We spent the rest of the day asking questions, going over the scene, and asking more questions. After the first few glares sent my way, Nightwing took over the questioning.
"You're not putting them at ease, Harry." He scolded me on our way to the next interview.
"I'm diplomatically challenged." I answered with a shrug.
But despite all the people we talked to, we still ended up with a whole lot of nothing. Even my Wizard's Sight didn't get anything other than darkness and blood soaking into the ground. I had managed to follow the sense of death to a spot filled with the rotten feel of black magic.
Nightwing pulled me back when he caught my shudder. I explained to him how black magic feels to me and how much I wanted to dunk my head in warm water to get rid of that feeling. But I also knew that what remained in that spot was residue gone stale a couple of days ago. If I stumbled across that same black magic again, a dunking wouldn't suffice. A nice, long soak in heated water would.
Whatever magic happened here, it wasn't a major working or there'd be more residues. But it still left a bad taste in my mouth.
"Still nothing?" I asked from the other side of the garage Nightwing brought us to. He said it was more secure than another motel room, and he trusted me enough not to kill him in his own secret base. I was still wondering how secure it was when I took one step into the garage, then took five steps back at the sight of the gadgetry around the place.
One of his little devices sparked on the table and I hoped I didn't break it.
"It's a spare comm I was trying to fix." Nightwing waved off my concern. "I can get another, don't worry."
We ended up compromising with him moving most of his stuff to one side while I stayed in the other; which meant we had to shout to each other just to hold a decent conversation and I couldn't see whoever it was he talked to over the computer except for lines on a green screen.
"Oracle says the police reports read the same." The vigilante was telling me. "No one suspicious lurking nearby, no sound, not a trace. But the witnesses all felt uncomfortable just before their friend disappeared."
"That would be the magic talking." I rubbed my temples. Nothing was ever easy. "Hell's bells."
"Sorry we can't be of much help."
"That's alright. It's my case. Got to make sure I earn my paycheck." I walked over to the phone near me and pulled out a folded paper out of my pocket as I went.
"Harry?"
"I got a couple of calls to make." I made a brief effort to hold in my magic punched in a number from the list. I still got a lot of static, but that was normal for two members of the Paranet to use the phone. The Paranet is a collection of minor practitioners – none of them powerful enough to be called a wizard except for me and one other – who regularly exchanged information on magic. It was mostly a support network for people the big guns don't bother paying attention to. When something paranormal happens, the information gets passed on until it reaches someone who can solve it. Sometimes, a case becomes serious enough to be passed to me.
The Paranet still wasn't widely used by my bosses; but for someone in my job, it comes in handy now and then. "Mrs. Plumbart? Harry Dresden. I wonder if you've felt something in Bludhaven lately…"
I hung up a few minutes later. Nightwing was looking at me expectantly.
"On the nights of the disappearances, a couple of the local practitioners were sensitive enough to feel a disturbance in the force."
"Uh, whatever you say, Obi Wan."
I grinned at him. "I called the practitioners who lived nearest Melville Park. On those same five nights, they felt a wave of black magic – powerful enough to make them stumble; which means I'm up against something really nasty."
"Just you?" Nightwing asked.
"No, I'll be taking Pete, my imaginary back-up."
"Well, I was going to offer but if you'd rather take Pete instead…"
I held up a hand. "I know you're good with criminals and metas, but leave the supernatural nasties to someone like me."
He was about to protest further when he paused, a hand going up to his ear. "Batman?"
"Not him, either. I-" it took his turning away for me to realize he was talking to someone through an earpiece. I quickly put as much distance between us as I could, and ended up leaning against the far wall. If I keep getting static from a normal telephone, I didn't want to jinx one as small as the one Nightwing uses. It might blow up in his ear.
When he finished the call, he looked up and drew back in surprise at how far I was. "Hey, what are you-"
"Magic and technology." I called back. "Didn't want to cut off your call again."
"Oh." He reached up and took off his earpiece. "Batman wants us to meet him. Says he's got your necromancer."
I blinked. "How'd he find the guy so fast?"
"He's Batman."
"Stars and stones." I muttered. "Walked right into that one."
