"This is the fourth concealment ritual we have performed today," Elaine Mallory telepathically whined to the Fallen Angel who shared her body. "I understand the need to hide our presence from the White Council and the Archive, but isn't this a bit excessive?"
"Hardly my child," the Denarian Lasciel replied in the same manner. "The Archive just slaughtered thirteen of my brothers and sisters. She would not hesitate to the same to us."
"I still can't believe arrogant little bitch posted that information right on the Paranet for everyone to see."
Back before she had agreed to become a host for Lasciel, Elaine and Harry Dresden had set up the Paranet. It was an online community for low-level magical practitioners who lacked the strength needed to become full-fledged members of the White Council. The Paranet allowed its users to share important, even live-saving information about the dangers brewing in the supernatural world. One of the main reasons Elaine had accepted Lasciel's offer was because the Denarian had promised to place these defenseless women and men under the protection of the Circle.
"The Archive was sending a blunt message to Nicodemus and his slaves: leave me alone because I have the power to destroy you," Lasciel explained. "But at least it would be quick death. The White Council would torture us for weeks before the Wardens were finally allowed to decapitate us. I would be able to mentally shield you from the pain, but it would still be unpleasant watching your lovely body being ripped apart by those self-righteous hypocrites."
"All right, I see your point," Elaine said as she continued to prepare for the fourth ritual.
Forty minutes later when she had finished a tall and attractive man of Turkish descent entered the front door of her bungalow. In many ways Thorned Namshiel was a perfect stranger to Elaine since they had spent no more than five minutes in each other company. Yet at time he and Lasciel had been friends and often lovers for past two thousand years. This mental dichotomy was very taxing, even for a woman who had spent a decade living among the inhuman Sidhe of Summer.
"Are you ready Miss Mallory?" Namshiel asked in perfect Aramaic. "I am afraid our trip through Nevernever today will be long and arduous. Since Queen Titania and Queen Maeve are no longer fighting each other, their border patrols have become much more active, especially those of Winter. Several of our allies have been killed during the past few weeks while traveling along the Ways."
"Do not be alarmed," Lasciel counseled as she used Elaine's magic to open a portal to Nevernever. "I met Maeve on several occasions while she was still the Winter Lady. Compared to the late Queen Mab she is a weakling who poses no threat to the long-term plans of the Circle."
"What about Queen Titania? I spent years watching her, and she is no one's idea of a weakling."
"True, she is a much more formable opponent, but Titania will be preoccupied with her inexperienced counterpart for the time being," Lasciel replied to her anxious host. "It will be at least a decade before the realms of Summer and Winter are stable enough to field sizable forces against their external enemies. These minor patrols are of no real concern to us."
The trip to from California to Mozambique should have been a simple matter, but after an hour of walking through Nevernever they spotted a pair of trolls and a purple elf marching through an ancient forest. Luckily Namshiel was able to raise a veil before this "minor patrol" could discover their position.
"Why aren't we attacking them?" Elaine asked in a whisper. Trolls were the mindless foot-soldiers of Winter, and she had no qualms about killing the violent creatures. Plus she was eager to practice her new shape-shifting skills in battle.
"It's a trap. There are at least a dozen dark-elves waiting to ambush any wizard who takes the bait. We could easily defeat them, but our main priority today is to remain undetected. "
"I don't understand, according to Lasciel's information there haven't been any dark-elves in Nevernever since the Middle Ages."
"True, but for some reason they have returned from their exile," Namshiel explained. "The new Winter Knight commands a large army of them, and they are as lethal as ever. Rumor has it that they even played a role in Queen Mab's death."
It was dawn when they finally Mozambique, and there in a beautiful plantation on the shore of the Indian Ocean they began another set of concealment rituals. The Circle had spent decades perfecting its security protocols, and the penalties for not observing them were frightening even for a pair of jaded Denarians. At noon they were ushered into a large marble room where a dozen figures stood waiting. They were all wearing heavy cloaks to protect their identities from Elaine. Her personal history with Harry Dresden was well-known to the Circle, and she had yet to earn their full trust.
"These individuals are all predators. You must not show them any weakness, or they will turn on us," Lasciel warned.
"Why was I brought here at such great personal risk?" Elaine demanded. "I have more important things to do than attend meetings with cowards who are too frightened to show me their faces."
One of the hooded figures laughed. "What an arrogant little girl. Perhaps we brought you here to eliminate you."
