The Master of Death
Interlude: Storm Delay
Part II
XxXXxX
Harry went up first, secure that, if needed, he could use his shield bracelet to protect himself from whatever was thrown his way. Elaine wasn't really a brute force kind of girl and none of the others had anything that would stop an angry wizard's attack, if they got spotted.
Granted, he had nothing to guarantee that he could survive it, either, but he did his best to put those thoughts out of his head, though he hoped to God that the stairs didn't creak.
Crouching as he reached the top of the stairs, he paused for a moment, worried that he might be spotted, before quickly peaking his head above cover to spot their guy—only to just as quickly yank his head down, catching only a glimpse.
It was enough to make him worried.
Perhaps inevitably, the man they were after was dressed all in black. All around him were a set of scattered implements, including an alter with two candles—one black, one white. A rabbit of some sort lay prone on his alter, a sacrifice in waiting. Worse, several young men lay around the area, out of the way and unmoving. They looked to be either unconscious or drugged in some way, but he couldn't be sure, though their presence was strange.
With the storm coming and all these implements prepared, especially that sacrifice, it wasn't hard to conclude that someone was gonna die if this ritual went through.
And with no idea how far away the storm was, he had to act quickly.
He looked down the stairs at Elaine and Murphy and held up all of his fingers.
'Ten seconds,' he mouthed.
Then, he took a deep breath, spoke several words in a language he didn't know and felt the air gather beneath him, a solid force that carried him slowly into the air, his duster bellowing dramatically. The warlock stared at him as he landed on the balcony, wide eyed in shock.
"Hey," Harry said, casual as if walking up to an old friend at the grocery store. He kept his features deliberately nonchalant as he slowly stalked around the edge of the circle. "What's up?"
The warlock snarled and lifted his hand—only to suddenly hesitate, exactly as Harry had planned. With that circle there, magical energy would be kept out—but it would be kept inside, as well. If he wanted to throw any magic at him, he'd have to break the circle, first.
Of course, a real, physical object with human will behind it, like, say, a bullet, would go through it like it wasn't even there.
In the warlock's moment of hesitation, Harry made sure that he was well out of the way of anyone coming up the stairs. He lifted his staff and blasting rod as well, sending light coursing through the runes upon them with an effort of will and baring his teeth. His spells wouldn't break the circle, but if it dropped, they both knew what would happen.
"You!" The warlock spat. "I should have killed you when you first started interfering!"
Harry blinked once at that before lifting an eyebrow slowly.
"Yeah…I'm sorry, but I have no idea who you are." He stated, watching silently as the man's face twisted in anger.
"It doesn't matter!" He said, stepping towards the edge of the circle. "You can just die a fool, then!"
"Or you can get on your hands and knees," Murphy said, standing at the top of the stairs. Her gun was out and pointed steadily at her target's center of mass. "Hands where I can see 'em."
The warlock sneered.
"The police?" He said. "I could kill a dozen of them! Go ahead and shoot—this circle is all that keeps you alive!"
Harry regarded him silently for a moment.
"Have you ever heard the gun get called the great equalizer?" He asked. "If she shoots and you block the bullets, do you really think I'll just stand here and watch? I'll take you down hard. And while bullets may not be as impressive looking as fireballs, I have enough faith in her aim to say that you'll die just the same if you focus on me."
"And even if you manage to stop both of them," Elaine began, stepping onto the balcony. She moved to stand halfway between him and Murphy, her narrow wand glowing in imitation of his staves. At the sight of another wizard, the warlocks face suddenly became nervous. "I'm sure at least one of use will get you."
One by one, the other detectives ascended the stairs, lining up in a row and readying themselves to open a solid wall of fire if the warlock tried anything.
"Give up," Harry said quietly. "You can't win this."
The warlock's now darting eyes surveyed the crowd before him.
And then he threw himself over the edge of the balcony. The cops opened fire on him immediately, and though he brought up a shield of some sort, he apparently didn't do it quickly enough to avoid injury, because he cried out suddenly in pain. Landing on the lower level with a crash and a gasping cry, Harry rushed to the edge, ready to bring up a shield, but the man just ran for the back door. Several of the detectives aimed their guns at him.
