Chapter 1: The Murderer of the Rue Morgue

Most of the tourists that flooded Venice during the summer months ignored the dark-haired man and his companion as they sat enjoying lunch at one of the many open-air restaurants that dotted the city. The black jeans, burgundy T-shirt and baseball cap were fairly standard uniform for tourists and natives alike, as was sleeveless blouse and short cotton shirt worn by his red-haired companion. However, if they had seen him without his wrap-around sunglasses and cap then they would have taken more notice as though his dark-hair and swarthy complexion marked him as a native of Venice or at least one of the surrounding towns, his eyes were a brilliant green that spoke of other origins and his forehead was marked by a scar that many would not recognise but that others would.

They were halfway through desert when a sports car - a recent model Alpha Romeo - pulled up outside and a man dressed rather incongruously in a dark suit and shirt stepped out and walked up to the pair. "Signore Tempesta? Signorina Jameson?"

"Yes?"

"Bishop Venetus wishes to speak with you on a matter of some urgency, sir."

Tempesta nodded, "Would it be permissible for us to finish our lunch?"

"I believe so, signore."

"Then we will be with you momentarily," Tempesta told him. "Would you care for a seat?"

"No thank you, signore," the man assured him. "I shall wait in the car."

They finished their deserts as quickly as possible, and then - leaving a generous tip for the waiter - they strode towards the Maserati and got in. It didn't take the powerful car long to negotiate the network of streets adjoining the canals, and they soon pulled up outside the offices of Theologia Nummaria Inc., a large international investment bank.

Tempesta muttered a spell under his breath and his features shifted into a more familiar shape, his clothes changing into a lightweight grey suit and a white open-necked shirt and his cap and glasses disappeared to be replaced by a more formal wide-brimmed hat. He turned to his red-haired companion. "Shall we go and find out what Venetus wants, Jenna?"

"I think so, Harry."

Haimric nodded and then stepped out of the car, nodding to the agent that had opened it for them then led the way up to the doors of the bank with Jenna and the black-suited agent following behind. When they reached the doors, another agent this time dressed like Haimric in a lighter grey suit opened them for them and allowed them to proceed.

The bank lobby was large with a vaulted pillared ceiling decorated in what Haimric silently identified as late Doric style. A large reception desk, sat in the middle of the room. Haimric strode up to the reception desk and waited.

The receptionist looked up. "Buongiorno. Can I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Haimric Seamfor, this is my associate Jenna Jameson. Signore Italicus is expecting us."

"I see. Do you know the way?"

"I do," Haimric confirmed. "Arrivederci."

"And to you, signore."

Haimric nodded and headed for the bank of elevators to the right of the reception desk. He pressed the call button and felt a slight tingling as the hidden finger-print scanner checked his identity.

The elevator doors slid open and the trio stepped inside. Haimric withdrew a plastic card from his jacket pocket and slotted it into a slit at the base of the control bank. "Management sub-level one please."

"Please state voice print authentication codes and authorizations within thirty seconds to avoid anti-intruder countermeasures," requested a slightly melodious female voice that issued from the control panel speaker.

"Lord Storm. Authorization: Three-One-Seven-Bravo."

"Stormwatch. Authorization: Two-Four-Three-Wilco."

"Brother Caligus. Authorization: Zero-Nine-Nine-Theta."

"Voice prints and authorizations confirmed. Greetings Haimric Seamfor, Jenna Jameson and Theodore Caligus, welcome to L'Ordine Venice. Time to your destination is ten point seven seconds."

The lift motors started up and Haimric's stomach lurched slightly as the carriage began to move downwards.

----

As predicted the lift stopped after a little under eleven seconds and the trio walked out into another lobby, this time there was larger work station with three operators sitting behind a bank of computers and CCTV monitors faced them. Several agents - male and female but all at least six feet in height - wearing body armour and armed with heavy automatic crossbows were posted at strategic intervals.

