Chapter 21

They waited for Harry's informant on the front steps of the building. Night had fallen, and the weather remained consistent for the moment. The clouds hid the night sky, but even if it had been a clear night, the lights of the city would've hidden the stars. Pyrrha sat on the top of the steps behind everyone else.

No one had said anything, but she knew that her show of aggression had surprised them. It had surprised herself, even. Pyrrha was far from perfect and had met people she disliked. But threatening someone who had yet to actually attack her was something she just didn't normally do. Torchwick had attacked her friends though, and had managed to hurt them, and while Pyrrha was loathe to admit it, she still resented him for manipulating her like he had. It had spilled out, and she hated that.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped a line," Pyrrha said, breaking the silence.

The Alphas exchanged looks, while Harry and Murphy glanced at Pyrrha. Murphy was wearing a small smile, "You didn't cross a line Pyrrha. We just didn't know you had it in you."

Pyrrha looked at her hands, "I was… angry, because of what he's done, I guess. I wanted him to understand that. I guess I did."

"He messed with your mind and made you act out," Harry shrugged. "You had every right to be angry, and you only threatened him. Next time though, just talk to us, okay? Bottling things up just makes the eventual explosion that much worse."

The withering glare that Murphy and Thomas sent at Harry could have incinerated him if she had a lick of magic. He looked at her confused, "What? What did I say?"

Murphy scowled and looked back at the street without saying anything. Georgia and Will chuckled at Harry's expression. Pyrrha smiled at the exchange, and felt the weight on her shoulders lighten, if only a little.

She glanced down the street and frowned, "Harry, when is your informant getting here? And what is he, anyway?"

One thing Pyrrha had quickly learned from her time with Dresden was that his allies weren't just limited to humans. Asking in advance would at least keep her from being completely blind sided when the informant arrived, which would be a welcomed change of pace.

Harry grinned and folded his arms behind his head, "You'll see when he gets here."

Pyrrha frowned, "You enjoy giving cryptic answers, don't you?"

"He does."

"Yep."

"It's annoying as hell."

"You get used to it."

Harry put a hand on his chest, miming injury, "Guys, that hurts me, really."

"Good," Murphy said. The others murmured in agreement.

Ouch.

Harry sighed and pinched his nose, "Fair enough. My informant is a Wild Fae. Remember Lea, my godmother? He's like her, but much less dangerous."

Pyrrha's eye twitched, "I… see. Will we have a repeat of last time?"

"No, Toot-toot isn't anywhere near Lea's level, and he works for me. He's also about eighteen inches tall."

"Actually, I'm eighteen and a half now, my lord!" A tiny voice piped.

Pyrrha stared at the tiny Fae that had dropped from the sky into the middle of their group. Even if he hadn't conveniently shown up at the end of Harry's explanation, Pyrrha honestly didn't know if she'd be prepared for… Well, anything about him.

Toot-toot almost had the look of a huntsman. Proud, strong, and well armed with the wild hair to match. But like he said, he was barely two feet tall, and had tiny dragonfly wings on his back. The fact that he sounded more like a little kid pretending to be a kid didn't help the image. It was such a clashing theme that all Pyrrha could do was stare at the tiny man.

Harry smiled and said, "Right, sorry Major General. Report?"

Toot-toot slapped a salute and stood straight, "The Za-lords guard has been dispersed to every site on the map, my liege. They should be bringing it right about now."

Sure enough, a map descended from the sky, surrounded by a dozen tiny candlelights. They were actually more faeries, smaller than Toot, six inches at the largest. They too had their own fancy suits of armor, emblazoned with the pizza crest on their chest, just like Toot. The tiny escort stopped right in front of Harry and unfolded the map. He took it from them and the Fae dispersed into the night.

Harry eyed the map and said, "Good job Toot. I take it the black marks had stones at them?"

"You take it correctly, my liege!" Toot said.

