In honor of what I personally think was the best Dresden book since Dead Beat, and because hypothesizing about who painted Harry’s boat isn’t nearly as fun as writing about it, I’ve decided to create a Changes Thank God You’re Here thread.

All of these challenges are based purely on events of the Changes book, and people are free to add their own, so long as they’re willing to abide by Fight Club Rules (if you challenge, you better be willing to write something as well).

Fics can be any length, but let’s use 500-3000 words as a general guideline.


1. After ten years in foster care, Margaret runs away and makes a deal with the Summer Court to help her find and kill the tall, scary man who murdered her mother when she was little.

Alternate Version: After ten years in foster care, Margaret runs away to find the knight in shining armor who saved her life when she was little.

2. A very unhappy Harry tracks down the person who shot him.

3. Post-transformation, Harry retains the ability to understand Mouse in English.

4. Harry’s first mission as the Winter Knight. (Multiple choice)

- Kill Fix
- Kill John Marcone
- Act as consort and bodyguard to Maeve during a dangerous journey. (I couldn’t decide exactly what kind of trip might work best here, so I left it open to interpretation. Anything from a night out of the town to a formal dinner at Dracula’s would suffice)
- Collect payment on a debt owed to Winter. (Again, there’s enough possibilities here that I didn’t want to limit it, though I admit having him steal someone‘s firstborn has it‘s appeal.)
- Act as Mab’s “voice” during a conversation.
- Just make up your own.

5. Harry goes shopping for a new car and apartment, and his Faerie Godmother invites herself along.

6. How the conversation between Harry and Susan in chapter two really should have gone down.

7. At the end of the book, Harry decides to keep Maggie with him, despite the danger.

8. Odin asks for a tiny favor in return for all the help he provided. He wants Harry to track down his lost eye.

9. When Harry turns to Mab for help, she surprises him by revealing that she has recently chosen a new mortal Knight (it should be someone we know), and if Harry wants the position, he has to duel and kill this person to get it.

Alternate Version: Mab tells him that she has already chosen a new knight, and Harry turns to Lasciel for power instead.

10. Mab informs Harry that Oberon, the King of the Sidhe, has escaped from imprisonment, and must be found and stopped before he tries to reclaim power over both Faerie Courts.

 

Do want. So very much.

 

Dibs on number 1. I'd already talked to Jon and Shezza about this scenario before you posted this.

 

Hmm. 8 seems like it could be fun to write. I'll do that one.

 

ALTERNATE NUMBER 9!

This ends with the challenge, but I'm going to call this part 1/? just because. You know me - always starting things and never finishing them. It would be against my nature to call something 'complete'.

------------------------------------------

Silence reigned.


And then Mab smiled – her expression cruel and pitying as she stood over me, icy fingertips slowly trailing down my cheek. Unconsciously my jaw twitched, and she let out a tinkling laugh at my helplessness.


“Oh Harry,” Mab's voice sighed from my godmother's lips. “I daresay I have grown somewhat fond of you over the years. Far more amusing than most mortals, at any rate.”


Her caresses became painful as she pushed the magic of winter into the flesh of my cheek, and I would have let out the most girlish yelp you ever did hear if not for the fact that my tongue was suddenly frozen to the roof of my mouth.


“Nng,” I said instead. Sometimes you have to improvise.


“I offered you power – more power than your trumped up Knights, or the fallen you consorted with.” It was bad enough having Mab's voice come from somewhere else, but it was another level of terrifying to be forced to stare up into her now furious expression, unable to move or so much as scream for help. My blasting rod could have been mere inches away from my hand and I would have been just as helpless. Wouldn't have been much of a fight even so, but it would have been something.


“You were foolish, wizard, to assume my offer would remain so forever. You are amusing to me, but do not think for an instant that you were not expendable. I am not one to be strung around so.”


I said nothing, closing my eyes and picturing my little girl, the ribbons in her hair covered in blood as she waited, scared and alone, for me to Show Up.


And so I nodded, submitting. Anything for my little girl.


Mab's laugh tinkled through the air once more. “I really do understand why you dote on him, Leanansidhe, such innocence, such naivety in one so hardened to the world around him. Shall I spell it out for you?”


I didn't nod, but I know my eyes betrayed me – the crashing realization of what wasn't going to happen.