"I think we can take it from here, Brother Caligus," said Haimric.

"As you wish, signore."

Haimric nodded to the operators at the security checkpoint and skirted around them, then walked down a short corridor to another checkpoint, this time guarding only a single door and guarded by four armed guards who glanced at Haimric and Jenna briefly then decided that they belonged there and relaxed very slightly. "Is the Archbishop available?"

"Yes signore," confirmed the leader of the squad, a broad-chested man Venice native several inches above six feet tall. "He is expecting you." The squad-leader turned slightly to press a button on the electronic keypad behind him. "Mon seigneur, your two o'clock appointment is here."

"Send them in."

"Oui, mon seigneur."

The guard pressed another larger button on the keypad and the thick metal door slid open allowing Haimric and Jenna to step into the Bishop's office.

----

Bishop Venetus' office was decorated in fairly old-fashioned wood panelling, but showed the same mix of Muggle and magical paraphernalia that Haimric had come to expect from L'Ordine over the past year. The archbishop motioned them into two comfortable Muggle swivel chairs facing his desk and turned of the videophone he had been using.

"Thank you for coming at such short notice, Lord Haimric. I hope my agent did not interrupt anything too important?"

"No, we were just having lunch," Haimric told him. "What seems to be the problem, Your Lordship?"

"I have been speaking with my superior in Paris, Archbishop Pierre Neuf. I believe you've met?"

Haimric nodded. "We were introduced in Rome during the conference. Is there a problem?"

"Yes, there is," the bishop confirmed. "His Grace will give you more information, but to summarize: Two days ago, a mother and daughter were found brutally murdered in their home on the Rue Morgue in Paris. The room they were found in was locked from the outside and although the mother was found on the street, the analysis wizards from the Departement de Mysteres believe that it was broken from the inside and have confirmed that it was not the entry point. There are also no residues from Apparation or Portkey use present."

"Isn't this more Archangel's sort of thing?" asked Haimric. "I believe he handed a similar operation in Paris during my predecessor's time?"

"Unfortunately, Signore Archangel has been called back to Rumania on urgent business. However, even if he was available there are other factors that make matters too tense for his involvement. His... indiscreet... approach to situations could bring disaster to us all. Can you be in Paris by sundown?" Haimric nodded. "Then I suggest you get on your way. The Archbishop is expecting you at the French Ministère de la Magie by eight pm."

Haimric nodded, then rose to his feet. "Arrivederci, my lord bishop."

"Arrivederci, Lord Haimric, Signorina Jameson."

Haimric and Jenna left the room quickly and within an hour they were back at their hotel packing.

----

Once they checked into the hotel assigned to them by L'Ordine, it didn't take them long to find the public entrance to the Ministère de la Magie. According to their informant it was located on one of the stops along the Paris Metro line.

They bought tickets at the station nearest their hotel and boarded the first train that came into the correct platform and found some seats. After a few moments, they reached the correct and got out. After checking that the coast was clear, they wandered over to an unmarked door set into the wall in an out-of-the-way corner. Haimric twisted the handle and the door opened. He ducked inside and Jenna followed pulling the door shut behind her.

An aristocratic voice spoke, it had no discernable source but instead appeared to come everywhere and nowhere at the same time. "Bienvenue au Ministère de la Magie. Veuillez énoncer votre nom et affaires."

"Seigneur Storm et Mlle Jameson de L'Ordine pour voir Directeur Verne." Haimric replied in perfect, if a little archaic, French.

"Merci," said the aristocratic voice. "Visiteurs, prennent s'il vous plait vos insignes et les attachent à l'avant de vos robes longues."

A small wooden bowl materialised out of the air in front of them. Two small metal badges were in it. Haimric removed and handed one to Jenna, indicating that she should put it on.

"Visiteurs au Ministère, vous êtes prié au sumbit à une recherche et présentez votre batons pour l'enregistrement au bureau de sécurité, qui est situé à l'extrémité lointaine de L'Oreillette."

