Hello! We're here with another time jump, and I'm back to writing Thomas' pain-in-the-ass demon. If this is what Thomas has to listen to everyday, I honestly don't know how the many isn't grumpy 24/7.

Either way, hope y'all enjoy the chapter!

October 14th, One Year Ago I

I parked my car in a garage five minutes away from the theater. I'd had that spot reserved for a week, under the name of a girl I picked up just so I could get her to book it under her name. If anyone had seen me, they would assume I was stopping by for another round with her. And if they didn't, all the better.

Now that I was away from Zero, I adjusted my coat and the weapons inside it. I was wearing my long overcoat with a high collar, with a sewn-on outer layer of white leather. I'd adjusted the pockets to be big enough to hold my Desert Eagle pistol in the right and my spare dagger in the left. The coat was long enough to hide the falcata and semi-automatic that were holstered on my waist, but slim enough to keep everything hidden.

Making sure that no one was looking, I reached into the inner pocket and pulled out my necklace. The five-pointed pentacle gleamed under the streetlights.

It's been five years, and it still feels strange taking this off. When I was a kid, I used to wear it all the time, and after my mom died, I wore it almost 24/7. Wearing it made me feel close to her, but wearing it now was a risk. Unless I want half the supernatural world to see me as a threat, no one can know that Margaret LeFay was my mom, which means that I have to pick and choose when it's safe to wear it.

Any White Court event is a no-go. Too many people and too many opportunities for someone to get a glimpse under my shirt. The mansions are a toss-up. My father and sisters know who my mom was, but sometimes they have… guests. And I've spent too many nights at Zero to know that that place doesn't even enter the conversation.

But right now, there's no one. No one to gawk. No one to see me and look for a weakness. I may be inching myself closer to a street fight I'll be lucky to survive unscathed. But if those people see me tonight, it probably means I'll be about to kill them.

I clasped the pentacle around my neck and tucked it under my shirt. Before I Turned, the metal used to feel cold against my skin.

It doesn't anymore. But knowing it's there, knowing that I have a piece of Mom with me, brought me comfort all the same.

By the time I strolled onto Halsted Street, it was two minutes past midnight. There wasn't much on the street aside from the theater, which was starting to shut down for the night. Lights in the windows turned off one by one, final patrons were heading out, and the only thing still on was the long neon sign spelling the name of the theater in red neon. From the outside, the Steppenwolf Theater looks smaller than it is. It's a standard flat façade with windows that only cover a portion of the building. It's four storeys high, with posters promoting the company's production of The Mousetrap. Nothing grand, but it didn't need to be.

I checked my watch again. The job technically started right now, but between gathering everyone, it's likely that no one would exit the theater for another ten minutes.

So you lied to me, my demon hissed. You said we had to rush. But the only good that did was make us drive past that pretty little meal ten blocks back.

I huffed and walked toward the payphone a little way down the street. Didn't realize you could get hung up on a girl, I thought. Last I checked, you were happy to switch ladies any time. What happened to that 'any lady you want, I want' thing you always talk about?

Well, I haven't seen another good meal pass us by, the demon said. Unless you have anyone in mind? Leave the mercenary. Go do what you told your sister you said you would. There's bound to be someone nearby, at a bar, looking for someone to take her home.

You want me to work with you? I thought as I entered the payphone. Then how about you start working with me, first. If tonight goes well, then I may be nice and get you a treat.

It won't, my demon rumbled. Don't get cocky, boy. Hang up your guilt complex for one night, and let me take control. Isn't it better to have some fun rather than get sliced into ribbons?

It wasn't odd for my demon to be this insistent. It's been like this ever since I Turned five years ago, but rarely did I feel any strong emotion from it aside from list and hunger. And right now, my demon was feeling nervous.

I chuckled to myself and dialed a number on the payphone. I don't usually get the upper hand on my demon, but if it takes setting myself up for a night where I could possibly get killed, I was starting to consider risking my neck for often. Just to feel my demon squirm a bit more.

"You better have news or money," a voice droned on the other end of the call.

I smirked. "Is that any way to greet a client, Pinelli?"

"Aaah, shit," Pinelli muttered. "Evening, Raith. Any reason I don't recognize the number?"

