Hello everyone. I had a really fun time with this chapter, and I really hope you enjoy it. And now I present to you: the longest chapter of Blue Eyes so far!

My head is spinning by the time Lara finally stops running. She doesn't even skid on the wet snow, just stops as easily as if she were walking.

Lara doesn't even give me a minute to get to the world to stand straight. She puts us down on something cold and hard, but lowers us down softly. I want to yell and say that I can do it myself, that I'm not a kid anymore—

"Harry?" I look down at my brother. His head has lolled down onto my shoulder, but when I sit myself up with him, I have to pull his head up myself. His eyes are half-closed, and his body sways in my arms.

"Daddy…" He croaks out.

His eyes shut themselves completely, and his body falls limp against me.

"Harry!" I shake my brother, but he doesn't stir. Panic booms in my chest and I shake him even harder. Harry! Harry!"

"He's fine." Lara's voice is sharp. She's standing still, but her arms are coiled by her sides. "He's just unconscious. The force of the run puts a lot of pressure on humans, particularly young ones."

My panic doesn't go away completely, but I trust Lara. I yank off my backpack and pull off the white leather jacket. My bad wrist has gone numb, but I don't stop to think about it. I move to wrap my brother in the jacket, despite the large tear in the sleeve, but Lara pulls me back before I can. "Tommy, we need to go. Now."

"Wait, Lara." She starts dragging me away from my brother, and I can't get any grip on the thick snow beneath us. "Lara!"

"There's a police station a little while from here. I'll drop him off, but then we leave." She readjusts her grip on my arm and keeps pulling me away.

"No, what—Lara, just wait!" I try to pry her off of me, but her fingers are in a vice grip around my arm, and I have no way to get them off.

"Wait for what, Thomas?" She stops to face me, and her eyes look brighter, more metallic. "I need to deal with Ferrin, and I'd rather you're not there when it happens." She starts pulling me away again. I try loosening her grip with my fingernails, but Lara keeps moving as if it's nothing.

Harry. I need to get back to Harry, I think. And that's when an idea pops into my head.

With all the strength left in my body, I sink my teeth into the flesh of my sister's hand. She lets out a cry and her fingers spasm, and I take the opportunity to wrestle my way out of her grip.
She grabs me with her other arm with lightning speed, but I'm still biting her hand. I let my teeth sink further into her skin, wincing only slightly when I taste blood in my mouth. Her grip tightens. So does my jaw.

And then all I feel is a flash of red, blinding pain.

I collapse to the floor, not even knowing what happened. My body curls in on itself on its own volition, and I can't be sure, but I think I'm shaking. I force my eyes to open, and all I see is white.

After a few blinks, my eyes focus. I see a mess of snow right in front of my eyes, but when I lift my head a little, I realize that I'm looking at my sister. She's kneeling in the snow in front of me, holding my bad wrist in her hands. They're faint and nearly invisible among the bruises, but I can see the red imprints of where her fingers had twisted my wrist just moments ago. The hand I bit is still bleeding; so is my elbow, I realize, from when I broke the motel window. The snow beneath us begins to turn pink as our blood mixes and sinks into it.

"I did not mean to hurt you so much," she whispers. It's so quiet I can't tell if I was meant to hear it.

I look around the area to see where the hell Lara's brought us. There's not much, just a pay phone, some rusted street lamps, and a single bench next to a bus stop where Harry lies unconscious, wrapped up in Malcolm's red flannel. The street lamps are the only source of light in the dark street, and yet I can see Lara perfectly. The light bounces off her pale face in a way that makes her look almost radiant. I push myself up with my good arm, ignoring the pulsing pain shooting up from my wrist. If I want to talk to Lara, it can't be with me lying helpless in the snow. "What was that thing? With Ferrin."

"Even after traveling with LeFay." Her finger starts tapping the palm of my hand to a quick beat, but stops when her eyes land on my bruised wrist again. She sighs. "That was an ogre. He found a way around the contract by hiring an ogre to attack Malcolm Dresden. He was only supposed to avoid direct confrontation, but that didn't include other creatures."

This is just getting better and better. "You didn't think of that when you hired an insane cousin to train me? Weren't you supposed to be the smart one of the family? Or is that another thing that's changed about you?"