The wall in front of them groaned and shook for a moment, then much like the wall behind the Leaky Cauldron, reshaped itself into an archway, allowing the two to proceed. Haimric entered first, with Jenna following a step or two behind.

The Atrium of the French Ministry was fairly similar to the British one, except it was floored with pale wood rather than dark, the ceiling was green and silver rather than blue and gold, and the fountain at the centre was made of more conventional white marble rather than gold statuary.

It was already fairly late in the day, so most of the Ministry staff had already departed, leaving the Atrium empty save for a handful of security wizards and one or two Ministry workers who had stayed later than usual to finish paperwork. Haimric scanned the room until he spotted the sign for 'Sécurit' which - Haimric was glad to see - was manned by a tall, security witch who looked rather more competent than her British counterpart, though like him she was reading a newspaper, in case the French paper, Le Sorcier Quotidien.

Haimric and Jenna passed through the security check with little difficulty, though the Amulet did produce some slightly odd noises from the witch's detector rod. They crossed to the silver gates to the lift and descended to 'Niveau Deux, Département de Justice de Magicien, y compris Le Bureau Magique d'Abus, Sièges Sociaux Légers, et Services d'Administration de Courelevée' then got out.

It only took a minute or two to find the right office, Haimric knocked on the door and after receiving an invitation from inside, he opened the door and went in, Jenna at his heels.

----

After they finished their meeting with the Directeur they split up, Jenna headed back to the Metro station to pick up a car at Theologia Nummaria Inc.'s Paris headquarters, and Haimric teleported to the Ministère holding cells deep under the Bastille. He showed his L'Ordine identification to the head guard and he agreed to co-operate.

Haimric was showed into one of the unused offices, and two guards brought in the suspect. He was a fairly innocuous balding gentleman who looked rather out of place in the forbidding tunnels of the prison.

"Frère LeBon bonsoir, mon nom est Seigneur Storm. J'ai été invité par Directeur Verne et L'Archevêque à aider dans ce cas-ci."

«Is there any news?»

«I am afraid not. Août still believes you are the only suspect. It was unwise of you escort the lady home. A thousand Galleons is a powerful motive for murder.»

«One thousand and seventeenGalleons, twelve Sickles and thirteen Knuts, mon seigneur,» corrected Brother LeBon. «I handled the original transaction.»

«Which is another reason why Août suspects you,» Haimric reminded him. «Are you sure you have no alibi for the time of the murder.»

«Oui, I am sure, mon seigneur. But I am innocent, I assure you.»

«I believe you, Brother,» Haimric told him, and rose to his feet. «Good night, and I hope I can bring you better news soon.»

«As do I, mon seigneur.»

----

Jenna was waiting outside the prison in a black Peugeot sedan. "Did LeBon have anything to add?"

"Unfortunately no," Haimric admitted. "Do you have the address?"

"Yes. There will be Ministry personnel on guard but we should be able get past them."

"Agreed."

It didn't take them very long to find the apartment building were the attack had taken place. Glancing up and down the street as they crossed to the front doors, Haimric easily identified four plain-clothes Hit-Wizards keeping an eye on the building.

Haimric's Theologia Nummaria Inc. identity card got them past the building's superintendent with ease. But when they finally reached Flat 4c, another plain-clothes Hit Wizard stopped them. «Where do you think you're going?»

«My name is Henry Storm, my associate is Jenna Jameson. We are here on behalf of Theologia Nummaria Inc. Security Section. We wish to examine the crime scene, Officer.»

«This area is off-limits to all but authorised personnel, sir.»

Haimric reached inside his suit jacket and withdrew a long folded parchment. «Our signed authorisation from the Directeur, countersigned by the French VP of Theologia Nummaria Inc. and the Undersecretary for Muggle Relations.»

«Everything seems to be in order,» admitted the Hit-Wizard reluctantly. He swiftly unlocked the door and ushered them inside.