Compared to heavyweights of the magical world like the Merlin or the Gatekeeper, Elaine Mallory was basically a talented middleweight. She had a great deal of control over her magic, but she could never rely on brute strength to win a duel like her former lover Dresden often did. However since joining with Lasciel she had gained access to Hellfire, which could turbo-charge her spells and greatly increase their power. This marriage of her own tightly controlled magic and Hellfire allowed Elaine to slam her tormentor into one of nearby marble walls with a gust of superheated wind.
"Well done, my child," Lasciel offered.
"I was asked to join the Circle because of the unique talent I have over the Outsiders. It's a valuable asset our organization can not afford to lose. So I will ask you again: why was I brought here?"
"You are of great value to us Miss Mallory, but no one is truly irreplaceable. Not even me, the Sorcerer of the Circle," another of the hooded figures said in a heavily distorted voice. This Sorcerer was wearing a shapeless robe, so Elaine wasn't even sure if it was a man or a woman lurking underneath.
"To answer your question: you and Thorned Namshiel were summoned here to discuss the actions of the Archive. Do you assign any validity to her recent claims?"
"She isn't lying," Namshiel replied at once. "The Denarians were all trapped in the same... prison by our Father, and as a result we are aware of each other's presence even though we are scattered across the globe. Now thirteen of us are gone."
"The White Council has always believed that the Archive was no more powerful than one of the Sidhe Queens, but this is a feat not even Titania could accomplish," another robed figure muttered. "What of her Vow of Neutrality?"
"Nicodemus provoked her, something the Circle has always taken great pains to avoid doing," this Sorcerer pointed out. "How will your fellow Denarians act to this news?"
"Let me answer this question," Lasciel said.
Elaine temporarily surrendered control of her voice to the Fallen Angel. "You must understand my friends that Nicodemus and the rest of his twisted minions are cowards. At this moment he is retreating to the deepest hole he can find, and he will stay there until he is sure that the Archive has lost interest in her quest for revenge. A direct confrontation with a greater power is the last thing he would ever seek out."
"I agree with Lasciel. What remains of the Order of the Blackened Denarius will hide rather than participate in our war," Namshiel added. "I must say I am personally relieved. Both he and Mab suspected that I was a part of the raid on Arctis Tor, and now they have been neutralized by the actions of our enemies."
"No, this is dire news for our great cause," the Sorcerer stated. "For all his many flaws, no one has had greater success in killing the Knights of the Cross than Nicodemus."
"I fail to see why the Circle is so concerned with those holy fools. The current Knights are a sorry lot," Namshiel observed.
"The individual Knights themselves are irrelevant!" the Sorcerer roared. "It is the three swords that must be dealt with. Lasciel, you must find Nicodemus and somehow convince him to take up the fight again. I don't care if he lives or dies, but the Knights of the Cross must be kept preoccupied for the next several months."
Elaine was just about to object to this assignment when Lasciel stopped her. "If you refuse this order they will kill you. Besides, I never had much trouble manipulating poor Nicodemus."
"And what are my orders?" an amused Namshiel asked.
"Our little cousins with the wands have caused far too much trouble for us lately, so I want you to send them a message. And don't bother being subtle when you are choosing your targets. The inbred fools understand nothing but blood."
Harry had once seen a play on the telly where the King of England disguised himself as a commoner so he could spy on his own army the night before a huge battle. The lesson he had taken away from the play was that soldiers would sugarcoat things when speaking directly to a King, and would only be honest when he wasn't around. His bitter experiences as the Boy-Who-Lived had only reinforced the fundamental truth of that lesson.
While this natural duplicity hadn't really mattered when Harry was student at Hogwarts, now that he was the general of a fledgling army it could easily get him killed. So like that fictional King of England, he made a habit of walking among his wizards and witches each night while wearing his Invisibility Cloak. It was the best way he had for gauging their real feelings about current state of the Legion and about him personally.
"The Old Man is a fucking lunatic."
Harry had to smile when he heard his new nickname. The ICW had banned anyone under the age of twenty-one from joining the Legion of Light, and that meant General Potter would be its youngest member for the next three years. At a result the legionnaires had immediately started calling him the "Old Man" as a joke. At least it was an improvement over the "Boy-Who-Lived" or the "Boy-Who-Never-Dies" or "Scarhead" which had always been the preferred choice of the late Draco Malfoy and his Slytherin cronies.
"We have only been training for six weeks and the bastard already wants us to go up against three live Dementors. I bet you a hundred galleons some poor slob gets kissed tomorrow morning."
The best weapon of White Court Vampire—besides any machine guns they might be carrying—was their demonic allure. The best defense wizards had against this was Occlumency, and the legionnaires were given a crash-course in the subject the moment they signed-up. Harry figured if they could mentally protect themselves from a Dementor they should have no problems with a vampire. It was also an excellent excuse to teach them all the Patronus Charm without arousing anyone's suspicions.
