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Training Daze, A Crossover Fanfic of the Dresden Files

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The day started with my home phone ringing. Not that it's strange or anything. I'm sure people...
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Snippet 1: Wake up Calls
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    • Ellf

    Ellf

    Apprentice Wizard
    Location
    Virginia
    The day started with my home phone ringing. Not that it's strange or anything. I'm sure people are woken up by phones all the time. Admittedly, I had expected to get woken by my Mickey Mouse alarm clock, but I had just wrapped up a case a few days ago and had been planning on taking the next few days off for some much-needed R&R. Or perhaps I would have been woken up by Mister, my cat, as he asked in his own forceful manner for food. Mouse would have been a welcome wake-up call as well, but the dogasaurus probably bothered Thomas into walking him.

    No, instead I had to get woken by a phone call. On my day off. Stars and Stones, I needed to get an answering service for my house the way I did my office. I got out of bed and blearily made my way out of my bedroom toward the kitchen.

    With a mutter of "Flickum Bicus," I channeled the tiniest bit of magic to ignite all of my candles. The phone gave the faintest of chirps as I cast the spell, but it continued to ring. Damn. Guess I'd have to answer it after all.

    "What?" I put all the tired and gruff grumpy wizard I could into my answer of that phone. Hells Bells, I hadn't even had my caffeine yet. I pulled at the cord to the phone and idly wondered if I could get to my icebox and pull a Coke out without disconnecting it.

    "Hello, Harry, I assume I woke you?" The voice on the other end of the line was male and familiar. There was an air of patience to his voice that made me feel a bit guilty for the way that I'd snapped at him. Of course, priests tended to manage to pull that off quite well.

    Mister chose that moment to ram his shoulder into my leg, and I put the phone's receiver onto my shoulder as I answered. "I should have been up anyway. How can I help you, Father Forthill?"

    "I need the advice of someone of your persuasion, Harry. Would it be possible for you to come down to St. Mary's today?" I winced a little. I hadn't been down to the church since the time the Denarians had tried to take the Shroud of Turin. I'd been avoiding Father Forthill and my friend Michael since that day, for good reason. I rubbed my gloved left hand with my right, my thumb passing over the sigil that was the only good patch of skin there. Good reason indeed. Still, Father Forthill had been there for me in the past; I couldn't ignore his need.

    "Sure, I haven't got anything on the schedule. How about around…." Damn, it was that late already? Thomas was going to give me all sorts of hell when he found out. "Is around five good for you?"

    "I suppose that'd probably be best. It's after afternoon Mass, so you should be fine for getting in." I still wasn't sure what this was about. I figured I better ask while I still had him on the phone.

    "What's this about, Father? You don't usually need someone like me." Forthill's tried to convert me before, but with my little problem, I doubt that I'd be good for it anyway. Plus, there was something about that 'suffer not a witch to live' that always stuck with me.

    "I need you for your investigative skills, Harry. I can't really tell you much over the phone, but this has to do with Shiro." Shiro. That was a name I hadn't heard since… probably the last time I saw Forthill. The man had died taking a curse upon himself that was meant for me, and in the process, he managed to allow us time to prevent the bulk of the Americas from becoming a plague-ridden wasteland. He was the former wielder of my umbrella stand's current occupant, Fidelacchius, and he was a very good man. Dead, but still very good.

    "I'll be there, Father. Five o'clock." I put a bit of conviction into my voice. It wasn't that hard. If this was something to do with Shiro, there really wasn't much good that it could be if Forthill was calling me. The former Knight of the Cross deserved better than that.

    "See you then, Harry." Forthill hung up the phone, and shortly afterward, so did I. Before I did anything else, I made my way over to my icebox and pulled out a nice cold can of Coca-Cola. It was too early in the day to drink anything else, and I sipped the glorious nectar of the gods. I grabbed a second can and poured it into a bowl for Mister while I rummaged around for food for him and Mouse.

