ooOO0OOoo

Capitolo Otto.

ooOO0OOoo

It was five months after my first visit to Chicago, now early November, when I finally returned to the city.

It's a small miracle my mother had allowed me to come this early instead of forcing me to wait until the start of the next semester in January to be perfectly honest. I think what finally convinced her were certain inconvenient side effects that began to crop up as part of my new magical "condition". In other words, just by existing I'd begun wrecking anything even remotely electric in the house. Parents may love their children, but that love may become a little more flexible if their children forced them to live without hot water or a refrigerator. I felt bad about inadvertently wrecking all the appliances and electronics, sure, but on the plus side Darla was now more or less giving me free reign to do whatever I needed to get a handle on this new problem... so long as I called her every single day and agreed to occasionally meet up with "uncle Johnny" so he could check up that I indeed had not been carried off by Venezuelan kidnappers looking to sell me off into the sex trade when no one was looking. Mom's words, not mine.

On the downside... well. There were more than enough of those to go around. Truthfully, I'd wanted to make some sort of principled, well-thought out decision from a detached clinical perspective as to whether or not I should take Marcone's money. Maybe if my new thing with frying of anything at all electronic ever wasn't so bad (I was still kind of traumatized and in denial to be honest) I could have had the luxury of turning down his help. As it stood however it would me impossible for me to live in a student dorm or an apartment, I probably wouldn't be able to hold down most jobs, and I likely was going to need all sorts of new and specialized items in the near future if I was going to have to live like a damn survivalist for the time being.

In the end, with apprehension and a guilty feeling in my gut I took "Uncle Johnny"'s money. Unless I wanted to beg Dresden to let me live in his basement with him I saw no other way. As a small silver lining at least I was pretty sure Marcone didn't know about my techno-pariah status as of yet. My mother had been surprisingly skittish when it came to picking up the phone and talking to Marcone, and Darla being who she was most likely wouldn't want to spread around that her daughter now had "special needs" (again her words, not mine), so I was pretty sure that she had kept quiet.

Still. I'd sort of resigned myself at this point that Marcone would figure out what I was, sooner or later. If he hadn't put it together already that is. The best I could do was prepare for when it happened and hope for the best.

Fuck my life.

That was a worry for future me though. Current me's priorities at the moment were more domestic and all pervading. That is, how being forced to go completely without electricity and electronics absolutely sucked. How the hell was I supposed to go to a modern university when I couldn't be around a computer for more than ten minutes at a time before it decided to self-destruct?

How the hell had Molly Carpenter lived in a normal home with her family while Dresden had to live without any modern conveniences anyway?

There had to be something I could do. Internet withdrawal was a real thing. But winter in the Midwest without hot water? Now that was a goddamn crime against humanity.

There was only one person I could reach out to in short order that could give me any sort of hope. To be honest I would have liked to have planned my approach better, paved the way beforehand with some phone calls, maybe even had Georgia and Billy properly introduce us if they were willing, but I was desperate. Mere hours after arriving in Chicago I hopped on a cab, and after rattling off the address I'd memorized months before from memory, I was off to the office of a certain magical private investigator.

In hindsight, our first meeting could have probably gone better.

ooOO0OOoo

Dresden Pov

My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Though business had been good lately, no one ever tells you that even when private investigators are doing brisk business, there is always a considerable amount of downtime. It can't really be helped when even very involved cases tend to involve a lot of time just waiting around. Waiting for return phone calls. Staking out someone's house. Waiting until a potential person of interest is free from work so you can interview them. Sometimes even waiting for government buildings to open so you can sift through public records.

And that's just when you're on a case. Right now, in between cases, there really wasn't much to do except sit around my office during business hours waiting for the phone to ring. So over time I ended up keeping a lot of cheap paperbacks scatted all throughout my office. I'd read all of them at least twice. I couldn't really afford to be buying new ones constantly, but luckily I didn't really mind reading a good story over and over again. I was sitting on my desk with my feet kicked up, in the middle of what might have been my seventh re-read of Rogue Squadron,when there came a hesitant knock at my door.

I looked up from my book, stretching out my magical senses out of habit. Normally it was hard to tell for sure who was a practitioner and who wasn't without skin to skin contact, but in this particular case whoever was standing on the other side of my office door was positively bleeding power. It was faint, but it was definitely there. I frowned. Either someone was trying to put out power on purpose as a misguided attempt to puff up their feathers, or someone with some serious mojo didn't know the first thing about reigning in and controlling their power. Both could potentially be big trouble, though for very different reasons. I only had a few seconds to go through my options before the knocking came again, louder and more impatient this time.