"Mind your words around me, little brother." Her eyes pierce into mine, and I flinch. "I didn't expect him to have the means to find a creature like that. I'll bandage this quickly and get you to a doctor. Then I'll deal with him." She speaks quickly and quietly. Her teeth brush her lower lip, removing some of the dark lipstick that hides her bright red lips. If I didn't know Lara, I'd say she almost looks guilty. But then again, there's so much of Lara I'd never known until tonight, and maybe now I'm finally seeing her for who she is outside of my own life. Someone who's more than just my big sister.

Lara takes off her coat to reveal a tight turtleneck which she removes immediately. All she's left with is a short-sleeved cotton shirt, but that doesn't seem to affect her at all. She tears the turtleneck into long pieces, but instead of using them to bandage her own hand, she starts wrapping them around my own throbbing wrist. A fresh wave of pain rolls through me, but as the fabric tightens around the bruises, the pain dies down.

I mindlessly watch as Lara keeps bandaging, and my mind wanders. I think back to the motel, and my mind is filled with the image of gangly fingers reaching out towards Malcolm.
Malcolm.

A dozen emotions crash into me all at once. Fuck, what the hell did I say? What the hell did he say? He let me go. He let go with Harry. He could've killed me right then and there, busted the window open himself, and taken Harry far away. But he didn't. He told Harry I'd take him away. He basically told Harry to trust me. Me.

Why?

My fingers are shaking, but Lara pays it no mind. Her eyes are focused solely on her own movements, and I'm guessing she's stuck in her own head, too. Does she know why Malcolm let me go? Does she know why he hasn't killed me? He shot the ogre instead of me, even though all this time he's been training to—

Kill me. He's been training to kill me, right?

"What about Malcolm?" I finally ask. "What'll happen to him?"

"Whatever happens to him isn't my concern." She ignores my eyes. Her hands move the bandage around my wrist methodically, as precise as any doctor. He took care of you, and I respect him for that, but I do not owe him my services."

"Services?" I'm not sure where they're coming from, but the words rise out of me. "He raised me! Longer than you did. And he's Harry's dad. The guy and I don't always get along, but that doesn't mean he deserves to deal with that monster."

"One day he will hunt you, Tommy. Just like they all do." She says it as a matter-of-fact, but if that's true, then why am I here? Why am I still alive when he could've shot me right there?

His face. He looked shocked, I remember that. His eyes kept darting around the room, he kept trying to get near me, and he kept trying to say something.

Should I have let him say it?

"Oh, so you're too scared to go after him."

"That is not what I'm saying."

"Or you're too weak to take him on." I egg Lara on, and honestly, it's way too easy. "Never thought you'd be the one to chicken out. Weren't you the one who told me that running is for idiot little brothers?"

"I thought I'd get more respect from my sibling."

"In my experience, siblings are the ones who get away with the most shit-talk."

"Thomas." Lara pulls the last of the pseudo-bandages tight and tucks the end of it into the make-shift cast. She lets go of my hand and takes my elbow, wrapping another strand of fabric around it to stop the bleeding. "Leave him," she says. As simple as that.

I could. That's what I'd been planning to do. That's what I was getting ready to do, why I had had the only photos our family has of each other. But Malcolm didn't leave me when Ferrin and the ogre showed up. He didn't hightail and run with Harry, which he could've done. He could have given me up to save my brother, but he didn't.

And when Harry came running into the room and grabbed my leg, Malcolm let him. He trusted me with my brother, even when I couldn't trust myself with him.

I look up and see my sister wrap the last of the fabric around my arm. Despite everything, I feel safe with her. She's family. She cares. She raised me, and even if all this has caused her trouble, she's helping me. It would've been so much easier for her to just ignore the bruises, but that's not what she did. She's ripped off her own clothing just so I can feel a little less pain.

"I got it wrong," I say. "Malcolm doesn't want to kill me."

If he wanted to kill me, he would have. He would've left me for dead in that goddamn motel room, and he certainly wouldn't have let Harry near me. Instead of that, he turned and shot bullets at a magical creature that can break through concrete walls, all to give Harry and me time to get away.

God, he never wanted to kill me. He was just trying to protect me.