“Not one moon ago, my Knight repented in truth. So freed from his foolish past, I could kill him at last – and he begged me to do so, to free him of the shame he had wrought forth. I am so very looking forward to breaking in my new Knight. She's truly lovely, a little Russian doll. And unlike some, she showed a full appreciation for the majesty of winter.”


Shock and Awe, followed by Despair. She laughed for real this time, not simply manipulating my godmother, though no sound came out of her flawless, milky throat.


“Good luck, wizard Dresden,” my godmother spoke once more, as Mab rose to her full height, giving my cheek a final pat before stepping away, leaving me alone once more. Leananasidhe's eyes returned to life, and she gave me a small, sad look before turning around, following the Queen of Air and Darkness.


And then, without even the chance to throw out a dazzlingly cutting retort, I was whisked out of the Nevernever and back to a dim room on a cot in St. Mary's of the Angels, Chicago.


The only relief was that the mountains of emotions that were still coursing through me created a wave of exhaustion I couldn't hope to fight. Or maybe it was whatever they'd done to me before settling me in. Either way, I barely had time to register I was back before sleep overtook me once more.


“You look even more fucked up than usual, you know that?”


I glowered. Sitting across from me on my recently-destroyed-couch was a perfect mirror image of myself, down to the poorly groomed stubble on my chinny-chin-chin. He's a real bastard, if only he weren't so roguishly good looking.


“You try being on the outside for once,” I grumbled, giving my legs an experimental shake, much to his amusement. “It's easy to be the ass when you're not having it kicked every which way around the city.”


“Yeah well, I think we oughta do something about that,” my doppleganger said, suddenly serious. “Because the way things are going, we've only got enough in us for one more kicking, and it's not going to go down in the history books as anything glorious.”


“Go easy on him; he doesn't need this from you. Not right now.” A soft voice broke in before I could reply, shaky as if that single sentence took an immense effort to say. Surprisingly, my other-self, my subconscious, if you can wrap your mind around that; looking ever-so-slightly contrite simply nodded.


“Who?” I turned around, leaving the thought unspoken. Lying down and covered in blankets from head to toe was a female figure, appearing no older than thirty. What little of her skin that poked through the blankets was a near transparent white, and though her face and hair were impeccably made up, there was no question that she wasn't at her best. Even so, my breath caught at the flawlessness of her beauty and the helplessness of her situation.


“Lash,” I finally stammered out. Then going for a bit of bravado, I continued. “Long time, no see.”


She let out a wispy little laugh, eyes shining slightly as a thin smile graced her too-pale lips.


“The same, my host, the same.”


I turned back to myself, and was unnerved to see what I hoped I wasn't seeing. Affection. A dopey smile plastered all over my face as I stared at the fallen angel. Don't get me wrong, I'd come to view Lasciel's shadow as an ally and even towards the end a friend. I thought she'd sacrificed herself to keep me safe back in The Deeps, and even if that wasn't quite true, I'll admit that it was one hell of a hit she'd taken for my sake.


But seeing myself holding Lash in a league of women who I could count on one hand? Hell's Bells...


“Right then,” I cut in, desperate to break up the train wreck in front of me. “I won't waste time debriefing you both, since you were apparently along for the ride anyway. The only question is, what do we do?”


Once more, the two shared a look. Great, this clearly wasn't my day.


“You won't like it -” my other self began, soothingly.


“Course I won't,” I snapped back. “But we're a little beyond that. Didn't it clue you in when I offered myself up like a Thanksgiving Turkey to Mab? That's our little girl out there, and she needs us.”


“Her two dads,” my other self snickered.


If it wasn't for the fact he didn't exist, I'd have punched him in the face right then and there.


“Take the coin,” he said instead. “Summon the coin, and we can be out of Chicago within the hour, in one piece stronger than we've ever been. That's all you have to do. Take the coin, save the girl, put the coin back.”


The thing is, the other me isn't really 'other' at all. He's part of me – the part I try to repress for the most part, but he's always there, on the fringes of my soul. And I knew that he wasn't telling the whole truth.


If I took the coin, really took it, and used the power it could give me, there's an even chance I wouldn't want to put it back. I'm not the hero of Disney Movies, I'm more Boromir than Sam.


