Hi everybody! ducks fruit being thrown at me Yeah…late update. Heh heh. I am really, truly sorry about that and I really, really didn't mean to let it get so long, but as school starting drawing to a close and with AP testing and extended essays due, I was just dead. I was also having a lot of difficulty with plot arrangement. Hey, I gave up a good night's sleep before my first driving lesson to get this posted. Be grateful!

Anyway, I sincerely hope this was worth the wait. Thank you for sticking with me and I hope to see many happy reviews or else I won't have the motivation to keep going.

-O-

My safe house is situated in the Lincoln Park district. Full of young and the restless families just starting out and anyone else who can afford to inhabit Chicago's most popular neighborhood. On the neighborhood's far eastern edge is the park for which the neighborhood is named and includes the nation's oldest zoo and two museums. Lincoln Park includes many of Chicago's most popular bars, restaurants, theater companies, and retail shops. A fairly good place to hide. It's chic, but it's better than the Gold Coast. I mean, there's enough disgruntled workers, tired of serving rich brats and eccentric artists there to get an easy bribe for info on its inhabitants. I mind as well paint a red and yellow target on my forehead saying, 'Yes, I am in fact an ex-Raith. Any enemies please shoot here.'

We pulled up a few blocks from the bar that my apartment is situated over.

Bob gave it an appraising look. With a sprinkling of esthetic sarcastic humor, he commented, "It's not seedy per say, but I highly doubt it attracts the sorry souls hoping to drink away their problems and wallow in their unhappiness."

"I need it for my cover."

"Oh, and what would that be?"

I grumbled something under my breath.

He raised a hand to his ear. "Sorry boss, didn't quite catch that."

I gave in, not really up to anymore probing from the incessant spirit.

"I'm a male prostitute from Las Vegas who goes to Chicago for stripping when Las Vegas gets to be too much. There, are you happy?"

A few sniggers escaped as he shook from silent laughter. There was a moment when he honestly tried to stop before he broke down again into silent fits of hysteria.

I glared. "Get in the skull Bob."

Bob looked stricken. "What? You can't be serious. I've got a body now. What's the point of having a body if I can't walk into a nudy bar?"

"It's not a nudy bar and you don't have a body. You've got a make-believe, mirage body and I am not going to be stuck explaining why you can't be slapped after lewd comments."

"Oh ye of little faith."

"Now Bob!" I ordered sternly.

He sulked for a few seconds before turning into an orange smoke cloud that descended into the skull sitting in the passenger seat. I stuffed it into the nylon back pack and slung it over my shoulder before retrieving my duffle from my trunk.

The bar, despite my profile, was actually pretty decent. A friend of mine owned it and is generally thankful for the influx of customers I bring in during my brief stays. Those customers tend to stay loyal too, coming in every few weeks to check if I've been in.

She greeted me affectionately, offering to get someone to carry my bags. I declined and set my sights to my room, taking a brisk pace towards the stairs. Unfortunately, at about six steps up a few customers chose that exact moment to recognized me.

"Hey, it's Trip!"

A short, twiggy burnette waved jovially. "You going to treat us to another spectacular Trip-tease, while you're here? We've been waiting awfully long."

I could hear a muffled sort of giggle from the innards of my back pack. Entirely fed up, I yanked the strap off my shoulder and let it fall none too gently to the floor.

"Whoops," I announced dramatically, raising my voice enough to be heard through the layers of nylon, "Looks like I dropped my bag. Wouldn't it be a shame if I accidentally kicked it down the stairs and someone mistook it for a piece of no good, rotten junk and threw it away?"

The bag fell silent immediately. I placed it back over my shoulder, muttering darkly. My admirers went back to their drinks, assuming I had an even rougher time in Vegas than normal.

The one room apartment looked exactly like when I had last left it. Sparse furniture, dark colors, computer desk, fridge, and an enormous black futon couch. I had been expecting all of my brother's things to be littered everywhere. Newt eyes in the kitchenette, blasting rod on the table, candles on every available surface. This was definitely empty.

"Titania? Am I in the wrong place or something?" When that garnered no answer, I began to pace, peering over my shoulder in random intervals, "Titania? Summer Queen? Are you here babe? Sweet cheeks? Doll face? Tinkerbell?"

"I am not a half-wit pixy that spreads shiny dust and can only make bell sounds at you, young Raith," came the indignant reply from the couch.

There, sitting crossed legged and wearing a stunning red cocktail dress, was Titania in all essence of pissed-offedness.

"You sure do dress skimpy though."

The glare she sent me was one of pure loathing.

"Right," note to self, faeries make bad enemies…shouldn't I know that though? I mean, I spent the afternoon with Maeve. Second note to self, remember important details about people before I open my mouth, "I was just wondering where all my inheritance has gone off to."

"I thought you'd appreciate Harry's things to be placed separate from yours."

She pointed towards my closet.

"How thoughtful of you."

"You are not pleased?"

"That's my only closet! Where am I supposed to hide all my laundry?" I whined.

"Then I suggest you to actually wash your laundry."

Placidly, I walked over to my closet, hand hovering above the handle.

"Nothing bad is going to happen if I open it, right?"

She nodded towards the door. "See for yourself."

"Oh yeah, and suddenly have an avalanche of books and nasty chemicals dump right into my face? Thanks a lot lady," I grumbled under my breath.

I twisted the cheap brass knob in slow trepidation. I sighed in relief as the door swung out on its own accord. Wow, where there had previously been a two by three foot closet was a spacious circular room, cavern almost, walls lined with shelves and a desk snaking its way along the curved walls, organizing Harry's stuff like it had never been before.

"Huh, spiffy."

"I am glad it pleases you."

Mouse's bed was underneath a section of the desk. He lifted his head from the plushy cushion and slowly lumbered over to me, still a little hazy from sleep. I gave him an affectionate nudge with my leg and a pat on the head. He watched me more than a little suspiciously.

"I'm fine," I assured him.

Mouse snorted and walked past me into the main room. By the time he began sniffing at the futon, Titania was nowhere to be found. Damn faeries, see if I ever clap for one of them again. I helped myself to some beer I stored in the cupboard, thoughtfully examining my new digs, setting the bracelet onto my palm and fingering the little black beads lining the bracelet in between the three dangling shields and once again feeling the gentle sensation of power set into my hand.