Nodding, Harry carefully folded the map up, and stood to his feet, "Very well Major General, you've done well this day. Keep up the good work and I'll be sure to up your payment."

Toot-toot's wings fluttered and he bounced on his heels, "You are too kind my liege! Is there anything else you require of me?!"

"For the moment, no. But I want the Za-lords Guard on standby. I might have something for you guys later. Until then though, you're dismissed."

"As you wish, my lord!" Toot-toot sprang into the air and vanished in a flash of brilliant light. The steps grew quiet again, darker without his presence. Harry slipped the map into his coat and straightened it.

Pyrrha finally found her voice and said, "That… was a tiny man...with wings. Harry, you live in a very strange world."

"Pot, kettle," he replied, before looking at the Alphas and Butters, "You guys take separate cars, or ride in together?"

"We took the van. You think we're done for the night?"

Harry looked skyward, "Yeah, for now. My head feels like its under twenty-four hour demolition, and while we know where the next few Blackstone's are. I'm going to drop the map off with Marcones people, and I'll make a copy for Lara."

He nodded at Thomas, "Can you drop it off for me?"

"I'll fax it."

With that settled, Harry took one moment to look at Butters and added, "I know you've still got Bob on you Butters. Let him take a look at those stones. Maybe he'll pick up a detail that Bonnie missed."

He left after that, leaving everyone else with Butters. The little man lead them to the van and opened the door. Pyrrha had to wonder who this 'Bob' was and how he would know more than Bonnie had. According to Harry, Bonnie was a spirit of intellect born from the minds of two very knowledgeable people. Who was this person that could know more than her? More than likely, another spirit of intellect.

Everyone crowded around as Butters carefully removed the Blackstones from the duffel bag and set them on the floor of the van. Once in place, he reached into his backpack and retrieved a familiar item. When Pyrrha had first awoken in Harry's apartment, she had seen a bleached human skull on the table. Butters had taken it with him when he left, and its presence had slipped her mind, until now.

Carefully, Butters set the skull down facing the two Blackstones, and snapped his fingers, "Bob, you still awake?"

Two orange flames flicked to life in the skulls eye sockets, and it yawned, "Yeah, I'm up Boss. Whatcha need me for?"

Before Butters could utter a single word, the skulls eyelights fell on Pyrrha and promptly doubled in size. Bob let out an ecstatic giggle, "Oooh! Oh my, it's the red head! Leather corset, Zettai Ryouiki, high heels! Oh boss, you dog you, did you bang her? I bet you did!"

Pyrrha wasn't entirely sure what happened next, the blood rushing to her face muted every other sound around her. She was sure of one thing. Once she got over her shock, she was going to punt that skull across Chicago.

Butters sighed and grumbled, "Bob, now really isn't the time for this. I've got important business for you."

"Business before pleasure? Bah, whoever came up with that phrase clearly lived a very dull life," Bob sighed, "Or had simply never appreciated the majesty of the female form."

"Bob," Butters warned.

The skull clicked his teeth together, "Right, right. What've you got for me today, boss?"

Relieved, Butters rapped the the Blackstones with his gloved knuckles. Bob sighed, "So you trade me melons for stones? You're killing me boss!"

"If you keep it up," Murphy warned, "He's not going to be the only one."

Bob took one look at Murphy and let out a nervous chuckle, "Ehehe, right… Well then, I'd best to get to work, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah. Good idea."

Pyrrha walked away from the van and rubbed her temples, "Why can't anything make sense on this planet?" she muttered.

While the girl contemplated the journey of her life and how it had lead to her being ogled by a talking human skull, Bobs eyelights lit up. Unlike Bonnie, he didn't exit the skull to exam the stones. Several moments of seemingly looking at them was all he needed. When he found what he looked for, his eye lights flickered and shrunk to pinpoints.

"Oh dear, that's not good."

"What's not good?" William asked, his voice nervous. If Bob ever said something wasn't good, that meant it was really not good.