“The coin's locked up God alone knows where - literally,” I said slowly, turning back to Lash. “And anyway... no offense here cause you look worse than me, and I'm back in the church with a broken back, but you don't really look up for much right now.”


Lash smiled softly, her gaze lasting on my other before turning to me, eyes bright.


“No coin can be withheld from a host who wishes to receive it, dear Harry,” she said, and I know she caught my look of shock at her use of my name. “As for the other... your refusal of my full self, the magic of your circle, and now that of the church... my power is not a fraction of what it once was, and what it could be once more. I am healing – slowly – but cannot tap into my own strength to do so any faster than this.”


I frowned, one helluva punch she took for me, indeed.


“But, with my sigil, we could both become whole. Dearest, we could rescue your daughter.”


I would have had a snappy retort for that, really. But she said the last bit to my other, and I just didn't have the heart to play killjoy, even between the personification of my darkest desires and a damned angel.


What can I say; I'm a sap for romance.


“Call the coin, Harry,” she said to me now, fire smoldering in her eyes as she did so, a faint trace of strength returning to her as she sat up, pushing herself to this final task. “Call my Name thrice, while desiring nothing more but the aid my sigil can bestow upon you.”


Stars and Stones. Three Words. Three words now separated me from damning my soul or remaining helpless as my daughter was sacrificed by the Red Court, for no better reason than her link to me.


Like I ever had a choice.


“Lasciel. Lasciel. Lasciel.” I kept my eyes tightly shut – I didn't need to see the expression of joy I knew must be mirrored on the other two. I wouldn't give them that satisfaction.


And then, I was back in the real world once more, eyes jolting open as if I had just snorted two lines of coffee and one of crack for good measure. The first thing I noticed was a warmth in my left palm, and then the course weave of the cot against my back.


Time stopped. I could feel.


“Yes, my host,” A sensuous – some might call it throaty – and undoubtedly female voice whispered to me from both everywhere and nowhere. “Do not attempt to move – you'll be more than capable in a few minutes.”


My jaw clenched as a soaring heat ran down my back, burning through my blood and it worked its magic on my broken body. Hellfire, the essence of the Fallen's magic. A faint smell of sulfur reached my nostrils, and only then did I realize that my sense of uneasiness came not from the hellfire, but from the church itself.


Hell's Bells, but I'd really screwed the pooch this time.


“Lasciel?” I called out softly, unsure exactly how it worked when the A team of evil was living in your skull, and not just figment of it.


“The same as before, dear host,” Her laughter was musical and oozing in enough sex that my pants gave an involuntary jerk, but there was a bedrock of cruelty to it that had never been so obvious with Lash. And it was enough to force me back into control, to remind myself just what sort of bargain I'd struck.


“Right then,” I cut in. “Do I need to bring your bitchiness up to speed, or did you let enough of Lash survive that you can put two and two together yourself?”


I'm always at my most obnoxious when dealing with beings that could kill me twice in an instant. It's not my best trait.


“The essence you refer to as Lash is as it always has been, my host,” She responded with equal parts haughtiness and demurral. “Much like your own other; we cannot destroy our essence, only determine how much of it we allow out. And anyway, had I not been privy to your plans, I would have found them within your mind easily enough.”


I grunted. Lash had been able to remember a room in perfect detail in the blink of an eye. If Lasciel promised she could find it, she could find it.


It would be kinda cool, I guess. Being able to understand Ancient Sumerian again...


“It is done, you may stand up now, if you so desire.”


“Oh, I desire,” I snapped back. Hellfire poured through my body, the leather straps that bound me turning into ash. That in itself was something I couldn't have done alone – fire is rather unpredictable as far as elements go, and that's why I have a specialized rod I use to focus it. To be able to control it so finely, using my own body as a conduit...


It's not something I really want to linger on.


Jumping off the cot and onto my feet, I looked around for the rest of my stuff. Surprise, none of it was around – guess it must be somewhere else... Like say, around people who could guard it against a sick kitten.


Just then the door opened, and I jumped back, relief flooding through me when I made out who my visitors were: Molly, Father Forthill, and Butters, the only polka-playing mortician this side of the Mississippi.