"Hey Bob?" I asked absently. I saw his image materialize just to the right of me, leaning against the counter, reflected on the glass of my beer bottle. "How am I supposed to use Harry's doo-hickeys if I can't use magic?"

"Simple, you use borrowed magic," he nodded to the beads, "Each one of those have enough magic packed in it for a one time use."

"I don't understand," I struggled to recall what Harry had told me, "I thought the magic that makes up the foci must touch with your own magic in order to condense it into a concentrated force."

Bob's face lit up as he moved in full swing within his element.

"Yes, very good, but in this case the beads will work as a buffer. They provide the raw magic and energy required for the bracelet to shape that into a shield. Now all you need to activate it is…?"

"The will," I supplied, smoothly ignoring the fact he was addressing me like an everyday schoolboy…even if I would look totally hot in the outfit.

"Exactly," Bob's expression turned serious, "but keep in mind the beads count for each impact on the shield, not the number of times you summon it."

I threw down the bracelet in frustration, which clattered on the tabletop.

"Shit Bob, there are only thirty beads. If I'm up against a machine gun--"

"Then I suggest," Bob stated, voice rising above my own, "you practice so as not to waste the strenuous amount of time and effort Harry invested into those thirty beads."

I flinched slightly, Bob's reprimand cutting deep and far too close to home. It implied I was selfish…ungrateful. Shame burned dully in the pit of my stomach. Harry had done a lot for me, including saving my butt barely half an hour ago. It's just hard right now. Really, really hard.

I swallowed, suddenly in desperate need of privacy. "Maybe later Bob."

He peered at me down his nose in a disapproving manner before dispersing into a smoky cloud and floating lazily into his skull. Mouse whined sadly and placed his head on my knees. I scratched his ears for a few seconds before tiredly standing and making my way to the computer. I would need to alert my contacts and make sure I had open communication channels. I wonder how easy it will be to tell people of my brother's death. I wonder how it'll look all typed up, neat and orderly…and permanent. I push the power button with heavy reluctance only to have absolutely nothing happen. Frowning I check the monitor switch, which decides not to respond either. I check the plugs and hit the hard drive a few times before I saw a slight flicker on the screen and then blankness once more. I huffed, pouting slightly at the piece of hardware. I had just bought it and it goes retarded on me. Maybe I didn't do the setup procedures right or, more likely, Titania's magic closet room was throwing everything off.

Grumbling, I made my way back to the closet door and was about to shut it when, thinking better of it, I stepped inside. The computer was either screwed entirely or would fix itself in time and as neither of those outcomes were conducive to my investigation, I mind as well abandon it. Harry's notebooks were probably in here and knowing him, most of his case work would be jotted down somewhere. A large stack of Mead 70 page college ruled notebooks in the corner looked fairly promising. I picked up the first one only to find some notes about potions. The first page was titled 'Awesome Sauce' and scrawled under it was 'trophy figure, yearbook clippings, hamburger, Ode To Joy, expensive cologne/perfume, ticket stub from amusement park…'. Huh, popularity drinks, that should have been a great seller. I read a few more of the bizarre recipes before setting them aside and taking up another one. It took about three notebooks before I found case notes, though much to my misfortune nothing seemed to be dated. I ploughed onwards through the sometimes unreadable scrawls and weirdly shaped 'q's, listlessly sifting through account after account of nothingness jobs or disjointed comments from what I assumed was months, if not years, past. I tossed aside a useless doodles pad, but didn't pick up another one.

Mouse pushed a few of the notebooks I had thrown back into a pile next to me and perked up his ears in inquiry.

"I know, I know. I've got to be patient," I dragged my hand through my hair, "It's just that, one would think that if Harry had all this time to make his magic gizmos, he'd have jotted down a few notes for me."

Mouse turned up his nose a little and snorted.

"I suppose so. Harry must have been busy with more important things and probably counted on me to figure this stuff out on my own."

Mouse wagged his tail energetically, but didn't accompany it with his customary doggy grin.

"Yeah, it's just hard…I really miss him, which is stupid right? It's not like we talked everyday or anything, but it's nice to know I've always got someone I could call. I don't know. Things are moving too fast and I feel like I'm just drifting along. You know what I mean?"

Mouse butted his head against my chest. I embraced him slightly, running my hand over his well kept fur.

"I'm glad I've still got you buddy."

He whuffed in agreement.

I looked him straight in the eye. "You think you can grab me a beer from the fridge. I'm getting pretty thirsty here."

He sneezed and stalked off to his bed cushion in refusal. His strut suggested disapproval.

"I do not drink too much!"

He sneezed again.

"And quit judging me!" I turned back to the desk, "Sheesh, you act like my mom."

A bit miffed and still thirsty, the stack looked incredibly unappealing. Casting around my eye for anything remotely interesting I noticed a promising red box of Cheese-Its. Trust my brother to keep a few snacks in the workplace. I snatched it and munched down happily until I remembered that what I really wanted was something to drink and that the cheesy crackers were just serving to make my mouth parched. Damn my easily diverted attention.

I searched the general vicinity, hoping Harry would keep a water bottle somewhere close by. I was rewarded with a third full bottle of light blue Gatorade. Mouse growled menacingly from behind me.

I shot him a look of defiance. "It's fine. Can't a man enjoy electrolyte fueled drinks without being all sweaty and athletic?"

Ignoring my dog mother I quickly untwisted the cap and chugged down the remainder of the drink, which was surprisingly cold for something at normal room temperature. I could feel the cold slowly trickle down my throat and into my stomach, churning slowly. A small ache erupted somewhere behind my eyes and a little down my throat…a brain freeze? My body grew heavy and finally went slack entirely, my knees giving out from under me and the now empty bottle falling from my rapidly numbing fingers. Collapsing slowly to the ground, my cheek came to rest on the spotless white floor. My eyes flicked over to the fallen bottle. Fruit Punch? When the hell was fruit punch made light blue? My breathing slowed without my permission and my eyelids began to droop, but it felt like my brain had detached from my body and I was wide awake, totally untouched by the numbness my body seemed to be entrenched in. I could still acknowledge that something was very wrong even when everything was slowly dimming and colors tapered off into darkness.

