Chapter 12

After Pyrrha stopped laughing, I finally ordered her into bed so I could work. The girl was nice and polite, but she was out of her league, and it obviously wasn't something she liked. But we've all got days when we realize that some problems are too big for us to handle, and my sympathy for her evaporated on account of all that laughing. I'm a thick skinned guy, I know.

Sending her away was pointless though. The night was another night of misery and failures, and I'm not referring to getting my ass handed to me repeatedly by a seventeen year old girl. The stone refused to give me anything, no matter what spells, enchantments, runes or other wizardly implements I poked and prodded it with. To the normal eye, it appeared to just be a normal black stone, and I wasn't dumb enough to look at something 'forged from hatred, contempt, pain, and loneliness' with my Sight.

The end result was me turning in at half-past late, and collapsing into bed with Murphy. She'd been patient with me all night, but had to turn in eventually. I felt a little bad about that, but we both knew that 'imminent invasion' took priority over the relationship, for now.

Her presence when my alarm clock began to shriek was greatly appreciated. The shrieking didn't even bother her. The orange bottle of painkillers by the nightstand were responsible for that. Murphy could put on a brave face, but it had been a long day for her too, and her injuries had caught up with her again. It'd be a few more hours before she woke up.

I slid out of bed quietly anyway, and grabbed my robe. A cup of coffee to wake me up, and I'd throw a few more spells at the stone before I woke up Pyrrha. I had promised to take her to the White Council that day, and we'd want to get going sooner rather than later.

After slipping on my robe, I glided out of our room as quiet as possible. The moment I shut the door, a chipper voice said, quietly, "Good morning Harry!"

I was too tired to jump, and just winced at the cheer in Pyrrha's voice. She was a morning person. Fantastic.

I slowly turned around and saw Pyrrha in the kitchen. The oven was on and I could smell bacon and eggs sizzling on a pan. Pyrrha was wearing a red t-shirt, black shorts, and a pair of sneakers. Her hair was still wet from the shower, and she still had that tiara. Also, her face was filled with that cheery happiness that morning people somehow possess no matter what ungodly hour they wake up at.

"Pyrrha," I said, trying to be polite as possible, "I can't stand the sight of you. No talking until I've had my coffee."

Pyrrha smiled, the kind of smile parents give their kids when they're being grumpy and difficult, "There's no excuse for rudeness Harry. Besides," she produced a cup of coffee seemingly from nowhere, and slid it across the counter. It came to a smooth stop by a plate she'd already prepared, "I heard you wake up, so I prepared breakfast for you. Consider it my way of saying thank you."

I sat down and grumbled, "Your welcome," and started chewing.

Half a cup of coffee and an entire plate later, and I was actually awake enough to hold a solid conversation. I set my mug down and rubbed at the bridge of my eyes.

"Exactly how long have you been awake, Pyrrha?" I asked.

"What time is it now?"

"Seven in the morning."

She pursed her lips, "About…two and a half hours."

I stared at her with the contempt I saved only for bureaucrats and teenagers. Remarkably, she seemed immune to my glares, so I quickly returned to my coffee.

"Exactly what were you doing for two and a half hours?" I asked between sips.

Pyrrha began piling her own mountain of food onto a plate and shrugged, "My usual morning workout. 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and ten mile runs, every day."

"…There's a special word for people like you. Unfortunately, you're a minor, so my sense of decency prevents me from saying it."

I was a bit grumpier than usual. I blame the crotchetiness that comes with age. Pyrrha took it in stride and sat at the island, still smiling.

"Regardless of my situation, I need to maintain my physique. There's no telling what we might encounter in the coming days, every bit of preparation helps."

I stopped mid-sip, and gave Pyrrha a good long look. She froze and returned the look, "…Yes?"

"Just looking for a halo or something. No teenager I've ever met speaks like that."

Pyrrha shrugged and resumed eating. Obviously she did not understand the necessities of witty banter between the average mortal and wizards, who are all grumpy to some degree. I would teach her the ways of snark to snark combat in the coming days. For now, I would redeem her silence by consuming the breakfast she had made, for only the fiery intestinal tract of a wizard could redeem it now.

It was several minutes into this silent eating, when Pyrrha set down her fork and asked, "So where are we going today, Harry?"

