//------------------------------// // Chapter Two // Story: The Dresden Fillies: Great Power // by psychicscubadiver //------------------------------// The Dresden Fillies: Great Power Written by: psychicscubadiver Edited by: SilentCarto Proofreader: Coandco Disclaimer: I don’t own The Dresden Files or My Little Pony, that is Jim Butcher and Hasbro, respectively. This is a fanfiction only. This story takes place between Seasons Two and Three in MLP and between books Eight and Nine in the Dresden Files. Chapter Two The man sitting across from me fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. He had the look of middle-management normalcy down pat, and I could tell that my office wasn’t what he had expected. It could have been the general shabbiness – some of the stains were probably older than I was – or maybe it was my matter-of-fact approach to the mystical. One table was occupied with pamphlets I’d written myself like ‘Magic in a Modern World’ and ‘Learning to Cope with the Supernatural’. Or maybe it was me. I’d spent last evening teaching Molly the delicate art of potion making, and I knew my eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. She had apologized repeatedly, but ‘sorry’ doesn’t put out fires or fix acid damage. When he didn’t leave after grimacing, that was when I knew things were bad. Generally, I get three kinds of people in this office. Most often I see skeptics looking to hire me for results without wanting to believe in how I get them. Next most common are the ‘true believers’ and other new age mystics. They’re the ones that believe in pyramid power and healing crystals. Those actually work, ironically, but only in the hands of people who actually know what they’re doing. Both groups are pretty easy to deal with. I get the job done for the skeptics and don’t rub their faces in my methods. For the true believers I check for magical potential and give them some advice. Typically it isn’t what they want to hear, but it is what they need. Once in a blue moon, they even listen to it. The third kind of people I see are the desperate. They aren’t looking for magic. They’re looking for a miracle. This man’s face was drawn, and he had lines around his eyes that had nothing to do with age. He probably looked good for a middle-aged man most of the time, but this was one of the worst days of his life. For me, it was just Tuesday. “Coffee?” He started at my offer then shook his head. He hadn’t said a word since entering, but I had the feeling he was just working up to it. “So how can I help you, Mister…?” “Belfast. It’s my son. He…” Mr. Belfast stopped and fell quiet again. “Discovered he has magic powers, and wants to know where his letter to Hogwarts is?” He blinked at me for a moment until the meaning of my words sank in. Mr. Belfast gave a small, disbelieving laugh. “Not exactly. He’s gone missing. I approached Nicholas Christian, but he was busy with another case and recommended you.” Back when I was still earning my PI license, I’d worked for Nick Christian; he specialized in missing kid cases. Sometimes we referred work to each other when we were busy or if it played to the other’s strengths. Nick had sent me more than one client involved in the spooky side of things. I nodded, getting out a pen and small notebook. I could probably commit all of the important details to memory, but it never hurt to be careful. And it made me look more professional. “How old is your son?” He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Twenty-two.” I raised an eyebrow at that. It was a bit older than I had been expecting. “When did you last see him?” “A week and a half ago. Ever since he started college he hasn’t been home much, but I always treated him to dinner on Saturday. When he didn’t show this past weekend, that’s when I first knew he was missing.” I grunted mildly. “Have you checked his apartment?” “Yes, and he wasn’t there. I shrugged off him missing dinner and his phone going straight to voicemail, because he’s been under a lot of stress lately. But when he didn’t answer the next two days, I got worried. I’ve got one of his spare keys, so I tried checking up on him two days ago. He wasn’t home.” His hands were shaking slightly. “He was under a lot of stress?” I asked. Mr. Belfast nodded. “Why?” At that he grimaced. “Sean, he… always wanted to write music and be part of a band. I told him that he’d better have a back-up plan in case music didn’t pan out for him, but when he went to college he chose Music Theory and Composition as his major. I told him that I wouldn’t pay for him to get a useless degree, and we had a… falling out. His mother paid for part of the first semester, but mostly he took out student loans. We patched things up, but only so long as we didn’t discuss his future.” Mr. Belfast ran a hand through his hair, and squeezed his eyes shut. Yeah, it’s funny how important some things can seem until something terrible happens. I hated to prod him for more, but if I was going to take this job I needed all the info I could get. “Why does that translate into being stressed recently?” “Because he finally figured out that he isn’t going to be a rock star. He’s in his senior year with a degree that isn’t going to get him a job, and he’s up to eyes in debt. He’s too proud to ask me for help after the fights we’ve had. One detective down at the police station told me he probably ran to get out of all his student debt. He thought Sean left to live with his mother in California.” “But you don’t think so,” I said, reading between the lines. “Why?” My client nodded. “There was too much in his apartment. Loose money, clothing, even his bass and songwriting notebooks. He never would have left those behind. Not willingly. I just…” He stopped, and I let him collect himself.  “I’m just afraid that he got himself involved in something he shouldn’t have, to earn the money he needed. He mentioned that he was getting a job the last time we had dinner, but he didn’t say what. I didn’t want another fight so I didn’t ask more. Now I wish I had.” I gave him a moment of silence, before clearing my throat and going back to my questions. “Your son goes to the University of Chicago?” Mr. Belfast nodded. “Could you name some of his friends? Just whoever he was closest to.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I don’t know who he spends his time with these days. He was in a band called… Heir of the Dog, I think. They were punk or hard rock or metal, I don’t really know what exactly they were. Sean and the band leader disagreed about something and he quit a couple of months ago.” I nodded. “That’s about all I need. If you want to hire me, my fee is fifty dollars an hour plus expenses. I can’t promise you that I’ll find your son, but I can promise my best efforts. And if I can’t find him, I’ll let you know when and where the trail went cold,” I said, tucking away my notebook and leaning forward. It’s difficult to look someone in the face without meeting their eyes, but after the first couple of accidental Soulgazes, I managed to pick up the trick. We sat for a moment as Mr. Belfast pretended to make up his mind. Then he pulled out a white envelope and handed it to me. “That’s a thousand dollar retainer. I’ll expect a full case report whenever you’re done, or a weekly report if it takes that long.” I nodded and proved myself a wizard by making the envelope disappear. Fast. For once I wasn’t behind on the rent, but you never know when fickle fortune will turn on you. “I’ll need some things to investigate properly.” He straightened himself up, becoming more business-like. “Name them.” “First, I’ll need a picture of your son, the more recent the better. On the back please list any nicknames or pseudonyms he might go by and the address of his apartment. Also, put down a phone number where I can reliably reach you.” He chuckled hollowly. “You don’t use an owl?” “My last one got eaten by a dragon,” I replied with a perfectly straight face. He paused, uncertain whether I was joking or not. I didn’t so much as blink, and he looked away, obviously uncomfortable. People might not admit magic is real, but deep down we’ve all got that quiet fear of the supernatural inside us. Still, I had to give Mr. Belfast his due. He pulled a photo out of his wallet and started jotting down all the pertinent info. I nodded in approval. “One last thing. I’ll need a key to his apartment and your permission to search it. Has anyone other than you been there since he disappeared?” “Not to my knowledge, no,” he said, pulling out a ring of keys and working one of them off. His expression turned sour. “From what I encountered at the police office, I don’t think they even bothered to investigate. They certainly never requested a key.” I frowned. That was a bit odd. It was one thing for the police not to put too much stock into a missing person case when they had plenty of reason to run, but not even a cursory glance at the apartment? It was possible that the detective was lazy, or just didn’t have the time to spare. Still, if there was a sinister motive involved it wasn’t impossible to buy off an investigation. There hadn’t been an organization built that was immune to bribery, the Chicago PD included. The real question was: if that was the case, what had the kid done to get on the bad side of somebody with that kind of pull? I shook my head. I couldn’t let my imagination run wild. Sure that was possible, but that didn’t mean it was likely. Still… “Do you have the name or badge number of the detective you spoke to?” I asked. Mr. Belfast frowned in thought. “I don’t recall it off hand, but he gave me one of his cards. It should be at home somewhere. I’ll look for it tonight and give you a call tomorrow.” I nodded and arose, extending my hand. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Belfast. I’ll do my best to find your son.” Several emotions crossed his face, too quickly to pin down and define, but he settled on weary hope. “Thank you, Mr. Dresden. Don’t hesitate to call me. Day or night, I’ll pick up.” He left my office with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I waited a moment then picked up my telephone. It’s a last century model made of thick, cheap plastic. Hell, I’m lucky it wasn’t a rotary. Being a wizard meant that modern tech got fried just by being near me. My original VW Bug, the Blue Beetle, is mucho sexy, but I don’t drive it to make a statement. I drive it because anything newer won’t survive more than a few days with me behind the wheel. I didn’t bother with my rolodex for this one. I’d memorized the morgue’s phone number a couple of years ago. The phone rang a couple times before somebody picked up. “Chicago City Forensic Institute, Waldo Butters speaking.” Yes, that really was his name. I don’t know what injustice he had inflicted upon his parents at birth, but they had gotten full revenge in naming him. “Hey, Butters. It’s Harry.” There was half a second of silence on the other end. Then he replied, his voice tense. “Sorry, I can hardly make out what you’re saying, Detective. The connection must be bad. I’ll switch to another line and call you back.” The phone went dead with a click. I stared at it for a second, then hung up. About a minute later my phone rang, and I picked it up. “Sorry, Harry,” Butters said. “Dr. Brioche was in the room, and you’re still persona non grata around here.” “What crawled up your boss’s ass this time? You being too honest at work again?” Butters had been doubly unfortunate a few years ago. Not only had he been given the task of examining the bodies left behind from Bianca St. Claire's attempt to kill me, but he also had an open mind and enough courage to declare the remains ‘humanoid but not human’. He had been right – those skeletons were all that was left of several Red Court vampires after I burned down their mansion – but his bosses hadn’t been happy to see that in an official report. The differences between their corpses and a normal human skeleton were attributed to warping from the intense heat. Butters got suspended for three months and put under psych evaluation. He kept his job, but only by the skin of his teeth. And not thanks to any mercy on the part of Dr. Brioche. He chuckled. “Not by half. I learned my lesson there. He’s just making his continued displeasure with me known. What did you call for?” “I’m on a missing person case, and I wanted to see if you’d gotten any John Does in the past week and a half.” I hoped Sean Belfast wasn’t among the stiffs, but a quick check there would prevent hours of wasted detective time if he was. “That is an entirely incorrect term in this enlightened age,” Butters replied sardonically. “If you mean ‘unidentified males’, we’ve only got a couple. Does an elderly caucasian or a thirty-something african american fit your profile?” “Nope. Looks like I need to do some actual work, then.” “I’d say it wouldn’t kill you, but I’ve seen the kind of work you do. How’s the hand?” I grimaced and was glad he couldn’t see the expression over the phone. “Slowly getting better. I’m still not sold on this whole ‘learning to play the guitar’ rehab, though.” He let out out a small huff of breath, and I could imagine the look of mild indignation Butters was wearing. “You need to reacquire dexterity in that hand somehow. Your amazing wizard healing might let your muscle and skin grow back, but without proper exercise that hand will always be stiff and unresponsive. I’m not asking you to open at a rock concert; just keep working on the basics.” “Fine. You’re the doctor,” I said dutifully. “Coroner,” he corrected. “Although, you’d hardly know it these days. Anyway, I have to get back to work. See you later.” “See ya,” I said, and hung up. The good news was that Sean wasn’t in the morgue. The bad news was that I needed to figure out where he was. As a wizard, I had a bit of a leg up on your average PI there. But to form a tracking spell, I needed something connected to the target. So I gathered my gear, slipped a gun into one of my duster’s larger pockets, and grabbed the key Mr. Belfast had left. The address wasn’t too far from the University of Chicago, and I knew the area. A murmured phrase brought my staff to my hand, and I locked up my office. It was time to go poking around and see what turned up. ……… Pulling into the parking lot of Sean’s apartment complex gave me a good idea of how much debt he might be in. It was one of those newer apartment complexes; the fancy ones that come with all the bells and whistles. Definitely on the higher end of student living. Not a gated community, but still a far cry from the dorms. Living here couldn’t have been on the cheap side, and small-time bands aren’t known for raking in the cash. Between paying for college and this place, Sean must have borrowed some serious money. No wonder the police thought he ran. I breezed inside like I belonged there. I got a couple of strange looks, but nobody showed any real interest. It’s amazing how far a confident stride will take you. Sean’s door had a printed note on it informing him that trash pickup had been moved to Thursday. I took it down and tried the key. Anyone who’s read Dracula knows that vampires can’t enter a home without permission, but most people don’t realize that applies to just about all manner of supernatural creatures, and even wizards to an extent. Magic comes from life and one of the most fundamental needs of life is shelter. Living in a single place gives it symbolic importance, and therefore the supernatural power commonly referred to as a threshold. The more people, the tighter their bonds, and the longer they live in a place, the stronger that threshold becomes. Karrin Murphy had inherited her house from her grandmother, and at least two generations of Murphys had grow up in that house. Her threshold was badass enough