    The latter of which, I practically tripped over while getting out his food bowl. For a dog his size, Mouse is surprisingly stealthy. Smiling at him, after steadying myself, I reassured him. "I know, Thomas probably fed you already, but I'm going to do it again in case he didn't. Then I'll take you out with me."

    Mouse huffed in acknowledgement, and when I placed the bowl down, he started to eat. Mister bounded into the kitchen shortly afterward, and after shouldering my shin, he too turned to eat. Now, Mister being some thirty-odd pounds of cat, he had me grabbing the counter to stabilize myself, and no sooner did I catch the counter than the phone started to ring again.

    I didn't let it ring too long this time, and I was a bit more polite. "Harry Dresden's house, Harry Dresden speaking…"

    "Warden Dresden…" A beautiful young female voice responded with the hint of an Italian accent. I of course recognized her off the bat. Captain Luccio, the person who had deputized me with the grey cloak in the first place. I'd failed her last Halloween, which had her end up in a highly attractive blonde's body with less magic, but Luccio was still a highly experienced Warden of the White Council. She still had her knowledge and skills that she could pass on. She'd been planning on starting a training facility the upcoming Summer to train new Wardens. I managed to get roped into helping out with that. "Mine eye hath played the painter and hath steeled."

    Code phrase, code phrase… where did I put that book of responses? The response wasn't supposed to be the next line of the sonnet, but the second line of the sonnet two sonnets later. Ah, there it was… I gave the appropriate response, and then said, "Captain Luccio, what's up?"

    "First, I would like to pass on some congratulations. Wardens Yoshino and Ramirez both passed on information regarding what you faced in defense of the Venatori last month. Stronger men have taken on what you did and lost their minds."

    "Well, some would say that mine is already gone, Captain. Morgan especially."

    "Warden Morgan's opinions notwithstanding, you deserve praise for that, but clearly that isn't the only reason for my call." Luccio continued.

    "No, not what I expected. Especially with you being the one to call, Captain Luccio." The only person who'd be worse calling would be Morgan, but that would be for entirely different reasons.

    "Wardens Yoshimo and Ramirez have expressed interest in seeing your usual methods after seeing you in action. They are headed to Chicago as we speak by train." Luccio paused. "They are bringing two trainees with them whom I feel could benefit from your knowledge."

    Great. While I liked Ramirez, and Yoshimo was pretty useful in a pinch, this was supposed to be a short time for some R&R. Add that two Wardens-in-training were coming along? This was going to be severely awkward. I didn't even have a case to show them. Father Forthill notwithstanding, of course.

    Pinching the bridge of my nose, I asked, "When will their train arrive?"

    "Seven PM tonight at Union Station, Central Standard Time, of course. I'm sure I do not need to impress the need for punctuality upon you, Warden. They should be secure…"

    "But the Reds have shown up where they weren't wanted before. Got it, Captain." I really hated the Red Court sometimes, and they had managed to hit the Wardens hard last Halloween. The war effort required new trainees and new battle-capable Wizards, but the White Council just didn't have as many people ready as possible. It's why they recruited me, after all.

    "Be sure that you do. Safe travels, Warden." Luccio hung up at that point. Okay, now that that was done, I finally had time to have some breakfast. Hell's Bells, I just needed to wake up some more. I sipped my Coke and poured myself a bowl of cereal.

    As I ate my cereal, I went over the day's plans. At five I needed to see Father Forthill about something related to Shiro Yoshimo, and then I needed to go pick up the Wardens and the WITs at the train station two hours later. This was shaping up to be less of a restful day and more of a workday. The only thing that could make it more of one would be if-

    The phone rang again. Three people wanting to contact me in one day. What were the odds?

    Picking up the phone, I answered, "Harry's House of Hoary Hosts, for all your hoary needs…"

    What? I was still a bit groggy. The Coke hadn't kicked in yet.

    "Dresden, you're a pig."

    "Good morning to you too, Murph. What's up?" Ah, Karrin Murphy. The cutest little Detective Sergeant that you ever could see. Not that I'd ever say it to her face without proper provocation. Such things were just not done.