Empty. An endless void of nothingness. I like these kinds of dreams. I choose a sidewalk on a clear sunny day and then a path to the park to walk through. I want Justine too, but things aren't working like they should. The sidewalk's wobbly and made of a milky white smoke. The sounds of my footsteps are off beat. I can hear the sound of Justine's clothes rustling beside me, but can't see her.

"Justine? Justine!"

It isn't Justine who answers.

"Thomas! Thomas, here!"

My heart begins to pound wildy alongside the frantic rhythm of my quickening footsteps. "Harry!"

"Thomas, you need to listen to me. You have to listen," his voice echoes.

You never listen. Never.

A distant chimes sounds through the emptiness, its sound leaving a tinny ringing in the back of my mind. I run forward and all around me shadowy buildings materialize though the blankness, undulating slowly as if only a mirage of a faded memory, colors muted and shape undefined. The mist billows out from under my hurried steps, turning to the dirty grey of cement.

"Harry?!"

"I'm here!"

The voice seems to come from all sides and I blindly make my way forward, but at the last possible moment I turn to my left. Just around the corner. He's there, on the other side of the bend. I know it.

And he is.

His back is toward me and just as he is about to turn around someone turns out all the lights and takes away the floor. Suddenly I'm falling, falling through the all consuming dark of oblivion where the stark white nothingness had been before. There is no wind yet I close my eyes as if by instinct. It is no darker than when I open them. My heart skips a beat and then there is ground beneath my feet, but still no sky or any other plane of existence.

There appears a light, shining upwards from the floor. I go to it, drawn by its persistent brightness, forcing the darkness at bay. There is a barred window upon the floor. I kneel before it, but do not test the bars. Below me I can see a chamber. Harry is in it. He's chained against the wall, torso bare and nose bleeding sluggishly. His body sags and his head lays limp. If not for the sound of his ragged breath I would think him dead. He lies so still. Defeated.

Another figure enters from the side, steps silent. From the inner folds of his robes he pulls out a leather whip, which trails along the ground like a snake.

"Harry look out!" I call out in warning.

He does not stir and the whip goes down without his notice. It makes the sickening crack of leather meeting flesh and he jerks and screams, brought back into an ever growing nightmare. The figure strikes again and again and my brother has not the strength to halt his screams. I shout and pull at the unforgiving bars.

Too late. It has me. You doomed me to this pain. You didn't save me. You weren't there. I was waiting. I called for you, but there was never any answer. You abandoned me. You left me to die.

"No," I wailed, "no, I didn't know."

The room is filling with a torrent of icy water as dark as the deepest part of the ocean. In seconds it is filling up to the grate, chilling my arms and legs as I continue to tug and strain at the bars. Knowing no other way I shove my arm through the grate and through the numbing cold I feel something through the water. Without question, I wrap my unfeeling fingers around it and hold fast.

There came a rush of color and sound. The void began to fill all at once, my senses overflowing with a cacophony of sensations and sudden clarity. I kneeled upon the rocky earth of a cliff, small rocks digging into my knees. Grass was speckled in little bursts among the beige sand. The sky was blue and the sun so bright it hurt my eyes to see.

I am at the edge of the cliff and still clutched within my grasp my brother dangles over the edge, the rocky bottom at least a thousand feet down. I nearly sobbed in relief when Harry's pallid face peers up at me.

He manages a weak smile.

"Big bro's always looking out for me."

Except when I needed you most.

That shot an immediate death curse to my renewed happiness and I felt my grip on Harry slip half an inch. I tightened my grip as best I could, hoping my panic isn't too obvious. There is a slight hint of fear in Harry's eyes, but I look away.

"Harry, I'm not going to let go. I will never let go. I won't fail you again," I vow.

He looks weary.

"Thomas you've got to let go sometime."

"No, I can't," I feel a tear drift down my cheek, "You're my brother."

He gives me the best smile he can muster. "I know. You're special Thomas. You're the only one who can find me."

"I don't…understand," I say between my heavy breathes. Holding him is getting more and more difficult.

"I'm here. I am always here," by some will of his own, he forces me to look him in the eye, "Let go now Thomas."

"No, you've been dead too long to think I'd do that," I say desperately, voice cracking.

There was a sudden change in his face, a flash of anger. Hate and pure unadulterated rage reflected deep within his eyes. Accusation written across his features.

You killed me!

Stunned, I didn't even notice my grip on him slacken until he was falling, falling away from everything.

Thomas?

I wake up to an insistent nudge around my head. I'm lying on my side in the middle of an unrecognizable alleyway. I pushed away Mouse's massive head, forcing my legs under me, wobbling feebly and threw up beside the dumpster. I wretched miserably until it dissolved into dry heaves, my body trembling weakly. I leaned against the side of the dumpster and concentrated on breathing evenly.

"Thomas, are you alright?"

"Fine, just fine," I rasped. "What the hell happened?"

"That juice was a panic potion. It was meant to be an immediate form of transportation for a quick getaway," Bob chewed on his lip, "It is supposed to lock on the Beatle, but I believe there wasn't enough potion to carry you the full distance."

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "How'd you end up here?"

"Mouse brought me…" he paused, choosing his words carefully, "You were…distraught. Yelling and moving. We were unsuccessful in waking you."

"Yeah, I figured," I replied bitterly.

"Yes well it doesn't help that I can't touch you. I mean, really. At least I got here. All you people do is complain. I never--"

I held up my hand to silence him. A faint metallic click reached my ears.

"Take cover!!"

I ducked behind the dumpster just as the sound of bullets rang through the air. I saw Mouse swiftly dodge and then leap into a nearby dumpster towards the entrance of the alley. A few bullets pinged against the shielding of my smelly hiding place. Bob had not moved.

"Bob!" I screamed, "Move!"

He rolled his eyes as another assault of gunshots rained down to which Bob paid no notice as he calmly strode over to my position, while bullets hit and went directly through his spectral form.