“Are you alright, we heard noise and I thought you might be-” Molly rambled, cut off by her own sob. Instead of plowing on, she plowed me instead, almost knocking me down with the power of the hug.


I didn't get more than a second of enjoying the noble feeling of being cared for and the less-than-noble feeling of a very soft pair of breasts against my chest when Molly's nose twitched, her eyes catching mine with a look of confusion before she figured out just what the good ole' smell of sulfur stands for. You don't live with a Knight of the Cross for a dad and not pick up a few things on the side.


“Oh, Harry,” she whispered, her voice breathless and hopeless.


I didn't even get a chance to respond. Right then, two gunshots rang out, and Butters dropped to the floor. Too dead, too fast, for the pain and shock to even register.

 

Ill throw one together here in a few minutes 8D

 

I want MOAR!

 

Other than one small, smidgen really, of a mistake (The Deeps, instead of The Depths) I loved it. I can't wait for part 2/?.

 

http://forums.darklordpotter.net/showpost.php?p=356255&postcount=415

Maggie going to find Dresden? CLAIM HAS BEEN LAID.

 

Fine, I'll do my original idea then. Have at it.

 

The following is something I worked up as a "Harry takes up Lasciel's coin" scenario. The original version, before I lost internet access at home for a few days, was a response to the challenge Vlad did. I've changed it some in the rewrite to be different. (It's no longer a response to a direct challenge, but is maybe thematically fitting).

###​

[The first passage is an excerpt from Changes, by Jim Butcher, p. 438.]

I looked down at a hole in my shirt, just to the left of my sternum.

I thought, Why did I pick the shirt with the bullet hole in it?

Then I fell off the back of the boat, and into the icy water of Lake Michigan.

It hurt, but only for a second. After that, my whole body felt deliciously warm, monstrously tired, and the sleep that had evaded me seemed, finally, to be within reach.

It got dark.

It got quiet.

And I realized that I was all by myself.

“Die alone,” whispered a bitter, hateful old man’s voice.

“Hush, now,” whispered a woman’s voice. It sounded familiar.

I never moved, but I saw a light ahead of me. With the light, I saw that I was moving down a tunnel, directly toward it. Or maybe it was moving toward me. The light looked like something warm and wonderful and I began to move toward it.

Right up until I heard a sound.

Typical, I thought. Even when you’re dead, it doesn’t get any easier.

The light rushed closer, and I distinctly heard the horn and engine of an oncoming train.

###​

My stilled blood seeped slowly into the cold water, yet I was standing on a platform, my hands in the pockets of my jeans.

I was drifting into oblivion, alone in the muddy depths, yet a crowded L-train, all stainless steel and gangsta graffiti, screeched to a stop in front of me.

I was wet and I was dry.

I was confused more than anything. I tried to open my Sight to suss out what was really going on, but it was denied me.

I wondered who shot me, but found myself noticing that thoughts like these no longer seemed as important as the nagging feeling that I really needed to catch the right train.

It looked like the L and sounded like the L. Stinking of wino piss, it even smelled like the L. I tried to remember when I rode the CTA last, but my mind was hazy. I had a fleeting recollection of catching the Blue Line off the Loop out to O-Hare with Luccio, but the memory was gone as soon as I tried to focus on it.

The doors slid open with a rattle and a hydraulic hiss and they seemed to hang open, as if waiting for something.

“Hey, buddy. You gonna get on or what?” a man asked behind me. I turned to look at him. He was about my age, tall, but not overly so, with baggy, blue coveralls and a White Sox baseball cap turned backward. He had dusky, mulatto skin and wore a worn plastic lanyard around his neck.

I glanced at his ID, which read, “Charon.”

The last of my double vision left me suddenly and I was all here on this platform in front of this Charon guy. His name didn’t seem ominous, really.

“What is this place?”

He snorted. “What do you think? Someone popped a cap in your ass, moron.” He felt in his pocket for a cigarette.

I glared at him. “So, Ferryman, shouldn’t you have a boat or something? Or a jet ski maybe? What’s with the train?”

He snapped his fingers and a blue spark appeared, lighting the tip of the cigarette, and he puffed a few times. “It’s a last ‘kind gesture’ to the damned to ride something familiar.”

He had made smug finger quotes around the words ‘kind gesture’ and I decided I disliked him immensely.