"You know full well why you don't," I replied. Pinelli was an associate of the Summer Court running a side hustle to fund his growing gambling problem. If you think I'm stupid enough to give a guy like that my actual phone number, then you'd be surprised that I'm still alive. "Calling for an update. What have you got for me?"

Pinelli grumbled. Papers rustled on the other end. "I got a sighting of some ghouls in West Virginia, an alert about a rogue werewolf in Nevada. There's a rumor of a darkhound in Quebec—"

"Spare me the filler," I said. "You know what I'm asking."

Pinelli sucked in a breath. "You know, I got a lot of good info—"

"But not what I need," I said. I let my voice go low, adding in enough of a twist to my words to sound less-than-human. "You promised me results, Pinelli. Any reason why you've been slacking?"

"I haven't been!" Pinelli said, just a bit too quickly. "Look—there's a lotta stuff to go through. It's not like it's easy to get leads on a cold case! A-And I've kept you up to date on the mercenary! Just like you asked me to!"

I resisted the urge to sigh. It wasn't that hard to keep tabs on the magician mercenary. If he had the time for it, I'm pretty sure he'd come out with a newsletter, just so everyone could know when he was free to take on new jobs. "And you think that's enough to justify what I paid you?"

"I told you he took on the Steppenwolf job!"

"And nothing else," I purred. "You said you were good. But if you keep this up, I might have to talk to some people. See if they've had the same experience as me when it comes to getting information from you."

"N-Now, we don't need to do that, Raith," Pinelli stuttered. "I'll get back to the grind. Nose to ground, ear to wall, all that! Anything the supernatural world knows, you'll know! And you can tell your friends that, too!"

Good way to keep him on his toes, my demon rasped. Better than seeing him in person. He's far too… jittery for our tastes. If they have to be nervous, the least they could do is reek of something other than panic and desperation.

"We'll see about that," I told Pinelli. "Call you in November." I moved to hang up the phone—

"Still don't know why you're trying to find the mercenary's kid."

I paused. Slowly, I put the phone back to my ear, pushing down the lump that'd formed in my throat.

"He's just a human," Pinelli said incredulously. "I mean, I know the rumor that he's Margaret LeFay's kid, but Dresden's never mentioned anything about the kid doing magic before he disappeared. And it's not like this is breaking news or anything. Harry Dresden's been missing for, what, three years now?"

Five, I thought. Five years in November. "Something like that."

Pinelli sighed. "Car accident, middle of nowhere, and no sign of the kid anywhere. I've gone through that report two dozen times, Raith. There's no lead on him. Supernatural or not!"

"I thought that was your specialty," I hissed.

"I-It is!" Pinelli exclaimed. "It's just taking time. Trust me, I wanna find this kid as much as you do—"

"You don't," I rasped.

Pinelli let out a high-pitched eep.

"If you wanted to find him," I said, in a low, low voice, "then you'd be looking for a lead instead of spending a full week at a Texas Hold'em tournament in Indiana."

"I-I get your m-meaning, Raith," Pinelli said. "No more out-of-state tourneys! Promise!"

"Good," I said. "And if you tell anyone I've hired you—"

"No need to remind me, boss!"

I huffed out a laugh. Turns out that all you need to keep a tight leash on a gossip-monger is find out which loan sharks the idiot owes money to.

"Look, I'll send my feelers out again," Pinelli said. "You've got everything I've found on the Red Court, and I've sent another package to the PO box. I… Oh! Oh, shit!"

"What?" I ground out.

"So that's why!" Pinelli said, letting out a stunned laugh. "Oh, I see what you're doin' here, Raith. Damn, even I've gotta admit it's a pretty good plan!"

My body went tense, and I fought to keep my voice neutral. "Enlighten me."

Pinelli chuckled. "You find the kid, the mercenary will owe you for life."

I turned the speaker away from me. Once I was sure Pinelli couldn't hear me, I sighed in relief and leaned against the payphone's window.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Pinelli goaded.

I smirked and pulled the phone back. "You think I'd tell you?"

"Ha! I knew it!" Pinelli cheered. "But remember Raith, if I find him, you owe me. More than the mercenary will owe you."

"If you find him," I said. "And if that's the case, then you better get to work."

I hung up the call before Pinelli could get another word in. I'd gotten the update and kept him in line—no need for me to do more than that.

