The Master of Death

First Interlude: Storm Delay

Part I

The young man he'd just stopped looked up at him, his eyes wide, dilated, and bloodshot. He gave a maniac's grin, his mouth stretching painfully wide, displaying both his teeth and gum.

"Wizard!" He cried, a cop holding either arm. "I can see you! I see you, Wizard! I know who let you go and I know who waits! No one can flee from death, wizard—everyone has to take a ride on that train, and it's never gonna bring you back! Can't you hear!? Listen, listen, listen, listen! He's coming, he's coming, he's coming, he's always coming! Here and there, then and now, he comes!"

Harry felt like someone had replaced his blood with ice water as the young man's expression shifted with pained terror, staring at something only he could see.

"He's riding his iron horse! Is he going to be here tonight? I-is it for me!?" The junkie stared struggling in the arms of the cops, his feet scraping uselessly against the floor as he tried to escape. "N-no! It's not my time, I swear! I don't know who you're here for Master, but it's not me! It's someone else! P-please, you have to believe me!"

"Jesus Christ on a crutch!" One of the officers, a short, round man, said as the young man tried to struggle. There were two of them and the boy was neither healthy nor in his right mind, so they controlled him easily, but it didn't keep the young man from trying.

The boy's eyes focused on him again, but Harry was careful to avoid making eye contact.

Something told him this was a soul he didn't want to see.

"Wizard!" The junkie's voice had gone from insane, to fearful, to pleading in mere seconds and he looked like it was only the hold the police had on him that kept him from throwing himself at Harry's feet. "He let you go! Why did he let you go, wizard!? Please, you have to help me! I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna—"

And all of a sudden, the fight went out of him and he sagged in the cops arms, murmuring frantically under his breath.

Sighing in relief, the shorter cop relaxed a bit.

"Junkies," He said, shaking his head. "Thanks for the assist, buddy."

Harry stared at the junkie for a long, stunned moment, not reacting until the cops began to drag the junkie down the hallway. He managed to catch the sleeve of the taller officer.

"What's going on, sir?" He asked.

"Another junkie," The man said. "One of those ThreeEye punks that have been popping up lately. Caught the kid with nearly four grams of the stuff—more, if you count what's in him. You okay?"

"Fine," Harry assured him. "ThreeEye? That drug that's been all over the news lately?"

"Supposed to make them see the spirit world, if you can believe it," The officer said, shaking his head in disbelief. "The stuff hooks harder then crack, too. Thanks again for the help."

This close, he could hear the junkie's mumbling.

"Someone's gonna die tonight, someone's gonna die, someone's gonna die," He repeated again and again.

"No problem," Harry said, before quickly returning to his seat, getting out of their way.

He'd never seen that junkie before. Never even been near him, as far as he was aware. And even if he had been, that kid had been no practitioner.

So how the hell had he seen the shadow of the Master of Death?

Ever since that night when Justin's ritual had gone awry, he'd been marked, just by being near the Master of Death and surviving. Those who knew how could still see his shadow, trailing on the ground behind him—at least, until it got tired of doing that and decided to fly, crawl, slither, or walk behind him instead. Sort of a psychic scar to remind him of the encounter.

But only wizards had the kind of vision needed to do that. And that junkie had been no wizard.

Was it possible he'd been too dismissive of the drug? Could it really grant the ones that took it the Sight?

He shuddered at the thought.

The type of things one could see with the Sight could be beautiful, the type of things that could give you hope in the darkest night—or they could be horrible beyond words. It showed you the truth in all its ways, but the truth had a tendency to hurt. It also had a tendency to be liberating, but with the Sight, sometimes what it liberated you of was your sanity.

And whatever you saw with the Sight, you'd never be able to forget. For a bunch of normal people with no idea how to control it…they'd go mad in weeks—if they were lucky enough not to stumble across a monster of some sort and draw enough attention to be eaten, at least.

If ThreeEye could do that…it was a lot more dangerous than anyone realized.

