Dresden Files: Eye of the Storm

Chapter 2

So you probably didn't know this but MacAnally's pub, which I just like to call Mac's pub, was one of the last safe havens standing when Chicago went to shit not long after the Outer Gates fell, in no small part due to Mac himself. The last time I'd seen the place it had been on fire, one of the Outsiders had thought it was a good idea to go after the last great refuge in the entire city, and for his efforts had gotten his shit kicked in by Mac himself. It had been quite the sight, as I'd been evacuating as many people as possible into the Nevernever at the time, and seeing Mac go all old school Irish boxer on the thing had been quite the sight. Anyway, back to the matter at hand, I was more than a little stoked to be standing outside the small pub and the heavenly ale that awaited me inside.

The same thirteen stools, thirteen columns, thirteen mirrors, and thirteen windows were just as I remembered them with their depictions of old folk stories and faerie legends. Of course the thirteen everything was a subtle deterrent to the magic of a few old grumpy wizards, and no I don't count myself among them so shut up, just in case someone let their emotions run too high and let off a bit of magic. Sadly, for a man of my height, the entry was just low enough that I had to duck my head a bit to not smack myself on a low hanging beam.

Now that I was older and wiser, or my soul was at any rate and that's ironically what matters, I was really able to feel the subtle weaving of magic through all of Mac's pub. It really was a subtle thing, imprinted in each stone that made up the foundation, each floorboard, each beam, and funnily enough the bar counter most of all. To put it bluntly, the core of Mac's pub was damn near indestructible and I mean that in the literal and metaphorical. Sure you could take down the walls, bust up the windows, have a creature from outside reality burn it to the ground, but it would still be there in one way or the other. At least until all of reality collapsed in on itself.

"Dresden," Mac greeted in that rough old voice of his as I sat down on one of the thirteen stools.

Mac himself is tall, almost gangly, and I never did quite find out what his age was but it was definitely more than fifty. He had squinty eyes and a smile, rare as it was, that was quite mischievous the few times he let it show. Even all the way up until the end he never did say much, but he always did give great advice and normally over a pint of his ale. The man had gone to bat for me more times and I often realized, which is why the day he finally bit the bullet I made the creature that did it wish it had stayed outside of reality.

"Mac, always good to see you," I say with a smile, "I'll take two steak sandwiches, go extra on the fries, and some of that ale of yours."

Mac just grunted, popped open a bottle of his ale and began to port for me while staring over my shoulder. I used to think he did that with everyone to not initiate a Soul Gaze, which was a fair assessment to make when I used to think he was just a normal guy, and really I didn't think you would want to Soul Gaze every new magical customer he got. Little did I know, way back when I was still a young man, that he did it for our benefit as much as his own.

"So, how's life been treating you Mac?" I asked as I reached over and picked up an already used newspaper, thumbing through it to get a better understanding of the world as it currently is.

Mac just let out another grunt and set my ale down in front of me, going over to the stove behind the bar to start making my steaks and good god the smell was already making me hungry. My eyes went over a very particular article, one of a convenience store that had been demolished by a group of junkies that were convinced the place was destined to blow up and wanted to beat it to the punch. It really brought home the fact that I was going to have to take care of Victor before he had the chance to do any more damage. I was half tempted just to call in the Wardens, but at this point in time I wasn't exactly in their good books.

A movement in the mirror behind the bar caught my attention, caught my attention in the way seeing Murphy again had, and I'm not afraid to say a little bit of my heart did ache.

I smelled her perfume first, god did she love that brand and had worn it plenty of times when we had been dating, "Well if it isn't Susan Rodriguez, always a pleasure to see you. What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Just like last time she came to an abrupt stop just a few feet behind me, which did make me chuckle a bit. She was so innocent to things and when I turned around to face her I felt my breath stolen away by just how young she looked. The last time I'd seen her was when she turned into a full red court vampire and I slit her throat with a ritual knife, which brought an end to the curse of that particular brand of vampire but more importantly it helped us save our daughter. We never did get that conversation, about how she'd kept Maggie from me, but it's hard to really stay mad after so long. So instead I hid my feelings behind the smile and motioned for her to join me at the bar.

"Sit down and join me," I said to her and then turned back to face Mac, "Another ale Mac, put it on my bill."

Mac just grunted without looking up from the steaks, his version of a yes.

Susan did sit down next to me, giving me that grin of hers, "Harry, flush with cash today or am I just a lucky girl and caught you in a good mood?"