to act like a force field against all kinds of supernatural nasties. Pure spirits could never get in, and even physical creatures like a vampire would be all but helpless if they forced their way through. Wizards and other gifted humans could cross through, but we’d leave most, if not all, of our power at the door. Without an invitation, I can’t so much as make sparks behind a powerful enough threshold. Normally, Sean being gone would be a problem, because the invitation needed to come from somebody that lived there. I wasn’t too worried in this case. Even if he’d lived here for the past three years, a single person in a brand new building wouldn’t produce enough of a threshold to slow me down. Only a faint sense of static washed across me as I entered the apartment. I’d called that one right. My first instinct was that the room had been tossed, but then I took a second look. The mess was just typical teenager fare. Empty bottles and cans, unwashed plates, dirty clothing on the floor and other various bits and pieces. Sheesh. Even before I got my fancy faerie cleaning service (one of the only perks from a nightmarish job a few years ago) I’d never been a slob like this. I stepped carefully into the room. I strained my magically attuned senses, but felt nothing significant. Not only was the kid vanilla, but nothing supernatural had come stomping in here. Time for some good old-fashioned detective work, then. I took note of the multiple pizza boxes around the garbage can. All of them were from pretty high end pizzerias, no Pizza ‘Spress or frozen deals. Likewise, the bottles were all good beer, either craft or high-end domestic. Sean was not a fan of Bud Light, it seemed. The clothing scattered on the floor was pretty high quality, most of it brand name. Good food, good beer and good clothes aren’t cheap. Between this and his choice of living arrangements, Sean seemed to like his luxuries without much thought to cost. Assuming he didn’t just develop the habit in college, Mr. Belfast might be a little higher on the corporate ladder than ‘middle management’. I glanced into the kitchen where more dirty dishes occupied the counter and half of the sink. A couple of practically illegible notes were stuck to the fridge. Nothing important, it seemed, but I’d take another look at those notes if I didn’t find anything to give me a lead elsewhere. The hallway back to the bedroom was mostly clear, and I moved back that way. I kept my staff with me. Sure, I hadn’t sensed anything, but that didn’t mean there was nothing here. I’d rather be paranoid than get caught in a clever ambush. The bedroom was neater than the living room, surprisingly. The walls were covered in posters of bands. Some of them I’d heard of, like Nine Inch Nails and Black Sabbath. Most of them were unfamiliar, but leather clothing, tattoos, and enough piercings to let them find magnetic north seemed to be the norm. There was a loaded bookcase in one corner full of horror novels, books on local folklore, and mythology collections. The bed was unmade, but the sheets looked clean, at least. Most of the mess on the floor was clothing with a few scattered papers thrown in. A bass sat in the corner on a stand with an amp next to it. The desk was occupied by a new-looking laptop, thankfully turned off, and several beat-up notebooks. I picked up the top one and flipped through it. For a songwriter, there was surprisingly little music notation. Mostly, it was just lyrics. The handwriting here wasn’t that great either, but I managed to puzzle most of it out. There were a few anti-authority songs, some love songs – for a given value of love anyway – but Sean seemed to focus a lot on the supernatural. Especially the darker end of the supernatural. My stomach twisted a little. Everybody knows about vampires and faeries, despite the various misinformation out there about them, but some creatures have managed to avoid or stop any kind of widespread fame like that. They prefer to work in the shadows and don’t take kindly to anyone who tries to get out the word about them. Manticores, Ahuizotls, Wendigos and plenty of other creatures are happier to be remembered only in legends, if at all. I took another look at his bookshelf, and some of his sources surprised me. He actually had a fair number of accurate books. One of them outlined the differences between the three courts of vampires. It didn’t get into the serious details or naming names, but that was still better than assuming they all hated garlic. He had worked a lot of real information into some of these songs, apparently under the belief that he was just being faithful to the original legends. I doubted most of these creatures would have heard him, but the songs about Wendigos had me worried. They were native to these parts, and liked to walk among humans. It wasn’t too hard to imagine one of them hunting at a bar or club where his band played and deciding ‘he knows too much’. Of course, all I was doing right now was imagining. There’s no sense getting too caught up in a single possibility, especially when you don’t even have any evidence for it. All the same, I gathered together his notebooks and tossed them in a nearby backpack. The laptop I approached cautiously, like petting a dog I expect to bite