They had moved the whole experiment somewhere else. Somewhere completely else, away from any populated areas, driving as far as the Indiana Dunes State Park. Hendricks had been far from happy, though getting an emotional reaction from him was difficult on the best of days, but even Harry had no problem reading the man right now.
He was somewhere between pissed off, tense and highly suspicious for the whole hour it had taken them to drive here.
Marcone had simply given his oldest friend a calm look, eyebrows twitching minutely, and in Hendricks-speak that seemed to mean that things were fine, this was a good plan, and Marcone was completely invested in this enterprise.
There was absolutely no one around. It was still too cold this time of the year for too many tourists to be drawn out here. Harry had chosen a good spot that insured privacy.
Marcone studied the ruby. It wasn't very big, shaped like a tear-drop, held in a delicate, golden prong. It looked innocent. Just a piece of nice to look at jewelry. The golden chain was simple, with a single claps, and just long enough that it would place the ruby above a woman's cleavage.
Bob had come along and now sat on a large boulder just to Harry's left, watching them avidly with brightly glowing eyes. Dresden had explained Marcone's theory throughout the drive, drawing forth a few thoughtful hums.
"Good theory, really," the skull said, mulling it over. "But it's not like wizards are known for predicting the future in miniscule detail. There might be some extraordinarily wacky and batty ones who could have too much of that one thing, but even if you have it in spades, no one can see everything, boss. But," and he paused melodramatically for a moment, "she might have done such a complicated spell that it's really easy to crack it, if you know how your mom ticked."
"Come again?"
"She left it to her then very much mundane son. Not Thomas. He might be half human, but the vampire side overwhelmed that part. You weren't a practitioner at the time, but you hat the theoretical potential to be one, considering your family tree. She left it to you, hoping you might one day be able to grow into your heritage, maybe strongly enough to stomach what this knowledge means, what you can do."
Harry frowned.
John's expression was unreadable, but his eyes were burning with the intensity of his thoughts. Finally a slow smile crept over his lips.
"Johnny here gets it," Bob announced.
Harry gave him a dark look. "Translation: no other magic than the raw, primal elemental one can trigger the lock," he said despondently, as if trying to show a hard-ass teacher that yes, the supposed village idiot understood, too. "And to keep anyone who can use that magic from accessing the map, my mother also spelled it to me, her youngest son."
"Bingo!"
"That sounds… rather simplistic," John remarked. "In a complicated way that involves genetic coding."
"Good magic always is simple in the end," the skull explained magnanimously. "The whole complicated hand-weaving and chanting… that's part showmanship. The really powerful wizards can do it with a flick of a wrist, the snap of fingers, or just with a whisper of a breath. To code the lock to one person takes a lot of knowledge to do. That's not easy and might even be outside her abilities."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"Your mother was so good at travelling around the Nevernever and keeping faerie company, she was called LeFay, Harry. She had delicate spell-work mastered and she knew things no one else ever has or has since. While it's a simple enough spell, it has the deviousness of a Fae to it, too."
"Good point," Marcone agreed.
"I only have good points." The skull rocked back and forth.
"You think she used faerie magic?"
It got him a scoff. "Humans can't do faerie magic."
"Bob…"
"She had friends. Well, Fae you might consider benevolently friendly, in comparison to how they normally act."
"So one of her friends helped?"
"Could be. I mean, this kinda feels like faerie work. We tried all kinds of unlocking spells, right? We used your magic in a million constellations, but never just… raw magic. Pure, primal magic flowing into the ruby, one that you control, that is channeled by you, boss."
Harry heaved a sigh. "So… how do we trigger the key? Preferably without a major catastrophe."
"Preferably," Marcone echoed dryly.
"Well, if she keyed it to raw magic, reach for that. Carefully. It might take a while since just blasting it briefly shouldn't do the trick. It's upholding the connection that shows you are anchored. If we're right, the moment the anchor and shield take hold, the lock will break. Wouldn't even require Johnny-boy to be here, actually, but hey! The more the merrier!"