Stop worrying about the brat, the demon hissed. It's been five years, boy. Give the chase a rest. Wherever the kid is, he's probably forgotten all about you.

If he has, it doesn't matter, I hissed back furiously. Because I haven't forgotten him.

I felt for my necklace without realizing it. Mom might have given it to me, but Harry had one just like it. I have no idea where he is, what happened to him, or even if… or even if he's alive. After five years, it's gotten harder and harder to hold on to the hope. But I have been. I have because he's my little brother, and I want, more than anything else, for him to be out there somewhere. For him to be safe and alive and happy.

And, if I was being really selfish, I wanted to hope that he still has his necklace. So he can have a piece of Mom with him, just like I do.

You know what I want a piece of? the demon asked.

I already know, I thought back. And I don't care.

I checked my Rolex again. It was ten minutes past midnight. From my position inside the payphone, the only way I managed to see the theater's entrance was with help from my heightened senses. It used up some of my demon's energy, but not much, and kept me outside of normal human's sight. No one had come out of it in the time I'd been there, and by now, all the lights were off.

I waited. And waited. I stayed there even as I heard the distractions start to go off in the neighboring streets. The first was a car two blocks down, rigged to set off an alarm ten minutes past midnight, which was the signal for a police car to turn on its sirens and rush to respond. The next was an ambulance that was scheduled to speed down Halsted Street, suspiciously stopping in front of Steppenwolf's entrance, having a pair of paramedics go inside, and then leave again. Then came a crowd of party buses, filled to the brim with college kids, on their way to a party one street over that promised beer for a dollar a pint.

When the party bus first passed by, it was full of teenagers at or just barely below the legal drinking age. The second time it passed, it actually came down Halsted Street. It was empty, except for the driver, and stopped in front of the theater. Four people ran out.

The person leading them was Malcolm Dresden. The magician mercenary.

Tall, stocky, with an old hunting jacket and boots peeling at the edges, the magician mercenary has spent the last few years making an even bigger name for himself in the magical world. After finishing his physical rehab, he regained the muscle he'd lost and started taking jobs almost immediately, refusing all magician gigs in favor of any supernatural contracts he could find.

He was older. Of course he was, but it looked like he'd aged ten years instead of five. His hair was going gray, there were wrinkles on his face, and his shoulders slumped more every month. But as he directed his clients into the party bus, he did so with confidence, because he had a job to do.

I pushed down the part of me that wanted to go out there. To tell him I was sorry. To ask him what happened the night of the accident. To talk to him again, for the first time in five years. But I didn't. Because, for his safety, I couldn't.

So instead I stood there, in a payphone where I could see him but he couldn't see me.

"Hey, Dad," I whispered. "Missed ya."

The plan was simple: get the clients out of the city. But they had pissed off one of the most powerful supernatural groups in the world, which meant that the plan wasn't simple at all.

After getting the clients onto the party bus, Dad directed the driver to drop them off one block away. The driver then continued on down the street, while Dad and the others rushed into a building. While the party bus drove away, a delivery truck would be arriving at the theater, creating another decoy to hopefully fool the pursuers.

I stuck to the shadows as I stalked down the street, readying myself for any moment when I'd have to make a quick dash onto my target. I already knew Dad's escape route, so I didn't need to worry about tailing him.

What I did need to worry about was the Red Court vampire who'd followed the party bus.

Vampires' ages are deceiving, but this one must've joined the Reds when they were in their late twenties. He was excited, bouncing on the tips of his toes as he rushed over to the building, eager to keep following Dad and report his location to his higher-ups. If he were the one to catch Dad's clients, he'd get a commendation from his higher-ups. That's probably what he was thinking as he opened the door to the building.

I wouldn't know. Because the moment he stepped foot inside, I sliced his throat was a swift slice of my dagger.

The vampire sputtered and choked as he stared up at me. I hadn't made a noise as I'd come up behind him. In fact, the only noise came from me wrapping an arm around his shoulders and hauling him inside, as if he were a friend I was helping home after a night out.

The building was abandoned. You wouldn't know it, looking at it from the outside, but it was. It was why it was one of the buildings on Dad's escape route. That meant I could lay the now-dead vampire on the ground without worry. As long as I made sure I called one of my contacts to pick up the body tomorrow, no one would know he was gone.