And, perhaps worse than that, while what you See is always open to interpretation and metaphor, in the end, what you see with the Sight is always true, as well.

'Someone's gonna die tonight.'

Maybe that junkie had just been reminded that everything had to die sometime. Maybe he meant it in the broad 'a hundred people die a minute' sense.

Yeah, and maybe he'd grow wings and fly.

Hell's Bells. This day was just getting better and better.

XxXXxX

"Dresden," Murphy said. "Wake up."

Blinking himself back to consciousness, Harry shook his head.

"Wasn't asleep," He lied, stifling a yawn and mentally kicking himself. It wasn't like him to fall asleep on the job like this; even if the nightmares that Justin's enthrallment had caused him had long since faded, he still didn't like falling asleep where people could see him. It was more habit now than anything else, but the conversation's he'd had with his grandfather had been awkward and if he had a sudden relapse here in the police station, it would be flat-out embarrassing.

Murphy snorted disbelievingly.

"Save it, Harry," She said, pushing a cup of coffee into his hands.

"You are an angel," Harry said, taking it. It was a little stale, but it was full of sugar, just the way he liked it, and after the long nights he'd had to go through lately, anything with caffeine in it was heavenly. He nodded down the hallway after taking a deep sip of it. "You'll want to hear this one in your office."

Frowning at him, she nodded.

"Alright," She said. "Let's go."

A minute later, he sat down in her office, after she'd turned off her computer and radio and unplugged them both.

"Alright, Harry, what have you got for me?"

"Elaine and I were up all night working on it," He said, putting the coffee cup down on her desk after taking one last sip. "And we had a hell of a time figuring it out. As near as we can tell, it'd be damn hard to do it to one person, let alone two."

"And yet, I have two corpses on my hands," She said bluntly.

"Hold your horses; I'm just getting started. Look, whoever did this did it with Thaumaturgy; that much, we're sure off. They had some of the victim's hair, fingernails, or whatever and used it to make a link. Then they ripped out a symbolic heart from some doll or animal and used a huge amount of energy to make the same thing happen to their victims. But the amount of energy you'd need to do something like this is staggering. It would be easier to make a small earthquake or set the building on fire then affect a living being like that. I might be able to do it without killing myself. To one person. Who had really, really pissed me off."

"And the Council would kill if you did," She nodded. "You said you called them, right? And they'd be sending a 'Warden' or something by, soon?"

Harry nodded.

"Not sure when they'll get here, though." He said. "Travel through the Nevernever is iffy like that. It might take them a little while to get in contact with someone who knows a quick and safe way to Chicago, too; not everyone knows the same Ways. But worst case scenario is it takes them a day to get here, after which they'll start investigating. Hopefully we'll have some answers to give him by then."

Murphy looked a bit displeased at the notion of what she viewed as another cop potentially muscling her aside on her own case, but if it saved lives, Harry knew he probably wouldn't hear anything about it.

"What else can you tell me?" She asked instead. "So far all we've got is that he's some kind of magical muscle man. If that's all you have to give him, you're going to be the biggest suspect."

Harry snorted.

"I said I could maybe kill one, remember? Two would be the death of me."

"But you also have Elaine," She pointed out. "Think about how that would look to some cop that walked onto the case. The only known wizards in town, known to work together. Someone who didn't know you might get suspicious."

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Maybe," He said. "But we were also the ones who called them in. Would a killer do that?"

"You'd be surprised; I've seen more elaborate cover-ups. Some guy who may be four or five times my age has probably seen a lot more." She said. "So what else do you have?"

"There are several possibilities," Harry said, trying to shake off the nervousness Murphy's words had inspired. "And yeah, some kind of super wizard is one of them. But you're more likely to find someone who's just really good. Raw power isn't everything; focus matters, too. The better your focus is, the better you are at putting all your power in one place, and the more you can do with it. Sort of like with some tiny Chinese martial arts master who can shatter bricks and tree trunks with his bare hands; he couldn't lift a puppy over his head, but what little power he does have, he can focus to do incredible things."