me. There could be very important info on there, which one of my more tech savvy friends could retrieve. Of course, that was assuming I didn’t fry the thing just by touching it. Thinking better of the idea, I grabbed a towel and picked up the computer with that, putting it in the backpack too. Nothing exploded or caught on fire when I unplugged it and stuffed the cord in after, so I was willing to call that a victory. There was no hairbrush in evidence, either here or in the bathroom, but his pillow was thick with loose hairs. I grabbed a handful and hoped that they weren’t too old. Then I saw the time and cursed. Molly would be getting out of school right about now, and I’d promised to pick her up and give her another lesson in magic today. Molly was my new apprentice, and her training was one of my top priorities these days. She had a gift for sensitive, subtle magic, great for casting illusions and creating veils. Unfortunately, it was also great for invading minds and twisting thoughts. A few months ago, she used mental magic on two of her friends to free them from their drug addictions. One of them was in counseling and doing okay. The other went stark raving mad and might never recover. There’s a reason why the Laws of Magic forbid delving into minds and why ignorance of the law is no excuse. Molly hadn’t just hurt her friends, she’d also opened up a dangerous part of herself that was okay with altering the minds of others to suit what she wanted. Sure, it was under the best of intentions, but that’s a real slippery slope, and I’ve seen what can happen to those who go down it. I intervened and staked my life on rehabilitating her. Right now she was under the Doom of Damocles, a fancy title for wizard probation. The next time she broke a Law, both of us would be executed without trial. I scowled at the clock and grumbled. I hadn’t finished canvassing the apartment for clues. The hairs should let me track Sean, and I could always come back later. Still, it rankled that I needed to leave before I was done. I grabbed the backpack, careful to hold it well away from me in case the laptop changed its mind about exploding. Though, given that physical proximity was what caused me to hex things involuntarily in the first place, it was probably safer for the both of us. I locked up behind me. I kept an eye out for anyone watching me or the apartment, but I was disappointed. Nobody aside from a couple college students were around and they only gave me a passing glance. Still, the case was young. One of the nice things about my line of work is that I can usually tell when I’m on the right track. When people – or, more typically, monsters – start trying to kill me, I know I’m getting somewhere. ……… I didn’t arrive at Molly’s school until almost forty-five minutes after it let out. As it turned out, though, I was still early. She’d manage to get herself a detention today and still had another thirty minutes until she was released. That was annoying, but while waiting I pulled out a few of Sean’s notebooks and started working my way through them on the concrete steps of the school. The lyrics were more of the same, though the list of creatures that might have wanted Sean gone got longer and longer. It might have been easier to find something he hadn’t thrown in there. Realistically, most of these wouldn’t have been turned into full songs, but I couldn’t know which of them had. ‘The Wendigo’s Hunger’ looked like a solid candidate, given that it had four versions and full musical notation on the final one. I really needed to track down his band. If these songs were behind his disappearance then all of them could be in danger. Eventually, Molly appeared at the door of the school. Despite being only seventeen, Molly was built like the proverbial brick house. She was tall for a woman, but carried enough curves to make it look good. I’d never say that where she could hear it –  for more than one reason –  but it was true and she knew it. The wild pink and blue hair and multiple facial piercings detracted from it a bit in my opinion, but I’m a traditionalist at heart. If my apartment came with a lawn, I’d probably be yelling at kids to get off it. No matter how Molly looked, she’d had issues with going back to school. Learning to control your temper is one of the most vital lessons in learning to control your magic. If I lashed out with magic every time I got angry, I’d have a bigger body count than Ted Bundy. And I’d be just as evil. It’s all too easy for righteous anger to give way to blind wrath. When you’ve seen some of the things I’ve seen, the anger is more than justified, but if you let it control you, you’re no better than the things you fight. The Abyss is real and playing with magic is a fast way to stare too long. And that was the lesson I needed to teach Molly. I gave her one of my better glares and she flinched. “Another detention?” I asked, my tone less than cordial. “This was different!” she said, raising her hands in protest. I cocked an eyebrow and she flushed slightly. “This was just for getting five tardies. Not for behavior.” I sighed and kneaded my forehead. “The school year isn’t even a month old, and you’ve already got five tardies on top of the first detention?” Part of my conditions for teaching her