Harry met the green eyes, read the tension in there, the wariness and also the determination.
He started with a protective circle, making sure it was perfect, taking his time to check twice. It would be only him and Marcone inside, though he would have preferred to leave his shield outside. John's expression had told him quite clearly that, no, it wasn't an option and it was non-negotiable.
Hendricks looked rather unhappy about the whole situation, about a magical barrier between him and his boss, but he didn't argue. At least not verbally. There was a lot of eye-narrowing, frowning and the occasional glare involved.
"Well," Dresden murmured as he took the ruby from John. "Let's do this."
Gently, with a delicacy he hadn't been capable of just a year ago, he reached for that endless well, the abyss. It was smooth and deceptively calm. Underneath its surface were the raging elemental powers that other wizards could use, too, but never so raw and unrefined. It would rip most users apart to just draw on a little of this without a focus and completely annihilate whoever just dove in and grabbed for it.
He opened his right hand, palm up with the ruby resting on it, and concentrated. Blue light followed his summoning, beautiful but deadly. His body began to thrum.
Within the endless well sat the anchor, permanent, a true fact that couldn't be removed by any kind of magic, and it was his island in a stormy sea that would otherwise mercilessly swallow him whole.
He reached for the vortex, unafraid, accomplished in a way that would normally take decades and shouldn't be possible for a wizard his age. Harry drew it in, infused tiny trickles of the primal power into the ruby with skill and artistry.
He felt the anchor take hold, powerful, in control, keeping him tethered, and the shield stretched around his soul. Confidently, he let more raw magic flow. It was fierce fire, sub-zero ice, a raging storm and trembling ground. It was all so very primal and unrefined, but not malicious, aggressive or destructive. It didn't hurt him, didn't tear his mind apart or shredded his soul. It was following his commands like a well-trained puppy. A puppy with sharp teeth, burning eyes and an unrivalled force.
Suddenly there was a whispery trail of magic detaching itself, four distinctly colored lines weaving into one stronger one, twirling around the two men. It was dizzying and beautiful and awe-inspiring to watch.
And it reached for John like it had done so many times before, when they were intimately close, when they were emotionally laid bare before the other.
He heard a sharp exhalation of air.
Harry looked at his shield, the green eyes almost ethereal, and the magic caressed the sharply cut face, the lean lines hidden underneath the perfectly cut suit. He was very much aware of the other man, of the strength, the cool control, the confidence; John. His magic thrummed with approval, telling him that this was what it was supposed to be.
There was a shiver going through him as the connection tightened, but Marcone held his eyes, showing nothing but complete assurance and trust. Harry had never felt anything like this before in all his life; well, he had never been connected to anyone like his shield before in all his life. Deadly but beautiful. Lethal but oh-so desirable. He loved to feel that strength, that steel core, was addicted in the best possible way. His tether in a stormy sea that threatened to batter him against rocks and then drown him.
There was something like a ping from the ruby.
Energy coalesced and he released it.
His pentacle amulet around his neck started to glow and the protective runes responded in kind, the circle lighting up as the shield flared to life. It enveloped Marcone and him, keeping all the energy contained.
Then his Sight triggered.
Harry's eyes widened as he suddenly saw the map unfold before his eyes. It was the Nevernever, larger than anything Harry had ever seen, unfurling around him, around John, the lab… three-dimensional, folded within itself, and he could see countless Waypoints. Some he recognized, so many more, a lot more, unknown to him.
Due to the Sight, the map was now a lasting memory that would never fade or be forgotten. He stared at it, amazed and shocked in one, feeling small tremors work through his body. The magic twirled around them and he faintly heard Bob's voice, but he didn't understand the words.
His mother's map…
A hand curled around his own, the one holding the ruby, and he blinked, meeting the green eyes he had shared a soulgaze with so many years ago.