Murphy glanced towards her Aikido trophies and nodded.

"Okay; I can understand that. So we're looking for Mister Miyagi instead of some Arnold Schwarzenegger?"

"Again, possibly, but I don't think so. You'd have to be good to do something like that; the type of amazing that attracts attention. Even if it's possible, I'd be surprised if someone like that suddenly appeared to kill two random people. If they were going to put their neck on the line with the White Council, you'd figure they'd do it for more than they did. As it is, whoever was responsible for this mess managed to piss of Bianca, Marcone, the police, and the White Council, all at once, for no apparent gain."

"Alright," Murphy said, getting impatient. "Then who did it?"

"It could be more than one wizard. Several, pooling their power together and using it all at once. But I don't think that's it, either. It's a bitch for most people to do, because everyone involved has to be committed to the spell and have no doubts or reservations, and trust each other implicitly. Elaine and I can do it, but it's hard enough that we usually don't even bother unless it's a special occasion; you probably won't find that kind of thing in your average gang of killers. I was stumped, but Elaine had an idea and I think she's right."

"I know you like keeping secrets and hearing yourself talk, Harry," Murphy said, nearly growling. "But could you just tell me already?"

"The storms." Harry said. "I hadn't really noticed, but you know how Elaine is good with lightning? She said that someone could use the storms to power their spells. There's a lot of power involved with that type of thing, even if it's dangerous to use."

"Which means," Murphy said, a gleam in her eyes. "The storms have to be in his area when he casts the spells, right? Does he cast them as soon as they're overhead?"

"Yes and I don't know, in that order," He told her. "But it's a good place to start—and he probably does cast it as soon as possible. This guy hasn't shown a huge amount of foresight, given how many people he's pissed off, so keeping track of the storms is a good place to start. And another thing; that new drug ThreeEye? I met some guy who was high on it when several officers brought him in. Something he said made me think it's the real deal."

"So if we find whoever's supplying it, we'll find the killer?" Murphy said, catching on. She pondered that. "If we got a sample of the drug, could you use it to track him down?"

"If it's some kind of potion like I think it is, then maybe, yeah. Whoever made it would have had to use his magic to make it work. I might be able to track him down with it. The fresher the sample, the better, though. But even if I had a really good sample, I'd rather wait for some Warden backup before hunting down the guy, if at all possible."

"It might not be," She said, shaking her head. "If the weatherman is accurate, the next storm rolls in tonight. If you're right, another murder will probably happen tonight."

Harry felt his eye twitch.

"It never rains but it pours, huh?" He complained. "Then I'll try to—"

"Harry," She said. "If someone might die and I know it's going to happen, then I can't just stand by and do nothing. And I can't wait a day for someone else to show up. I'm going to try to find this guy and take him down."

Harry looked at her quietly for a long moment.

"Karrin," He said. "This isn't going to be like some vampire or troll. This is going to be really dangerous, especially if that storm arrives. If anything goes wrong, people could die."

"I know," She said, her face serious. "I've seen what you and Elaine can do. But people will die if I do nothing and I can't let that happen just because it would put me in danger. I don't need a lecture on how I might die—I already know. But I could use some magical backup, if it's available."

Harry worked his jaw for a moment, looking at the ground. If it was just him involved, he'd have said yes without hesitation, but if he got involved, then Elaine would, too.

But even so, Ebenezer McCoy hadn't raised kids that would walk away while innocent people got hurt.

"Can you round up SI and get a sample of that stuff before the storm hits?" He asked.

"I'll have to check the weather, but I think so." She said. "Does that mean you're in?"

He blew out a breath.

"Let me call Elaine," He said. "But yeah. I'm in."

XxXXxX

The trail led them to a nice house down by Lake Michigan. It wasn't the biggest house, but it wasn't small by any stretch of the imagination, either. He and Elaine had led the way in their car with the forces of SI following close behind.