“If you ask me, which nobody does, it just makes it that much worse when you get your ass tossed into Phlegethon to be deep-fat-fried.”

“Sounds delightful,” I said. “How’s the dental plan?”

He blew smoke at my face and I got a lungful of cheap menthol. “Quick tour for retards who can’t even notice that they’re dead, much less read a sign.” He gestured to the train that was pulling away. “That one went to Archeron, the River of Sorrow. Figured it’d be best to send to you, given that you just got done waxing your honey, but you’re SOL now. Next train goes to Lethe, River of Forgetfulness, probably the easiest gig in all the Underworld and a good second option, though a bit of a pussy’s way out. If you’re going to sin, man up and take your lumps. Phlegethon, as I said, is the River of Fire. You’d have done okay there, given your pyro tendencies, though with the whole Winter Knight thing, I’d advise against it. Styx is the River of Hate--probably not so great an option, given that you just got done sending an honor guard Jonesing for the honor of humping your bony ass for eternity. Cocytus, Lamentation, would normally be the last, but that line’s down.”

I nodded. “So forget everything, burn, or play bottom to a bunch of pissed off Reds.”

“Those are the good options, man. Miss your train or refuse to get on one and we send you off on the Tartarus Express.” He shivered. “You don’t want to go there.”

Somehow, I always figured that Michael’s corner man, if he didn’t at least have my back, would keep an omniscient eye out for me. I guess I was wrong. Call me petty, but it seemed the least he could do after, you know, I helped him with that sword thing... And the Denarians... And the soul fire... And having saved Michael’s family multiple times, even. I guess it goes to show that no holy deed going unpunished.

“How about Elysium?” I asked.

He snorted. “Shit, paradise? After what you did? ‘Sides, to get on, you need an obolus, a token, for the Express. You didn’t wake up munching on one did you?”

I shook my head.

“No coin, no eternity of blowjobs from dimpled hotties who don’t even know the words, ‘gag reflex.’ Now I gotta go taunt the next bitch, so enjoy your damnation or whatever.” Charon turned and walked into the shadows, flipping me off.

I returned the one-finger salute.

###​

I woke up to a pounding in my head synchronized with the polka music that was blaring. My chest burned, like someone had gashed it open. I felt for my ribs and noticed that, well, someone had gashed open my chest.

I propped myself on my elbows to a half-sitting position, trying my best to keep my flayed guts from flopping onto the table, and opened my eyes. The light was very bright and I had to squint. I cleared my throat and heard a loud crash.

“H-harry?” a familiar voice stammered from on the floor.

“Hey Butters. Think you can get me some aspirin? This headache’s a killer.”

He tried saying something, but gave up when his voice refused to work and scampered off looking like he’d seen a ghost. I stared down at the livid burn on my hand in the shape of Lash’s sigil. Then I inhaled sharply, doing my best to avoid screaming as my ungentle tenant started mending my body in the quickest, but most painful way possible.

I had a really bad feeling about this. I suspected that hosting a fallen angel nursing several grudges was going to be a real bitch.

I admit it wasn’t one of my brighter moments, trying to buy my way into paradise by summoning one of the Blackened Denari and using it as a subway token, though leaving Charon with another line to repair ranks as one of the most entertaining.

 

Nice. Especially the paradise

Will we get more?

 

Not for awhile. I won't commit to any longer Dresden stories until I can convince myself that I can at least get Harry's voice right (which I can't yet). Dresden Files is epic and I don't want to come off as disrespecting the source material.

 

And here's the evidence that a quickie doesn't have to be bad, sometimes it's pure awesome. I liked your description of the L line, really grounded it in Chicago like all of Butcher's descriptions. Charon was excellent, great and complete characterization is just a few paras. Though I admit I thought he was 'Jake' for a second with the blue cover-alls. Also that was a really unique idea of letting him pick which Hell he went to.

I honestly forgot which challenge question you were replying to so when Harry woke up on Butter's tables, I was all confused and fully enjoyed the 'reveal' that he'd gotten out of going to Hell by summoning a Fallen.

This deserves more than 5/5.

 

I hope somebody does #6.

 

Yeah. That's right. I decided to do one to bring back my author cred from the dead.

-----------------
A variant of A very unhappy Harry tracks down the person who shot him.