----

"Did you get the Archbishop's copy of the Ministry crime scene reports?" Haimric asked as soon as the door closed behind them. Jenna nodded, then removed them from her briefcase and handed them over. While Haimric was leafing through the stack of parchments, she walked over to a table and started laying out a number of pieces of equipment.

"Hmmm... no unusual blood traces, no foreign hairs or fibres... no sign of forced entry... eyewitnesses didn't see anyone enter or leave apart from the victims... negative for Apparation or Portkey use." Haimric shook his head. "This is a tricky one, none of the usual tests have shown anything. Only circumstantial evidence - he was in the neighbourhood earlier and knew about the money - links LeBon at all, and there's nothing in these reports to implicate anyone else either."

"So what are we going to do?" Jenna asked. "The Courelevée could still convict him, circumstantial evidence is still enough to tip probability against him."

"Very true," Haimric agreed. "Which means we must try some unusual tests then."

"Any idea where to start?"

"Yes, I think we should scan for traces of Dream Dust."

"The energy emitted by your amulet? Why?"

"Because it is also produced by contact between the physical world and nearly all of the potential suspects that I can think of."

"Okay, which sensor do you need?"

"The Spectral Sensor - that's the long forked one - and a Ghost Glass - the small blue glass lens."

"These two?" asked Jenna, hold out two devices a moment later.

Haimric nodded and took them. "Prepare the camera too, just in case I find anything." Jenna nodded and began to assemble the modern Muggle camera in their kit.

It didn't take Haimric long to find the first trace. Jenna handed him the camera and after screwing the Ghost Glass into the front of it, Harry snapped several photos, then took a sample for analysis. The other two traces - one of which appeared to be a full handprint - were found after a little searching and photographed too.

"Let's get back to the lab." Haimric said after he'd finished his final sweep. "I need to get these analysed."

----

It didn't take very long for the analysts at L'Ordine Paris to conclude their analyses. When Brother Michel, the chief analyst, handed the report to Haimric he didn't look happy. It only took Haimric a moment to realise why. He hurried into the main operations area with Jenna at his heels. He crossed over the security desk and motioned to the duty officer to join them.

«What is it, mon seigneur?» asked Father Nicholaus LeHavre.

«Father, I want all Paris stations put on Condition Red, and a Level-Three lockdown of all areas. And get me a list of all Theologicia Nummeria customers and clerical staff living within a mile of the L'Espanaye apartment.»

"Right away, mon seigneur."

"Jenna?"

"What do you need?"

"Contact Bossu, tell him I want at least two runners and a field agent to each of the addresses that Father Nicholaus gets us."

"I'm on it."

Harry turned to the communications officer, who had begun to alert the necessary people to begin the lockdown.

«Sister Joëlle?»

"Oui, mon seigneur?"

«I need to speak with the Directeur and the Archbishop immediately. Can you contact the Archbishop and ask him to meet him at the Ministère?»

«Right way, mon seigneur.»

Haimric nodded, then teleported out of L'Ordine headquarters.

----

«What is so urgent to pull me out of a meeting with the Ministre, Seigneur Storm?» asked Directeur Verne testily.

«I shall be as brief as possible, Directeur,» Haimric promised. «But the danger we face is grave indeed.»

«I take it that you believe Monsieur LeBon to be innocent then?» asked Archbishop Neuf.

«I know he is.» Haimric replied. «Monsieur LeBon is a Squib, there is no way he could have infiltrated the apartment and conducted the murders without leaving traces.»

«Monsieur Août does not agree with you, Seigneur.»

«I know he does not, Directeur,» Haimric admitted. «But further analysis of the crime scene by myself and Miss Jameson has yielded some distinctive energy traces which could not have been left by a Squib. In fact they were not left by any being at all.»

«No being at all? Then what left them?»

«A spirit, specifically a Reaper.»

«Reapers are a myth!»

