abruptly winked out as the wizard swept his staff across one side of the circle. Immediately, the trickster's arms fell from his sides.
"Get the hell out of my apartment," Harry commanded, lifting the stick at the trickster, who staggered to his feet. "Don't think I can't blast the last of your crippled powers out of you."
A large grin spread across the trickster's face. "Well, you're a lot more interesting when you're mad." A rush of fire enveloped his body and disappeared, taking the trickster with it.
Bob stared from the newly burnt hole on the floor to Harry. "Please tell me there was a reason behind that display?"
The wizard knelt down by the broken binding circle. A small scrap of cloth from a striped shirt lay torn, having been snagged on the wooden panels of the floor. Picking it up, Harry's mouth thinned in a determined line. "Oh yeah."