A laugh rasps out of me. Lara gives me a strange look, but I don't care about what she thinks of me right now. I don't care because I've realized how fucked this is. I left the man who tried to protect me at the hands of the one person I fear more than anyone in the world.

"I left," I say, and from where I am, kneeling in the freezing snow, it feels like I'm confessing. "I got it all wrong about him… and I left. I don't even know if he's still alive."

Lara says nothing. She puts down my arm and places her hand on the top of my head, threading her fingers through my hair just like Mom used to. I look into her eyes, and I see they're no longer just grey. Swirls of blue mix into the normal hue of her eyes, and though it feels kind, it gives no answers to the only question on my mind.

What do I do now?

That's when I hear a voice. It's small, like a little tingle in my ear, but I can hear it as clearly as anything I've heard in my life.

If something happens to Malcolm and me, and you cannot find us— My mom's voice chokes on something, but I can tell there's more she wants to say. Somehow, I know there's more that I'm supposed to hear.

Magic. Mom, you left some of your magic in me.

Her voice shudders for a moment, and then her voice whispers in my ear again. If that happens, she says, and you are in true danger, remember these numbers I whispered while you slept. She gives out a set of numbers, repeating it three times. I latch onto the numbers and repeat them over and over my head. I don't know exactly what they mean, but I'm not an idiot. I've dialed enough phone numbers to recognize one when I hear it.

"Tommy?" Lara shakes my head in her hands. The voice stops, but it's not gone. Not yet.

"Mom." There are tears falling down my face, but I'm smiling. "I remember."

"Remember what, Tommy?" Lara's fingers tighten against my scalp, and I can actually hear the worry in her voice.

"She put something in my head. Something I wasn't supposed to remember until now." I say the number out loud for her.

Her eyes lose the blue and turn completely grey. "Don't you dare call that number."

"Why not?"

"Because I think I know who it belongs to." She stands up, and I think she does it just to look down on me when she continues speaking. "If you must, give that number to the police. Or even to Harry. They can call the number, and Harry will be looked after. Then you can come with me with a clear conscience."

I stand up after her. With her boots on, she's more than a head taller than me, but I still stand up as straight as I can. She's gonna look down on me no matter what. The least I can do is show her she can't treat me like a kid again. "What about the ogre?"

"What about him?"

"Lara, you know as well as I do that the police can't handle an ogre. Hell, you probably know even better than I do!"

"Empty night." She reaches down and yanks both of our jackets off of the snow. She throws Ferrin's at me and slips on her own, and I realize her hand is still bleeding. "Thomas, this is not up for discussion. That man is dangerous."

"Harry can't lose his dad!" I yell at her. "He's already lost Mom. He never even knew her! If I leave too, and he doesn't have Malcolm around…"

"If he doesn't have Malcolm around?"

My throat closes up. I don't know what to say to that, mainly because I'm still reeling from everything. Just a few minutes ago I was sure Malcolm was gonna kill me, and now I'm thinking that he probably never wanted to do that in the first place. "I need to stay," I end up saying. "Maybe this person can take down Ferrin and the ogre. Mom wouldn't have given me this number unless it was for someone important. There's no way that Harry's gonna be able to tell them what happened. He's just a kid!"

"You are not staying." Lara stares me down.

"I have to. At least for Harry, I have to."

"I care for you, Thomas. You're family. But your brother is that: your brother. And he's your only connection to your stepfather."

I look away from her. Part of me knows she's right, but there's something that she doesn't understand. She isn't the one who's lived with the guy. She hasn't seen how he takes care of Harry, how he never loses his temper with him, or even how he makes sure the kid remembers to put shoes on. She didn't see how terrified he looked when I came back with the scrape above my eye. She didn't hear how hard he screamed my name when I jumped into Ferrin's car.

"Malcolm raised me."

"So could we." She says, gentler now. "You've seen the dangers the magical world brings. You need to learn to fight, to protect yourself. Give the child to the wizard, and come back with me."

I catch my breath. "So he's a wizard."

Her face gives nothing away, but I don't miss how her grey eyes turn metallic.

"He can take Ferrin down."

I turn to the lonely bench where my brother is, still in the same position as before. I walk towards him.