«On the contrary, Directeur! They are very real, and extremely dangerous!»

«What do you need from us?» asked Archbishop Neuf.

«Only your authority to maintain an Level-Three lockdown around Paris.»

«Very well.»

«And permission to bring in a specialist in dealing with malevolent spirits. I cannot defeat this Reaper alone or with the personnel available here.»

«Do it,» ordered the Directeur. «But do it fast and as discreetly as possible.»

«Of that you may certain, Directeur.»

«Then go.»

Haimric nodded and teleported away again. He reappeared in the Ops centre at L'Ordine Paris. «Sister Joëlle?»

«Oui, mon seigneur?»

«Get me Bishop O'Malley in Dublin. I want John Thatcher here as soon as possible. Archbishop Neuf has approved it.»

«I will send the message immediately, mon seigneur.»

----

Haimric had just finished his evening exercises when Joëlle Durand contacted him and asked him to return to the ops centre. Haimric picked up his shirt and jacket, then slipped them on and headed for the door.

«What's up?» he asked, when he entered the ops centre a few minutes later, all his clothes firmly in place.

«Your specialist is here, mon seigneur. And he has brought a friend,» replied Joëlle and indicated a couple dressed in Muggle clothing standing in a corner of the room. They were both flanked by L'Ordine guards in full battle gear.

«I'll take it from here, monsieurs,» Haimric told the guards, who nodded and left. Then he held out his hand to the couple. The man he recognised as his specialist, John Thatcher, but though he'd seen the young woman's picture before he couldn't recall her name. "Hello, my name is Lord Storm, I was the one who asked you to come here. This is my Companion, Ms. Jameson."

"Hi," said Thatcher. He indicated the red-haired woman at his side. "This is my girlfriend, Mary Dyson."

Haimric nodded, "Ms Dyson."

"I understand you have a bit of a poltergeist problem," said Thatcher. "I'm not sure why you need my help though."

"You understand incorrectly, John Thatcher. It is not a poltergeist that plagues us. If that were the case is likely I would not have been called in, in the first place."

"But..."

"We have a Reaper problem."

Thatcher blanched a little. "I see." he paused, then swallowed. "What information have you got?"

"Enough to be sure it is a Reaper, and a vicious one at that," Haimric replied. "But not a great deal more." He strode over to one of the tables and picked up the folder sitting on it. "This is what we've got."

Thatcher took the file and began examining it. After about half-an-hour, he closed the file and handed it back. "It's a Reaper all right, and the most vicious one I've ever heard of. Do you have a plan?"

"A partial one," Haimric admitted. "And all the likely targets are under constant surveillance. I thought it likely it would attack again."

"It will." Thatcher agreed. "Reapers never attack only once. It'll strike again soon. When was the last attack?"

"Two nights ago."

"Nothing since?"

"We believe not."

"Then it will almost certainly attack again tonight."

"Agreed." said Haimric. "This is my plan..."

-----

It took nearly an hour for Haimric, Jenna and the two Dubliners to thrash out a plan that all of them were happy with. As soon as they were ready, Haimric dispatched L'Ordine agents to gather one or two key items from the quartermaster's and his hotel. The needed items were returned without incident and the group armed up and all but Haimric headed for the carpark.

«If any of the watch teams report in, forward it to my commlink immediately,» he told Joëlle.

«Oui, mon seigneur.»

Haimric nodded and turned and ran to catch up with the group.

----

Everything was quiet once they reached the Rue Morgue. Scanning the street as they drove along Harry spotted over a dozen undercover Hit-Wizards, and one or two people that might have been Aurors in Muggle clothing. He didn't spot any of the L'Ordine watch teams but then he didn't expect to.

When they reached the middle of the street, he nodded to Jenna. "Stop the car." She nodded. He pulled out the pocket commlink and pressed a series of buttons. There was a crackle of static, then a female voice came in. «Theological Nummaria Inc Emergency Response Line. How many I help you.»