"Oh…right."

He gave me a withering look before looking me sternly in the eye.

"Thomas, there are two shooters on the roof of the building adjacent to this alleyway. They haven't got much room to relocate, but we can't allow them the time to gain a better position."

I nod, quickly absorbing the info and processing what I could into a plan.

"What weapons do they have?"

"Guns," Bob answered gravely.

"I know that!" I screamed, "What kind?!"

"Well how am I supposed to know? The only guns I've ever seen--"

"Right, crossbows," I wracked my brains, "Did you or Mouse bring down any weapons?"

"I don't know, do either of us having working thumbs?" he bit back, wincing slightly as a bullet hit the wall beside him after taking a scenic route through his head.

Trying to get a better view of their weapons, I leaned a little out from the corner and twisted my neck towards the adjacent building. The immediate response was for a bullet to rip through what little portion of shoulder I had risked from safety. I grunted and pulled back, feeling fresh blood begin to slide down my arm. Distracted and pressed for time I could only muster up enough of my borrowed life essence to repair the muscle damage, leaving it as a mere flesh wound that could heal on its own. I scooted closer to the wall as I dared without getting too close to the veritably digested foods I had purged from my stomachs a few minutes ago.

"Thomas listen, you have Harry's most practical field weapons. USE THEM!!"

I looked to my hand now stained with drying blood.

"Helluva time to start practicing Bob!"

"Is it my fault you didn't practice any before drinking yourself away!"

"What?!" I cried indignantly, "If you had just stuck around and insisted!"

"Do I look like your mother? Stupid, witless--"

"Okay okay, my fault, doesn't matter. How do I use these things?" I interjected.

Bob took a deep breath. "You must concentrate. You must focus on what exactly you want the shield to do, its size, placement," he makes a few wild hand gestures, "and what it shields against. Use your emotions, fuel the mental image with your need."

"Okay…I can do that," I ran my hand through my hair, "Shield, bullets, uh big…what else do I have to remember?"

"Oh Christ, just practice a quick one right here."

"What?! I could be wasting the bead that actually might save my life."

"Yes or you can die anyways because you weren't able to make anything better than a soap bubble. Besides, unless the shield actually shields against something it isn't counted as a use."

"It doesn't matter, we don't have time for this."

"Let them shoot you again. They might think they've only got to wait a bit longer to make sure you bleed out."

"It isn't as fun as it looks you know," I shot back. I whistled shrilly. Mouse bugled in response and leapt out of the dumpster, weaving in and out of the line of fire and sufficiently entertained the shooters.

Okay, here it goes. I wiped away the thought as quickly as I had thought it and focused on breathing. Then in the utter quiet of my mind I summoned the word shield. I wanted it strong and big, really big. With a woosh a flashing thing of shiny glass burst from the bracelet like a hologram and it kept getting bigger…and bigger…and bigger. It expanded until it hit both sides of the alleyway and grated against the brick walls before seeming to pop and dispersed. One of the beads crumbled to dust and fell away, the other beads shifted downwards to fill in the missing space. Oops.

29 beads left

"You're going to have to make it a little more specific than big Thomas!" Bob yelled.

"I'm trying!"

I took a deep breath, more than a little shaken. I was scared in fact. This was real. I had just willed a nonexistent object out of nowhere. Magic was real. My magic…Harry's magic. I've seen it done a million times, been saved by it, been hurt by it. My mother had it, my brother, my father, the world I lived in, but never me. This sure wasn't the 'poof' instant toad where there was a person kind of thing like in Harry Potter. How dare JK Rowling lie to me like this?

I tried again, but this time I thought about everything, everything all at once. Instead of forcing my mind into quiet I embraced the blind panic and the sickly remains of my emotions after my dream. It seemed to construct itself inside my minds eye. All its workings and specifics laid themselves within my control. The bracelet hummed in merriment.

I leapt out from behind the dumpster accompanied by a blinding flash of blue light. It was not the weak glassy film I had produced before but instead flared into place in a blurring swirl of colors that solidified in an instant into a curved rampart of purified silver energies. Bullets pinged off it, alerting me easily to the general location of the shooter.

"The ring with the roman numerals is a telekinetic burst ring," Bob shouted above the cacophony, "Use it!"

I gritted my teeth as I began to weave forward, desperately holding onto the shield. "How?!"

"THINK!!"

I stretched out my hand to the shooters general position and tried articulating my thoughts.

Boom was the only thing that came to mind.

The ring glowed red and burned smartly as it pulsated a small wave of energy toward the shooters. With an interesting sound like a million popped balloons the guns they were holding flew up and hit them directly in the face. The shooter on the left, to his misfortune holding a heavy M-16 machine gun, fell out of view when his nose basically exploded with blood on impact. The other man was a luckier and dodged away from his flying pistol before gathering up his companion and moving towards the other end of the building.

I sprinted across the street in hot pursuit, Bob's call of, "THAT WAS THE BEST YOU COULD THINK OF?!" ringing in my ears. I hoped to head them off on the far side of the building, possibly finding their escape vehicle. To my disgust there was no car in sight, but the buildings were just close enough to jump. Scaling the fire escapes with inhuman speed I arrived to the top of the building, expecting to find the injured shooter either dead or abandoned by his companion. I searched the area, but there was no sign of them. The blood trail lead nowhere off or away from the roof.

Narrowly escaping death and no closer to knowing anything. What else was new? I used the elevator down and made my way back to the alleyway to pick up Bob and Mouse. That potion had eaten away most of my daylight and I'd have only a few hours before nightfall. I counted my remaining beads. Four remained, but I had no time to dwell on my misfortunes. I've got a plate of green beans with my name on it.

-O-

The address brought me to a nice, modest neighborhood, the kind where all the kids played in the middle of the street and a small grocery is on the corner, convenient for parents, but far enough for kids not to chronically empty out their pockets on sweets and trinkets. It's where happiness exists. Undiluted happiness. Where there's no drive by shootings or break-ins. Somewhere that kids actually live with their moms and dads, and ate dinner as a family.