"Thomas, don't do this." The way she says it, it makes me stop two steps away from Harry. "When the wizard arrives, I cannot be near him. I cannot be there in case anything happens."
I turn to face her. "He's more powerful than you, isn't he?"

"I can take you away in the blink of an eye," she says. "I can leave your brother stranded in the middle of nowhere and make sure you never even have a chance of dialing that number."

"If it were that simple, why haven't you done it yet?"

Something flickers behind her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it right away.

"Let me call him. I'll tell him what happened, and if he can't—" My voice nearly chokes, but I stop myself before it can. "If he can't rescue Malcolm, I'll let him take Harry. And then I'll go with you."

I look down at Lara's bleeding hand. Some of the blood begins to seep into the white leather of her jacket, yet she doesn't even pay attention to it. She doesn't look at it because her focus is all on me.

I think about how Harry and I got away. My wrist has gone numb again, and despite Lara's makeshift bandages, I know the pain will come back the instant I start focusing on it again. I remember it hurt when I'd picked up Harry to get him away from Ferrin and the ogre, but I didn't care about the pain. All I cared about was my brother. And that's when it hits me.

"Lara, you want me safe because you're my sister. That's why you had Ferrin teach me to fight."

"You're my brother. Of course I want that."

"You said it yourself. Harry's my brother. That means I want him safe, too."

Lara doesn't answer, and that's how I know I've won.

I go to Harry and wrap him up in the jacket. He's still out of it, so he doesn't stir when I pick him up and throw the backpack over my shoulder. I hold him up with my good arm and walk straight to the phone booth, doing my best to ignore Lara's stare. It's hard to do with my wrapped wrist, and some of the blinding pain starts to come back, but I manage to pull out some spare change from my pocket and put it into the pay phone.

But most of all, my dear Thomas, Mom's voice whispers in my ear once more. Remember this. When you remember these numbers, you will meet a man who seems kind. No matter what it takes, no matter what you must do, you must look him in the eye.

My hand freezes on the phone handle.

You must, or else you might die, my mother says to me. And with that, the tingling in my ear vanishes, and I know her voice is gone for good.

"Tommy," my sister says, pleading with me one last time.

I can't look her in the eyes again. I've seen my sister cry only once, the night Mom took me away, and I don't think I can take seeing her cry again

"Lara." Another tear falls down my cheek, and I wonder if this is harder for her or me. "I'm sorry."

I dial the number. It rings a few times, and just when I think that maybe I got the number wrong, a message starts playing.

"You've reached the number of Ebenezar McCoy," it goes. "If it's an emergency, leave a message. If you don't know who I am, lose this number if you know what's good for you."

I wait until the emergency crews drive away to go back into the motel. From the chatter I could hear from behind the wall that separates the motel from a deserted take-away restaurant, the cause of two gaping holes in concrete walls was deemed to be the fault of a freak accident caused by improper construction. I know that the magical world is kept hidden from regular mortals because they just don't wanna see what's really there, but I mean come on. Is that really how you're gonna explain a hole that's the shape of a giant fist?

You know, I'm starting to see why the magical world looks down on mortals.

The motel manager chalks up our disappearance to us freaking out when an entire building seemed to collapse around us. They just barely avoid calling a tow truck to move the station wagon, in the hopes that we'll come back and not sue the motel manager, and leave some time after. I take my chance and run back into our old motel room, ducking under the dozen different yellow caution tapes that do absolutely nothing except work as the most conspicuous beacon you could possibly set up for the arrival of a wizard.

I'd say that the door is wide open, but that would mean there'd have to be a door. The ogre had somehow blown it to pieces, and wooden shrapnel coats the entrance to the motel room. It's difficult stepping over it while I'm still carrying Harry over my shoulder though. I look around the dark room and barely make out another hole in the far wall. I step over the threshold into the now empty bedroom.

It's just as it was a couple hours ago. The lights don't work, but enough moonlight spills in through the broken window for me to recognize Malcolm's suitcase in the corner. It's still a mess, and nothing like how Malcolm would've left it if he had a choice.

The guilt in my stomach makes me stare at it for a long time, and then I remember I still have my unconscious brother thrown over my shoulder.