Power sparked almost visibly between them. The protection was bright and strong around them and Harry could feel the strength of the magic, how it wafted back and forth, how it clung possessively to Marcone.
John was absolutely open to him, no walls, no masks, no facades. He saw nothing but who the man really was, felt the thrum between them, the power, the pull they had toward each other.
"It's there," he whispered. "So simple… it was so simple…"
"And yet no one else but you could ever access it," John said, equally soft.
Because it needed his magic, but not simply the one he had learned to handle. It was the elementary one, the primal power, the one he could control because of the anchor and shield.
Not all Waypoints would still be exactly in that position as they changed through time, but this was so much more than he had ever thought possible, than anyone else possessed.
And it was his mother's gift to him.
The raw magic disappeared slowly, still caressing them, the fire the last to go. John was still clasping his hand, was still openly meeting his eyes.
"I ask only one thing, Harry Dresden: don't go off exploring your mother's legacy just yet."
Harry swallowed. "I wouldn't willy-nilly enter the Nevernever, John…"
"She did, apparently. I never met your mother, but if she was as adventurous and reckless as you…"
He gave him an affronted look, but Bob's laughter had him bite back on a reply. "Shut up," he told the skull.
"Genetics are a bitch, boss!"
"I said shut it!"
John tilted his head and smiled, warm and amused. "I want your promise."
"You have it. I promise. This is a tool, John. It can help me in battles, in travelling, but no one just walks around the Nevernever like it's some kind of demented Disneyland. You don't go sight-seeing in there."
"The Leanansidhe warned you that it is power and it can affect your mind."
"Travelling through the Nevernever can. A lot. The more you do it, the stronger the influence of Faerie can be." Harry dropped his head to rest it against Marcone's, drawing him closer. "She not only knew where the continually changing Ways were, but where they would be in the future. That's an amazing ability all on its own. My mother was special in how she walked among the Fae and the Nevernever. I know I haven't been that lucky and got into some trouble now and then."
Bob snorted, but he kept his mouth shut.
They silently stood together, the last remnants of the magic dissipating. Marcone shivered briefly, eyes sliding shut, lips opening. Harry leaned brushed their lips together. After a while Marcone released his hand and Harry placed the ruby back into the warded box.
It would stay there. He wouldn't take it back out again unless it was needed. The map was now in his head. For him to use if necessary. No one else had that knowledge; no one else would be able to just pass through the Nevernever using Ways only his mother had ever found and known.
The protective circle collapsed.
He had about a fraction of a second of a warning, then Winter swept over them in a display of deadly beauty and deceptive grace. This time the landscape didn't frost over, but the chill was the same and the power was clear to feel.
"Leanansidhe," Harry whispered, automatically stepping in front of Marcone, eyes tracking to where Hendricks had reached for his gun. He spread the fingers of one hand, creating a protective shield around Hendricks, the other stretched to the side to block John..
The inhumanly beautiful woman in the flowing, green dress smiled at him, white teeth and gleaming golden eyes. Her glossy red hair fell in perfect waves over her back, as unnatural as all of her.
"My dear godson, it has been way too long since we last met," she greeted him with a seductive purr. "You figured it out."
"You knew?"
Marcone had elegantly stepped out from behind Dresden, ignoring the outstretched arm. He looked vaguely interested in their visitor, like taking in a bothersome interloper, and very much as if he was in control of the situation. Sharp eyes assessed the Fae, his smile cool and distant.
"I had believed we have an understanding, Leanansidhe," he greeted her pleasantly.
"Oh, this is but a nicety," she replied with a smile on her perfect lips that was quite insincere. "A social visit with my dear, dear godson. Outside your Hold, Baron of Chicago." Now that smile grew sharper, colder, and knowing.
He cocked an eyebrow, not agreeing but also not denying that very fact. They were outside Marcone's actual Freehold, which encompassed the city of Chicago inside its borders, but not any of the wider area.