It wasn't easy to move that many cars without getting noticed, but they did their best, and when they rolled up just out of easy view of the house, they at least weren't shot at immediately.

"Everyone ready?" Harry asked, glancing at them.

He'd done his best to protect them against anything that might be in there, but with only an hour of preparation, there was a limit to how much he could do. He'd settled for covering the basics. He'd asked all of them to bring crosses or whatever type of religious symbol they preferred, had passed out his entire store of holy water into the bottles Murphy had supplied, and had asked them to bring salt and something they could prick their fingers on, if needed.

The officers of SI had various beliefs about how much of a phony he was and how many of the things they saw from day to day were real or not, but they'd all learnt to listen to him and Elaine. They knew how to make a basic circle if they needed too and more than a few of them had been in situations where they were the only things that had kept them alive until backup had arrived. They knew the basic weaknesses of all the usual creatures that went bump in the night, how water affected magic, and the basic list of what not to do concerning magic users. You wouldn't find any hair in one of their combs, much less hear them say their full names, either.

It would have to be enough, because it was all he could do. He could tell them what was in the dark and how to fight it.

And he could stand here with them to try and keep them alive.

"Christ, Dresden," Carmichael said, carefully placing a shotgun on the hood of his car. "What are we about to do? You didn't make us come this armed for those vampires last summer. When I heard the list of what you wanted me to bring, I just brought my garlic again, too."

"Probably won't be needed," Harry said. "But it couldn't hurt, either."

Carmichael took out a case that held his shotgun ammo. Despite what a lot of people might think at a glance, the guy was sharp and it showed in how he did small things like order his ammo. He reached in for several shells that contained rock salt, lined in neat rows that Harry knew from personal experience he had memorized to the extent that he could pick them out and load them skillfully even will blinded from blood running into his eyes and in possession of a mild concussion.

"Might want to get some real rounds, too," He told him absently.

"Hello, Ron," Elaine said, smiling slightly as she and Murphy approached. "I checked the house with my Sight, Harry. No wards, as far as I can tell. If this guy really is running his business out of here, there won't even be a threshold."

"Huzzah," Harry said flatly, but he was more relieved than he thought. If there really wasn't a threshold, then his magic would be a lot more useful. "Anything else?"

"It's sick, Harry," She said seriously. "The entire house is stained with black magic. It's disgusting to even look at."

"We expected that," He reminded her. "Multiple killings, addictive, horrific drugs, and who knows what else."

She nodded.

"Did you go over the plan?" Murphy asked, to which he shook his head. She glanced at the assembled officers and nodded too herself before speaking. "The plan's pretty simple. We go in and take them by surprise. If there's anyone in there with whoever's doing this, round them up and cuff them."

"Elaine and I will take the guy responsible for all of this," Harry continued for her. "Though if you see a chance to shoot the guy, feel free to do so. We'll try to disable him and serve him up to the Wardens, whenever they show up—meaning we'll try and put him to sleep with magic. Once we take him down, we'll take a few clips of hair, make sure he's not in any position to hurt anyone and bam! Done."

"Sounds simple," Carmichael said. "Now tell us about all that stuff that can go horribly wrong."

"The storm is still a ways off," Elaine said. "If it gets close enough, things could get troublesome, however. And there are all the usual things to expect when dealing with black magic. There could be demon, in which case use your Holy Water and faith to keep it away and we'll deal with it. He could even have mortal thralls."

She said the word with a nearly unnoticeable shiver.

"Depending on how desperate he was for power, he could have gotten aid from any number of things—faeries, at least, would be easy to contact." Harry said. "And, again, demons. A bunch of things from the Nevernever would be willing to trade power for some type of sacrifice or another. That's why the Council likes to take down warlocks quickly; give them enough time and even minor talents can become a hassle. Hopefully we caught this one in time to nip it in the bud."

"And if we didn't?" Carmichael asked.

"We'll just have to do our best anyway."

"Okay," Murphy said. "Everyone have everything?"

