Stakeout: A Dresden Files Short Story

Chapter One

A/N: Hello, my dearest readers! Hello!

Most of y'all probably don't know me—but some time ago, I wrote a 910,000 word fanfic for Kingdom Hearts. The fanfic ended up being a bit of a crossover with Dresden Files. It was kinda an accident, but I had a lot of fun with it.

And I got to thinking about the newest Dresden Files novels…and I thought and I thought and I thought…and then an idea was born.

Surprise! It's a Harry Dresden-and-the-Archive adventure! I hope you all enjoy!

I do not own The Dresden Files. It is the property of Jim Butcher. Who is awesome.

This is a creative project that I do not profit off of in any way.

My name is Harry Dresden. I am the Wizard of Chicago, the Warden of Demonreach, the Winter Knight. Yes, magic is really real and I'm really a wizard. I'm in the Yellow Pages, under "W," though not that many people use phone books any more. That's really a shame-phone books are awesome, but after everyone fell in love with having a phone in their pocket, they don't print phone books as often as they used to. Having a cell phone never made sense to me-and it's not just because, as a wizard, me and technology don't really get along. Why would you want to have a phone with you at all times? That means telemarketers can find you wherever you go! That's just insane!

The entire world's gone insane. Or maybe it had never been sane to begin with. It'd been beyond insane and bordering on absolute chaos during the Peace Talks and the Battle of Chicago.

It'd been the better part of a year since the Peace Talks had taken such a terrible turn. After Ethniu, the Titan, had attacked with the Fomor's army, the magical communities had nearly been exposed to the masses. Worse, tens of thousands of people had been killed or injured. It had been the worst attack on a human population by magical forces that anyone could remember-at least as far as modern history was concerned. The government had managed to mostly cover it up with stories of terrorists with chemical weapons. As it was, most of the people in Chicago knew what had really happened-there were some who had convinced themselves that it had been mass hysteria and hallucinations.

Everybody had lost somebody. Parents, children, friends, co-workers...there were still bodies being found in more secluded areas and alleys. Or parts of bodies-a hand or a foot or a head that hadn't yet been identified. But sometimes, there wasn't even a part of a body to be found.

I had lost Murphy. There had been no body.

I looked down the long wooden table. For months now, the magical factions who agreed to the Unseelie Accords-sort of our version of treaties-had been meeting in tandem. We called ourselves the Unseelie Accords Executive Ministry-that was something of a mouthful, and it didn't make a cool acronym either. That could be a problem, since whenever I just called it the Ministry, I kept expecting Father Forthill, a Catholic priest I was friends with, to show up. We didn't have a Catholic priest, though. Or a Protestant pastor. Or a rabbi. Come to think of it, the Archive and I were the only two full humans present at the moment.

We were sort of a mix of the United Nations and King Arthur's Round Table-we were the United Magical Nations, but our table wasn't round. The Archive glanced at me, her eyes too old for her young face, and then looked away, her expression solemn. Not that the Archive wasn't almost always solemn, but still. Mab, Winter Queen of Air and Darkness, sat at the head of the table, with me at her side.

There were other representatives present: a svartalf, or, to use a more familiar term, a Dark Elf-though they didn't like being called that. I had spent a fair bit of time with the svartalves, but any friendship I might have had with them died when I had to break my brother Thomas out of their custody-long story. There were representatives from the White Court of Vampires. I definitely didn't count them as friends, but I'd known a couple of good members of the White Court. My brother was one of them—again, it's a long story. There was Sarissa, the Summer Lady, and someone who I did count as a friend...kinda, sorta. We were probably as friendly as any member of the Summer Court and the Winter Court were capable of being. Sarissa was dressed somewhat more casually than Mab-whether Sarissa was expressing defiance as Summer was to Winter or after more than a century of being a mostly well-behaved child, trying her hand at teenage defiance or simply because she found it more comfortable was anybody's guess.