I give her a very visible up-and-down glance, swinging in the stool to face her and leaning on the bar with my elbow to brace my chin in my hand. Man she was gorgeous, a real beauty even in her crisp business jacket and skirt. Her dark straight hair in that neat cut that ended at the nape of her neck and don't even get me started on those eyes of hers.

"Can't it be both?"

Her lips twitched from a subtle smirk into a full on smile. I like her smile, it lit up her face and even now it did things to me. Although now that I think about it, I'm technically too old for her, or any normal human for that matter? I mean I know at this point I'm still in my twenties physically, and thank God for that, but soul wise I am very much an old man.

"So," Susan sat down at the bar and put her purse on the counter, "I heard through the grapevine that you got called in by the SI director today. Do you have another story for me, Harry?"

I knew what she was doing, leaning towards me like that so that I could get a glance at that rather interesting angle the V of her white shirt was no doubt giving me. The smile on her face said it all, that she wasn't just flirty with me to get a story out of it but it was a nice bonus. It made me recall memories, very fond memories.

"Now Susan, you know I have a nondisclosure agreement with the city," I just smiled back at her just as Mac set down her own cup of ale, "I don't think they would like it very much if I suddenly broke that agreement, no matter how pretty the reporter."

"Off the record then? I heard the killings were rather," she took a pause for dramatic effect, "Sensational."

"Sorry Susan, but I'm pretty sure my contact in SI would literally break every bone in my body if I gave even a hint," we both knew I wasn't going to break, she'd seen my soul before just as I'd seen hers; even if my soul was no doubt a bit darker by now.

She let out a laugh, a very attractive laugh, one that appealed to my once again younger body.

"How about if I just asked some questions, and you just answer them with yes or no?" She asked me with those tempting eyes of hers.

I knew this game of hers, she played it plenty of times with me, so I decided to cut right to the heart of the matter, "You want to have dinner with me Saturday night?"

I have to say, the way her dark cheeks darkened just a bit more made a little bit of my male pride swell up. It's hard to forget your first date with a woman, especially a woman like Susan, so I remember that little trick she pulled on me to get a date out of me. She'd already known she couldn't get answers about the case, and to punish me the first time she tried to get me flustered. Well Susan, after a few centuries of living, I hope I at least improved a little bit with not being on the back foot when it came to women.

"What?" Her voice was a notch higher and then she narrowed her eyes a bit at me.

"You. Me. Dinner. Saturday?" I say each word with emphasis, locking eyes with her.

"Do you even know another place to eat besides this pub?" She asked me with some sass, the playful kind of course.

"Keep that up and I'll have to defend Mac's honor," I got a snort from the bartender and even Susan had to stifle a giggle.

"I know a place," she assured me, "It's romantic, the stakes are to die for, but jackets and ties are required. Think you can manage that, Mr. Dresden?"

"I think I got something in the back of my closet that might work."

"Excellent, I'll see you Saturday night," she leaned in and kissed my cheek before she slid off the stool and grabbed her purse, "I'll even wear something special."

She kissed me on the cheek again and gave me that quirky little smirk. It was a killer look, sultry and appealing, and boy did it remind me how Maggie had been conceived. That woman was dangerous. Then she was gone, walking out of the pub with that sway in her hips that she knew I was watching, just as Mac slapped down my steak sandwich and fries on the counter. I pulled out some cash and put it on the table, downing both my ale and the one that Susan left unfinished. I then picked up the wrapped food and headed towards the door.

"Thanks for the food Mac," I say, waving over my shoulder as I walk out the pub.

As I walked down the streets of Chicago I wondered if I was really going to get involved with Susan again. Things didn't exactly turn out great the last time we got involved, with her being dragged into some nasty things and being forced to do even worse things. To be honest I haven't really even thought about it. I guess that just goes to show how much of a hold she still had on me that I didn't even try and push her away this time around.

The logical part of my head, the kind that survived an apocalypse, said I couldn't afford to have such a weakness and that I should've cut her loose right then and there. She was an emotional weak spot, the kind that I wiped out an entire species because of and did more than a few stupid things for. Then the more human side, the side that was still on cloud nine because I had a second chance to make things right, told me to go for it. This was Susan, the mother of my daughter, the second ever woman I actually loved. Then I thought of Murphy, then Lara as ironic as that was, and a few others that I'd been with over so many years of just constantly fighting.

Great, now I have a headache.

All right Dresden, first things first, you have a warlock to deal with.