More splinters and chunks of concrete dot the carpeted floor, and I have to brush some off of the bed. I lay Harry down. He stirs a little, but not enough to wake up. Good. I don't know how I'm supposed to explain everything to him, how I'm responsible for his dad getting taken, but I know I'll have to when he wakes up. Hell, he'll probably be yelling about how he's gonna go rescue Malcolm.

For a while, I watch over my brother. His hair is still a mess, he still has bags under his eyes, but he's actually sleeping.

"I know you can't hear me," I say out loud, "but thanks, Lara. You actually made the little demon take a nap."

No answer comes, but I'm not expecting one. After Lara dropped us off near the motel, she took off right away. I'm guessing it's my punishment for going against her. Part of me wonders if I'd be even more scared of her if she wasn't my sister. I've seen her hold down the man who would give me nightmares after he nearly broke my wrist, learned that she's one of the creatures Mom would always warn me about, and have seen her do things that are impossible for anyone who's mortal. And yet…

I pull out the box of painkillers she'd shoved in my pocket just before taking off. It's been long enough since I took the last one, so I swallow another pill. They're not very strong, and I can still feel an ache in my wrist, but they help just enough while letting me keep my head straight.

Things like this make it hard for me to imagine her as a monster.

The rumble of an engine shakes me out of my thoughts. With one last look at my brother, I leave the room to meet the man both Lara and Mom are terrified will kill me.

Well, I was literally asking for death a couple hours ago, so what's the harm in doing it again.

A rusted pick-up truck parks itself next to the station wagon. It might've been green at some point, but I can hardly tell from the many scratches and dents that cover the whole truck. The front lights go out, and a man who looks old enough for a retirement home steps out of the truck.

He's short, for a wizard. He's only a little taller than I am, and I haven't even hit my growth spurt yet, and he walks with a long wooden staff. It reminds me of the one Mom had all those years ago, etched with meticulous swirls and carvings. But this man isn't using the staff for support. He walks toward me with his back upright, and in his other hand he holds up a large lantern which floods the motel room in a yellow light.

I finally get a look at his face. He isn't wearing a hat, but mom never wore one, so I didn't expect him to. He has a long white beard that's somewhat scraggly, but it looks well taken care of. It has no split ends and has been combed into some sort of a shape, and I guess it's too wild for him to control it anymore than that. His face has deep wrinkles that extend throughout every bit of his skin. His forehead is weathered, his grey-white hair is patchy, his eyebrows are disheveled, but his eyes are bright and alert.

His eyes are a light brown, just like Mom's. And just like her, instead of looking me in the eye, he looks directly at my eyebrows.

Mom's words replay themselves in my head. If he's anything like her, this is gonna be tough.

"You the wizard?" I ask.

"Ebenezar McCoy." The old man looks me up and down. "You're a little young to be calling my number. A few centuries too young."

"You don't look like much, either." I try to catch his gaze, but he ignores me in favor of walking around the ruined motel room. "You got my message?"

"I know why I'm here," Ebenezar says, stepping over a large plank of wood that was once the door.. "A vampire, an ogre, and a missing person? I think I understand most of it. What's your name, boy?"

His staff flares red for a split second, and a wave of power waves over me. It hits me straight in the chest, and as I struggle not to lose balance, warning bells start sounding off in my head.

"Age catching up to you, old man? I told you already in the message."

"Watch your words, boy." He turns to face me again, setting the lamp down on the only chair that isn't a pile of splinters. The light seems to grow, lighting up almost every crevice of the room.

It casts a long shadow over Ebenezar's face. "I meant your full name."

"What will you do with it?" He narrows his eyes at me, and I continue. I don't remember much about Mom, but there are some things she taught me that I refuse to forget. "Names hold power. If you want mine, I want to know what you'll do with it."

Ebenezar huffs, his thick beard jostling as he does so. "Turns out you're not as dumb as you look." His amusement doesn't last long, and he moves to grab the lantern again.. "I'm here because you mentioned the White Court. Either you cooperate, or I have no business here."

"Raith." I knew I'd likely have to say it, but that doesn't make my heart stop pounding. "My name's Thomas Raith."