Vadderung sat across from me-at least, I'm pretty sure he was Vadderung. He had so many jobs and titles and Names that he had to cycle them out as needed. Back in December, he'd been Kringle and took the credit for the bicycle I'd made for my daughter's Christmas present—that one isn't actually a particularly long story: I built a bike, Kringle showed up to give me my Christmas present and then Maggie woke up and saw him. Okay, maybe it was a little bit longer than that.

My job is weird-and this was, for me, a very normal day.

Queen Mab cleared her throat, not that I think she really needed to, but it made for a good effect. She looked down the table at each representative from the Ministry.

"Mistress Archive," Mab said, her voice so regal, it would have made Queen Elizabeth sound like a peasant…not that England really has peasants anymore. "As we discussed, has there been any further development of the Librarians' plans?"

"So far, there has been no outright development," the Archive said, her voice far too old for her age, far too weathered, far too battered. "There are drafts of plans, comparisons for which means they might work with us, or try to bring us under their dominion…but what plans are truly being considered and what plans are meant to be obtrusion I cannot determine."

"You're the vessel acting as the embodiment of all human knowledge, written and spoken," Sarissa said, somewhat politely. "Are you not able to determine when someone is lying?"

For some reason, I always forgot that the Archive got everything *spoken* as well as everything written. She was meant to be basically the world's most powerful flash drive. If flash drives looked like little teenagers with round cheeks and blonde hair and shy smiles—the Archive rarely smiled, and I wondered whether she'd been getting enough sleep.

"Humans are more clever than you realize," the Archive said. "But intent is more difficult to discern, to say nothing of the nature of man's tendency to change his mind. And I am not clairvoyant. I cannot tell when somebody is lying. Now…as for what it's being discussed among the Librarians, there are several things we're going to have to consider."

This went on for a very long time—debates were had, arguments put forth. It was the same as always, individual factions united, but also concerned for their own interests. It was like being in Congress, only instead of it being filled with septuagenarians, the average age had to be over two hundred. That'd be what, bi-centenarian? I got bored—actually, pretty much everyone was bored by the end of it. Sarissa was twirling a length of her hair into a perfect curl and then uncurling it. Vadderung was blinking his one good eye.

"It appears that we have come about as far into the discussions as we are able," Mab said. She clapped her hands once. "We shall reconvene in one week's time, are we all in agreement?"

There was a general chorus of agreement and everybody started getting ready to see to their own affairs. I rose up, but Mab put a hand on my shoulder. Considering I was only about three inches shy of seven feet tall, this was no small feat. Mab stared at me, her eyes harder than diamonds.

"My Knight," Mab said in a low tone. "There are things we must discuss."

"Shoot," I replied. I may have been her vassal, and part of the Winter Court as a result, but there wasn't a rule that said I had to speak as formally as she did. And talking like Mab does all the time is exhausting.

Mab exhaled slowly–she'd never been all that fond of slang. "I am concerned regarding the Archive."

"Ivy?" I asked. "What about her?"

Truth be told, I was worried. The Archive was sort of like a mantle, passed down from mother to daughter, going back thousands of years. But the mantle and the host were separate individuals, usually. Sometimes the lines got kind of blurry. I'd given the current Archive the nickname "Ivy," since I didn't like how she had only referred to herself as "the Archive." We hadn't really spoken much in the last year. The Archive was fairly quiet, especially for a teenager, but she wasn't some voiceless entity—and trust me, there were quite a few of those running around. But she hadn't spoken to me. She spoke to Mab or to Molly, the Winter Lady, or even the Leanansidhe when Mab was needed…elsewhere, but not me.

Actually, when I stopped to think about it, the last time I'd had a proper conversation with Ivy had been years ago. She'd only been a little girl–eleven or twelve years old. Some bad things had happened to her…but I'd helped her out. She was stronger than she looked.

"I am concerned," Mab repeated. "There appears to be deep-seated animosity between the two of you, and I will not tolerate it."

Animosity?