Putting my feet back firmly on the floor I checked to make sure that my force rings were topped off and that my shield bracelet was ready to go in case I needed them. If it was baddies on the other side of the door they probably wouldn't be bothering to knock, but you could never be too careful. Making note of where my staff and blasting rod were resting nearby I put on my best professional smile and called out cheerfully to my new guest. "Come in!"

There are a few seconds of hesitation before the the doorknob slowly turned and a young girl walked in. It was her age that caught me by surprise. She looked to be at the most fourteen years old, olive skinned with large, soulful eyes. The girl was tiny, dainty even, reaching only about Murphy's height. Unlike Murphy however she lacked any of the musculature and build that made the Special Investigations head way more formidable than she looked. The girl's eyes and hair were very dark, her thick hair falling in curling waves around her shoulders in a way that reminded me somewhat painfully of Susan's. My new guest might have looked like the perfect little Mediterranean doll if it wasn't for her nose; it was very Roman, prominent and maybe just a bit too large for her face. She was dressed in jeans, somewhat worn sneakers and a winter coat. There was nothing at all to differentiate her from a typical teenager at first glance, except for maybe being somewhat extra petite and adorable looking.

Of course, that was until you took into account the power that she was leaking all over my office. At the very lease I was pretty sure she was a mortal, both because of the feel of her magic and the fact that supernatural creatures tended to go for that idealized beauty look and not the regular American teenager look. Still, that did not mean that there was no danger to be be found here.

The girl, for her part, was just starting at me with a wide eyed look of surprise or almost... awe on her face. Was it the coat? It might have been the coat. I had it on because I'd been keeping the heat off in my office to save money.

Before things could get any more awkward with all the silent staring I made sure my best professional smile was still in place and then spoke up. "Hello, Miss. Is there anything that I can help you with?"

At the sound of my voice her eyes moved up to meet mine, our gazed briefly locking before she flicked her eyes away, right before a soul gaze could start. So she was aware enough to know of that particular phenomenon. Interesting.

"Yeah. Hey listen. Harry Dresden, right?" she asked, licking her lips. Her voice came out rushed and she sounded nervous.

My professional smile stayed firmly on my face. "The one and only." I resisted the urge to ask her where her parents were and what she was doing here out of school all by herself. That could come later. See? I had some tact.

"Dude, you gotta help me out. I can't use electric stuff anymore," she paused, looking hesitant and nervous before continuing. "I also kinda need you to teach me magic. Because if you don't, well... you know. I'll probably end up eaten by a fairy or something."

My professional smile slipped off my face as I examined the girl in front of me with renewed intensity. Well, she wasn't shy about dropping a bunch of bombs on my lap all at once now was she? When her feet started shuffling nervously I realized that I'd probably been quiet and starting for too long. Right. Well then. First things first in order of importance.

"Why don't you have a seat, Miss...?"

The girl swallowed nervously but moved to sit in the chair in front of my desk anyway. After she sat down she said told me her name in a low voice. "Rachel. My name is Rachel."

There could be any number of reasons for a girl refusing to give out her last name, so I reserved judgment on that. However something about her name triggered a feeling of that I should know it from somewhere. Filing that bit of familiarity away for the moment I dove straight for the most pressing question. "Rachel," I asked seriously, "do you have a reason to believe you are being threatened by something supernatural?"

"Well... I mean, not exactly," the girl hedged. "Nothing specific. But I've been warned that my magic is strong enough that it will eventually start drawing supernatural predators like flies. Shit," she said, suddenly throwing her hands up in the air and making a frustrated noise. "Apparently I can't even live in a house with basic things like electricity and a water heater anymore, let alone use a phone or a computer like any normal human being! I need your help Mr. Dresden. I'm kind of at my wit's end here!"

I just sat there and stared at her, cool on the outside but more than a little surprised on the inside. My first thought was that the girl – Rachel – leaking power all over the place was something to be suspicious of, but it is true that it could simply be a new full-blown talent fully manifesting. However for power to be coming off her like a pungent odor meant her gift had to be strong. Very strong. Extremely strong. Strong enough that she should easily be able to make the top one hundred wizards in the world in terms of power. Needless the say the odds of someone like that just walking into my office off the streets had to be somewhere in the ballpark of a million to one.

I had many, many questions for this girl. However I needed to take things one step at a time. I briefly considered using my Sight but decided against it. There was another way to more easily check more-or-less conclusively if her power was the real deal or if this was all somebody trying an elaborate trick.

"Miss Rachel," I said, learning forward and sticking my hand out with a challenging smile on my face. "I believe we missed getting properly introduced. That was my mistake. Why don't we shake hands so our introduction is all nice and official?"