«Give me Security Section Operations Room.»

«One moment please.» said the woman. "En jour le plus lumineux, dans la nuit la plus foncée..."

"Aucun mal n'échappera à notre vue," countered Haimric.

«Connecting you now.»

There was a click, and then Joëlle Durand's voice cut in. «Security Section Operations Room.»

«Sister Joëlle, this is Lord Storm. I am in position on the Rue Morgue. Anything to report?»

"Non."

«I will keep this line open, contact me the moment there is any change.»

"Oui."

Haimric lowered the commlink and clipped it onto a modified handsfree mobile phone holder on the dashboard, then punched the 'loudspeaker' and 'receive only' keys. "We hold position here until Sister Joëlle gives the word."

"I don't think we'll have to wait long," predicted Thatcher. "I've talked to a few of the local ghosts and they think it'll definitely be back tonight."

"Were you able to get any extra information from them?" Haimric asked. Though any witch or wizard could speak to ghosts and most other spirits, only a Sequestrae – one of the chosen of Idolon – could command enough respect from the more reticent, well-informed spirits to get information out of them.

"Only conformations really." Thatcher replied. "Though, I did get one interesting piece of information."

"Really?"

"Yes, according to one of my sources, the Reaper we're probably searching for is a very old one. He thinks that it was formed in the Bastille during its heyday."

"That doesn't surprise me." Haimric told him. "A Reaper as this one could only have come from an area of great suffering."

"Does that change the plan?" asked Ms Dyson.

"No, but it does mean that we will have quite a fight on our hands." Haimric assured her grimly.

The commlink crackled. Haimric reached over to the unit and flicked it to 'vox'. «Operations Room to Lord Storm. Priority.»

«Go ahead, sister.»

«Vixen Rouge's team reports a disturbance at Apartment 5a, 113 Rue Morgue, mon seigneur.»

«We are on our way. Put the medical team on alert and standby.»

"Oui, mon seigneur."

Jenna had already started the engine and as soon as the transmission cut off she stepped on the accelerator and the car leapt forward, she spun the wheel around and the big car roared down the short stretch of roadway towards number one-hundred and thirteen.

Before they could reach the building though, there was a crashing sound and a young woman came flying out of one of windows on the fifth floor. Jenna slammed on the brakes and Haimric disappeared in a ball of light, only to reappear a split second later under the young woman, then he barked a spell that caused a localised gale force wind to gather under them and gently set them back on the ground.

Once he had set her on the ground, Haimric took a good look at her and identified her as L'Ordine half-Veela agent, Vixen Rouge. She was badly injured: her shoulder was hanging at an odd angle, she had several long, heavily bleeding cuts to the chest, and she was pale and barely conscious, but Haimric guessed that with immediate treatment she would recover. He reached into his potions belt and withdrew two vials, then he poured the contents of one onto the chest wounds and easing her mouth open he tipped the other down her throat, then returned the empty vials to his belt. "Jenna, get on the comm. Tell Operations we need medical assistance to this location, and stay with Vixen until they arrive."

Jenna nodded and leaned over to grab the commlink. Haimric turned to the other two who had left the back of the car while he was treating Vixen. Dyson carried a loaded Browning pistol in one hand and Haimric knew she had another two hidden about her person, Thatcher carried a Remington shotgun, and also had two concealed handguns. "Dyson, see if you can find Vixen's team, bring them back to the car. Thatcher, you're with me."

The other man nodded and followed Haimric towards the apartment entrance. A low-power stun blast knocked out the locks on the main door and allowed them to get inside. Once out of sight, Haimric grabbed hold of Thatcher and teleported them both up to the fifth floor.

It only took a few seconds to find the room they wanted. Thatcher located it first and – figuring that it was a little late for subtlety – blew out the lock with a blast from his shotgun. He ducked inside and Haimric followed seconds later.