I shook my head. That wasn't right. Ivy may be an unusually quiet teeanger, gifted with tremendous power and crippling responsibility, but it wasn't as if she didn't like me. She…she did like me, right? I paused for a moment…Ivy hadn't spoken to me at all in the last year. And not just during the meetings–she didn't say so much as "hello," and even the ghouls did that on occasion. I glanced at her. Ivy had gotten out of her chair, risen to her full height–which wasn't much, even if half the people here were supernaturally tall–and was politely pushing her chair back into place. She didn't look towards us.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "There's no animosity at all! Ivy's my friend–right, Ivy?"

The Archive had made it to the door and was about to leave when I called out. She stiffened and turned around. She pressed her lips together and exhaled sharply through her nose before she responded.

"I have no ill wishes towards the Ministry or its representatives," the Archive said. "I am, however, bound by neutrality. It is not in my nature to have friends."

"Ivy, that isn't true and you know it," I said. It really wasn't–if Ivy were truly as neutral as she was supposed to be, she probably wouldn't be part of the Ministry to start with. She turned her head away, refusing to look at me. Her shoulders stiffened and tightened even more. I frowned–the shadows under Ivy's eyes were darker than normal. She almost looked like she wanted to cry. Or throw something.

What was going on? Ivy was my friend…

"That will do," Mab said. "As it so happens, I am in need of both of your services and I would prefer it if you two would set aside any personal differences you may have. There is crucial work to be done and very little time to do it."

"I am not under your authority," the Archive said. "I am a representative unto myself. I am not a member of the Winter Court. Is this work in the service of you as Winter Queen, Mab? Or is it truly part of the Ministry?"

"You are a member of the Ministry, of which I am one of the leaders," Mab said. "So in acting as such, for the sake of the Ministry and strengthening the political advantages of this alliance, you will have my Knight work with you, or you will suffer the consequences."

Ivy looked furious. She glared daggers at Mab and then turned her attention to me–she looked so upset, that instead of daggers, she might have been glaring swords.

"Well, what sort of mission is it? You need us both?"

"Yes," Mab said. "Mistress Archive, you are aware of what is taking place in Chicago for the next six days?"

"A series of meetings and conferences, specifically curtailed for those working in libraries," the Archive responded.

"Oh, come on!" I said. "A library convention? Seriously? You're pulling my leg!"

"I tell no lie," the Archive said. "I resent your implication, wizard. As it happens, that is not the only convention being held. There is a second, smaller convention–a series of films is going to be broadcast, catering to a niche audience."

That certainly sounded familiar…it had been during a convention for horror movies that I had found out that Molly had magic in the first place. Why would Mab have me work with Ivy on this? Wouldn't Molly be more suitable?

"Ivy, I didn't mean…kiddo, I don't think that you're a liar," I bit my lip and then turned back to Mab. You could probably fry an egg on my face with the way my ears were burning. "You want me and Ivy to spy on the library convention, because you think it'd be the perfect cover for a faction of the government's Librarians to meet," I said. "And while this is going on, Splatter-con! is happening again? That's...kind of crazy, don't you think?"

"In my experience," Mab said, "humans are rarely not ludicrous. Regardless of how I feel about the wisdom of mortals and their fixation on badly made movies, it is still an ideal time for us to take this most opportune step. So, it will be done."

Mab's tone was absolute and there would be no changing her mind. But that didn't mean that I had to change my mind to go along with her ideas. If there was one thing I did pride myself on, it was keeping my humanity.

"Mab," I said, keeping my voice level. "I do have other commitments that I need to attend to. My daughter is at boarding school and the spring term is nearly over."

"Lady Molly shall see to your daughter," Mab said. "Goodness knows that she's fond of the girl. Now, enough of your stalling, Dresden. You and the Archive both, get to it."

A/N: I'm rustier at writing than I thought. Still, thank you for reading, my dearest readers. I hope you all enjoyed—and there's plenty more where this came from.

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment if you're so inclined. I appreciate each and every one of you!