Words, 1817.


The noise I thought was the thump of a train over old metal tracks was something far more impressive.

The light was being cast from a source. Eight gigantic legs slammed down into the ground racing towards me darkness, the light radiating off it's body. An equally impressive rider sat upon the beast, wrapped in a grey cloak, hood pulled down, showing an eye patch topping off the ensemble. Given how many other things should be coming after me right now, depending on which religion you believed in, I was relieved it was Odin. Then I remembered he also could ferry bodies to the underworld. Still.. beats the hell, heh, out of other beings that could be here.

Coming to a halt in front of me, he stared at me frowning deeply for a moment, then dismounted Sleipnir.

"I never thought I'd be chauffeured to hell, or should I say Hel." I quipped, trying not to let my fear show. I wasn't ready to die yet. Who ever is?

The All Father shook his head, "Sigrun was busy, we almost didn't get to you in time. Don't worry about your body, but we must leave now!"

The horn blasted again, a deeper fog horn sound. It came through much more clearly now that I was fully separated from my body. It made Odin visibly flinch. I was about to ask him what it was when it was my turn to flinch as my godmother appeared two inches from my nose with a look of concern on her face.

I made a shriek that sounded totally manly as I jumped a foot into the air.

"I've got his body in the Nevernever, he will be released to me now." Lea was many things, but her look of concern was troubling, she wasn't the sort of being, even before she got a hold of a super powered pocket knife, to show much worry.

"I think not," Odin reached his hand out and his spear appeared, "He willingly became a Einherjar, a warrior under my service, when he partook of the food I offered him. I claim his service, and can restore his body to help prevent the things we set into motion when we ended those... abominations."

Lea sighed and waved dismissively, "Yes.. but I'm tasked with protecting his spirit. Try to take him from me, and you break customs in place long before your first worshipers ever set out to sea to pillage with those silly pointy hats."

The current CEO of Monoc Securities stared her down for a moment before he relented with a nod. To me he said, "I am grateful you did not throw your death curse Harry, or this would be an impossible undertaking. Even I could not recover your energy once it had been truly dissipated in such a way, service owed or not."

The horn sounded again cutting me off. Dark shapes started moving far back, at the edge of the light where it met shadow. Growls and footsteps made their way to my eardrum that was not blown out.

Grimacing again, to Lea he said, "But I will not be deprived of such a powerful warrior at this time, he must still assist me."

I was getting confused fast, "Assist you... news flash..." I held my hand in front of my face, "I.see.a.dead.wizard! I'm Bruce Willis minus the spoiler, I know I'm dead."

Lea grinned at me, "A firearm would not be enough to kill you unless if it had torn through your heart godson, provided Winter got to you in time as I did. I've placed your body in stasis until I can get you to our Queen to heal the damage. A power higher then ours intervened, or the bullet fired would of ended any hope we had of saving you. A second volley should of done the trick, but you fell overboard. Had it not been our season, I would not of been able to get to what is ours, Knight, so quickly."

I thought about it, and it smelled of the White God. Uriel had come through where he couldn't before. Make me slip so the assassin's bullet went off track. The same balance I lost, made me fall overboard after I'd gotten hit and out of the shooter's line of sight. I'd been saved by sheer coincidence, just how God liked to do business. I'd have to make it a point to cancel that bill I sent Uriel, and replace it with a nice Easter card, maybe a few chocolate crosses or something. Next time I needed their help, I'd rather be alive, instead of slightly-less-then-dead dead. Super powered beings will just never understand just how much bullets suck.

"You may take him to be restored, if what you say is true, then he did not truly die, so I have no claim, but I do demand his assistance, on his honor for payment for what I did for his child, a payment even the Sidhe will agree must be repayed." Odin said.

"I owe you for helping me with..." A stab of pain for the memory of what I lost, "...for helping me, so let's insert soul A into body B, and get back to our regularly scheduled life so I can do... what exactly?"

Odin released a blast of lightning into the darkness where one of the louder growls had come from, and turned back to Lea.

"You may take him, but hurry, we must not delay in turning the fight back to the offensive. Harry these horn calls are a warning alarm of sorts, my blood brother took offense to us taking away his favorite toys. It should of dawned on me earlier who their patron was... tricking folks into thinking they were human, their main weapon deception as they wormed their way into power in so many places. He used one of his local agents to kill you Harry, as payback for killing his creations."