I wasted no time getting back to my route. I was staying just behind Dad and his clients, taking side streets as he and his group walked through the many silent buildings and houses he'd been making deals with for over two weeks now. It kept him and his group off the streets, for the most part. And it would until they got to the final safe house where there was a car that would take them out of Chicago.

The mercenary was foolish to take this contract, the demon rasped.

I sighed. For once, I might actually agree with you..

With what happened five years ago, I understand having a vendetta against the Red Court. But Dad isn't one to hold grudges. And based on the contracts he's taken after recovering from the accident, he hasn't gone out of his way to target the Reds.

So when I heard that Dad had taken the Steppenwolf job, I spent half an hour thinking about all the ways it could go wrong, and all the reasons why he might've taken it.

For most people, the answer would've been the money. That was the one thing this contract wasn't stingy about. Who knows if it was legal money, but it was a lot, to the point where you could tell that they were desperate for anyone to hire them. The other answer could've been a favor. I knew that, just like me, Dad had been asking everyone and anyone if they had a lead on my brother. If these clients had information, they could've been using it to convince Dad to take the job.

But the real answer was much simpler than that.

I was nearing the end of the Reds' surveillance perimeter when I caught a glimpse of Dad again. The trickiest part of this contract was the beginning, since the Reds had managed to high-jack every traffic camera within five blocks of the theater. It was the main reason the first part of the job had to be done on foot, as every truck, van, or car with tinted windows or a suspiciously large truck was followed. And, if suspicious enough, searched.

The police were still struggling to deal with a string of seemingly random burglaries targeting truck drivers and delivery men. They haven't even considered checking out the theater.

We were one block away from the perimeter when Dad walked out of an empty storefront. It'd been sold, but was still unoccupied, and Dad had done some deal with the owners to let them pass through it without altering the cops. Using my demon's power to augment my sight, I kept myself right out of Dad's field of vision. And if he did see me, I made sure to keep my white overcoat obscured by buildings, so all he would've registered is a black shape that was most likely a shadow.

When Dad didn't spot anyone else, he nodded to someone behind him and began guiding the three clients across the street. It was a man, a woman, and a child.

I sighed. That was the reason Dad took the job. Because there, wrapped up in the woman's arms, was a little boy.

The kid was fast asleep, with his head resting on his mom's shoulder. Judging by the size, I'd say he was 2 or 3 years old. He fussed a bit as his mom tried not to rush across the street, only for her to whisper something in his ear until he went quiet again.

"You couldn't be selfish for just one damn day," I said under my breath.

I'd known about the contract for a while. Pretty much anyone keeping tabs on Chicago's supernatural affairs did, and I had half a dozen people keeping me updated on anything involving unusual activity. They hadn't given me the information I'd hoped for, but they had warned me about this job.

The man is Gonzalo Carrillo, a former high-level government official in Panama, infamous for his controversial policies. And his three homes in the Caribbean. So when my sources told me that he was taking bribes from several supernatural families, I wasn't surprised. And I was even less surprised when they told me the names of those families.

The Red Court has had a grip on Latin America for decades. Their accumulation of wealth and power has come from taking over small towns, making deals with the local gangs, and bribing corrupt officials. They know how to play the game, and those who play with them are rewarded handsomely. But when a player decides to back out—due to overplaying their hand or suddenly developing a moral backbone—the Reds are swift with retribution. That usually involves torturing and killing the deserter, before doing the same to their family.

The Carrillos must've thought that they were safe. That, by fleeing Panama, they'd escaped the Reds' grasp. They were wrong, just as they were wrong about Chicago being a spot untouched by the supernatural.

So when I saw a man run the corner, and do a double-take when Dad and the Carrillos walked into a closed restaurant, I started tailing him as he ran across the street to check that it was really then. He pulled out a walkie-talkie from his pocket. With a burst of speed, I sprinted forward until I gripped the Red's head in both hands.

The vampire was dead before he hit the ground.

I let out a long breath as I dragged my fifth body of the night, keeping my eyes away from the dead vampire's vacant stare.

That kill almost got blood on your pretty little coat, the demon grumbled. And I know how much you want to take care of it. You're getting tired, boy. How about you stop here? Find a cab and head to that joint by the park we like to see?