"Hold your fire!" Murphy said, stopping them. "Remember his death curse! We have to disable him. Harry, can you?"
Ideally, he would have just surrendered, but Harry supposed criminals always had to do things the hard way. He glanced around at the floor before spotting what he'd been looking for.
Drops of blood, from the gunshot wounds.
"Elaine, you wanna take this guy down or should I?" He said, crouching by the blood. He received no response. "Elaine?"
"Harry…" She breathed, sounding stunned. When he looked at her, she was pointing a shaking finger towards something. Following with his eyes, he saw a symbol, drawn by the still immobile young men he'd seen before. At first, he thought it was just a circle, before his eyes took in the bigger picture.
It was a circle, yes—a circle inside a triangle, split vertically by a line.
The symbol of the Master of Death.
Harry felt himself stiffen. If this guy had that…and he had two helpers that they had detailed downstairs, plus two sacrifices up here…
"Elaine," He repeated, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. He rose quickly. "Focus. I need you to take this guy down. I want to have a few words with him."
And then he nearly jumped out of his own skin as an unexpected noise startled him.
The house shook with the sound of thunder.
In the moments after the sound faded, Harry's blood ran cold. The possibilities of what could happen next nearly made him shake—but he swallowed what he was feeling and forced himself to act. Not having time for the stairs, he followed the warlock by jumping off the balcony, shouted a faux Latin phrase, and caught himself with wind before he hit the floor.
In the moments he was in midair, he felt a sort of strange empathy with Wile E. Coyote, running straight off a cliff and feeling around at the empty air beneath him right before a great fall.
If this warlock was attempting to repeat the ritual they had preformed so long ago, things could get very bad, very quickly. It wasn't just the possibility of what might happen if the ritual succeeded, per se—because if things went like they had for Justin, the Master of Death would probably just kill the warlock and then leave or someone from the White Council would show up and make him leave. Granted, there was always the possibility that he…it…whatever had changed its mind since then and would kill them instead and they had no real way of predicting how an Outsider might react. It was also possible that maybe Justin had done something wrong that time—he honestly couldn't remember; he'd spent most of that battle nearly out of his mind and away from things. In that case, there was even the possibility that this warlock wouldn't make that mistake or that he had a bargain with it. Maybe he even knew how to make it obey him.
But Harry sincerely doubted that. The guy hadn't exactly wowed him with his brilliance so far and he was using two normal humans in place of him and Elaine. He was pretty skeptical that this ritual would go any better with two untrained people then it had with two extra practitioners. In fact, he was almost certain it would go worse.
And that was what he was worried about. At the end of the day, there were two types of summoning rituals. The dangerous kind, where everything goes well—and the horrific kind, where something went wrong. There were demons, for example, who were dangerous liars even when there was a nice protective circle between you and them, but if there's a flaw in your circle, they were literally contractually obligated to kill you. And while he had no idea what the Master of Death's take on fucking up his rituals was, considering the guy was horrifically powerful nightmarish creature from beyond time and space who had absentmindedly ripped souls out of the afterlife, casually transfigured inanimate objects into living creatures, violated minds, slaughtered a bunch of vampires and his old Master and had prompted an immediate response from the Senior Council, Harry was content in not knowing.
So he rushed out the door mere seconds after the warlock, trying to cover the distance with his larger strides, but even then, he felt the air thrumming with power. The warlock was shouting something, but it was drowned out by the pattering of the rain, the sound of thunder, and the pounding of his own heartbeat.
The effects, however, were obvious. The air shimmered and shone, twisting and warping. There was a hiss and a sound like something coming quickly towards them before a dark, misshapen shape ripped its way through space itself and for a moment Harry was afraid—
And then a flash of lightning revealed its features. Its face was made of strange, leathery curves and its skin was rough looking and warty; it resembled, more than anything else, a large, humanoid toad, but for its eyes, that burnt with some kind of strange blue fire.
It was just a demon, he thought, somewhat disappointed.
Harry had to laugh in that moment, at his own relief. He was so pleased it was just some demon that he couldn't even be bothered to feel afraid.