Lea chuckled.
"What do you want?" Harry demanded.
"I was waiting for this moment to occur. It wasn't that long. Not as long as I thought you might take to find the key. Your beloved shield is rather smart." She flashed an appreciative look at Marcone, who gave her a stoic look in return. "You opened the map, despite my warnings, as I knew you would. You are so much like her in that regard. Your mother had an unbreakable spirit, unlike many mortal humans that entered the Nevernever. She was not like many and sadly she perished before she could rise above her own limits and prove just what was inside her. It was her hope that you would come into your heritage, that you would be of magic, and she wasn't wrong."
He narrowed his eyes at the powerful Fae. "You knew how to open it," Dresden accused, trying to keep his emotions under control.
"Of course, my sweet one."
But she could never do it herself. A lightbulb went off. "You helped her seal it!"
The Leanansidhe looked pleased, the teacher surprised and clearly approving of a student's success at solving a puzzle. "Yes. Margaret was quite clever in her spellwork. She could not code it to you specifically, though. Not alone."
So she had asked the Leanansidhe. His mother had asked one of the most powerful High Sidhe to encrypt the spell to only work when two specific events coincided: her son Harry and his ability to manipulate and direct raw elemental magic, the latter for which he needed an anchor.
What had she bargained with? What kind of deal had she struck to manage this feat? What price had she paid in the end, aside from dying?
Lea's smile was beguiling, almost overwhelmingly seductive, and Harry fought the effects. He reached for his shield, felt it brush over his very soul.
"She had hoped for you to become a wizard one day, dearest. Only if you proved to be strong enough, to be able to withstand what this knowledge entails, would you gain what she has given you."
"And I need an anchor to handle the magic I needed," he murmured.
She inclined her head.
His mother hadn't seen his future. She had known that to use what she had been naturally capable of, to follow in her footsteps, her son would have to grow very powerful himself. Harry would have to handle the vast knowledge of the map, of the Waypoints, and to be theoretically capable to travel as she had.
It was one thing to know about a few Ways; wizards used them like a subway. But his mother had been in places that no one else had, that might try to tear apart his mind, take his soul, and that would require this vast power he hadn't been able to control before. She had had the ability to predict where Ways would appear.
"You could have told me!"
"That wasn't part of our agreement. Margaret asked me to give this to you when I deemed you ready."
Nothing more, nothing less. She had never asked Lea to also supply the key. Like she hadn't specified to her just how she was to keep her godson safe. Fae, as was their nature, took to those unspecified terms of a contract and interpreted them their own way; sometimes in quite extreme and possibly painful ways. Painful for the human involved. She would never do anything that would lead to Harry's death, but she also saw her agreement to protect him the Faerie way. Which meant turning him into a hellhound or burdening him with the mantle of the Winter Knight was acceptable.
His mother had been dying at the time, with little time to work out the finer points, so she had entrusted her son and the ruby to the Leanansidhe, but she hadn't told her to also help him access it.
"It also wouldn't have helped you, Harry. To know how to open it and to open it are not the same." The golden eyes appraised Marcone again. "At the time you didn't have your Baron. Even his acquaintance wasn't enough to enable you to undo the spellwork."
He glowered at her. "A little hint would have helped. But yeah, she never told you to help me, right?"
He smile was terrifyingly inhuman.
"Thanks for nothing," he muttered wryly.
The golden eyes flared with amusement. "You are welcome, child. Maybe now that you know the Ways, you will visit your beloved godmother more often. I thirst for your company."
Marcone's face was made of stone and he didn't move a muscle, but the protective instincts were screaming off him.
"We will think about it," he said before Harry could answer, voice like cutting glass.
Lea laughed musically, clearly amused, eyes glowing from deep within.
And then she disappeared again, taking the sharp bite of Winter with her. Part of Harry that still echoed with the Winter Knight's power, shivered and finally relaxed.
"Wow," he muttered.
John gave him a pointed look.