The girl looked at me doubtfully, but to her credit she only hesitated briefly before sticking her tiny hand in my much larger bear paw. That was when I felt it. Whenever a practitioner touches another, if they know what to look for, they can get a ballpark sense of their magical potential, their potency, their Power. With Rachel that energy felt no different than I would have expected, no irregularities or magical surges that even hinted at any sort of foul play. Instead all I got was a taste of how strong of a practitioner she could be.

Wow.

While feeling out another practitioner this way was not an exact science, it was more than good enough for a general picture. The girl across from me was strong. In fact she was somewhere in the ballpark of how strong I was, and that was without the benefit of a decade and a half of study and refinement. If I was like Mike Tyson in terms of magical muscle, then Rachel had the potential to become a Wookie on steroids. There might have been wizards in the world out there whose potential for magical muscle exceeded the girl's, but if they did then their numbers would definitely be counted in the single digits. In fact I'd be willing to bet you could count the wizards with that kind of potential on one hand with fingers to spare.

"What? Is there something on my face?" the girl asked with slightly narrowed eyes. It took me a second to realize I'd been staring and holding on to her hand for longer than was really appropriate. I gave her hand a firm up and down shake, doing my best to pretend nothing awkward had happened.

"Harry Dresden," I said quickly, once again putting on my best professional smile. "Pleasure to meet you."

Her bow-shaped lips twitched to one side in amusement. At least she seemed more relaxed now than when she had walked in. "Rachel Bicchielli. Likewise. I've heard many good things about you."

That name... it was so familiar. I was sure I'd heard it before somewhere. Hopefully it would come to me soon if it was important.

I dropped her hand and examined her, thinking over this new problem that had landed on my lap. One, someone had told her that she was potentially in danger and had presumably told her to seek me out. No matter who it was, however, it was a good thing they had because Two... this girl needed to be trained. Badly. She was right that someone with that much power would bring predators and opportunists like flies to honey. In fact I would be surprised if some supernatural entity or group out there hadn't already taken notice of her. Which brought up point Three... along with training, she was going to need serious protection. Someone with her power would be catnip for every breed and brand of supernatural predator out there. I couldn't help but take a deep breath and let out a sigh. Sometimes I helped out practitioners in the area by helping them learn to control their powers but this... someone like this would need to be taught in the context of a full on apprenticeship. There was no other way to harness a talent of that caliber. But Goddamn it, she was so young too. Too young for this kind of thing. Fourteen was still in middle school, right? No one that age had any business getting involved with the dangerous side of the supernatural out there.

In Rachel's case however, it didn't look like she was going to get much of a choice.

It was no choice at all for me though. If the kid needed help, I would help. However I wasn't comfortable with the idea of teaching someone who I wasn't sure would be responsible with the power they might learn from me. So before I made any kind of decision about what kind of help I was willing to offer the kid, there was one thing that I needed to do without fail.

"Rachel. Do you know what a Soul Gaze is?" I asked her calmly.

Recognition flashed in her eyes. "I know the theory, yeah. Can't say I've really had the guts to let it happen with anyone yet though."

Who did you learn the theory from? I really wanted to ask, but for the time being I decided it was better to stay on track.

"I'm going to be straight with you, kid: Whoever told you that you needed training was right, you do. I might be willing to take responsibility for that. However before I can even think of agreeing to anything like that I need to get a feel for your character. A Soul Gaze is the best way to do that. Now I have to warn you... not everyone who has taken a look at my soul has had what you might call a good time. One woman even passed out. It's perfectly safe, but it can be... intense. Personal. And you never forget anything that you see in there. With all of that in mind, would you be willing to let me Soul Gaze you?"

I expected her to be hesitant, or even nervous. Instead she met my challenge with a strange little grin, like the idea of a Soul Gaze with me actually made her happy for some reason. There was something in her eyes that for a moment made her look a good deal older and more mature than her middle-school aged body would suggest. "Seeing the soul of the infamous Harry Dresden? Well, what fan of your work could say no to that?"

Filing that odd comment away for later I nodded. "Well, if you're sure. Whenever you're ready then."

She hesitated for a handful of seconds before boldly bringing up her dark eyes to meet my own. Her eyes were large and very expressive, currently showing eager anticipation along with a hint of nervousness. That I was the last thing I noticed before I felt a very familiar pulling sensation and the Soul Gaze began.

ooOO0OOoo

It was night time over a dark ocean, cold as the Bering sea, spreading out infinitely in all directions. There were dark clouds dominating the sky above, blotting out even a hint of starlight from the heavens. The sea raged as if in a storm, sometimes raining and sometimes not, the surface of the sea tumultuous as violent waves of all sizes – from a few feet to dozens of feet tall – churned and crashed into each other with no seeming rime or reason.