His thin hand leaves the lantern. "Choose your next words very carefully," he warns me in a deep voice.

His staff glows red again. I can see every pattern that's been grooved in the wood. Designs of owls with claws extended outwards, thick lines pressed together to look like streaks of rain in a thunderstorm, and more and more designs flash themselves at me.

I find my voice again, and I decide to say the truth. "Margaret LeFay stole me from Lord Raith."

Ok, maybe not the whole truth, but I think playing it safe is a better bet here.

Ebenezar tightens his jaw. His fingers grip the staff with even more force than before. "If you dare lie to me…"

"I won't."

"If you bring up her name in vain…"

"I don't." I say as honestly as I can. "I'd never."

"You knew Maggie?" Something wet catches itself in his voice, and it almost makes me want to tell him everything. I never thought I'd hear someone other than Malcolm call Mom 'Maggie'. He knew her. He knew her really well.

I almost hesitate with my next words, but I know that if I start to look nervous for whatever reason, this guy will set off and come at me with everything he's got. "Who do you think I got your number from?" I say. "You think I went to the phone book and looked for you under 'Wizard'?"

"Do you know?" He asks. He doesn't need to elaborate.

"I know about them." I lick my lips, trying to stall long enough to catch his eye, but his gaze is still firmly planted on my eyebrows. "I know about vampires, the White Court. They move faster, have incredible speed, they can—"

"Do you know what you are?" The old wizard waits for me to answer. It's a simple question that's not simple at all.

"I-I'm not one of them. I—" I stop myself and take a deep breath. "I don't have silver eyes."

"I can see that for myself, boy." Aggravation colors his tone of voice. "But before that monster turned, Lord Raith used to have blue eyes. Just like you."

There's nothing I can say to that, so I don't respond.

"How did she steal you?"

He hasn't killed me yet, which I guess is a good thing, but he's definitely considering whether or not I'll die a slow and painful death. I kind of don't want that, so I make myself start talking.

"She found me. In the mansion. My father had invited her there for an event or something. Asked her to stay the night."

"Go on."

Shit. Making a story sound like a completely different version of the truth is harder than you think it is. It's like reassembling a car into a motorcycle while you pray that no one notices the difference. "He liked her. Kept asking her to come back. I saw her sometimes, but not always. My sisters always told me to stay away from her."

"Why?"

"They said she was dangerous. That she would be gone soon and I shouldn't get attached to her."

"But you did."

"Of course I did." Despite myself, I feel the corner of my mouth turn into a smile. "And I guess she did, too. She came into my room one night when I was five, and told me that neither of us was safe there."

Ebenezar watches me with a careful gaze, but his eyes still refuse to meet mine. "Did you believe her?"

"Not at first. My father had never treated me badly, and I was just a kid. I didn't notice anything strange. It was just my life. But then she told me something I'll never forget."

"Tell me her exact words," the wizard orders.

I remember that night too well. I remember how Mom shook me awake in the dead of night, already getting me shuffled into my shoes and jacket. It was late, just like it is right now, but she conjured a sphere of light in her palm to make sure I was looking at her as she told me why we were leaving. "She said: 'Your father has stolen my life from me. I will not let him steal yours.'"

Ebenezar's face is hard, and with the light from his lantern, he looks eerily similar to how Mom looked that night.

"But she left something behind in that place. After we left, she seemed sadder. Incomplete. Like a part of her was missing and she didn't know where to find it again. And then…" I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's the truth.

"She met Malcolm Dresden." My smile grows. "I didn't like him at first. I didn't know who he was or what he wanted with her. But she loved him. They dated for a while, and then they got married."

"Was it a good marriage?" That question seemed more important than all the ones that came before it. Ebenezar leaned forward with his staff in hand, but not in a threatening way. He wanted the answer to this question to be good, and now knowing how my father treated my mother, I can understand why.

I nod. "He made her happy. He made her really, really happy."

The old wizard closes his eyes with a sigh of relief that makes his whole body shake. He takes a moment to process what I've just said, and I take the chance to walk a few steps towards him. I still need to look into his eyes.

"I'll go hunt down this vampire," Ebenezar says, "and I will do my best to find Malcolm Dresden."