Bob clacked his teeth together a few times, "Hmm, how do I explain this… Well there's two details on these stones I can figure. First, the language is old. Really, really old. Like, beginning of human civilization old. I haven't the faintest idea what is written on these things. However, I do know it's connected to the second detail."

"Which is?"

The skull glanced around at everyone gathered and said, "Remember the island? The hellish supernatural prison for gods and demons that Harry turned into a summer home?"

Pyrrha looked back at the group, "Wait, what?"

"Long story," Murphy said, dismissively, and said to Bob, "Yeah, we remember. What about it?"

"Well, when Harry brought me to the island, I… well frankly, I couldn't understand a bloody thing about it. When Merlin built that place, he managed to do it in such a way that, well, your puny mortal minds simply can't comprehend it. I'm talking magic in fourth and fifth dimensions here. And these stones? They are just like that, except, get this. The black part? Thats where the complicated stuff is, and it was grown into that shape."

"...Grown? You mean, it's alive?"

"Hardly. But someone was able to create these stones from the ground up. This wasn't made by some wannabe warlock overlord, whoever made these has magical understanding equal or greater to Merlin himself. Fae Lords level of control. The red stuff was just added later."

"Well that explains why they're so damn volatile," Harry said.

Everyone yelled in surprise and whirled toward the wizard, weapons raised. Harry chuckled at them with his hands raised in surrender. Pyrrha was the first to realize what he had done, and lowered her weapons.

"Again Harry? Really!?"

Still snickering, Harry said, "Well, you were all getting serious, so I decided to break the tension with my usual level of charisma and subtlety."

Murphy rubbed at her nose and leaned against the van, "I swear to God, Dresden, next time you do that, I will plant you in the ground."

"Dinner first." Harry replied, and let the smile fade from his face.

"Back on topic though, you're saying these things are...what, miniature versions of Demonreach?"

Bob rolled his eyes, which was really distracting considering they were made of fire. "That's an incredible oversimplification of what is a remarkable and complex piece of magical skill at work, but yes. These things are essentially mini-Demonreachs, only repurposed to tear a hole in dimension instead, if what Butters has told me is true."

"Which it is," Butters replied.

It was an interesting fact for sure, however…

"What does this tell us though?" Pyrrha asked. "I don't really understand how magic works all that well. I get that these things are complex, but…"

Bob sighed, "What it means, is that whoever has been sending those Grimm here, has enough power and skill to rival a god. Which, if you're only redeeming feature is that glorious trench run you call a cleavage, is bad. Obviously."

Under other circumstances, Pyrrha would've glared at Bob for the comment. However, she was more focused on the more pressing matters. "Got it. Is there anything we could do to deal with them?"

"Whoa whoa," Harry interrupted, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves Pyrrha. Our main focus for now is keeping the stones in itty bitty pieces, or contained. Once we've got the Grimm situation under control, then we can discuss future god-slaying activities."

That was a fair point. Trying to overstretch their goals this early would be impractical. Until they had a better idea on who their enemy was, there was no point in formulating a plan to take them down. Restricting the spread of Grimm would be in their best interest until then.

Pyrrha clapped her hands together, "Okay then, so which site are we going to investigate next then?"

Butters looked at Murphy. Murphy looked at Thomas. Thomas looked at Harry, and Harry used his good eye to look at the Alphas. Andi had fallen asleep in the back of the van, and William let out a long yawn that spread to everyone else, except for Pyrrha, who seemed to be radiating youthful energy.

"Pyrrha, I think I speak for all of us when I say that the investigations are over for tonight." Harry said.

She blinked, "What? But Harry, we know where the Grimm are coming from, and you've said we can't learn anything from the stones anymore. We could stop them now if we jump on it."

Harry shook his head, "Pyrrha, do I look like I'm in any fighting shape? Do any of us look ready to head to a dozen different, possibly Grimm infested, locations, and have a repeat of UC?"