I scooped up the last of the eggs down my gullet and let out a content sigh before answering her. "You and me are going to the White Council Headquarters. The Senior Council might be able to lift the magic blocking your memories. Plus, I need to let them know about this Grimm situation we're in."

Pyrrha ignored my pun, and looked at her plate. The smile faded, and she spoke softly, "Do you really think they can help me remember?"

"I think it's worth trying. Memory blocks tend to be easier to remove, so unless someone really wanted you to forget why you were here, I don't think the Council will have any problem undoing the damage."

"Okay," Pyrrha nodded and the smile returned, "I'm ready to leave whenever you are."

The telephone cut off my response with a shrill shriek of alarm. I covered my face and sighed, "One moment please."

The infernal device was located by the fireplace. I hadn't set it up there, but hadn't had time to move it somewhere else, or buy a second one. No, I don't have one of those cellphones either, wizard plus cellphone equals sparks everywhere. Landlines though, tend to be more reliable.

I picked up the phone and said, "Dresden residence, Dresden speaking."

"Harry," a familiar baritone voice said over the line, "Its Will. You busy?"

William Borden was the leader of the Alphas, a group of college kids gone werewolf that helped me in a few cases. For a while, Will and the Alphas had mostly patrolled their college grounds, defending them from vampires, trolls, and the occasional odd pizza delivery man. They had started out with a dozen or so members, but over the years that had dwindled into three full time members and one operating behind the scenes. The rest had either passed on, or moved onto other avenues in life.

Will was a good friend and a trusted ally, but he and the Alphas were low-tier in terms of power, when it came to the supernatural. I didn't often involve them in my bigger cases, and since we weren't doing another D&D session until next Thursday, that meant he'd come across something the Alphas were reluctant to handle. I made three guesses on what that could be, and none of them were particularly pleasant.

"I've got some very important errands to run this morning, but I should be free by evening at the latest. Why, what's happening?"

I heard a sigh over the line, "Okay, alright. There's been some weird things going on around here Harry, attacks that are… different, than what we're used to."

Wills tone grew quiet, and scared, "I think… I think there's another loup-garou."

The loup-garou is another type of werewolf, a bloodline curse that would turn the afflicted into an unstoppable killing machine that could only be stopped with inherited silver. A decade ago, the Special Investigations branch of the CPD learned the hard way just how dangerous a loup-garou could be.

They were also incredibly rare, and bipedal. Which meant that it wasn't actually a loup-garou. It was probably Grimm, one of those wolves I had saved Pyrrha from. Great.

"Anyone hurt?" I asked.

"No. We chased it off for now, but that's the only thing I can think of. If it is, what do we do?"

"Hang tight," I ordered, "And wait for me to show up."

I glanced back at Pyrrha, who was reading one of the comic books I had bought for Auriel while eating. She was completely oblivious to the conversation. Guess I'd have to fill her in.

Will let out a sigh of relief, "Okay, just hurry, please. No telling who could get hurt."

'Yeah, no telling,' I thought, but said, "Right. Keep an eye out until then. I'll see you later Will."

"See you soon."

I hung up and returned to the table. Pyrrha sheepishly looked up from the Wonder Woman comic. I tapped the table with my index finger, "Gear up. We're heading out now. After we're done at the Council, I've got a friend who just called about a Grimm sighting, I'll need your expertise."

Pyrrha's expression grew hard and she shut the book, "Of course. But I think you'll need pants first."

My eye twitched, "Yes. Of course. Pants first."

We left at a quarter to eight.

I was back in my duster, a pair of jeans, and my 'Intellectual Badass' t-shirt underneath. Pyrrha was going to strap her sword and shield to her back, but at my urging settled for a new backpack instead. Walking around with a wizards staff was one thing, but we didn't need the attention that obvious weapons would grab.

Yesterday we got lucky, but I wasn't going to take any chances.

We returned to the Blue Beetle, and to my surprise, the hood was popped back into shape, with only some scratched paint as a reminder of the damage. I looked at Pyrrha, and she just smiled happily in reply.

Huh, being a Good Samaritan actually payed off. What were the odds.