(*)

The moment I get home, Mister all but barrel rolls into my shin like a Sherman tank trying to bust down a wall, his rough brand of affection being something I missed. Or maybe it could be that the food I left out in his bowl is now completely gone and he's just hungry again.

"Sorry Mister, I'm not the same Harry Dresden that you probably think I am," I admit after a moment, pouring some more food into his bowl as if to appease him, but he just gives me a look.

It's a look that says, "No shit, you think I can't tell the difference?"

I just let out a chuckle at his Imperial highness and moved over to a hatch in the ground, a hatch that led down to my sub basement where my workshop was. Whereas before, if I'm remembering the train of events correctly, this is the part where I get some stuff together to summon up Toot Toot, this time I really know where Victor Sells is and all I need to grab are some things to properly whoop his ass. Now I could do it off of just magical muscle alone, hell I can give a lot of things a run for their money now, but there's still that pesky law about killing people with magic.

Now I know what you're gonna say, about me breaking another law of magic just to time travel, but there is a time and a place for these things and I technically still have the Doom of Damocles hanging over my head. You're also probably thinking about why don't just call Morgan and the White Counsel to deal with Victor, but a small vindictive part of me wants to choke the life out of the bastard myself. It's one of those habits I was never able to kick. After remembering what he put Monica through, what he was about to put his own kids through, it just flipped that switch in my brain that always triggers every time a woman or some kids get pulled into some shit because of somebody else.

Anyway, enough of my rambling about trying to be some kind of white knight, I go down the ladder into my workshop and just start grabbing things. It isn't the best equipment, not like the kind of things I will end up making in the future, but it'll work out. I grabbed my blasting rod, my fancy cane sword, my shield bracelet, and even my kinetic rings. Now since a lot of these weapons are magical, meaning I really shouldn't kill Victor with them, I go over to my little junk drawer where I just have a bunch of random crap I plan on trying to enchant with runes.

"Huh, I know my memory is a bit spotty, but I don't ever remember buying one of these," I mumbled to myself as I pull out a curved knife, one of those weird ones that people sometimes think those special forces guys use; you know what I'm talking about.

"Harry, is that you Harry?" I hear a familiar voice and I glance over at a polished skull that now had embers of fire in its otherwise empty eye sockets.

"Hey there, Bob, didn't mean to wake you," I stuff the blade into my jacket and finish getting the rest of my equipment sorted, "Just grabbing a few things, don't mind me."

"Harry, did you maybe sign a pact with a god or something, do some ancient and forbidden ritual? Because last I checked, you shouldn't have the kind of magical power to blow up half the continent," Bob pointed out with his usual sass and damn if it didn't irritate me a bit that even Bob could tell there was something different, because that also meant that it was more than likely other fairies could tell there was something different.

"It's a long story, Bob. A long story that I don't really have time to go into right now."

"Whoa, didn't mean anything by it boss, just throwing it out there that it's a bit noticeable," Bob's eyes flared a bit, he was a spirit of knowledge so the whole morality of how I got my power wouldn't really bother him all that much.

"Noticeable enough that you think another wizard might pick up on it?" I ask, because the last thing I need is Morgan being on more of a hair trigger around me than he already was.

"No, or at least I don't think so. Maybe if you do a Soul Gaze with somebody, but it's more so just a feeling I'm getting from you. It might be a bit different around other Fae, but they've always been more in tune with power then you fleshy people," Bob's words made me let out a sigh.

"Good to know," I go to move towards my ladder and pause just before I start climbing up, "Hey Bob, after this errand I have to run, what do you say to helping me make a few potions? Think about it while I'm gone."

I'm back up the hatch before Bob can respond, closing and locking it just to be safe because you never know when some random person might stop by. Then I'm back out the door and headed towards my car, my trusty beetle who isn't quite blue anymore. This hearty machine has seen more combat than most wizards, hence all the replaced parts and the mismatched doors. Mike, the super mechanic that always seemed to get it running again and again, never really asked questions about the giant claw marks or the burn holes that I sometimes came in with.

I load my gear into the trunk, climb in the front seat, and turn my noble steed on. With a quick rev of the engine I make my way towards the I–94 and make my way towards Lake Providence. The place still looks like it belongs to a high-class community, with its big houses and it's sprawling estates that the current me could never hope to afford. Maybe in a few years, because what's the use of future knowledge if you don't use it, but I'm here for a reason and looking at mansions to buy isn't one of them.