    "I need you at the Sheraton Hotel over on Fifth Ave. As soon as you can make it, Harry." Well, that was something interesting. Murphy hadn't needed to call me in on any jobs for SI in a while. The city just didn't like paying me all too often since the Larry Fowler incident.

    "Murph, if you wanted a date with me, you just needed to ask, but what would Kincaid say?" The byplay between us was important. It was a part of our ritual with each other.

    "Dresden, I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. Just… get down here. There's a couple of bodies that I need you to look at before they get moved." Murphy's voice was pretty professional throughout, but I knew my friend. Something wasn't right about these bodies, and I needed to see the scene while they were there.

    "I'll be there in twenty minutes, Murph. Don't worry." I reassured her. It was all I could do on the phone.

    "Twenty minutes, Dresden. I'll be waiting for you." The line went dead. So, Father Forthill, young Wardens, and now at least two dead bodies. I guess the idea of rest and relaxation was off the table for now.
     
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    • Oh, I'm torn. On the one hand, "But Malky Buffy", on the other, "... Damn, tone nailed."

    Alright, I'll forgive it.

    This time. :p
     
    Snippet 2: Deja Vu to you too
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    • When I said twenty minutes to Murphy, I hadn't been kidding. While normally, the Blue Beetle doesn't really do all that well if you try to take her over sixty, the Beetle was in the shop, and I was using one of Mike's loaner cars. Mike may have been a miracle worker, but even he had at least a week turnaround when having to deal with the damage induced by a horde of angry gnomes. I hadn't even been the one to piss them off, but they took it out on my car. My car! Is there no justice in the world?

    The loaner that Mike had given me for the time being was an old Army Jeep that he'd had sitting around the shop for a while. It was perhaps maybe five years younger than the Beetle, and it had a lot more room for my legs. Of course, I absolutely hated it. The Beetle had it beat by leaps and bounds, but the Jeep was old enough that unlike Billy Borden's car, I'd be able to drive this one more than five miles before it started barking at me that the door was ajar when it was shut tight. Magic interferes with technology, you see, the newer, more complex the technology, the worse that it gets messed up. Billy's poor satnav never had a chance.

    I couldn't take Mouse with me, as much as I wanted to. This was an official crime scene, and there were going to be police everywhere. As much as he sheds, my dog would probably contaminate the crime scene. I had left a note for Thomas to make sure to walk Mouse when he got back, and got in the Jeep to get to the crime scene. Fifth Avenue wasn't all that far from my place, and allowing for traffic it would have taken me maybe ten minutes on a bad day to get there. I made it there in record time, shaving maybe two minutes thanks to lucky timing at a stoplight, and made it. There it was, obvious from the police cars.

    Oh, and of course, the tiny blonde woman standing next to the cars themselves, looking at the road. Lieutenant Karrin Murphy was the current head of SI, that's Special Investigations to the layperson. Chicago's Special Investigations unit was the unit that handled all sorts of strange things from the natural to the supernatural and they managed to report it in words that the upper brass could handle. It wasn't a vampire, but instead a gang member on PCP. It wasn't magical fire, it was swamp gas with fireworks. That sort of thing. They typically saddled detectives that they wanted to drum out of the force but couldn't find good cause with the job, and the typical detective lasted maybe a year. Murphy had lasted nearly a decade at this point, thanks in no small part to her willingness to hire a certain Wizard out of a certain phone book.

    Today Murphy wore her hair up in a tight bun, a leather jacket, some thick but serviceable winter pants to combat the falling December snow and some sensible boots for working in. By contrast, I wore some jeans, a tee shirt that said "Han Shot First" and my long leather duster. Hanging on a thong on the inner flap of my duster was my blasting rod, and in the back of Mike's loaner, I had my staff. I looked almost longingly at it when I went around back to retrieve a small duffel bag. I'd gone to park the Jeep (man, I needed a better name for it) in the parking lot across the street. It hadn't taken long, and thanks to my large stride, I was meeting Murphy at the tape within a few minutes.