"Keep him busy!" The warlock ordered. "Kill him if you can! I need some time to prepare!"
Harry bared his teeth in a cold smile.
"Just try it, ugly." He said, lifting his blasting rod. "Forzare!"
The focused blast of raw force must have hit the demon like a truck, but it just planted its feet and hunched its shoulders, resisting him. He pushed it back a foot, through the dirt, and then two more as he strained against it, before Harry realized something.
It wasn't just a demon. It was a pretty badass demon. He was going to have a hell of a time trying to take it down with force alone—it was just too strong for it. Of course, using fire effectively in the rain would be difficult, too, but wind wouldn't be any more effective than force.
Difficult or not, fire was his best bet.
He let up on the demon to draw in his power, but before he could cast his spell, the demon opened its mouth and spat something at him.
As a firm holder to the philosophy of 'better to err on the side of not dying,' Harry didn't even wonder what it was; he just threw himself to the side and let it hit the doorframe of the house instead, which it promptly ate a hole larger than his fist through in a sudden cloud of foul smelling mist.
"Okay," He murmured, rolling to his feet as quickly as he could. "Feeling pretty smart right now. Fuego!"
The torrent of fire tore through the rain, weakening as it did, but when it hit the demon, it was still strong enough to set it on fire and elect a rough croak of enraged pain. The fire would go out soon, he knew, from the rain if nothing else, but Harry knew that he had the advantage as long as the demon was distracted by pain and he had no intention of giving it up.
And then he heard it.
"We wait for your arrival, O chaser of the cursed!" The warlock began in demented glee. He had nothing but a makeshift circle; he had no sacrifices, he had no assistants, he had nothing but a prayer.
And yet he was still trying to reach into the Outside and draw his targets attention. And maybe he would. He didn't have a prayer of controlling what he was going to raise up, but he might draw its eye and make it wonder what was here.
And whether or not that might be enough, the dumbass was trying.
And in that moment, Harry realized he was dealing with someone that was insane with his own power. Insane enough to get himself killed.
And, Harry thought as the storm clouds above him began to twist, spiraling like a snake, maybe insane enough drag a few people down with him.
Drowning out his fear with anger, he shifted him grip on his staff. When the toad demon's throat began to contract strangely, he swung it like a baseball bat and caught the resulting blob of acid with a sudden blast of wind, hurling it into the demon's face. Blue sparks flickered across the toad's skin and its ugly face twisted into either a grimace or a snarl, but the acid didn't seem to harm it.
Slightly annoyed but not particularly surprised, Harry didn't let it slow him down. Whipping up his blasting rod, he lashed out at its face with another blast of fire, hoping to blind it.
"Dresden!" A sudden voice shouted from the doorway. Glancing towards it reflexively, he immediately took several steps to the side, getting out of the way.
The moment he was, Murphy and her boys opened fire. The first shot took the demon right in one of its eyes and another took it somewhere in the forehead, whipping its head back, but most of them took it somewhere in the chest. Knowing how enduring demons could be, the officers didn't stop firing just with that and instead emptied their entire clips into the thing.
And when they ran empty the thing lowered its head again, one of its burning eyes put out and its chest littered with holes, bared its teeth, and began to approach. Demons were like that; they were creatures with no physical form in this world except the ones given to them by Ectoplasm. There probably weren't any organs in that thing, or anything to rupture or ruin with bullets. It didn't even have real blood or a brain. They were just vessels for a malicious, animating power from the Nevernever—and if you destroyed their vessels, so what? If they were called again, they could make a new one without any trouble.
To them, it was no more than putting on a suit.
There were other ways to get rid of the thing besides destroying it, though, and he quickly began running through his options. He'd intended to push the thing hard enough to shove into the lake, where the running water would dissolve it and send it back to where it came from, but that hadn't gone so great. If he could get a big enough fire going, despite the rain, he could purify it. If he got a circle around it, he could cut off its connection to the power keeping it here.
But creating a circle before it could realize what he was doing and escape before he could finish would require getting pretty close to it and probably getting torn to pieces. At the same time, however, making that big of a fire would be hard to do in this rain—
The rain.