Truthfully, there was nothing wrong with my childhood. It was without wanting, comparatively to my brother. A house full of siblings all willing to play with me and give me all the attention I'd ever need. Nice nannies, even if they only lasted a few months at a time. Lots of toys, an established family structure. A welcoming home. I blew out candles on my birthday and stole cookies from the kitchen before dinner just like any other kid. Then I turned seventeen and my father introduced me to a really pretty girl. She blushed a lot and she was willing. He encouraged me. They all did. I killed her. She was my very first. It had felt so good. Mind blowing. My father was clever. He didn't pick someone I might have cared about, just something my demon would awake to. It wasn't as shocking as one would think. I didn't wake up next to a cold corpse or remember much from it.

From then on I was introduced to the real life my family lead. I found out that my sisters were more than two dozen times my age. I was introduced into the intricate workings of the White Court and my blooming powers. I felt the Hunger constantly. That dark presence that pushed all of my humanity aside. I found out about our cousins in the Red Court. I started to notice subtle, or not so subtle, differences and oddities in my father's house guests.

In all honesty, I had known beforehand, more than perhaps any of my sisters had. It was mostly because of my mother. She told me stories about magic since the cradle against my father's wishes, but she was never one to show obedience. She was the only one who ever stood up to him. There was always a smirk about her face whenever she was with Raith, a blatant reminder that she was playing him just as much as he was playing her. She lived a life carefully guarded, her heart and soul shielded. She was never like that with me though. She was always quick to give me a hug or, my favorite, show me her magic. She preferred working with water. She'd manipulate its shape and then freeze it, making me little statues of farm animals and jungle creatures. At one time she reconfigured the molecular structure of a glass of water into something like a semi-gas and made it implode on itself and shatter the glass. She taught me how to generate light from my pentacle necklace. After she left I wasn't able to do it anymore.

She helped me realize my family wasn't what it seemed. Once two of my sisters closest to my age convinced me to play out in the rain. I had really wanted to go, but I knew I wasn't supposed to. They said it was okay and I spent all afternoon and well into the night splashing in puddles dressed in nothing more than bright yellow shorts and a t-shirt. I was found asleep in the middle of the yard a few hours later, burning with fever. My sisters volunteered to take care of me without hesitation. They had an extension put on their final projects for college. My mother gave them quite a punishment for that. Before she left she told me that my family measured their love for me by my worth, that I needed to be resourceful in order to survive. When I was four my only brother, Jonathan, went away to study at Cambridge. My mother set me straight. Jonathan was murdered by my father, but not by his own hand. She warned it would never be by his hand. I cried for days when she left. I loved her so much, but I could never work up the nerve to ask where she went. Any mention of her would incite my father's considerable wrath. I was five at the time. What the hell was I supposed to do? I missed her so much. Life was a lot more confusing when I wasn't being guided by her firm presence. When I was old enough to use the Raith family resources I searched for her. It didn't take long to discover she was dead or her cause of death. She died in the delivery room, giving birth to another man's child, ready to cherish and love another child barely a year after abandoning me. It had taken years to get over the feelings of betrayal that had overwhelmed me. How could she? My father wasn't the greatest person to be around, but wasn't I enough to keep fighting for? Wasn't I important enough? Good enough? The feelings had ebbed away once I began to know my father more, like what he did to my sisters. After that the question became why she hadn't taken me with her. I could have had a whole other life. One with Harry and his father. It would be just the four of us. I would be Harry's big brother. I'd show him how to play tag and hide and seek, teach him numbers and the alphabet. They'd take us to the park on the weekends and mom would make our lunches for school. Maybe we would have been happy. Or maybe…it would have been worse. Mom was being hunted, she didn't die merely from giving birth. Harry's dad didn't last too long either. We would have been sent to an orphanage without even the comfort of being together because Harry hadn't stayed in the orphanage. After a few years he had been chosen for his apprenticeship. That would have left me alone with no possible way to be accepted back into the Raith household.

Maybe life was better off the way it turned out. I ignore the dull aching in my chest. A little boy's dreams are hard to break, but hurt to carry on in the cold desolation of the adult world.

A few blocks down I pulled up to park right in front of a moderately sized restaurant, painted in a vibrant red. I opened the car door and stepped out, peering surreptitiously into the window, the gold lettering spelling out the restaurant's name hindering my perusal. Mouse cleverly unlocked the door by himself and hopped down beside me and nosing the door close.

"Saigon?" Bob questioned quizzically, phasing through the car and stepping up beside me, "Last time I saw a map, that was in Vietnam."

"Bob!" I practically yelped, "You can't just walk through car doors when we're in public. People can see you now remember?" I snapped in irratation.

"Will do boss." He gave me a mock salute before moving towards the front door.

I sighed, rubbing my throbbing temple. "Uh Bob."

He halted, looking guilty. "Maybe you should open the door."

"You think?"

I pushed open the door, bell tinkling invitingly as the heavenly scent of home made cooking and spices assaulted me. I stepped aside to allow Bob to pass, who, just to spite me passed a little through my side. I rolled my eyes and crouched down to look into Mouse's eyes.

"Okay boy, stay here and watch our backs. I'll call if you can come in or if we need help. Got it?"

Mouse nodded gravely and gave a doggy grin before butting his huge head against my shoulder. I gave him a reassuring pat and walked into the restaurant. It was classier and roomier than it had appeared outside. Impeccable white table clothes adorned the tables and stylish, asian-esque plate sets were a good contrast to the cloth it ornamented. The plates were square, but had a shallow dip and the chopsticks beside it alternated between obsidian black and pastel green. The only thing odd was that there was no other customers or workers, which wasn't all too eerie since it was a little past normal dinner times.

No one seemed to be at the counter, so we sat ourselves down at one of the empty tables. I snagged a menu from a chair in the corner and plopped it down onto the table. Bob looked a little more than sullen.

"Oh, I assume you're not eating?" I extended the courtesy apologetically.

Bob gave a disgruntled, "No, I will not," before going back to glaring murderously at the empty dinner plate.

"How are you even able to sit on a chair when you go through walls and stuff?" I ask curiously.

He sighed long-sufferingly. "It's the same reason why I don't phase through the ground and end up in Russia."