----

The scene that greeted them upon entering was fairly similar to the one that Haimric had seen down the street the day before. One body, minus its head, was lying near the window – Haimric could only assume that Vixen's arrival had pre-empted it being thrown out the window that she had violently exited. A second woman - younger than the headless one – was currently being suspended in midair by an invisible force that seemed to be trying to chock her to death.

"Let her go, Reaper!" snarled Haimric, and took aim at where he thought the Reaper probably was. "Mysticus Fulguris Elidere!"

The stun-blast either missed their unseen adversary completely or had no effect on it, as it sailed harmlessly past where Haimric thought the Reaper was and scorched a section of the wallpaper.

However, it was enough to give Thatcher the chance to get into position. With a cry he dove towards the Reaper – which was still invisible to Haimric – and grabbed hold of it. Its grip on its victim loosened and she fell to the ground with a thump.

Thatcher was now crouched on the ground and appeared to have the Reaper pinned. "I have him! Do it now!"

Haimric nodded. The Amulet began to glow brightly and he declared. "Ad Somnium Regnumi!"

Their surroundings began to fade and pale. The scenery twisted into a grassy field lit by the full moon, and the Reaper shimmered into view under Thatcher.

"You're on my turf now, Reaper!" Haimric told him. "Let's finish this!"

"Fine by me!" growled the Reaper, speaking for the first time. It lurched upwards, knocking Thatcher flying. "I was getting tired of playing with him anyway! But you can't hurt me here any more than you could before! So prepare to die!"

With that the huge, cat-like man-beast leapt at Haimric, its claws flashing in the fake moonlight.

"Guess again!" Haimric warned. "Remember, you're on my turf now!"

With that he conjured a pair of throwing stars and threw them in the direction of the Reaper. The razor-sharp constructs tore through the Reaper's 'flesh' but as the creature didn't think it should bleed or feel pain it did not. Haimric leapt to one side to avoid the creature's lunge and then spun in mid-air, unleashing potent blasts of lightning from each hand that arced towards the creature slamming into it hard.

The Reaper's form blurred slightly, and it roared in anger, lunging forward and catching Haimric on the shoulder, tearing the sleeve and taking a chunk of his arm with it. Haimric struck out with both legs, catching the creature in the torso and launching it into the air to smash against a tree.

"So you do not like my lightning then?"

"Nooo!"

"Then by all means have some more!" said Haimric, and unleashed his most blistering lightning strike in the Reaper's direction. "Globare Fulguris Flammen!"

The Reaper screamed as the lightning tore at the very fabric of its form, but it managed to say material. It wrenched a small tree from the ground and threw it in Haimric's direction. Haimric dodged it easily, but then decided to pause a moment to take stock. Our lightning attack isn't working fast enough... it doesn't have a true physical form so cold is out... I've got it!

"Time's up, Reaper!" Haimric declared. "I have your number now!"

"Oh really? I doubt that!"

"Don't be so sure!" Haimric chided. He threw out his arm in front of himself. "Dissultomens!"

The destructive physic wave rippled out from Haimric and slammed into the Reaper with even more force than it had Voldemort's shade several months before. But the results were much the same. With a scream that Haimric could feel in the depths of his soul, the Reaper disintegrated.

Seconds later, the Realm of Dreams faded and the real world reasserted itself. Haimric wandered over to the injured woman who was just starting to regain consciousness.

«It is over?»

Unsure of what exactly to say, Haimric only nodded.

----

A/N: Well, that's chapter one completed! I apologise for keeping you all waiting for several weeks but things have been a bit up in the air for me lately. I'm hoping to be a little quicker with chapter 2 but I can't make any promises. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. The French dialogue is more or less a translation of the appropriate passage from Harry Potter & The Order of the Phoenix. A cookie will be awarded to the first person to correctly identify in their review the source of the phrase and counter-phase used during Haimric's phone conversation with the Emergency Response Line operator (the words are of course translated into French).