From the storm that this warlock was using to power his spells.
"Throw your holy water at it and get back in the house!" Harry shouted, raising his staff to bat away a glob of acid the demon had shot at Murphy's face. He aimed it towards the warlock this time, where it impacted harmlessly with his circle. The guy looked up from within it and gave him a twisted smile, but didn't stop chanting.
"Way ahead of you!" One of the officers replied, his arm already pulled back to throw his vial. When it connected with the demon's hide, it shattered easily, spreading its contents across its skin.
And the demon howled in pain as the water ate it its skin. Even if it was just a vessel, a demon could feel holy water and it could hurt him, distract him.
It was enough.
As the last of the cops threw their vials and then slammed the door of the house closed with a bang, Harry looked up at the sky. The spiraling clouds up above were narrowing out towards the center, becoming sleeker and more serpentine by the moment—and yet, it didn't seem to affect the storm at all. The lightning and the rain still fell unhindered; the thunder still shook the earth.
Harry reached for it. For the roiling power that seethed in the storm.
He let his blasting rod fall from his finger, tossing it down to the damp ground. With his now free hand, he pointed at the demon, even as he lifted his staff up to the sky. As the demon shook itself and recovered, he bared his teeth at it.
"I'm sending you back to hell, you son of a bitch! Ventas! Ventas Fulmino!"
A spark leapt from the end of his staff then, a tiny thing that fought its way up through the wind and the rain and touched the restless belly of the storm.
And the Heavens came roaring down in response.
The lightning fell upon his upraised staff, before traveling through his hand into him. He felt his muscles spasm and convulse as the current ran through him. He struggled through the pain and the power, drawing upon distant memories of Elaine telling him how lightning magic worked, keeping the energy from running awry as best he could. It was hard, terribly hard, to control it—the power of nature itself that tried to run free and smite him for his impudence. If he lost control and it got anywhere near his heart, it would kill him in an instant.
For a long, agonizing second, he held that energy inside him, the possibilities causing him fear and his will turning fear into power to fuel his control—and then he let that energy flow out, down his arm and out through the fingers he held extended towards the now terrified toad-demon. The rage of the storm hit it right in the heart, lashing out with unbelievable speed. The lance of power, white-hot and blinding, didn't just push the demon back—it threw it up into the air. And it held him there, the lightning flowing into it, through it, and across its skin until it was shrouded in a veil of energy so bright that Harry couldn't even look at it.
And then it exploded in bright blue flames.
The night grew silent in the wake of nature's power. Night vision ruined by the onslaught he'd unleashed, he could only pant in the dark as flaming bits of toad demon rained down around him, their tiny flames the only illumination until the rain put them out with a quiet hiss.
He shook for a moment, trying to stay upright, before his legs gave out, sending him down to the muddy grass. His hair was suddenly dry, though it had been slick with the rain just a moment before, and he could smell smoke coming from somewhere near his hands, but he didn't seem to be harmed, even if he was trembling from the forces he'd just channeled.
That demon was charcoal, though. He couldn't keep himself from grinning at the thought.
Maybe Elaine had something with that whole lightning thing.
The door of the house swung open again and he heard several of the detective's step onto the wet yard, the mud squishing beneath their boots.
"Damn." One said, breathless with awe. Harry knew he was being looked at and wanted to tell them to focus, but he couldn't get the words out through his panting.
Fortunately, he didn't need to.
"Concentrate!" Murphy snapped. "You can ogle the wizard later; we're not done yet. Surround the warlock and keep your guns on him at all times. And someone break that damn circle so Mallory can shut him down."
As the other SI detectives hurried to comply, a dark shape he assumed was Murphy knelt beside him.
"You okay, Harry?" She asked, concerned.
He nodded his head as he slowed his breathing to normal levels.
"I'm fine. We get the guy?" He asked.
Murphy turned her head glancing over somewhere currently beyond his vision.
"Yeah. Elaine had some trouble getting him with that circle in place but it's not a problem now." She said, offering him a hand.