A breathless laugh leaves my lips as a rush of relief pours into my lungs. He's actually gonna do it. He's gonna help Malcolm. The guilt that had been swirling in my stomach subsides a little, but as I look back at Ebenezar, that guilt immediately gets replaced with dread.

His staff glows in his wrinkly hand, alternating between reds, yellows, and oranges. The light shines upon the wizard's grimace. "But you are the son of Lord Raith; a future vampire of the White Court. I have no qualms about killing you."

I don't even lift my hands in defense. If there's nothing that Lara can do against a wizard, then there's certainly no chance for me. The only thing I can do is look into his eyes. I try to catch his eyes one more time, but he stubbornly keeps his gaze just above mine.

He points his staff straight at my chest.

This is it, I realize. I'm sorry, Mom. I couldn't do it.

"Don't hurt him!"

The staff's light dies down immediately at the sound of my brother's voice. My six-year-old little brother, who just moments ago was fast asleep, is now standing right in front of me while pointing an OKC Marine Combat Knife directly at the all-powerful wizard.

It takes me a second to process that one.

"Don't hurt Thomas!" Harry screams at the top of his lungs. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm just happy he's holding the knife by the handle instead of the actual blade.

"Harry." I say in the most careful what-the-hell-are-you-doing tone I can manage. "Where'd you get the knife?"

"Who is this?" Ebenezar asks. His staff is no longer glowing, but it's still pointed straight at us. He lifts the staff a little higher so it's pointed at my head instead of my chest, where it's closer to Harry, but my brother retaliates by walking even closer towards him.

"Don't hurt Thomas!" he yells. "Promise! Promise on your magic!"

"Give me the knife, Harry." I take a step towards him and try to grab it myself, but he swings his arms and nearly grazes my arm.

Ok. Note to self, do not try to yank deadly knives out of your kid brother's hand when he doesn't know he can accidentally hurt you with them. Or maybe he does know. I honestly can't tell right now.

"You want me to swear on my power?" Ebenezar raises an eyebrow at Harry. His words sound softer, kind of like how Malcolm's are when he talks to my brother. "Now where did you learn that?"

"Do it!"

"Don't test me, child," the wizard warns.

"Harry, just give me the knife," I try again, and again, Harry ignores me in favor of taking another step with the knife clasped in his tiny hands.

"No!" he says, still screaming as hard as he can. "Promise!"

"If you want me to promise, tell me who you are—"

"I'm Harry Dresden!" He announces at the top of his voice. "My mom's Maggie LeFay and my dad's Malcolm Dresden. Thomas is my big brother and you can't hurt him!"

Ebenezar goes stock still. He looks Harry up and down, taking in every feature of his. His messy hair, the too-large white jacket that looks like a cape on him, and how he's holding up a goddamn Marine knife (and side note, I still have no idea where the hell he got it from!). The wizard's eyes grow to the size of saucers, his jaw hangs open, and it looks like his hands are trembling. Any color he had in his wrinkled face vanishes, replaced by a sheen of tears that brim at the edges of his eyes.

What… the fuck?

"Did I hear you right?" he asks in a voice just above a whisper.

"Promise!" Harry yells.

"Your mom—was Maggie?" He reaches a hand out towards my brother. "Come with me, child."

"Like hell—" I say, but I cut myself off. Ebenezar's eyes are now completely on Harry, and he's not even sparing a glance towards me.

Harry, I think. I can't believe this, but thank God for you and your big mouth.

"Say it!" he yells. As he does so, I take another step closer to him.

"Let go of the knife, child." It's an order, but there's no force in Ebenezar's voice. No heat.

"Say it!"

I push Harry toward Ebenezar, knife point-first. The wizard turns right to dodge the blade, and as Harry stumbles forward, he reaches out an arm to catch him before he falls, turning his head just enough for me to close the gap between us.

He whips his head back immediately. His eyes grow wide, and he raises his staff. The tip of it glows red, but instead of jumping away, I press myself right up against it. It catches him off guard for just a second, but it's the last second I need.

With both hands, I grab the sides of his face and pull it down towards mine. He struggles, but it doesn't matter.

Finally, his eyes meet mine.

And for the first time in my life, I feel myself being pulled into the soul of a wizard.