The drive was relatively quiet. We made some idle chit-chat, but there wasn't much to discuss, and I'd wait until we reached the Way before handing out directions. So I drove in silence, while Pyrrha had her nose buried in that comic. She had a small stack of issues she had borrowed from my desk and was tearing through them. I made a mental note to stop at Comicron-1 later that day.

Now, Ways are essentially paths through the Nevernever, an immaterial world that 'surrounds' the mortal plane. There, the laws of physics and logic are more like guidelines than actually forces of reality. Water flows upstream, ice burns, pigs fly, etc. It's a very dangerous place, filled with power-hungry Fae, hungry monsters, and occasionally hungry plant-life. But, if you can navigate it, the Nevernever is also an incredibly fast method of travel, which is a life-savor for wizards, since planes tend to disagree with wizards.

Due to the way the Nevernever works though, it's hard to figure where one point of it touches down, and where it could exit. You could enter the Nevernever in Paris, take ten steps to the left, and exit into the middle of an active volcano. Granted, most cases aren't that extreme, but the point is that you never know where most Ways will take you, and finding a stable one is exceptionally rare.

Which is why I found it especially fitting that the Way from Chicago to Edinburgh is located behind an old meat-packing plant. Some sort of cosmic force must've loved the irony in me using what was basically a giant butchers factory to head to the White Council.

I explained all of this to Pyrrha (Even the cosmic irony) when we got closer to the Way. We parked by the dark alley behind the plant. Every time I came to this place, I shivered. The sense of finality was very dark, very real. I tried to ignore, and we both exited the Blue Beetle. A concrete staircase in the middle of the alley led down to a door held shut with boards and chains. Still.

I looked at Pyrrha and her backpack, and shook my head, "Leave your weapons here. As far as the White Council knows, you're a young girl that's been influenced by Black Magic. If they saw you with weapons and me, they'd get the wrong idea."

She looked reluctant to part with the bag. Understandable, it was one of the few things that she had from her world, besides that weird doohickey the portal had spat at her. Plus, if she was to be believed, she had built them herself. There was a sense of comfort in weapons like that, it was why I always brought my staff with me everywhere. Well that, and the Freudian sense of superiority it gave me.

After a moments debate, Pyrrha relented and tossed the backpack back into the Blue Beetle. We started down the stairs, and I closed my eyes for a moment. My otherworldly sense extended toward the section of concrete next to the door. I felt the familiar thinness of the world there, where energy pulsed and hummed beneath the rigid skin of reality.

I realized, as I gathered up my will and reached out my hand to the wall, that the Way wouldn't be as warm as Chicago was. Summer rains had helped dull the heat, and Pyrrha was dressed perfectly for it.

"Aparturum," I whispered, and opened the Way between worlds.

It's never as dramatic as it sounds. The concrete wall rippled with a quick flickering of color, and began to glow softly. I took a deep breath and stepped directly into the concrete, staff in hands.

I passed through solid stone, and emerged into a dark forest covered in a thin layer of snow. I was still thankful the ground in Chicago was level with the Nevernever. Only a three-inch drop, easily manageable.

"Eep!" there was a thud behind me.

I looked back at Pyrrha, who had not expected the drop, and nearly face planted into the snow. She caught herself with the low hanging branch of a tree, and stood up. Her green eyes were alight with fascination. She barely even seemed to notice the cold, so apparently she was dressed fine for both.

"You going to be alright?" I asked her, just in case.

Pyrrha blinked and looked at the snow, "Oh. I'll be chilly, but my Aura will protect me from anything serious."

"Lucky girl," I noted, and added, "Stay close to me. There are…things, in the Nevernever that would love to get their hands on a young mortal maiden."

She took a step closer to me without comment. Now how hard was that, really?

I glanced around at my surroundings and confirmed that the woodside had not changed since my last visit. A hillside sank down ahead of us, and climbed steadily into the sky behind us. I knew that at the top of small mountain we stood upon, was a narrow and bitterly cold pass that led into the Unseelie Mountains, and by extension, Mab's stronghold of Arctis Tor. Even now, having entered the Nevernever, I felt a familiar tingle flow over my body. While it had grown silent in the pass months, returning to the Nevernever had stirred the Mantle of the Winter Knight.

Lovely.