Harry rose to his feet with her help, though he had to be careful to not pull her off balance, she was so much smaller than him. After he was sure his legs weren't suddenly going to give out beneath him, he turned to look at the warlock even as another lightning bolt light up the night.
The detectives had him flat on the ground, his hands behind his back. Harry had expected for him to struggle or rage against his captors, to be furious that his power had been bound and taken away from him.
But he didn't. He just silently went along with what he was ordered to do, not putting up anything that might constitute a fight.
For a moment, Harry thought he might have given up.
But then the warlock turned his head from his position on the ground and gave him a silent, knowing smile, the lightning throwing his face into sharp contrast—
The lightning that had persisted for seconds.
The lightning that still hadn't faded.
The lightning that had never been followed by thunder.
Harry slowly lifted his eyes to the illuminated sky, even as he heard the whistle of a train.
As if it had been waiting for his attention, the train came careening from the clouds in that moment, riding on tracks of lightning. It rode just beneath the clouds, to the point that the billows of smoke that should have come from it merged seamlessly with the clouds overhead, to the point that there seemed to be no difference between them. It began to circle on its jagged blazing tracks, slowing down high above them, until it came to a complete stop.
"Harry," Murphy whispered, awed. "What is that?"
Harry had to lick his suddenly dry lips before replying.
"Let's just say that Death rides an Iron Horse."
After a moment of stillness, a shape detached itself from the train and floated to the center of the circle it now created. The lightning threw shadows over his features and he was too far away to see well besides, but Harry knew who it was. He knew what it was.
'Ah,' A soft voice murmured in his mind as the figure looked down. 'It has been some time since last we met, hasn't it? Hello again, Harry Dresden.'
Harry shivered.
Probably because of the rain, he told himself.
Yeah, right.
Knowing that the Outsider could shift through his thoughts as easily now as it had so many years before made him want to freak out a bit or try to shunt him out, memories of searing pain and claws inside his skull making his heart beat faster, but he wasn't completely sure he'd enjoy the results of either action—and something told him that the Master of Death had a lot more experience with minds then he did. Even so, he tried to keep his thoughts focused, so that nothing he didn't want to be seen would rise to the surface of his mind.
He only partially succeeded.
'Are you afraid of me, Mr. Dresden?' It asked. 'Come now, what have I done to deserve fear. I rather thought we parted on good terms last time. I'm not that intimidating, am I?'
Harry slowly formulated a response, mainly because he had to keep the dozen things that immediately sprang to mind from being seen. The Outsider floated quietly on the surface of his mind, not trying to force his way further in, but if he didn't control his mind his thoughts would be still be visible.
But with the thing violating a dozen laws of physics by flying effortlessly in the middle of a circle of blazing lightning that somehow supported the entire weight of his long, black train, it was kind of difficult. He couldn't get passed the sheer number of rules they broke just by existing.
'I'm just surprised to see you again," He lied, because to be honest, he was afraid, from both a personal and a professional standpoint. Since that day where he and Elaine had broken the Seventh Law against their own will, both his grandfather and the Gatekeeper had warned him about Outsiders as best they could—which wasn't well, because they couldn't seem to talk about Outsiders, but their warnings had been clear; far clearer then that half-forgotten night, anyway. And further still, what little he did remember mainly consisted of something that felt jagged hooks being torn out of his skull and a somewhat distracted British oice speaking to him pleasantly through it all.
'Hm,' The Outsider hummed amusedly, and it was pretty obvious he hadn't bought it. He didn't call Harry on it, though. 'Yes, I suppose it is a bit of a surprise. I figured you would probably still be alive in this time period, but I hadn't thought I'd be summoned right to you yet again. I'd thought of looking for you next time I was summoned, though, so I suppose it works out.'
The thought that not only did some extra-dimensional super-being remember him but actually thought about hunting him down made Harry more than a little bit concerned, but the creatures focus drew away for a moment before he could say anything.
'Who is your lady friend, Mr. Dresden?' It asked inquisitively. 'I must admit, I'd rather expected to see Mrs. Mallory again. Is she okay? I was sure I'd fixed her mind properly…'
'She's fine,' Harry said, even more uncomfortable with the Outsider focused on Elaine then he had been with it on himself. 'She's…around.'