"And that would be…?"

"Do you even know where Russia is located?" Bob asked cynically.

"Yes," I answered defensively, "it's right near Prussia."

Bob stared at me bemusedly. "Weren't you the one who tried touching the mordite after you were informed it was commonly called a deathstone?"

"Hey, it didn't look all that scary."

"Heaven on earth, it was called deathstone! What more indication do you need?"

I took a moment for a few deep calming breaths. I would not stoop so low as to fight with a technically intimate object that should be under my control. I would not.

"Whatever Bob, answer the question."

"Very well then. You see, I can will my image anywhere I like, but that doesn't mean I can affect the things I, for all intensive purposes, touch," he gestured to the table, "Did you notice I did not move the chair when I sat or that the table cloth has not moved an inch from its original spot, despite my presence?"

"Ohhh, like in the Sixth Sense," I said proudly.

"Indeed," he deadpanned, "never mind the magical ability it takes to perform this particular feat. Real magic is nothing compared to Hollywood magic any day."

"Exactly, now shut up, I'm trying to order." I dove back into the menu, searching for the item Harry had specified in his note.

It was a very authentic menu. I knew this because it was in some variation of asian script and the English description was rather lacking and hardly discernable. I groaned as I perused the list with the least writing until I figured out that it was merely the beverage selection.

"Um Thomas," Bob called timidly.

"Not now Bob."

"Thomas you really should--"

I waved him off. "Just a minute I think I've found the vegetarian section."

"Thomas, get your face away from that menu and pay attention!"

Bob's exclamation was met with the sight of him frantically dodging away from the hand of a young Asian boy, who seemed fixated on Bob's shiny ascot button. The kid couldn't be more than ten and was not pale, but had a light tan and ears that stuck out slightly. His black hair was cut short and close to the scalp in a way reminiscent to Shaolin students. His eye brows were furrowed in determination as he tried for another grab at Bob's button.

I dropped the menu as I leaned forward in order to intercept the kid's hand.

"Whoa kid, don't touch him. He's got," Don't say STDs, don't say STDs. Must not soil innocent mind, "old people cooties!"

The kid's eyes widened. Nimbly ducking away from my hand, he darted berneath the table. Regaining my balance and taking the time to replace any tableware that had been upset by the brief struggle, I was just about to pull aside the table cloth when I heard a triumphant whoop and a yell of surprised from Bob. Suddenly appearing behind Bob's chair, the kid was now delightedly shoving his hand through the back of Bob's head, effectively passing through the illusion, fingers wiggling out of Bob's startled face.

I shot up from my seat, but tripped and crashed to floor when I discovered one of my shoelaces had been tied around the leg of my chair. A little dazed and face plastered onto the floor, I began to hastily untie my shoe.

"Thomas! Thomas, a little help would be appreciated!"

"Get back into your skull Bob," I ordered.

"Won't that make this worse?"

"Worse than it already is? Just obey my orders and get into the freakin' skull!" I bellowed.

There was a flash as he abandoned his image and gasp of surprise from the kid.

Knots undone I got up, rubbing my side as I did. Oh boy, this was going to be hard to explain. The kid looked shocked, eyes glued to the spot where Bob had previously been. My mouth was partially open to say something like, 'Abracadrabra! Don't worry kid, I'm a magician' or some other equally lame excuse when I felt something bump my leg. What the hell? I looked under the table to see the kid's face nervously peering back at me. WHAT THE HELL! I checked topside, but the kid was no longer there. How could the kid move so fast?

Mouse chose to make his appearance at last and barked twice, growling in what seemed to be a doggy version of reprimand. On either side of the table, the same kid surfaced from underneath the tablecloth, both wearing the same white button up shirts and red pants, covered with a simple black waiter's apron.

Twins, perfectly identical twins.

Of course. It's just been that kind of day.

-O-

"I am very sorry," Mr. Seung apologized again, words somewhat halted by a heavy accent, "My sons are always causing trouble."

He yelled something at them in Korean (as Bob had been kind enough to identify) which caused them both to cower with identical expressions that told me that they've done this sort of thing very often.

"Our restaurant is closed, but you can have dinner with us."

"Um thank you," I said hesitantly, "I was supposed to order the fried green beans."

He smiled widely. "Oh yes, that is a good choice. My wife makes it best."

He whisked away into the kitchen and left me feeling mildly ridiculous. I had thought 'fried green beans' would be a secret password that would reveal a devious plot full of treachery and deceit that would ultimately lead me to my brother's killer and allow me to have my revenge. Now it looked a lot like I was getting dinner. How anticlimactic is that?

Folding my arms across the table I rested my head on it, letting the day slowly catch up to me. Harry seemed to keep popping up on me, but it always seemed to be like shadows, so fleeting and temporary. It felt like I had a million open wounds, each one unhealed and unattended, left to bleed my life away, draining me of feeling. I don't know how much more I could take. My only hope is that once that son of a bitch who dared murder Harry is a bullet ridden corpse in a ditch I'll be able to put all this behind me and continue on with what life I have left.

"You're his other half, aren't you?" one of the boys remarked quietly.

I lifted my head and made a face, "What are you talking about?"

"The magic man's."

Twin Two rolled his eyes. "The one who came here a few days ago, Mr. Dresden."

"My other…"

"The two of you are half-brothers, right?" Twin One insisted.

"Half…?" then it clicked, "Oh, you misunderstand. Half-brothers mean we have a different father."

Twin Two shook his head. "Yet you each have half of your mother's blood."

Twin One nodded. "If each of you share one half of something, then together you make a whole. Do you see?"

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. No rebuke to dissuade the ridiculous theory. Well…perhaps not so ridiculous because somewhere deep inside me the little boy's words resounded within me, leaving a feather light touch somewhere in the depths of my soul.

There must have been some form of shock registered on my face because Twin Two impatiently pushed his brother aside before addressing me.

"I apologize if my brother's words have distressed you in any way. He has a talent for that. His name is Hyun pronounced Han(s). Mine is Yaio pronounced Yo."

"No, it-it's fine."