Then, in the middle of the ocean, I spotted it. A lone grey hare running on top of the water, dashing to and fro frantically as it tried to avoid the waves. On it's back was a tiny backpack and somehow I knew what it contained; memory and knowledge. They were the hare's most valued possessions and it ran to protect those objects as much as to protect itself.

However the chaos and fury of the ocean were too much for the grey hare to evade forever. Before long it found itself in a position where it no matter what it could not avoid getting smashed in between two waves. As I watched the hare was battered, the currents of the ocean and the waves dragging the helpless animal downwards into the ocean's black depths.

That was not the end of it however. A handful of seconds later, as if the hare were actually made of the same material as a life preserver, it floated up to the surface and was spit up into the air. Once again the hare landed on the ocean's surface and, seeing the fury of the ocean around it, once again began its terrified sprint to protect itself and the precious cargo it carried.

Again and again the hare would dodge the chaotic waves with agility and swiftness, but again and again it would eventually be caught and dragged under. Every time it came back up the hare seemed to forget that it was actually invulnerable to drowning. Every time it once again ran in fear, doing anything and everything it could to stay afloat just a little longer.

Wrong, right, it mattered little to the hare. This was not a creature of morality or principles. There was no room for that in its life. It might help you if it could, if there was room. At the end of the day though the most important thing was staying above the waves.

That was when I noticed it; something hidden and easy to miss. High up in the clouds, in the sky, every once in a while lightning would flash and an almost invisible figure would appear, brief and transient in the night. It was the size of the whole sky, barely existing like a rainbow yet at the same time exerting a subtle influence on all things.

I recognized the figure; it was Manjushri, the so-called Buddha of intelligence, knowledge and wisdom. Though barely existing it looked down at the hare with infinite compassion. It was not a dominant force in this sea yet. It might never grow to be a dominant force, one that was as strong as the storms and the cold and the waves.

But maybe one day, it could be.

Even if it didn't know it was even there, Majushri was hope for the hare. Hope to one day know peace. For so long as hope exists, things might one day get better.

ooOO0OOoo

The Soul Gaze ended as suddenly as it started, with a sensation of separation and pulling away. The end of a Soul Gaze could sometimes be a bit disorienting. I closed my eyes briefly and rubbed my face, trying to make sense of what I had just seen.

It was a relief to know with one hundred percent certainty that Rachel, strong as her power could potentially be in the future, didn't have the soul of a baby eating sociopath. However that had been one of the more tricky and ambiguous Soul Gazes I'd ever experienced in terms of trying to get a concrete picture of someone. Why the hare with a backpack full of memory and knowledge? Why so much emphasis on the idea of a never ending struggle? Some of it was more clear cut than that though. Rachel was a person who, on the surface, looked like she would always look out for number one when the chips were down. However when you looked closer there was another force there, something else at play but hidden, something more recent subtly driving her in a less selfish direction. Good or evil, it was hard to say she was truly one or the other, though maybe she was beginning to lean towards the "good". Like most young people there was a definite sense that everything was still fluid, prone to change. However so long as the hare didn't panic too much by getting drowned too often... she was probably going to turn out alright.

Not one of the worst Soul Gazes I'd ever seen by any stretch of the imagination.

I turned my gaze towards Rachel, finding her looking at me wide eyed and hyperventilating a little. That wasn't too unusual. What was unusual was that instead of looking horrified like some people had in the past she instead had this gigantic grin on her face as she looked at me. Huh. I actually found that a little bit creepy for some reason.

"Dude, you're like... it's like if Sailor Moon decided to become the Punisher."

I blinked at that. "What's Sailor Moon?"

The grin dropped off her face, and suddenly the look she was giving me was one of grave concern. "You've never watched anime?"

I raised a questioning eyebrow at that. "What's anime?"

The way her jaw dropped open gave me a hint that I would soon be finding out in detail exactly what this "anime" stuff was. Not that I wasn't curious, but now wasn't the time for that. I held up a hand before she could start on the type of long impassioned speech only a true fan could muster.

"Before we do anything else, we need to talk to your parents," I said to her seriously. "You're in what, eighth grade? Seventh? I'm glad that you came to see me but you probably shouldn't be skipping school in order to do so. Things will get a lot harder once you get into high school."

For some reason, Rachel grabbing a paperback off my desk and throwing it at my head with a frustrated scream of rage came as a complete surprise.