Pyrrha took a long look at her companions. While they were awake and alert, there was a sluggish quality to their movements, as if moving through syrup. The Alphas in particular seemed exhausted, and even Thomas looked worn out. She felt her heart sink.

"I understand. But we will continue what we started tomorrow, correct?"

Harry put a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort, "A good night's sleep will put everyone in the right frame of mind for it. Until then, Marcone and his people are going to try and keep this all hush-hush until we deal with it. Okay?"

Despite her disappointment and worry, Pyrrha nodded, "Yes I understand. You'll be returning home with Murphy and I then?"

Harry stretched, "I'll meet you guys at the apartment, yeah. Gonna make a quick stop on the way home."

"Macs?" Murphy asked.

"Macs."

Pyrrha looked between them and sighed, "Again, context. Please. Where is Macs?"

McAnally's Pub was exactly what it sounded like. A pub and grill owned by one "Mac" McAnally that catered to the many supernatural folk of Chicago, be they human, vampire, fae, or even the odd troll. It was tucked away in one of those basement locations in downtown Chicago, indicated by faded green sign hanging over the door with its namesake written in elaborate font. A couple years back when the war between the White Council and Red Courts was beginning to heat up, someone placed Mac's Pub on a list of neutral territories protected by the Unseelie Accords, the supernatural equivalent of the Geneva Convention. It made it a safe haven for all kinds of supernatural folk during times of crisis.

It also served really, really good beer. Which, after all Harry had been through that day, was something he desperately was in need of. Murphy and Pyrrha were waiting for him back at the apartment, so he couldn't stick around long. But even a few minutes without the stress would be a welcome relief.

After parking the Beetle nearby, Harry entered Mac's. It was a low-ceilinged room, for Harry anyway, with the added benefit of several whirling ceiling fans at his eye level, just as he came in the door.

Mac's place was really just one big room. Thirteen thick wooden support pillars were spread throughout the room, each carved with figures from Old World nursery tales. There was a bar with thirteen stools, thirteen tables spread irregularly throughout the room, and the place as a whole had an informal and comfortable asymmetrical feel to it.

It was also full to bursting.

Harry took a step back in surprise at the sheer number of people crowded in Mac's bar. Magically gifted young, old, and everything in between seemed to have crammed themselves into Mac's bar. And despite every table being filled, the room was unnervingly quiet.

Granted, it was impossible for a room that full to ever be completely silent, but the volume was lower than it should've been. A few of the younger patrons cast worried glances at the door when it opened, and seeing Harry standing there made them quickly look back at their own tables.

Harry still had his staff and shield bracelet with him, but he wasn't projecting an aura of 'I'm here to kick ass and chew gum'. Indeed, given the purple mash that was his face, he doubted he could ever pull that off in the next few days. No, the people in Mac's bar had gathered for the same reason they always did. They felt the tension in the air. Chicago was holding its breath for something big, and the less powerful magical users had gathered together for safety. There was strength in numbers, after all.

Harry crossed the room to the bar where Mac nodded at him. Mac was a lean man somewhere between thirty and fifty. He wore the usual dark clothes and a spotless white apron while simultaneously managing all the bartending and a big wood-burning grill where he cooked various dishes for his patrons. The air of tension hadn't gotten to him, and he worked as diligently as ever.

Mac took one look at Harry's face, and held up a finger for him to wait. Harry sat down on a stool and did as Mac grabbed two beers from behind the counter. Mac didn't believe in cooling beer, and that personal belief had created what Harry could only consider an ambrosia of the gods.

He gave one to Harry, and quietly set the second one down in front of the woman seated next to him. Her ebony hair was cut short, she wore a burgundy leather coat, and her face was buried in her arms at the moment.

"Business?" Mac grunted, pointing at Harry's face.

Harry shrugged, "Personal grudge related to business. I've had a long day Mac."

Mac looked around the room at the assembled patrons and grunted. Harry conceded his point, "I suppose everyone's had one. You watch the news lately?"