Hyun turned to me with hope shining in his young eyes. "Please, have you talked with Mr. Dresden? Did he say anything about--"

"Shut up Hyun!" Yaio admonished sharply.

"No please go on," I persisted urgently, "This is why I came here. My brother left me word that this place would put me on the right track for this case."

Hyun stood face to face with his brother and placed his delicate childlike fingers upon Yaio's shoulder in a way much more characteristic of an adult.

"I trust him Yaio."

Yaio sighed wearily. "You always do," he moved away toward the kitchen door, looking back only briefly, "I'll get father, it'll be easier to explain."

I once again summoned Bob to my side as Hyun busied himself with connecting a second table to the one I was already sitting at, receiving some assistance from Mouse. He too disappeared into the kitchen and soon came back with a plate of food, followed by the rest of his family each carrying another two dishes of steaming heaps of homemade goodness. Mrs. Seung was a very small woman, but only in height for she was niether plump nor willowy. It was almost like she was meant to be long and elegant, but hadn't quite grown into it yet. Her face was inviting and lips very slightly upturned to make her expressions look at ease and comforting. It was a good contrast to her husband whose body structure, although lean, had definitive shoulders which gave him a V-lined sort of body shape. Although a man some time past his prime and now moreover a family man, all of his muscles were still intact. The only evidence of aging was that his face had softened with proud years of fatherhood. They both were somewhat paler than their children and their hair was a truer shade of black, while their children sported more of a very, very dark brown.

Mr. Seung sat at the head of the table on my right, Mrs. Seung sitting in front of me with both her sons to her right, and Bob to my left. I was allowed to first partake in the wonderful foods as a guest, along with the two children, all three of us watched by the two older adults who seemed to chide me about my meal choices as much as their children. I soon found myself with both parents making sure to spoon an extra amount of vegetables and rice onto my plate and fussing about the meager little portions I thought was prudent to take. It went without announcement that we did not speak about business while we ate. There was a sort of quiet tension about the table as dinner progressed, which I knew was not just due to strangers at the table, but something else within the family as well.

It was fantastic and the green beans were in fact very good. They had a nice texture and went well with the tofu pieces that went with it. There was a small variety of cuisine typical of a lot of different Asian influences. Lots of little Korean side dishes, a bowl of pho next to every plate, and stir fry dishes that were well proportioned with the meat and veggies.

Once we had eaten mainly to our fill and mainly just picking a little on the last few scraps on our plates Mr. Seung set aside his chopsticks in an archaic manly way of saying it was time to speak of great important things.

"So, it is my understanding that you are taking over the case from Mr. Dresden," he started cautiously.

"Yes, my brother has passed me the case since he is no longer able to do so." I was still a little uncomfortable with saying any more.

"He is dead then."

I flinched inwardly before nodding. "That is why I have come. My brother was, from what I gather, hard pressed for time and was not able to leave me much to go off of."

He stroked along his chin and jaw in thought. "I see, then there is much to tell. My sons who you see before you, Mr. Raith, are not the only ones I have fathered. I have a third son, Lee."

"They are triplets," Mrs. Seung added, looking older and careworn.

"He is the youngest," Yaio informed me.

"Yes, he went out on his own, but when we heard no word from him a little after two weeks, Mr. Dresden was put on the case."

"Wait, he was put on the case?" I asked, "As in, he was here on council business?"

Mr. Seung nodded gravely. "We are one of the few ancient families still remaining, Mr. Raith."

Bob immediately began to explain to me without prompting. "The ancient families are gifted with many of the old forms of magic, passed down from generations of unbroken blood lines. There are very few that remain. It can only be directly passed from parent to child. Different families possess different gifts. I suspect," he looked directly at Mr. Seung, "you were, as your sons now are, one of the Earth's chosen children. The connection between nature and the mortal man."

"I don't understand," I say a little testily. It seems like I've been having to say that an awful lot.

"Thomas you have heard of this before. Archive is one, the very moment she was born her mother's gift was passed to her. She is the record's keeper. Within her is all that has ever been known. The history of the Earth in one living person. There is also one who minds the lesser creatures, animals and the trees. I imagine there is somewhere a father time type of figure too," Bob rationalized.

"His name is Dennis," Hyun piped up happily, "He lives in New Zealand."

I tried my best to sift through that information. "Okay, so there's this whole legion of kids who have godly abilities who more or less represent the Earth and can actively affect the people who inhabit it?"

"Yup," Hyun replied proudly, "Last year we all went to Disneyland together."

Yaio rolled his eyes. "Paul-Jean thought it would be funny to allow the stars to move during the firework show."

"The stars can move?" I asked confusedly.

"Yes, the stars are actually a kind of people," Bob gave me a pained expression, "I can't really--"

I held up a hand. "Then don't. What can your family do Mr. Seung?"

"We have been blessed with healing. It passes every third born child. I was the third born of my family and my father before me and his mother before him. When we had triplets the power was evenly distributed between the three of them, but it is Lee, once he reaches the age of nine, who will ascend and attain the full power of the three unto himself alone."

"Why nine?"

"It is three times his third year of life," Bob answered.

"Of course, magic makes any infinitesimal amount of logic make sense," I muttered darkly, "So what happens to Hyun and Yaio once Lee ascends?"

Mr. Seung eyes shifted nervously from the two of his boys. "I'm not sure. Usually the other children who do not inherit manifest strong magical abilities. One of the Senior Council Members, Ancient Mai, she is a relative of mine. She was only a second born, but the blood of our family is strong. Often times the ancient family lines do not apply to Salic law."

"If it was deemed necessary to split the healing abilities among the three at birth, what purpose would there be to join them now?" I asked a little testily. This was all giving me a big headache.

"There can only ever be a single master, Thomas," Bob replied, "There can be no contradiction of power."

"It is the dividing of power that makes a democracy, otherwise there is only a monarch or tyrant," I pointed out.

"I think that's why Lee left," Mrs. Seung murmured quietly, "He was a good boy and content to share his rightful inheritance with his brothers. He was probably trying to find a way to change it. I fear he's fallen into the wrong hands."

"If Harry's died going after him then that's probably true," I confirmed distractedly.