    She greeted me with a small smile and waved me through the police tape. "I kept looking for your clunker of a car, but I didn't see you drive in."

    "The Beetle's in the shop. Mike lent me a Jeep until it's ready." I tried for a bit surly as I answered, but the chill made it a little hard to accomplish.

    "Ah, so you have a car that's big enough that you don't look ridiculous getting out of. I approve." Murphy said as she started to lead me in.

    "The Blue Beetle's a classic." I had to defend my car. Sure, it wasn't exactly blue anymore and the upholstery had to be replaced recently (Mold demons, don't ask. Seriously), but it was my car. "And Mike said it should be fixed by the end of the week anyway."

    "Uh huh. If you say so, Dresden." We got to the door to the hotel, which thankfully was one of the ones you pull open rather than an automatic. To continue with our bit of banter, I pulled open the door for Murphy.

    "Ladies first." My smile wouldn't melt butter as Murphy stepped through scowling. However, once we were both inside, she chose rather than shooting back, she'd get a head start on heading to the elevator. I, of course, was not long behind her. This reminded me eerily of one of my earlier cases. Murphy and I racing for the elevator only to lead to something worse. While I hoped that the murder scene up above wasn't going to be as bad, something told me that was just wishful thinking. Murphy was actually hiring me to work for SI for once, after all.

    When we reached the elevator, simultaneously, I might add, Murphy turned to me after pressing the button. "Harry, this isn't going to be pretty."

    "They never are, Karrin." They never are. It was the middle of December, so the method that Victor Sells had used… No, that was getting ahead of myself before I had even seen the bodies. Just because they were killed in a hotel did not mean that it was the exact same situation.

    The elevator arrived, and we both stepped in, me a little more uneasy than Murphy. I never really liked the idea of being placed into a box that was being raised slowly, and ever since I crashed the elevator in my office building, I have been even more apprehensive about them. Still, Murphy pushed the number for the thirty-second floor, one lower than the penthouse. The elevator began to climb, and despite my apprehension, nothing seemed to be affecting it magically or otherwise.

    Murphy and I waited for the elevator to reach its destination in a relatively comfortable silence. We'd known each other for a few years now, and I could tell that whatever had happened here had shaken her a little bit, throwing her off her game. I didn't like that. Not much these days could do that to my friend, but somehow this murder had. I guess I would have to see for myself, but I had to wonder if assuaging my curiosity would be worth it in the end.

    The elevator dinged as we arrived at the floor, and the doors opened slowly. The hallway was crawling with officers from SI, most of whom I recognized and in return recognized me. Upon seeing me, some of them gave strained smiles, but they mostly just stepped aside and kept clear. Standing outside the crime scene hotel room was a familiar face with a bad haircut. His moustache was trimmed neatly for once, but his suit was a little unkempt.

    "Hey Harry, Lieutenant," John Stallings greeted as we walked up. "You sure you want Harry in before CSI, Lieutenant? I mean, I know he's good, but it's still a crime scene… Nasty one at that."

    "If I'm right, he might be better for us before Butters looks at the bodies." Murphy answered her partner. Stallings had been her partner since the death of her previous one, and he seemed to trust me a decent amount. He grimaced when looking at the room and nodded. I gave a cautious glance to his eyes and then down again as I headed to the door.

    "Hope you've got a strong stomach, Harry. This isn't pretty." Stallings opened the door to the room, and I mentally prepared myself. During my time operating in Chicago, I'd seen many murders, but I don't believe that many of them had been in hotel rooms in high rise buildings. Stepping through the door, I had a guess as to what to expect. Blood would probably be on the walls, potentially signs of struggling against whatever did the killing, knocked over furniture, broken appliances, that sort of thing.