'That's good,' It said amiably. 'I am glad she is okay. Say hello for me when you next see her. Now then, why don't I come down there and you can introduce me to your friends.'
And the dark shape shadowed by the lightning began to lower towards the Earth.
"Harry," Murphy repeated. "What the hell is that?"
"They call him the Master of Death and he's some kind of monster from beyond Creation," He whispered back. "Or maybe some kind of ancient demon or God that got kicked out there. That's all I know and, well, even if I knew more, I couldn't tell you anything more than that about him, because the White Council considers knowing anything else a death-worthy trespass. It's the only type of thing they'll kill people over that doesn't require casting a spell."
Murphy swallowed.
"How dangerous is he?" She asked, a hand travelling to her gun in a nervous gesture that most people wouldn't have recognized as such.
"Really, really dangerous. I'm not sure how he does what he does, but he's got a ridiculous amount of magic backing him up, or something—or, at least, that's the only thing I can think of to explain what he does. Teleportation, turning inanimate objects into living things, and resurrecting the dead are things I know he can do for sure, but since I was only near him for a few minutes, that list isn't exclusive. Oh, and he can fly, too, I guess."
"Resurrect the dead?" She repeated, eyebrows raising.
"He brought back my mom and dad," He confirmed. "As far as I can tell, it was really them, too. They weren't solid, but they weren't ghosts, either."
"And that train?"
Harry looked up where it rested quietly in the sky, the lightning effortlessly holding it up.
He looked back down at Murphy and shrugged.
"I have no freaking clue how that thing works." He admitted. "Anyway, let's try to get through this without starting a fight."
He glanced meaningfully towards her gun and Murphy removed her hand from it as the Master of Death reached the ground and approached.
"My, Mr. Dresden," He said. "Look how you've grown!"
Harry gave him a slightly forced smile.
"You look…well?" He guessed, knowing the human guise wasn't the being's true form.
The apparent old man smiled at him and nodded before shifting his gaze to Murphy.
"Hello, officer," The Outsider said. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm glad to see Mr. Dresden has made some friends while I was gone. Are you a policeman now, Mr. Dresden?"
Harry cleared his throat.
"No; Elaine and I are private detectives."
"We hire them as consultants for cases, sometimes," Murphy added, shooting Harry a strange glance, probably at how the Master of Death looked and acted.
"I'm sure they do a wonderful job," The Outsider said confidently.
Murphy shrugged, not sure how she was supposed to act in this situation.
"Yeah, they do."
The disguised being hummed happily.
"It's always nice to see children doing well." The Master of Death said, smiling happily. "Now, then, why don't we take a seat and you can tell me why I've been summoned. I'll make us some tea and a place to sit and we can discuss it, hm?"
XxXXxX
A bush near the house twisted and writhed, uprooting itself before shambling toward the Master of Death. Settling at his feet, the bush shuddered once before suddenly expanding, its branches merging together and turning into a richer colored wood as it turned into an ornate table large enough for a small family to dine at. The now gentle rain scattered droplets of water over its surface for several seconds before an umbrella grew out of the table, shielding it from the rain. The water drops on the table's surface began to move as soon as the rain stopped falling on it, gathering into a trio of puddles from which three delicate looking tea cups arose. Three chairs appeared around the table, forming silently out of midair.
"Please, take a seat," The Outsider said, smiling slightly as they stared. "What type of tea would you like? I'm a bit partial to black tea, but I learned how to make pretty much all of them in my time in China."
"Whatever you'd prefer is fine, I guess," Harry said, having no opinion on tea; he was a firm coffee drinker and he didn't care who knew it. Besides which, he had no intention of drinking anything some ancient horror offered him.
"You were in China?" Murphy asked, ignoring the glance Harry shot her.
"It was a long time ago, but yes," The Outsider said as tea filled the cups. He took a slow sip and sighed in satisfaction. "The leader of the Chinese wizards was upset because some British wizard—whose name I cannot recall for the life of me—was causing an incident so I was called in to deal with it. That was shortly after I became the head of the Aurors, I believe…my, how the time flies."