The bartender sent Harry an unamused look and returned to his grill. With this many people in his bar, Harry had a feeling Mac had been busy all day. Even if a television could work in proximity to so many gifted people, he'd never have a chance to pay it any attention.

"Right, sorry." Harry apologized, and grabbed his bottle. He popped the cap off with a flick of his wrist, and took a sip.

All the troubles of the day seemed to vanish, if only for a brief instant. That instant was completely worth the trip though. Sometimes it was nice to not feel like complete shit.

The woman besides Harry stirred and sat up. She grabbed her bottle and repeated Harry's gesture, then proceeded to chug the entire thing. Harry watched in amazement as she downed it in seconds, then set the now empty bottle down with a hollow tap.

Her face was visible now, and Harry was surprised, and angry at what he saw. At one point, it might have been a beautiful young face, but someone had taken a knife to that face. Two ugly scars cut perpendicular across the left side of her face, where a heavy eyepatch hid the rest of the mess and her left eye. The right side of her face and eye were relatively unharmed, hinting at the beauty that had once been. Her eye was a subtle amber shade, and bloodshot; she'd been crying earlier.

'Damn it Harry, you know better, don't get involved.' he thought to himself. When it came to members of the fairer sex, Harry could be called at best, a chivalric pervert. He simply could not help himself if he saw a woman in danger, he had to help. If they happened to be attractive, then he would be even more likely to get involved. It was a stupid, stupid way of thinking, and he had worked on it over the years. It would be best to just leave this poor woman alone and focus on his drink.

She noticed his look, and bowed her head in shame.

'Oh... God damn it.'

He sighed aloud and said, "Sorry miss, didn't mean to stare. It's just… what happened? Who did that to you?"

The woman's face fell and she reached up to touch her collar. She pulled it back to reveal heavy scars covering most of her throat, twisted and knotted flesh that had looked like someone had taken a blowtorch to her neck.

Harry grimace, "I see. Sorry, I'll just leave you alone."

He turned to move, when the woman touched the top of his hand with hers. He felt the faint tingle of power between them, and the softness of her fingers. Cursing himself, Harry turned back to the woman. She pushed a small pad of paper forward.

Scribbled on it were the words, 'Are you Harry Dresden?'

He blinked and looked up at her, "If I was, why're you looking for him?"

She wrote another sentence below the first. 'He has a reputation for stopping problems. I need his help with who did this to me.'

Harry eyed the paper and looked back up at her, "Who did this to you?"

'A dangerous woman. I think she's related to these attacks.'

"Heard about those huh?"

'It was on the news.'

Right. The woman had some level of talent, but nowhere near the level of a high level council wizard. She could probably use electronics without worry. But what was more intriguing was her claim that whoever had left her like this, could be related to the Grimm attacks. It could be a new lead.

Harry glanced up at the clock. It was a quarter to midnight, everyone was getting ready for sleep. Harry was certainly no slouch on his own, but he was no spring chicken.

"Can you wait until tomorrow? It's late, and I'm obviously not in the best of shape."

The woman scrunched up her face, but nodded. Harry smiled, "Good. Here, if something comes up, call this number."

He scribbled his phone number on the pad and passed it to her. "I should pick up, and we can look into this together. Just tap out morse code or something, I'll figure it's you."

Harry gave her a friendly, and gentle pat on the back, "Sound good?"

She nodded again, smiling faintly.

"Great!" Harry took a swig from his bottle then added, "If you'll forgive me, you never gave me your name."

The woman looked at Harry for a moment, then set the pad of paper down and straightened up. Despite her injuries, she had a very strong figure and near perfect posture. She rubbed at the burns on her throat and took a deep breath.

When she spoke, it came out a halting, raspy growl, crushed under a mountain of pain. The effort clearly caused her no end of pain, and she only barely managed a whisper.

"Ci...nder… Cinder."

A/N: Hehehe, oh this is gonna be good guys. We've reached the tipping point. The dominos are in place, the pieces all arranged.

Now its time to watch them all fall.