"We should have called Michael," Elaine murmured.

"He's out of town," Harry whispered back before raising his voice. "We're good."

"Then let's do this."

XxXXxX

A group of cops and a pair of wizards, all of whom were armed to bear, was hardly inconspicuous, but they made their way up to the warlock's house as casually as they could manage. No one called down fire or ripped out their hearts on their way up to the doorstep, so they apparently managed okay.

And then they ran into their first problem. An amazingly simple and yet potentially dangerous problem.

"So…" Carmichael began. "Are we gonna kick the door or what? That's probably gonna give us away."

Elaine hummed quietly. Her eyes went slightly out of focus as she swept her gaze up and down the door.

"No alarms, no traps, nothing. Maybe we're giving this guy too much credit. We should just blow it down, then; it'll take less time than trying to kick it open." She said. "Harry, is your ring still fully charged?"

"Hold your horses," He told her, frowning. "We don't even know if it's locked yet—and I might be able to pick it, even if it's not."

He tried the doorknob, just for the hell of it.

It turned easily and the door opened.

He blinked at it, and then at the people behind him, who were also staring.

"Something's wrong," He said. "I'm never this lucky."

"Christ, he didn't even lock his front door?" Carmichael murmured. "What kind of criminal doesn't even know to lock their door when their committing crimes?"

"A dumb one?" One of the other detectives replied, softly. No one laughed and even the speaker was frowning.

Murphy shook her head.

"He might be dumb," She said. "But he's also a drug dealer and, apparently, wealthy enough to buy a house down here. He should at least know to do this much, if only to keep from being robbed."

An older cop, Micky Malone, shifted a few paces behind Murphy, turning towards the street.

"Maybe he's expecting guests," He said, lifting his gun to point it at the street.

As one, ever cop in the back drew their weapon, turned, and went down to one knee, allowing the cops at their back to turn and point their guns safely over them. Towering over everyone as he was, Harry easily saw what they were pointing their guns at.

An expensive looking car was pulling up the driveway.

"Elaine?" He murmured.

She turned, Sight still wide open, and stared hard at the car for a moment.

"Two humans," She declared. "A man and a woman; a couple, I think. Definitely involved with this, too; they have signs of dark magic all over them. They aren't practitioners, though."

Murphy nodded at her side.

"Ron, take three and handle it." She said. Carmichael nodded his head towards three of the detectives, lifted his massive shotgun and moved quickly down the stairs. "Everyone else, with us. Let's try and get this over with quickly, before one of them gets off a warning or someone else shows up."

The first thing Harry noticed was the music, coming from a CD player on a table nearby.

He frowned down at Murphy, recognizing it.

"The same thing was playing at the Madison," She confirmed. "Where's our guy?"

He lifted a hand to halt everyone for a moment, before closing his eyes, Listening. There was the sound of movement up above him—the warlock, he assumed, preparing his ritual.

"He's upstairs," He said, opening his eyes. "I don't hear anyone down here."

Moving forward with carefully slowness, they stepped out of the hallway, into a large, spacious room that stretched up to the top of the house, through the floors above. A spiral staircase lead up to the split upper floor, which he assumed was where the Warlock was. A glance to Elaine received a nod in return, as well as a silent point towards a specific place above.

Harry looked around at the lower room once he was sure where their target was.

It was cluttered with containers. Plastic cases, cartons, cardboard boxes, and wooden crates. He gestured towards the group to stay where they were before silently moving over to the nearest one, steadfastly avoiding the CD player, he opened it before silently showing it to Murphy.

It was full of vials—at least a hundred of them, each full of liquid ThreeEye. Closing it, he opened a few of the other boxes, confirming his suspicions, and closed them as he finished.

He carefully moved until he was back with the group.

"At least we know we have the right guy," He murmured. "The Warden's will have a field day with this."

"What was in the other boxes?" Elaine asked. "The ingredients?"

Harry nodded.

"We have all the proof we need right here." He said. "So let's take this guy down."