It was tempting. The fact that I knew which buildings were unoccupied made hiding the bodies a lot easier, especially since I knew no one would enter the barbershop I was currently in until the contractors came to do renovations. But I was still using my demon's strength. I'm using a limited resource, even in short bursts, until I can feed again.

We can hold out, and you know it, I thought. Don't tell me you're breaking a sweat with just that.

You doubt my power, boy? You might be stingy with me sometimes, but I can still handle the wrath of more than just a few Reds.

I smirked and strolled out of the building. Perfect. Then you'll be just fine for the rest of the night.

You can't handle them all, it rasped.

And I won't. You know that.

I don't care what you heard. The wiretap could've missed something. A recording could've been lost. You don't know if he thinks he can actually survive!

It wouldn't matter either way, I thought. I'm staying. And you are, too.

My demon growled. Its nerves grew.

Dad and the Carrillos were almost at the edge of the Reds' perimeter. Though they'd managed to get this far, this was the biggest hurdle of the job. Because this is where the Red Court had stationed its main force.

I forced myself to even out my breaths. Dad and the clients picked up the pace as an old, abandoned pizzeria came into view. With my enhanced hearing, I heard how people shuffled. Curtains rustled. The Reds that had been stationed along this road had noticed them, and now they were getting ready to attack.

You don't have a death wish, boy, the demon hissed. I know you, and I know you want to live. So get away. Now.

You also know I want to keep Dad alive, I thought. I'm in control here, bastard, and we're not moving until I know they're through.

Fear shot through my chest, but it didn't come from me.

As Dad shuffled the Carrillos into the pizzeria, the Reds came out one by one.

Out of everything that's happened so far, this was the riskiest part of Dad's plan. The reason why the perimeter was so far away from the theater was because, out of all the places the Summer Court had decided to claim as theirs, the Steppenwolf Theater was one of them. Something about one of the founders owing them a favor.

The Carrillos were lucky, in that sense. They had taken their son to a child-friendly play when they learned that the Reds were onto them. If they were anywhere else, they would've been kidnapped and killed. But they were on Seelie territory. As long as they were there, the Reds couldn't stage an assault without breaking the Accords.

If the Carrillos were spotted leaving the theater, every Red stationed at the perimeter would descend on them like bats. Both the Red Court and the White Court are built on hierarchies, and whoever nabbed the Carrillos first was most likely gonna get a promotion. It'd be a free-for-all, and there'd be no way for anyone to survive that.

But, if the Carrillos were seen near one of the perimeter lines, the odds changed. Again, there was a reward for being the one to get the family. Now that the Reds had seen the family so close to their perimeter, they could pounce on them now. Why call for backup when they're right there? Why risk letting someone else steal the glory?

The Reds were still here. They'd seen Dad and the Carrillos enter the building, and they were ready to swarm the place.

Up until that point, I'd done what I could. Dad's entire plan hinged on getting himself and the Carrillos to the pizzeria without getting spotted before reaching the perimeter. If any of the vampires I'd killed had sent a message, they, and I, would've been swarmed. I might be able to take several of them on, but even I couldn't handle the horde the Red Court had prepared to kill Carrillo. I couldn't even handle the group that was near a single perimeter line. This entire night has been me dodging bullets.

But now, I had to wait. And this was the point where I felt my own nerves creep up to my throat.

"This plan better work, Dad," I said under my breath. "Because if it doesn't, I'm pinning the dead bodies on you."

I had a feeling that, even if Dad could've heard me, he wouldn't have laughed at that.

I counted the Reds as they stalked onto the street.

There's too many of them.

There were. I already counted 20, and more were still coming.

If you're spotted, we'll die!

Not if the plan works.

It might not!

It will.

That's enough! the demon yelled. You've done enough for him! Why wait here and put yourself at even more risk?!

Because he's my dad.

Boy!

The vampires moved quietly, snarling. Their snarls only got bigger the closer they got to the pizzeria, surrounding it on all sides as several of them dumped their walkie-talkies onto the road. One of them, a tall man in a pinstripe suit, moved to the main door.

I held my breath.

RUN!

There was a flash of light, and the first explosion sent the front wall flying in a swirl of brick, glass, and blood.