It still looked the same, a smooth gravel lane leading back from the lakeshore drive to the Sells' house. The house may not have been a large one, at least by the standards of Lake Providence community, but it was still a two-story and looked rather modern. I drove the beetle right down the main drive, not bothering to hide the fact that I just showed up out of nowhere, and climbed out a few moments later.

I opened my True Sight for just a moment, wincing a bit as I confirmed that this place was still tainted to hell and back, and closed off the Sight a moment later before I started getting tempted. Now the old me would try to be sneaky about this, maybe sleuthing around the back to try and get a better angle and make sure I don't walk into any traps, but I'm a bit too old and a bit too pissed off. So instead I walk right up to the front door, skipping a few steps on the way, and use my blasting rod to politely knock.

I wonder for a brief moment if Victor is just going to try and shoot me through the door, he's sure paranoid enough, and I draw my power a bit just in case. But, much to my surprise, I hear the door latch undo and creak open a moment later. Victor himself peeks out from the cracked door, his eyes widening just a bit when he has to look up at me.

"Can I help you?" His voice doesn't have the madness in it, but I can already feel that this is just a mask he's putting on, the darkness has already run too deep.

"Victor Sells?" I ask redundantly, more so to put him off guard than anything else, coiling my magic subtly so that he wouldn't notice.

He opens the door a bit more, maybe more put at ease because I didn't just come out swinging, "Yes, I'm Victor Sells. Do I know you?"

I want to say something catchy, something like out of one of those action movies that Molly convinced me to see one time, but this wasn't an action movie and I really just wanted this guy dead. Without giving any hint, not so much as a single warning, I use one hand to shove the door open while my other hand clenched into a fist and I nailed Victor right in the chest with a punch. Now normally this might not do much other than knock the wind out of the guy, but I just so happen to hit him with the hand that my kinetic ring was on. It was a low-level setting, otherwise I might have stopped his heart or even collapsed his entire chest, and that would be killing with magic.

What did happen was Victor being thrown back down the main entryway, coincidently allowing me to walk in unopposed and slammed the door shut behind me. The man was on his back, coughing up a lung, as I stalked towards him like the Grim Reaper himself and let a bit of my power off its leash. The man froze up, eyes wide and mouth open as if he was trying to say something, but I wasn't really in the mood to hear him talk. Instead I put my foot on his chest and applied more than a little bit of weight, magical energy still crackling around me.

"I should drag you before the White Counsel," I don't sound so cheery anymore, my voice coming out in a growl that shakes the pictures on the walls, "But a bastard like you, someone who did what you did. What you did to your wife, a woman you were supposed to protect to your dying breath. What you were thinking of doing to your kids, just to get more power for that poison your cooking up. Those two people you butchered last night. I ought to just drag you into the Nevernever and feed you to the most vile thing I can find. Something that will keep you alive for decades as it slowly eats you."

I press down a bit harder with my boot, I think his bones are threatening to crack under the weight and it looks like he's having a hard time breathing, but I don't let up. He opens his mouth to say something, I can feel him drawing on what little magical power he can get. The hate in his eyes is clear now.

In response, I shifted my foot from his chest to his throat.

Young me wouldn't do things like this, he had a sense of nobility about him that was somewhat naïve in its own way. But I'm quite a bit older, quite a bit wiser, and my heart is a lot harder when it comes to people like Victor Sells.

Victor claws at my pant leg, trying to do everything in his power to draw another breath but I don't let him. I let him choke. It's slow, it's agonizing, and it's everything the man deserves. Giving him to Morgan, hell that would be more merciful than what I'm doing.

Thus ends Victor Sells, quietly, no struggle worth anything, before he could hurt anyone else. It's only once I know he's dead, feel his soul leave his body for whatever afterlife I hope he gets tortured in, that I place the end of my blasting rod against his chest and channel some will into it. I don't need a fancy word for this, my intent is enough. Supernatural fire turns the now empty body into little more than dust, dust that is casually swept into a corner and forgotten about.

I know Murphy's gonna want to hear about this place, I'll tell her about it later. Hell, a lot of people are gonna want to know that Victor is dead and chief among them is Bianca St. Claire, because that crazy Red Court bitch probably still thinks I'm the one responsible for everything.

I let out a sigh, "One thing at a time, Harry. One thing at a time."

"Harry Dresden," a deep and familiar voice growls and I look up, swearing.

Standing there, sword drawn, anger in his eyes, is Donald Morgan himself. Silver blade drawn. I just blink at him for a moment.

"Hey Morgan…" I trail off, "It's uh, it's not what it looks like?"