Murphy lifted the cup near her, before flicking it with one finger, checking to see that it was real. She sniffed the tea once, shrugged, and took a sip before Harry's wide eyes.
"Murphy!" He whispered urgently.
"What's an Auror?" Murphy asked. "Is that Latin?"
"It's—"
"Knowledge from Beyond the Outer Gates," Harry interrupted flatly. "For which the punishment of learning is death."
The Outsider lifted an eyebrow at that.
"Is it?" He asked. "My, the laws of magic certainly are strict concerning me, aren't they? In that case, it's probably for the best I don't tell you, Ms. Murphy, but you can think of me as a Law Enforcement Officer, like you, or MI5 and MI6, or the…what are they called in America? The Navy Seals or FBI? Something like that. Only I hunt down wizards, instead, and, admittedly, my laws are quite a bit different from yours or Mr. Dresden's. And, no, I don't believe it's Latin; one of my best friends—actually, I probably shouldn't say her name…but she once told me it was from a Hebrew word meaning 'the cursed' and she's rarely wrong. Hardly a flattering name, but I suppose it could be worse."
Wonderful, Harry thought. He was an elite special-ops wizard-hunting abomination from beyond the world.
This was just getting better and better.
Murphy nodded to show that she understood, taking another sip of her tea.
"You wanted to know why you were summoned, right?" Harry said, trying to steer the conversation back on track.
"Ah, yes; I suppose now isn't the time for pleasantries. Rashid will be here soon and if possible I'd rather avoid him," The Outsider said, putting down his tea cup and looking at him. "Why am I here, Mr. Dresden? Did you summon me?"
Harry nearly choked at the comment and quickly shook his head.
"Of course not! The Council would have my head! It was—"
"It was me!" The warlock interjected, suddenly struggling with the officers on either side of him. "I summoned you! Help me! They're going to kill me!"
Harry couldn't help but twitch; that warlock sure was sounding a lot less arrogant now that he was powerless. But he didn't take his eyes off the Master of Death, waiting for his response.
Now was the moment of truth. It all depended on how the Outsider would react.
For a moment, the being was silent.
"Hm…" He finally voiced, intertwining his fingers. His voice didn't imply a thing, but when raised an eyebrow at Harry, he took it as a sign that he was supposed to explain.
"He's a murder," Harry said quickly. "And a warlock. He broke the First Law by killing with magic and he's been selling dangerous and harmful drugs to the people of Chicago, which is against mortal law, too."
Harry felt some kind of mental probe reach out to touch his mind, but it slid in and got back out before he could even raise his shields. The Outsider nodded and looked towards Murphy.
"I'm afraid I'm not very familiar with Chicago's drug laws."
Murphy took a deep breath and seemed ready to start a monologue, but Harry put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. A moment later the Outsider looked away from her, nodding again, and Harry guess he'd probably already sorted through Murphy's mind. He wanted to say something scathing, but he didn't get a chance before the being stood up.
"Well?" The Master of Death asked, tilting his head as he walked towards the still bound warlock. "Do you have anything to say in your defense? If you have something that contradicts what they have said, I'd be more than happy to hear it."
"Its…T-they…you c-can't…" The warlock stuttered over his denial, shaking his head as the Outsider approached.
"'It's not true,'" The Master of Death translated calmly. "'They're lying to you. They're all in Marcone's pocket and he sent them here to kill me. You can't believe what they say.' It would be helpful if you spoke clearly and concisely, Mr. Sells, to prevent any misunderstandings from occurring."
The warlock—Mr. Sells, apparently—attempted to step back, suddenly trying to escape.
"I—" He began.
"'Was set up,'" The Outsider finished, nodding as if he understood and gave a polite, professional smile. He was less than a foot in front of the man now. "Do not worry, Mr. Sells; I will bring the truth to light."
He laid a gentle hand on the head of the shaking man, who suddenly gasped, arching his back.
"Even if you do not want me to," He finished, looking dispassionately down at the man.