    What I hadn't expected was the entryway to be so depressingly normal, for a hotel suite anyway. The living area of the suite's couch had some messed up cushions, clothing strewn about. A pair of panties there, a button-down shirt there. I knew the rules, no touching. I wasn't going to contaminate the scene, but it was fairly obvious what had happened here. An open bottle of champagne sat on a table next to two occupied chairs. My eyes almost passed over the occupants of the chairs for a second before snapping back.

    The bodies had been posed. His hand over hers on the table, her leg reaching under the table to caress his, but that wasn't what was wrong with the picture when I looked at them. No, what was wrong was how his left hand was paired with her right, and her left with his. In fact, as I turned to get a better look, somehow, both bodies had been split symmetrically and then placed such that the halves would line up. He'd been a brunette, slightly scarred and muscular. She… probably had been attractive. Her hair, the bit that was visible through the blood, had been shoulder-length and red. Each half was symmetrical, so I had no idea which side had been which original person. They had been joined right along the symmetry line.

    Of course, this was by no means perfect, and judging from the blood pooled under each of the chairs, this posing and joining had been done not long after they had died. No signs of struggle in the living area, and there wasn't any blood spatter to support the death in there… I had to make my way to the bedroom. As I stepped inside, I nearly had to step back out again due to the smell. The bedroom was definitely the scene of the murders. The blood had reached the ceiling while the… other things had pooled on the bed and onto the carpet near it. I let my eyes take it all in before stepping back out to take a breath.

    Murphy was at my side, and I carefully avoided looking toward the bodies. "There's no obvious murder weapon, not with that sort of cutting it would take to make that smooth a cut. The lack of struggle, even in there signifies that they either were alone of they knew their murderer. There's no sign of forced entry, nor have we been able to find anyone else in the footage entering this room. CSI will be gathering all the evidence they can in here, but I wanted to get your take on it."

    I nodded and thought. "Well, while I've never heard about a Warlock doing it, that doesn't mean it's impossible for this to be thaumaturgy, but judging from how dry that blood over there is, these murders happened last night. I'm probably not going to get much if I use the Sight here since dawn has already came today. Do you know who they are yet?"

    "Butters would have to confirm it for the man, but we did manage to get an ID for the girl, if you think that will help." Murphy said, keeping her eyes on my face, albeit not meeting my own for too long.

    "Lay it on me." It couldn't hurt, at least. I had very little to go on here save for the method of presentation. A name could help because I could track down a motive.

    "The woman is one Lisa Hendricks, formerly a college senior at UCLA. Harry, do you think that it's like… The Sells case?" Murphy asked, and while I didn't blame her for being suspicious of me then, she probably felt a bit guilty about that still.

    "No storms to power it. I suppose if you had a powerful enough warlock, you could pull off something like this."

    "Could you?" Murphy asked. Once upon a time, I'd probably be worried she was actually asking if I did it, but now it seemed much more like simple curiosity.

    "I really don't know… Murphy, while I don't expect much, I think I should probably chance it." I stepped back over toward the bedroom and closed my eyes. Murphy followed behind, careful to keep behind me. She knew what I was going to do.

    A Wizard's Sight is both a gift and a curse that all Wizards share. It allows us to see things for what they truly are, and it lets us perceive things that would not normally be visible to the human eye naturally such as spirits, magic, among other things. There is just one major drawback to using the Sight. Whatever a Wizard looks upon with his Sight is something that he will never be able to forget. The image will burn itself on his memory. I have a number of nightmarish things that I have looked upon with my Sight, and I have some good as well.

    For this case, however, I needed a lead. If that meant adding a new nightmare to torment myself with, so be it. I opened my Sight to perceive the room.

    Describing the Sight to someone who doesn't have it is difficult. Colors are brighter, definition is sharper, sounds are clearer, and smells and tastes hang on the nose and tongues for easier identification. The Sight is actually a bit of a misnomer that way. But as I looked into the room, I could almost see the divisions that happened. The man was sitting on the bed, and Lisa had been the one who was standing nearby. There were remnants, cords of some sort of spell. One black, one white, and both were heavily intertwined with each other as they reached out toward the places the people died. I bet if I followed the cords toward the living area, they would cut off before reaching the bodies, but only just. The spells were too degraded by the dawn to identify them, but they were there. I didn't want to test y theory for fear of what I might see.