"The Old Man might look will he is twelve years-old, but he knows more about fighting than any gray-haired Auror I've ever met."
That wasn't true at all, but Harry had been able to fake it thanks to advice he received from his wife and her bodyguard. Ivy had access to the history of thousands of magical battles. As a result she could tell her husband what would and wouldn't work as he went about performing his new job. But of even greater value to the young General was the help of Jared Kincaid. After directly participating in wars for the last six hundred years the man had more practical knowledge about combat than anyone else alive. Harry knew that Kincaid care for Ivy like a daughter, but war itself would always be his true love.
"Besides if you are afraid of the Dementors than you can always quit. I'm joined the Legion because I want to fight."
The member states of the ICW had been very nervous about the idea of a permanent military force and the political power it might theoretically provide for its general. As a result service was strictly voluntary and a legionnaire could quit at anytime without fear of penalty. The size of the Legion was also strictly limited to six hundred wizards and witches. Kincaid thought it was an asinine way to run things, but Ivy was amazed they got away with this much.
After listening for a few more minutes Harry decided to head back to the large cave which was serving as their temporary Headquarters. The camp itself was located in the Tibesti Mountains of northern Chad. Training this many wizards and witches to fight took a lot of space, and there were few if any muggles to worry about this deep in the Sahara Desert.
Harry paused at the entrance to study the Legion's new Standard. At its top was a large white owl instead of the eagle the Romans had used, and beneath it was the flag of the ICW. When he found out who had told the others about Hedwig, he fully intended to use the Cruciatus Curse on the insensitive tosspot.
During dinner Harry held his godson Teddy on his lap, and tried to feed him some normal table food. It was a disaster, and Andromeda ended up breast-feeding him right there at the table. Ivy noticed that this both aroused and mortified her husband, and she quickly dragged him away to the large tub they had carved out of the solid bedrock. By the time they were done with the bath her own petite breasts were spotless.
"Are you sure your theory about the Deathly Hallows is right?" Harry asked as the exhausted pair crawled into bed.
"Do you honestly think that the three Peverell Brothers made a pact with the actual personification of Death itself?"
"Maybe. When I saw the shades of my parents and Sirius in the Forbidden Forest they seemed real enough to me."
"Perhaps they were. If I'm right and the Peverell Brothers did summon an Outsider to create the Deathly Hallows, it may have had the power to reach across the various dimensions to those who have died," Ivy explained. "The reason the White Council fears these demons so much is because their god-like status makes them impervious to power of normal magic. But in São Paulo you were able to use the Elder Wand to accomplish something even the members of the White Council are unable to do: you harmed and then killed an Outsider."
"I had plenty of help with that," Harry insisted. "So you really think the Dementors are a weak subspecies of these Outsiders?"
"All of your normal spells are useless against them, which means they fit the profile," Ivy pointed out. "Only the Patronus Charm—which was created under mysterious circumstances during the lifetime of the Peverells—is effective against Dementors. I believe the three brothers created the Charm to trap the Outsider they summoned, and then forced the monster to create the Deathly Hallows for them."
The next day the Legion of Light rose to face the horror of a three captured Dementors. It was amazing to watch powerful spells like the Reducto and the Confringo simply slip around the dark creatures without inflicting any damage. Even Fiendfyre only caused them to pause for a moment or two in midair before they continue to float unharmed around the new circular cages Ivy had devised.
"Alright everyone, playtime is over! Let's see your Patronus Charms in action against a live target."
According to Kincaid, Harry should have left training duties like this in the hands of his newly chosen centurions, but he enjoyed teaching so much that he tended to ignore that advice. There were only about two hundred legionnaires at this point, so it was still possible for the General to offer personal help to anyone who was having problems.
"Sir, is it true you faced a hundred of these things and drove them away while you were still at Hogwarts?" a young witch asked as the training session entered its second hour. The presence of the Dementors was causing her to shiver despite the searing heat of the Sahara.
"No, there couldn't have been any more than thirty of them," Harry replied to much laughter.
"Bullshit," someone muttered in a loud voice.
Kincaid had repeatedly told Harry that he could not tolerate disrespect in any form from his subordinates, or else he would quickly lose control of the Legion. Punishing the heckler would not solve the problem, but humiliating the bastard would. But how could he do that? The answer came to him at once, but it would only work if Ivy's pet theory about the Deathly Hallows was correct. The question was did he truly trust his wife's judgment?