was that she complete school. Anyone who didn’t have the patience and intelligence to earn a high school diploma had no business mucking around with phenomenal cosmic power. I had extenuating circumstances for why I missed out on mine, but I still managed a GED. “Well, I’m trying to do better. It’s not easy fitting back in,” she said in a minor huff. “Do or do not,” I commanded in a muppety voice. “There is no try.” She rolled her eyes at that but didn’t say anything. “C’mon, we’re taking a field trip. Where’s the nearest park from here?” Molly looked at me quizzically, but she’d learned by now that I didn’t share anything until I was ready. She gave me directions as we walked to the car. It wasn’t late enough for rush hour to start, but it was getting there. Once we reached the park, I grabbed the hairs out of the backpack, careful not to directly touch the computer. I gave Molly a ‘follow me’ gesture and started walking. It wasn’t a large park, only about half a city block, but there were enough trees and shrubs to give us a little bit of cover. I was glad for that. For some reason, people get all twitchy when you start drawing pentagrams in public parks. “Congratulations,” I told Molly, brandishing the hairs I had collected from Sean’s apartment. “You just beat up a bad guy and even managed to snag some of his hairs in the process. Too bad he got away, blowing up your car in the process. Using only what you’ve got on you, show me how you would track him.” I held up a hand to forestall any protest. “You don’t need to actually cast the spells, but assuming you could how would you do this?” She thought for a moment. “Can I get my backpack?” I snorted. “Do you have it on you?” “That’s not fair! You didn’t tell me I’d need anything.” “Of course it isn’t fair,” I replied, and she seemed surprised that I would admit it. “But the bad guys don’t play fair. Hell, most of the good guys don’t either. You need to learn to keep the tools of the trade at hand, because you have no way of knowing when you’ll need them most.” Molly scowled, but didn’t say anything. She examined her surroundings and traced out a circle in the dirt using a large stick. Then she took out one of her shoelaces, and made a pendulum by tying one end around a small rock. She looked nervous, but forced confidence into her voice. “I’ve got a circle and a basic pendulum as a focus. I’d tie the hairs I got from the ‘bad guy’ on this and then cast a tracking spell.” I nodded in approval. “Not bad, but a necklace or locket would work better. Start wearing one, but make sure it’s on a thin chain so you can’t be choked with it. For now, re-lace your shoe while I perform the spell.” I pulled out the scarred silver pentacle I had inherited from my mother and tied three of Sean’s hairs to it. The spell was one I’d done a thousand times, just forming a quick link between two things that were once connected, but now were apart. I finished the spell and broke the circle by smudging the line in the dirt. No longer constrained by the barrier I had erected with my will, the spell spread out into the wide world and… fizzled. If the link had been successfully made my pentacle would have swung in the direction of wherever Sean currently was. Instead it hung there, fully subject to gravity. “So the spell failed. What are some possible reasons for that? Even if a spell like this doesn’t work that should still tell you something.” Molly chewed that over for a second. “He could be in the Nevernever.” “Good,” I said, nodding. “Or?” “Or behind some wards, or a long way out on Lake Michigan.” Molly paused and mulled over possibilities. “If he knew you took it and had a big enough head start, he could have shaved himself bald and done some cleansing ritual. He could be out of range if the spell wasn’t big enough. If somebody else got to him, he could be dead.” I hoped that wasn’t the reason my spell had failed to find Sean, but she was right. It was a possibility. “Those are all correct, but there’s one that you’re forgetting.” I paused a second as she searched her mind, trying to figure what she had missed. I chuckled. “I could have goofed up the spell. We aren’t perfect, padawan. Acting otherwise is the best way to leave yourself blind. Assuming I did the spell right there are a few ways to eliminate those possibilities. I can duck into the Nevernever and cast the spell there. Back here on Earth, I can try a spell with greater range to see if that’s the problem. If he’s dead or behind wards, I can’t find where he currently is, but with a starting point I could use a spell that lets me follow his trail.  