    I closed my Sight with a bit of effort and will. Then I turned to Murphy, "Yeah, they were definitely killed by magic, Murph. I can't tell exactly how unfortunately. Maybe if they'd been murdered after dawn, but the magic's too far gone to get a clear picture."

    "You can figure it out, right? You did before." Murphy asked as I stood up to get a better look around the room. There might have been something mundane I missed. A picture sat face-down on the dresser.

    "Probably. You get a look at the picture here?" I pointed it out. Murphy reached out with a gloved hand and carefully lifted it to flip over. Four person family, all redheads. One of them, a rather imposing young man stood next to who I assumed was the female victim out there. He seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place him.

    "Not really evidence, but useful." Murphy commented. "Maybe they'll be able to… Damnit."

    "What?" Murphy saw something in the picture I didn't.

    "Take a closer look at the son, and tell me what you see." I took a closer look, forcing myself to ignore all the blood around me. I could be professional too, when there was something to focus on. The son had slicked-back red hair, slightly spiked, a strong jawline, and he appeared to be scowling in the image. No. Combine that with the female victim's name.

    "You're kidding me. The female victim… she's…"

    "A Hendricks, and related to the one that both of us know." Cujo Hendricks, Gentleman Johnny Marcone's top enforcer was the son in this picture, and one of the victims was apparently related to him, possibly his sister. Combined with the method of death, this case just gets better and better.
     
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    • Snippet 3: Conversational Plotting.
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    • Not sure I'm happy with this, but it's plot moving forward:

    After wrapping up at the crime scene, I told Murphy that I'd look into what I saw. It wasn't exactly something off-hand that I could tell, no matter how similar it had been on the surface to what Victor Sells had been doing all those years prior. It really was too bad my project was only half complete; this was something that it would be perfect for. I'd be able to trace the magic as it came, and I would be able to track it down to its source. As it stood, the project still required quite a bit of work, and a bit more materials and magical investment.

    As I stepped outside the hotel, I must have been rather lost in thought as I managed to somehow bump into a gorgeous woman, practically tripping over her. Instinctively I positioned myself so that I hit the ground before her, allowing the pretty blonde to fall on top of me. Her gloved hands touched my chest, and I could see into her brown eyes when they locked on mine. I quickly looked away before getting drawn into a Soul Gaze, letting my eyes trace down the contours of her nose and ruby lips.

    "S-sorry…" She said, pushing herself up off of me. "I-I-I was j-just trying to get into the hotel…"

    I stood up quickly, straightening out my duster. "It's alright. The police are just wrapping up in there."

    "Oh? W-what h-happened?" Wow, this girl was terminally shy, and the way her jacket hugged her body was... Hey, I'm a man. I can appreciate these things. She wore a tight red jacket paired with some appropriate pants for the weather.

    I mulled over whether I should tell her what had happened, but I was beaten to it by John Stallings. "Pair of murders happened upstairs. Shouldn't really impact your stay too much, miss, but we're going to have to ask you to be careful."

    "M-murder? N-not impact my stay?" The woman shook her head. "M-maybe I should change h-hotels."

    It's hard to describe how cute her stutter made her. On most people, a stutter would become annoying quickly, but on her, it seemed to work. Still, I had somewhere I needed to be. "Evening miss, John."

    John had probably come to wait on the CSI guys and direct them up to the scene. They probably wouldn't find more than I did, but the real interesting thing would be to go to the morgue later to see what could be made of it. I made a mental note to do that.

    "W-wait…" I stopped and turned toward the woman. "Y-you're Harry Dresden, aren't you?"

    I nodded. "I am, did you need a wizard, miss?"

    "N-not exactly… I-I saw you on Larry Fowler. I w-wanted to be sure…" Ugh. Larry Fowler was still trying to make me pay for the damages to his studio from a few years ago. It hadn't been my fault, and there really wasn't anything I could do about it other than let my lawyer pick apart the case. Needless to say, I wouldn't be returning to the show. Ever.