Harry drew the Elder Wand and pointed it at one of the Dementors. "Avada Kedavra"
When the green light hit the monster it immediately fell to the floor of the cage, and stopped moving. The whole Legion stood there silently in shock for a minute until their young General turned to face them.
"Come on people, we haven't got all day."
Ebenezer McCoy walked into his Missouri farmhouse one evening to find his grandson Harry Dresden sitting in the well-stocked library reading a first-edition of Mark Twain's novel Tom Sawyer. Bob the skull was engrossed in a rare illustrated copy of Fanny Hill, while Mouse the dog was sleeping on his back with his four huge paws hanging in the air. None of the three noticed the presence of the old wizard until he cleared his throat.
"Hello Sir," Dresden said as the lights in Bob's empty sockets quickly vanished. Mouse opened his eyes for a moment but then fell back to sleep.
"Hoss, what the hell are you doing here? The wards around this farm could have easily killed you."
"Don't you remember teaching me how to get through the backdoor?" Dresden asked, silently praying that his grandfather hadn't noticed Bob.
"Of course I remember, I'm not senile yet," Ebenezer snapped. "But I also remember teaching you that a good wizard changes his defensive ward schemes every few months to confuse his enemies. It was a stupid risk you took coming here."
"I had no where else to go. Maggie is upstairs sleeping."
That bit of information caused the old wizard to plop down on one of the large leather chairs. "I thought you handed my great-granddaughter over to that priest from Catholic Church, so they could hide her from your enemies?"
Dresden was silent for several minutes as he struggled with a painful decision. "Sir, do you know who Thomas Raith really is?"
"Hoss, did I ever strike you as a fool? Of course I know!" Ebenezer yelled. "And it doesn't change a God damn thing. He is a vampire like his bastard of a father and deserves to die."
"That is almost exactly what the Ivy said to me. I told her she would have to kill me first if she wanted to hurt Thomas."
"You actually threaten the Archive? That has to be the stupidest thing you have ever done, and you have done a shitload of stupid things during your short time here on Earth. Hell, I'm the Blackstaff of the White Council, and that slip of a girl would mop the floor with me in a fight."
"All she did was laugh in my face," Dresden admitted.
"Then considered yourself lucky," Ebenezer said. "Now what does the Vampire have to do Maggie being here?"
"Ivy said I should ask myself why Thomas was so important to me. Why was I willing to overlook that fact that he is basically a serial killer?" Dresden explained. "The first answer that sprang to mind was that he is the only family I have, but that isn't true anymore. I have Maggie now. I was so furious with Susan for keeping her away from me, but after holding her in my arms for less than an hour I sent her away. I washed my hands of responsibility for my own daughter, for my own flesh and blood."
"You did it to protect her."
"Sir, with all due respect that is load of crap and we both know it. My enemies... our enemies got to her once, and there is no reason at all they couldn't do it again. It wouldn't even be that difficult. The going rate for buying one of the Denarian coins from the Vatican is two million, so I figured that the cost of Maggie's address was probably about twenty grand. The only way for me to protect my daughter is to act like a real father, and that means keeping her by my side."
Ebenezer closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "How would you like some help?"
"Sir, you are a senior member of the White Council. I don't think you have any free time available for babysitting duties."
"Not any more. My status as the Blackstaff is a closely guarded secret known only to the members of the Senior Council," Ebenezer explained. "When Gregori Cristos joined the Senior Council he learned the truth and demanded that I resign. He felt that since I regularly break the Laws of Magic I should have no part in making policy. He threaten to leave the White Council, and take his followers with him if one of his allies from India wasn't allowed to replace me."
"And you actually gave in to his ultimatum?" Dresden asked incredulously.
"If I hadn't resigned it might have caused a civil war to break out, and that would have destroyed the White Council forever."
"You have always told me that the Merlin and Ancient Mai have been close allies for over three hundred years. So if Cristos and the Merlin are really members of the Black Council then they control four of the seven votes on the Senior Council, which means they now control the White Council itself," a stunned Dresden pointed out.
"Hoss, we don't have any solid evidence that either man is a traitor. Personally I think that Cristos is just a stupid idiot being used by our enemies," Ebenezer said with a grimace. "Meanwhile Injun Joe, Martha Liberty, and the Gatekeeper are all with us. So if the Merlin is still on our side then we still have control of the White Council. I betting that he is, which is why I went along with this farce."
"But Sir, what if you're wrong? What if the Merlin really is a member of the Black Council?"
"Then we are all knee-deep in shit and sinking fast," Ebenezer replied. "Now why don't you tell me exactly when and where you found that talking skull over there."