"Wow," Harry just repeated, still clutching the ruby.
Bob, who had been absolutely silent and probably trying not to attract too much attention from a being that could as easily snuff him out of existence as she could free him from his prison, hummed.
"Yep, wow. Your mother was a piece of work, boss. This is some heavy faerie magic combined with whatever your mom could do. So, planning any social visits?" he teased. "Tea and cookies? Not that I'd recommend eating anything a Fae serves you."
"Not any time soon."
Marcone's lips thinned and his eyes narrowed briefly. "I would prefer you don't at all. At least right now."
"Yeah."
Using the Ways was one thing. He, like many wizards, did it all the time to travel. And while he hadn't been a frequent traveler lately, he wouldn't just not use them at all. Wizards needed the Ways. He simply wasn't going to just visit without a really good and solid reason.
His stomach growled, breaking the silence. John smiled.
"Food?" he offered as they headed to the car, accompanied by Hendricks, who had been as much in the background as Bob, watching and waiting for any order from Marcone.
"Sounds like a plan."
"What is your opinion on a decent restaurant?"
Harry shot him an affronted look. "Pizza 'Spress is a decent restaurant! And they always have a free table."
"They have only the one table," was the desert dry reply. "Covered in red plastic tablecloth."
"At least I'm not paying ten times for a plate that has nothing but a lettuce leaf and some mousy stuff with fish eggs on it."
Marcone chuckled and just gave him that fondly exasperated look. "You, Mr. Dresden, a culinary disaster."
"I know what I like and I don't like to leave hungry and wondering how that stuff constitutes as food."
"Yes, you are more of an all you can eat buffet type."
"I know you like pizza," he argued. "I've seen you liking pizza! And burgers."
"I'm infinitely adaptable," Marcone teased.
"And I'm not?" Harry growled.
"You have a very linear kind of food craving."
"Nothing wrong about that!"
"No, not at all." John's eyes were alight with way too much laughter.
"And it's almost past midnight!" Dresden insisted. "What members only exclusive high end restaurant is open that late?"
"I know a place."
"Of course you do," came the snort.
They had by now almost reached the car after hiking a good thirty minutes.
"Trust me?"
Harry shot him a quick look, banter bleeding into a more serious expression for a long moment. Marcone raised his eyebrows, still amused, and Harry let the tension flow away for now.
"Okay. Surprise me."
Not something he liked as a rule, but something that had happened way too often as a rule in his life. Marcone smiled softly, warmly.
"You won't be disappointed."
xxXxx
It was a surprise, because the restaurant was a tiny Italian place that was truly still open and serving the meanest spaghetti Harry had ever tasted. Homemade, the menu declared. The bread was equally homemade and the garlic butter was amazing. John drank wine while Harry stayed with water. He might have been tempted by Mac's ale, but spaghetti and beer were atrocious.
A rotund woman who had to be between sixty and ninety bustled around them, serving food to the only dinner guests left, and when Marcone paid, he and Harry were the last.
"Didn't know this place existed," Dresden murmured, feeling pleasantly full.
"It's a family secret."
He slanted a look at the other man. "Family?"
"Not that family, Harry. I have known Tanna's family for a very long time and not related to my organization."
He grunted.
"The restaurant has been in her family for generations. I think her great-grandfather opened it and now she continues this tradition."
"Really great food."
"I'll relay your compliments to the cook the next time."
Harry shot him a brief smile and leaned back in the car, enjoying the ride, the sparse traffic, the calmness of the early morning hour. Comfortable silence had settled between them.
He was tired, but part of him was very buoyant, very much high on his success, on the remnants of the raw magic. Not even Lea's revelations and her invitation could dampen his spirits. Marcone reached over and threaded their fingers together, squeezing his hand. Harry felt a shiver at the contact, reacting soul-deep and intensely to the other man. Apparently there were a few remnants of magic left.
Still not words were spoken.
They didn't need them.