    "Not my best time, but if you ever need a Wizard, I'm in the phone book. My rates are pretty good too." I gave a genuine smile and let my eyes flick to hers for a second before moving back to her nose.

    "Y-yes, I'll remember that. S-sorry…" She paused after her apology. "F-for bumping into you, I mean…"

    "Don't worry about it… I'm glad you're okay." Another smile, and this one was even returned. I really did need to get going though, so I waved and started off again. As I walked off, I could see her turn to head into the hotel out of the corner of my eye, and I passed the CSI guys as they started in. I headed into the parking lot to get to the loaner Jeep, and put the duffel bag away.

    I climbed into the driver's seat and started toward Saint Mary's. As I pulled out on the highway, I thought over the crime scene. There hadn't been any forced entry, and there hadn't been any struggle consistent with the kind of weapon that would cause… that. Perfectly bisecting someone required a few things without magic, and with magic it required different things. Sure, I could see it being done with thaumaturgy, but to pull that off in that manner? Victor Sells only made hearts explode out their chests. Hah, only.

    "It always has intrigued me the lengths which you mortals will go through in order to murder one another, my host." A smooth, sultry feminine voice said from my passenger seat.

    I didn't even have to look over at her to know what I'd see. Lasciel was an amazingly good looking blonde woman, practically a goddess of beauty. Today she wore a variation on a dress that I know I'd seen before, but I hadn't seen it look like that on anyone. Of course, the major thing that would turn me off from this relationship was that she was the shade of a freaking Fallen Angel who tried to convince me to take up the Blackened Denarius where the real Lasciel was imprisoned.

    "I really wish you wouldn't do that." I said to her as I kept my eyes on the road. "I may have mentioned this before."

    "Using magic to bisect someone like that, splitting them along a line of symmetry. That would require great control and precision…"

    "What are you doing?" I turned partially toward her so I could keep an eye on the road and see her face as she turned toward me.

    "Isn't it obvious, my host? I am trying to help. The people were killed with magic, and since you will not take up the coin, I am attempting to help where I can." Lasciel smiled, and heaven help me, I could see why she would.

    "I don't need your help with this right now. I have Bob, and I can work with him on that while I work on my project later." I wouldn't let myself be taken in by her words. If I started relying on her too much, it would lead to Bad Things later. I couldn't let that happen. "And if you're going to be hanging around in the car, please put on a seatbelt."

    "What?" The shade seemed confused. "You know I'm not really…"

    "Either go away, or put on a seatbelt. It isn't that hard." I focused on driving. "Having someone in the passenger seat without a seatbelt on these roads is distracting. Shoo, Lasciel; I'm sure you'll come tempt me later. Besides, we're headed to a church."

    Sure enough, St. Mary of the Angels Catholic Church was just down the street. Its steeples kissed the sky and the numerous angel statues stood watchful on the roof. Lasciel's shadow looked toward the church and nodded. "I will return later, my host. After you have seen to whatever it is you need here."

    And then she was gone, and I was alone in my car again. True, she was really just an illusion coming from within my head, but there was something about her being where I could see her rather than just being a voice that made her seem more real. She was dangerous, and I could never let myself forget that, lest I allow myself to give into temptation.

    I parked the Jeep in the Church lot, and I made my way to the entrance. Forthill said to meet him at five, and it looked like Daily Mass was just now getting out. Standing out front in full vestments was Father Anthony Forthill, a kindly looking priest of slight build and medium stature. His hair had long since started to grey and his eyes were the color of robin's eggs. Wireframe glasses sat lightly on his nose, and today he wore a pair of white gloves, likely to combat the cold.

    As I got close, I could tell when he saw me from his smile. He shook the hands of the last family out the door and started toward me. I met him halfway down the path, and nodded my own smile to him, adjusting the duffel bag and my staff to be out of the way so I could shake his hand.