Ignoring it for now, I lead Pyrrha down the path into the foothills and plains, where Mab's authority ended and that of Titania the Summer Queen began. We were at a crossroads, as was metaphorically appropriate, since we had come from one of the great crossroads of the world. One trail led upslope and down, the other crossed it at almost perfect right angles, and ran along the face of the hillside.

We went left, following the face of the hillside into a makeshift hall of frozen trees, branches bowing beneath their burden of frost and snow. I had enough past experience I could get through the path fairly quickly on my own, but with Pyrrha trailing behind me, I had to slow considerably. As a general rule, running through a forested path was just a Bad Idea, and a very good way to snap an ankle. Surprisingly though, we both passed along the path without any resistance in just fifteen minutes.

I turned off the path onto a foot trail at a tree whose trunk had been carved with a pentacle. Pyrrha followed me as the trees turned into evergreens and the trail grew crowded with low hanging branches and leaves. Tiny things moved out of sight among the trees, small scuttling noises, and I could barely hear high-pitched whispers and sibilant voices from the forest around us. Creepy, but standard issue Nevenever.

Pyrrha stopped for a moment, twitching her head from side to side. Without a word, she reached up and grabbed the nearest tree branch and snapped it off at the base. Then she heaved it in an Olympian style javelin throw towards the nearest chittering shape. There was a sharp crack, followed by a squelch, and the chittering fell silent.

I looked at her with a raised brow. "I've traveled down dark forests before. Letting the creatures in the dark watch never ends well," she explained.

"Fair enough."

Minutes later, we reached the end of the path at a clearing in the woods. There was a mound of earth about a dozen yards across and almost as high in the center, overgrown with vines and layered in stone. Large slabs of rock formed the threshold of a black doorway. In front of it, a large stump had been rolled into place, with two shorter ones placed on either side of it. A chess board rested on the larger stump and two young men sat across from each other, both dressed in grey cloaks.

One was a lean and fit-looking young man with sharp cheekbones and eyes of cobalt blue. Beneath his cloak, he wore a dark grey silk suit with an ebony-colored shirt and snow-white tie. A black bowler topped off the look and his silver headed walking cane rested against the stump.

The other was maybe a year or two the senior of his dapper young opponent, with naturally tanned skin, dark hair, dark eyes, and sharp edged features. In a word, he was classically Spanish, and was dressed in combat fatigues, with a camo jacket slung over a visible Kevlar vest. His expression was one of intense concentration, while the other young man wore a smug grin.

I took a step forward, and the suit raised a finger, "One moment, if you please, Dresden," he said smugly, in an accent straight out of Oxford. "Warden Commander Ramirez believes his battlefield experience lends him certain real-world experience that would allow him to best me of all people in a friendly game of chess. Here we are, twenty minutes later, and it would appear to be nothing more than hot air."

"It ain't over yet, Chandler," the Latin youth, Ramirez, grumbled under his breath. I took a look at the board and winced.

"How many moves?"

"I believe this is Ramirez's fifth, am I correct?"

"Sixth," Ramirez grunted.

I winced again, "Might as well turn it in now Ramirez, preserve some dignity."

"Don't bother," Chandler practically sang. "It's typical Yankee behavior. You colonial heathens never knew when to quit."

Ramirez growled, "Screw this!" and promptly flipped the board into the snow, scattering pieces everywhere.

Chandler looked unphased, and crisply crossed his arms, "Now now, that's not a proper move, Ramirez."

Carlos Ramirez stood up and smoothed back his hair. A cocky grin crossed his features and he said, "Yeah, but in a real fight you don't play by the rules. If you're in a bad situation, you change it until it's in your favor."

"And if you can't do that," I added, "Run like hell and hope the stupid bastard you're working with can slow them down. How's it going Ramirez?"

We clapped hands together, in a manly way, and that grin never faded, "Haha, good as always amigo, it's been too long. How's life Dresden?"

"The usual," I replied.

It was his turn to wince, "That bad, eh?"

"I've had worse," I admitted, and turned to Chandle. We shook hands, and he grinned as well.

"Glad to see you're still in one piece Harry. After the last Council meeting, we were almost certain you wouldn't last the year."

I raised a brow, "How certain?"

"Twenty-to-one odds." Chandler said, matter-of-factly.