The Outsider held the man like that for several seconds, expression blank and disinterested, like it meant nothing to him whether Sells was innocent or guilty. Then, he simply let go and the man sagged down in relief, held up only by the arms of the now very nervous looking cops on either side of him.
The Master of Death looked down at him quietly for a moment and Harry couldn't see if there was any expression on his face, but there wasn't when the being turned back towards him and Murphy. He gestured with the wand he held and the panting man sagged even more, like someone had cut his strings.
When Harry stood up in alarm, the Outsider calmly shook his head.
"I just put him in an enchanted sleep." He said. "I imagine Rashid will be here before too long—you can hand him over then. You can sit down now, gentlemen; put him by the house."
With a gesture, several more seats appeared around the table. The rain water falling from the edges of the umbrella twisted in midair, forming small streams that bent towards the center of the table, turning into tea cups full of tea as they touched it. The officers glanced nervously at Murphy, moving to place the man by the house after receiving a nod.
As the Auror returned to his seat and settled into it, Harry couldn't help but notice that he looked somewhat distracted, as if organizing his thoughts. He nodded to himself once, apparently coming to a decision.
"Ms. Murphy, I believe I understand everything that has happened so far, including several pieces of information I don't believe you are aware of. If you could do me a favor, I would be more than willing to share."
Harry and Murphy looked at each other as one. They both knew to be wary whenever someone mentioned a deal.
Even so…
"What kind of favor?" Murphy asked.
"The man's name is Victor Sells," The Outsider said. "He has a wife and two kids; Monica, Jenny, and Billy Sells. The wife has been abused mentally and physically, first by her father and then by her husband. I could be wrong, but I believe that America has systems for taking care of both witnesses and the abused, don't they?"
"Tch," Micky Malone said, approaching. "This guy was a real peach all around, huh? Do you have an address?"
A piece of paper appeared on the table. Micky picked it up, read it several times, and nodded.
"I'll handle this Murphy," He said, receiving a nod in response. He shot the hot tea cup on the table a glance, sighed, and left.
"Thank you, officer." The Outsider said. "Ask your questions, Ms. Murphy."
"Do you know why the two murder victims, Tommy Tom and Jennifer Stanton, were killed?" Murphy asked, producing a pen and some paper from her uniform.
"Jennifer Stanton was the sister of Monica Sells," The Auror said dutifully. "When she learned about her older sister's situation, she threatened to go to the police and someone named 'Gentleman Johnny Marcone' with what she knew. So he killed her and the spell affected both of them due to their intimacy at the time."
Nodding, she wrote that down.
"And the couple out front?" She asked.
"The Beckitts," He said. "Victor needed financial backers. Mr. Marcone had killed their daughter, so he promised them revenge. In addition, he used their emotions to power his magic and his rituals—just as he had with Monica."
"Is anyone else involved?"
"Yes; a man working for Mr. Marcone. His name is Lawrence. And a woman named Linda, a friend of Jennifer who was going to do the same thing she had done and expose Victor; if you ask her, I'm sure she'll have some more evidence for you. He was going to kill her tonight. If you have the Beckitts, you can find her fairly easily, I imagine; she works as their driver, at the moment."
"I know her," Harry said. "I don't know the name, but I've probably met Lawrence, too."
"We'll deal with them." Murphy said, closing her notepad. "That should be everything."
The Outsider nodded, rising.
"It's just as well," He said. "I should leave before Rashid gets here."
And just like that, the Master of Death began to rise into the air.
"Mr. Dresden," He continued. "When Rashid gets here, tell him the Circle was involved with this. He'll know what to do. It was nice to see you again, Mr. Dresden. Goodbye, Ms. Murphy. Until next time."
The Outsider waved at them, before turning and flying back up to his train.
Harry and Murphy just watched go for a moment, as he boarding his flying train of death. As the train began to move and the lightning beneath it started to churn, Murphy looked at him.
"He seems nice," She said.
"I guess," Harry sighed. "Come on; we still have things to do before we're done."
Murphy sighed as well.
"Yes," She agreed. "Including paying a visit to Marcone so we can accuse one of his subordinates of betraying him."
XxXXxX