    "Harry, it's good to see you." Father Forthill greeted me.

    "Same to you, Father. So, you said you needed my help?" After my question, he nodded quickly and looked around the area.

    "Yes, but perhaps it's best we discuss this inside. Let me get changed, and I'll be able to discuss it with you." While that wasn't completely unreasonable, I did just drive over here from a crime scene and I had a limited amount of time before I had to pick up some Wardens to ensure they got to their hotel safely, so perhaps it could be understood why was impatient.

    "I suppose, Father, but could you tell me anything before we go in? Something to help me prepare, perhaps? You mentioned this was about Shiro." I can be diplomatic if necessary. Truly, I can.

    Forthill, for his part, was extremely patient with me. "I'll tell you all that I can inside, but what I can tell you out here is short. Shiro Yoshimo's grave has been robbed."

    Oh. It was going to be one of those days.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • I'm desperately trying to figure out what this crosses over with but I haven't gotten it yet.

    The writing is spot on though.
     
    Cool. I guess I'll have to add this to my list of something like three good Dresden Files fanfics. I like the look of this, and bemoan the fact that there isn't more.
     
    Drizzgeass said:
    Links to the other ones? I also have trouble finding good ones
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    So it seems there were more than the "three" I thought there were. Here's what I've got. I'll list the ones that are complete or updating, and a couple that aren't but I think are good enough to poke at anyway.

    First is Senshi Files: Silver Warden. It's a Sailor Moon cross, in which Dresden adopts Makoto and she grows up with him. I don't know any thing about Sailor Moon, but it does a decent job of explaining things. Eight chapters, but each is like 10K words. Big gaps between updates, but still ongoing.

    The Senshi Files: Silver Warden Chapter 1: File 01: Lightning Strikes, a Sailor Moon + Dresden Files Crossover fanfic | FanFiction

    Next is Deal with a Devil. Lash, not Lasciel, gets a last chance at redemption in the mind of Harry Potter as a child. It's just reached Hogwarts, but isn't painful in getting there. Lot's of exploration of magic and it's differences between HP and Dresdenverses.

    Deal with a Devil Chapter 1: The Denarius, a Harry Potter + Dresden Files Crossover fanfic | FanFiction

    Awaken Sleeper. Harry Potter was in a mental institution. Reality is apparently the Dresdenverse. It's been a while since I read this so I can't give much of a synopsis. I remember it as being pretty good, but dead. But it updated recently.

    Awaken Sleeper Chapter 1: Prologue, a harry potter fanfic | FanFiction

    Grim Hunt is a short fic in which Sirius Black escapes into Chicago and Harry Dresden is pulled in to find him.

    Grim Hunt Chapter 1, a Harry Potter + Dresden Files Crossover fanfic | FanFiction

    Glow Worm is a Firefly/Dresden cross involving Harry ending up on Serenity post Big Damn Movie due to magic shenanigans. Relatively short, and sweet/bittersweet.

    Glow Worm Chapter 1, a Firefly + Dresden Files Crossover fanfic | FanFiction

    Famous Last Words. When Harry and his friends are captured by Nicodemus, Harry ends up choosing some rather...odd last words. One shot.

    Famous Last Words, a dresden files fanfic | FanFiction

    Denarian Renegade. YMMV. This one seems to be really hit or miss for people. Harry Potter gets a denarian. Follows HP more than dresdenverse.

    The Denarian Renegade Chapter 1: Temptation Offered, a harry potter fanfic | FanFiction

    Beyond the Outer Gate Lies. Highschool DxD cross. Long chapters, quite good. Post Dresden books, Harry ends up outside the Outer Gates. And in Japan. With schoolgirl devils. Really well written. Captures the Dresden wit quite well. Unfortunately, hasn't been updated in almost two years. Well worth the read though.

    Beyond the Outer Gate Lies Chapter 1, a Dresden Files + High School DxD/ハイスクールD×D Crossover fanfic | FanFiction

    Let me know what you think.
     
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