"Ah, you guys are jerks," I laughed, it was good to see them both again. Chandler was the standard guard for the Way into Edinburgh, and he didn't get out much. Ramirez was the Regional Warden Commander for the Western United States. Since Wardens are basically supernatural policemen with swords instead of guns (or rather, swords and guns) that made him the equivalent of the police chief for several states. Yet somehow he always managed to be cool and controlled, the jerk.

After a moments laugh, the two looked past me at Pyrrha. She blinked when she noticed them looking, and waved, "Hello!"

"That the girl?" Ramirez asked.

I almost raised my hand, but instead just said quietly, "She's seventeen, and a victim of Black Magic, Ramirez. Remember that before you do anything stupid, Virgo."

Chandler casually strolled by us both while whistling, and Ramirez tried to glare at me. It would've been more intimidating if he wasn't clearly blushing, "You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nope. We clear?"

"Dude, come on." Ramirez said, "I have standards."

I glanced back at Pyrrha. Chandler was circling her, his pupils dilated as he used the Sight to check her for any traps, standard protocol. I took a deep breath and said, "I know, sorry. She's just had a rough time and-"

"-You get defensive when it comes to girls in trouble, I know man," Ramirez finished. He grinned at me, and I sighed. I was more tense than I expected if I was getting paranoid over something that petty.

Chandler came to a precise stop, clapping his heels together as he did, "Everything seems to be in order. You were right about the Black Magic Harry, but she seems perfectly safe otherwise. Possible magical potential, but we'll leave that the Senior Council to handle."

He bowed toward Pyrrha, "We will do everything we can to help, Miss…?"

She glanced at me, and I nodded.

"Nikos, Pyrrha Nikos."

"A very creative name I see," Chandler stood up again, "Now before I let you both pass…"

I sighed and faced him with a formal posture brought about by security protocol older than five centuries. "I seek entry to the Hidden Halls, O Warden. May I pass?"

Chandler gave a slow, overly-dramatic, nod, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Be welcome to the seat of the White Council. Enter in peace and depart in peace. Ramirez, you may leave now."

I raised a brow at Ramirez as he saddled up next to me. He grinned, "Hey, been a while. Figured I'd wait out here, keep Chandler company, and get a chance to meet up with old friends."

A smile tugged at my lips. It was good to see that even after all the insanity that had happened in the past few years, not everyone on the White Council had lost leave of their senses. I nodded my thanks to Ramirez and whistled. "Pyrrha, let's go!"

She silently flanked my right, and with Ramirez on my left, we walked forward through the archway, into whatever might be waiting for us on the other side.

A/N: An apology for missing Saturday. There's no real excuse in this case, save for me being lazy and going on a Stellaris binge. I sat down for a few minute break, next thing I knew it was one in the morning. It did not help that I've had to split this chapter into two parts. Next chapter will also be from Harry's perspective, so I apologize if you haven't been enjoying those.

But, after that, we'll return to a third person narrative. Either way, things are about to get interesting, and we'll see if the White Council can actually get something done for once, if they'll be useless as always.

Speaking of useless, despite googling it, I only just recently found out that the Dresden Files author actually DOES have a name picked out for Harry's spirit daughter, Bonea, which is Scottish for Beautiful and a pun on where she 'lives'. Its Bonnie for short, and I think I'll have to go back and change that. Let me know in the reviews what you think.

Speaking of reviews, lets go over your questions!

Arbl A-17 asks: Will the Nemesis be making any appearances?

Possibly, is the only answer I can give.

Next and lastly, Cowslayer had two questions:

Who taught Roman how to make runes, and who gave him the orb?

-And-

Are any other non-humans going to show up?

To the first, I say, why would I tell you that? I mean, it is a mystery story after all. Kills the mystery if I spoil it, doesn't it?

To the second, I say that yes, many more non-humans will show up. There will be plentiful numbers of non-humans in the future.

Those are the only questions this time guys. Remember, any questions, any thoughts, I will gladly answer. Make sure its phrased right though, as it can be difficult to tell what's a question and what's just general musing. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and please remember to leave reviews with questions, comments, or constructive criticism so that I may improve.

See you all on Thursday!

Ta-ta for now!