Even if all that fails, we’ve got other options, depending on how badly we want to know and how quickly we need the info. But never count out mundane methods. A human witness and a knowledge spirit you summoned up might tell you the same thing, but one of them is going to charge you a lot harder.” She nodded, but I still don’t think she got it entirely. When you first start using magic it seems like it’s the answer to all life’s problem. I love magic, but that doesn’t mean it’s a one-stop shop for solutions. Good old vanilla humans keep improving things all the time, and it was no accident that I carried a gun in addition to my staff. The sun was setting in the distance and I scowled at it. “You got any homework due at school tomorrow?” “Nothing I can’t put off,” Molly replied flippantly. I raised an eyebrow and she grinned. “No, I’ve got some stuff due Thursday but tomorrow is clear.” “Okay, we’ll continue the lesson back at the apartment. No more potions this time. The lab still hasn’t recovered from your last foray into the alchemic arts. Instead, we’re going to work on tracking a little more. It’s time I showed you Little Chicago.” She grinned eagerly, like a kid that’s just been promised candy, before flushing and trying to cover up her excitement. I smiled, but didn’t let her see. She may have made some mistakes, but Molly was a good kid. We piled into the car and set off. My stomach grumbled, reminding me that it had been a while since lunch, and dinner would be more than welcome. I was debating with myself about stopping by Burger King on the way when I heard someone distantly call my full name accompanied by a sudden pressure on my mystic senses. I hit the brakes, stopping short of a yellow light I could have caught, and twisted around, scanning the street. “Harry?” Molly said. Everything looked normal. People walked by just doing their regular business. The guy in the car behind me was glaring at me for stopping short, but he was the only one with eyes on me. I put together the clues and turned back to watch the road, my stomach sinking. I was about ninety percent sure that I’d just felt somebody using my Name. My True Name. That was not good. There are not enough adjectives in the English language to describe how very not good that was. Anyone that had my True Name had a direct route to me, no defenses or cover possible. I needed to get home and behind my wards as fast as possible. There was no time for Burger King. Not even the drive-through. The light changed and the Blue Beetle puttered off. Maybe Bob knew a way out of this; he was more conversant with the more esoteric rules of magic than I would ever be. ……… “Wow,” Bob said after I explained the situation to him. “You’re screwed, boss.” I restrained the urge to smash that fragile little skull into powder. I also resisted screaming, which was more difficult.  “Thank you, Bob. Anything helpful to add or should I start making out my will?” He snorted, despite not having a nose. Bob looks like a hokey halloween decoration, seeing as how he lives in a skull, and the eyes glow orange when he’s awake. He’s actually a spirit of air and intellect,  bound to assist wizards in return for their protection. So long as I own the skull, he’s loyal to me… mostly. “Fine, if you’re going to be a baby about it.” He sighed. “First off, there’s no point in raising the heavy duty wards. Anything using your True Name will bypass them. You might try jumping into the Nevernever; nothing here could reach you unless they threw a lot of power into it.” I grimaced, and dismissed it with a wave of my hand. “That’s a temporary measure at best, and I’d still have to deal with surviving the Nevernever. I thought that mortal names had an expiration date. The last time I traded any of mine was years ago, and I always made sure the buyers never got all four. Not even if they mixed and matched.” Bob nodded. “Yeah, assuming that time with Chanucy was the last deal, then they should be useless. I dunno, it’s possible you just haven’t changed enough yet.” “Eh?” “Change, Harry. It’s one of the few advantages you mortals have over everyone else. You’re constantly changing in one way or another, while spirits, immortals and everything else stay basically the same. Eventually, you’re different enough from your past self that you’re essentially a different person. Of course, that slows down as you age, too. A kid’s True Name is barely good for a year, but once a wizard hits two hundred or so they barely change at all. You’re kinda young to get set in your ways already, but it could happen.” I shook my head. “Too many things have happened. Between what happened to my hand, the events of the Darkhallow, and playing teacher to Molly, I’ve definitely changed. Even if I hadn’t, it doesn’t explain where they got all four of my names. I know, I heard all four.” “You are forgetting a rather important possibility, my host,” a feminine voice said in a pleasant, conversational tone. I went ramrod straight, took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Lasciel,” I growled. A long time ago in a neighborhood pretty close by, I got tricked into picking up a coin that contained one of the Fallen. I buried the coin and sealed it away without accepting its power. For a couple of years I thought that put me in the clear. Then I found out that I’d been imprinted with its shadow, a copy buried in the deepest parts of my mind. The shadow didn’t have a hundredth of the original fallen angel’s power, but it had enough to tempt me. Hellfire for when I needed my spells to hit harder. Knowledge and advice whenever things looked their bleakest. She was always polite and pleasant company. All the better for me to rely on her, to trust her, to believe her when she suggested that I should pick up the coin. After all, I could do so much good with that power; with her help I could save everyone who needed me and be ten times the wizard I currently was. All at the