"But..." I didn't want to know this answer, "If he's free again..." Aaannnd there was the annoying loud horn blast. "That means..."

Lea answered me, "That gatekeeper Heimdall will be blowing his horn until the end dear boy. Unless you do as asked, and help Vadderung."

The Trickster. Loki. Go me, now I had a god gunning, quite literally, for me... And if the myths are right the whole world. Loki being free started things in motion to bring on Ragnarok. The end of the world. And they wanted me to stop him.

White light, peace and relaxation. Don't let them fool you. Dying is never easy.

------

Being in stasis didn't mean much other then I trained in astral form with my godmother, learning magic long forgotten. Mab seemed pissed her Knight was sidelined again, and refused to fix me, becoming preoccupied with defending her realm from the constant invasion of Wildfae Loki would whip up into frenzies and sling into Faerie. I spent 20 years watching my body slowly heal itself inside a pocket of Faerie time that moved 10 times faster then the real world. Wizards cheat.

Rumors made it to me from visitors, spies for Winter, that the monsters told stories about me to get their offspring to behave. I was the boogeyman to the boogeymen. A ghost story.

"Behave and finish the human leg on your plate young troll, or Harry Dresden is going to get you!"

HA! I kill me...

I stepped out of the portal from the Nevernever sporting a new scar an inch from my heart. I thought for a minute about my allies I'd relied upon in years past.

Lara Raith had Molly working for her. She was currently setting up mind control fixes on Wall Street bankers, funneling billions into White Court coffers. Molly had stayed willingly under Lara's protection after that asshole Cristos demanded her sentence be carried out, since her parole officer was dead. She was safer where she was. For now.

Thomas was with Mouse, last seen in Manhattan in battle with a water demon under Loki's command trying to flood the city. Mouse had doubled in size according to Toot, and as much as I'd like to have him back now, he was doing the Good work with Thomas. I'd gotten word from an angelic messenger that as a reward for me by proxy, and for controlling his hunger demon enough to keep Molly alive, Uriel had granted Thomas a Sword, and removed his need to feed. So long as Thomas did the good fight, he'd retain all his strengths, without the need to top off his tank.

Murphy had taken up her sword, and was currently fighting Black Court with Sanya in Eastern Europe. I'd heard they'd taken down Mavra once she exposed herself by taken over one of the -'stan countries no one cared about. A Black vampire with an few old Soviet nukes was just too much for anyone to let stand.

Over three quarters of the White Council was dead, a result of a fatal disease that Red Court bitch had spread after I'd been thrown out of the meeting, engineered no doubt by their master the Trickster. They were currently doing a magical impersonation of Switzerland. Head in the sand, neutral, impartial.

The Grey was functioning in hit and run fashion against the Black, who came out in full force once Loki revealed himself. Some familiar faces in their lineups. My granddad, Merlin, Ramirez, and Luccio had been photographed by a telephoto lens last week in a fight with Cowl, Kumori, and an army of what the media called "infected with flesh eating bacteria" homeless people. Zombies.

No one knew I was alive. Everyone was distracted in their little battles. I was in perfect position to do what needed to be done, without allies to be used as distractions, or targets for the baddies.

The earthquakes had gotten bad, cities were being leveled. Fires in the Midwest had devastated the crops. Icebergs were shutting down shipping lanes as they drifted, volcanic eruptions, mass extinctions of wildlife due to new viruses breaking out, out and out chaos ensued.

Poor Fix had died last month fighting off a swarm of fire giants in the depths of the Amazon, and it was a wake up call. The Courts banded together, putting aside rivalries that had existed since the dawn of time to stop Loki from bringing Ragnarok even closer to reality.

It's hard to bicker with your siblings over your favorite toy if a bully comes along and breaks it. So you group together and do something.

I'm the something. I'm Harry Dresden. I'm the assassin for the Faerie Courts.

Loki killed me. I got better.

Now it's my turn. Let's see how fast I can get there again, and who I can bring with me for the ride.

 

Well, okay, but don't forget that in the original mythology, he gave it up for a reason - at Mimir's Well to gain the wisdom of the ages.