low, low price of one soul. Lasciel wasn’t known as ‘The Temptress’ for nothing. She had serious game, and if I’d been anyone without exposure to the organization that carried those coins, I might have picked hers up for good already. Unfortunately for her, I’d seen what the Fallen did to their hosts and what kind of people accepted the coins. And as I’d told Lasciel’s shadow once before, I would rather drive a spike of rebar through one ear and out the other before becoming anything like her big boss, Nicodemus. “I apologize,” she said, appearing before me in her usual form: a beautiful blond woman in a modest toga. She didn’t exist outside of my mind, but her ability to play with my senses was both impressive and terrifying. I had to remind myself she wasn’t really there sometimes. “Nonetheless, I feel that you may be worried over nothing. You believe it is impossible that one of your enemies used your Name. As you are still among the living, that appears to be correct. So then it must have been one of your allies.” I rolled my eyes. “Please. I can count the number of people who know my True Name on one hand without using all of my fingers. And all of them know better than to use it like that.” A sparkle of amusement danced in her eyes and she smiled slightly. “All of them? Wasn’t there one young… female...  who received your Name without an explanation of how to use it wisely?” My stomach sank as I realized the implication of her words. I had suspected for a long time that she could dig through my memories, and this confirmed it. Lasciel, or at least her shadow, knew about Equestria. That horrific thought aside, I also understood what she was implying. Twilight, and probably several other ponies, were here on Earth. I said something that should have peeled paint from the walls. “I am ever at your service, my host,” Lasciel said before disappearing. “What?” Bob asked. As the conversation had taken part in my head he wasn’t privy to it. He was smart enough to make guesses though. “Did the shadow help you figure what’s going on?” “Yeah,” I bit out, grinding my teeth. “If my guess is right, Twilight is in town. Or somewhere on Earth, at least.”  “Ouch. So how much does your favorite unicorn know about human culture and the supernatural world?” “Not even half as much as she needs to.” I started pacing back and forth, thinking out loud. Molly knocked on the door to my lab, but I was busy. “Not now, Molly. Anyway, this is bad. Not as bad as ‘the forces of darkness have my True Name,’ but still pretty bad. The real question is how I’m going to find her. I’ve got jack worth of squat for a tracking spell, and I have no idea what her disguise looks like.” “Heh,” Bob chuckled darkly. “That’s assuming she even came as a human. I’ve got my hopes up for more naked pony girls. Oooooo… but if they were humans, they’d have boobs. Man, now that is a hard decision.” Molly knocked again. I’d left her in the apartment above, because she had no business knowing about Bob at this point in her training. Perversion aside, he had enough magical knowledge to fill any five libraries and very shaky grasp on the whole ‘morality’ thing we mortals do. The temptation of his ‘help’ was the last thing she needed. “Give me five minutes!” I shouted, then turned to Bob. “Cut that shit out, we’ve got a crisis on our hands. Twilight is too smart to come without a human form. Even if she can’t replicate the transformation, she’d at least throw out an illusion. We’re flying blind, but the best I can figure is to call Murphy. She might know about any weird sightings or crazy girls in town. Failing that, we round up the Wee Folk and promise them pizza to search for her.” Molly knocked again more urgently. I swept upstairs and threw the trapdoor open. “Whatever it is, make it fast. I need to call Murphy ASAP.” My apprentice just looked at me with the oddest expression on her face. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. She’s on the phone and she wants to talk to you.” Molly pointed to the phone off its cradle. I crossed the room in a long pair of steps, and snatched the receiver off the table. “Please tell me Twilight looks like a human.” If I was wrong, it wouldn’t be the weirdest way I’d ever opened a conversation with her. And if I was right… For about five seconds Murphy was shocked into silence. Then she recovered. “How the hell did you know what I was calling about?” I smirked to myself and opened my mouth to reply. I didn’t get the chance. “And I swear to God if you say ‘magic’ I will put a bullet in you.” My mouth snapped shut, and I heard a few chuckles in the background that sounded suspiciously like Officer Rawlins. “Sorcery?” I ventured. Murphy grunted in reply. I chuckled. “Don’t worry. If she’s who I think, she's harmless. Either way I’ll be at the precinct as soon as I can.” “And if she isn't?” I shrugged even though Murphy couldn’t see it. “Then she's an eldritch abomination capable of ripping secret information out of my head without my notice, and we’re all dead.” “That’s why I love working with you, Harry,” Murphy groused. “Everything is so neat and simple when you’re on the case.” “I aim to please. See you soon.” I hung up, and turned to Molly. “Throw on some shoes, Grasshopper. There’s somebody we need to pick up.”