Things weren't adding up the way I had hoped. From what I can deduce, Harry actually went to Maeve after being assigned this mission, which meant that he had good authority to believe Maeve had either struck a deal with the suspect or was somehow tied to the case. So far I had four potential suspects. Someone who is targeting me, someone who killed Harry, someone in with Maeve, and someone who kidnapped Lee. Now I had thought that all four of the people would be the same person, but it didn't seem like the person who killed Harry would want to target me at all. I had nothing to do with this ancient family council business, why would I be on the agenda? But then, this afternoon's shootout fiasco is proof enough someone is out to get me, although not by magical means as my brother's stolen pentacle had suggested in the beginning. Dammit! I hate this crap. I DON'T UNDERSTAND.

The family exited, leaving me to brood. I explained what little I could piece together to Bob as Hyun and Yaio cleared the tables. To my credit, Bob was honestly stumped as well. I excused him to his skull and continued to direct my thoughts into a constructive manner.

"You can't actually make plants die if you continue to glare at them like that," Yaio commented.

I grunted grumpily, rubbing a little at the bandage covering my wound from this afternoon. By this time it was itching and variably uncomfortable.

"I can take care of that," he offered softly, eyeing the way my fingers lingered over the damaged area.

I removed my hand in silent allowance. Yaio, even through my shirt, located where the bullet had first pierced my skin and lightly pushed his thumb on the epicenter of the wound. The pain subsided with the ease of a wave washing away the sand. All discomfort became a long distant memory and the headache I had been harboring for the past few hours disappeared along with it.

"Wow, color me impressed. Instant miracle. You wouldn't happen to be advertised in the Yellow Pages would you? I'm sure you would have a steady flow of customers." I watched his face closely for his reaction.

"It doesn't work like that," he snapped. "I can't just go to every hospital and stop everyone from dying. If someone's supposed to be saved they'll find their way to me."

"Fate's a tricky thing. There are a lot of people who don't deserve to die."

"It's not my job to determine people's fate. I may only play a part in it." With that he retreated back into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Hyun.

"He seems fairly bitter for someone who has the ability to save people's lives in an instant," I remarked casually.

Hyun came to sit beside me, occupying his father's vacated seat.

"It's hard for him, as it is for us all," he fiddled a little with a stain in the tablecloth. "Each of us can heal a different part of a person. Yaio heals the body; I, the heart or soul or spirit, whatever you may call it; Lee, the mind, which connects the two together since you interpret your own sense of being. In order for us to heal someone we must be able to see the source of a person's hurts. Lee sees how people think, their motives and influences. He can understand a person more than they can ever know about themselves. Yaio sees people in terms of what will eventually kill them. Liver disease, heart failure, diabetes, cancer… Can you imagine being surrounded by death? To not just know a person's smile or their laugh, but how they'll die someday?"

I shuddered. I hadn't developed such an intimate relationship with death until I actually started killing people. For this little eight year old to be expected to live with this…the world's a really harsh place sometimes. And these kids are supposed to be the Earth's chosen children? Winning the lottery would have been cooler.

"How do you see people?" I asked cautiously.

The boy smiled mirthlessly and when he met my eyes I felt a deepest core of my being tremble and grow cold.

"I see people damaged and scarred, struggling through life, sometimes not truly alive at all," he placed the flat of his palm over my heart, "I can see it in you too. You carry your pains like a constant burden on your soul."

"Isn't that how it's supposed to work?"

"Pain is to be faced on your own time and never on its terms," he winked, "and not when I'm around."

Unlike the relief that Yaio had given me, Hyun seemed to fill me with what felt like a gallon of hot cocoa, an hour of giggles, and going on my favorite rollercoaster all in one intimate sensation, like he'd gone and turned all the lights in my heart into spotlights all shining bright on me. I let out the breath I had been holding and suddenly felt lighter.

I remembered why I didn't like Chinese restaurants. Harry took me to one about eight months ago. It was a little corner shop and packed well over its maximum capacity. Harry ordered some kind of pork dish, while I went ahead and picked the third thing of the menu, since I was more occupied with the pretty asian waitress who brought us drinks. We were about halfway through our meal when I had Ching (or Tang, whatever) sitting on my lap and asking me how big my egg roll was when, in a moment of euphoria, I had raucously asked what exactly I had been devouring for the past ten minutes. Ching was quick to assure me that it was the best kind of dog available in all of Chicago. I promptly was sick all over her red silk dress, all to the great amusement of my good for nothing brother, who sat back laughing at me until his face turned purple. We had been thrown out of the restaurant…for life.

"What the hell are you still laughing about?! You have nothing to celebrate. I thought this was your favorite restaurant."

"It is, but it is well worth the sacrifice to finally see you lose your lady. And let me tell you, that was the most spectacular fall from grace I have ever had the pleasure to experience."

"I hate you."

"Shut up, I'm basking."

It was a happy memory of Harry. After finding him dead, it had been a lot harder to remember them, out of reach and far away. Now they were a little closer.

I was just about to form a worthy enough thank you when the loud bang of a sniper shot being fired pierced through the suburban night. It just narrowly missed me and I could almost feel the air stir about my face. Without thinking, I grabbed Hyun and released another shield about the same size as the now shattered window. The shield proved to be too hastily done as it shattered under the next two shots. I used my fierce protectiveness for the boy pressed against my chest as motivation for a second shield, which burst to life in its now familiar silver energy. I just managed to pull out my gun when another shot ricocheted off my shield, the area of impact lighting up with a strobe-like flash. One bead left, telekinetic burst ring out of juice, and too dark to see my assailant. God hates me.

Another shot pinged against my shields, which flickered and died just as my very last of thirty beads disintegrated, leaving me utterly bare. It didn't leave without its services, however as I emptied out my clip into the general direction where the last shot had originated. I was rewarded when I heard the distinct sound of multiple bullets tearing through flesh and the guttural cry of the shooter as he died.

My triumph didn't last as I heard the unmistakable sound of a heavy caliber rifle being loaded. Bad guy was following the buddy system. No chance for cover and zip chance of surviving a direct hit. We were going to die.

In the .2365 seconds it took for the second shooter to pull the trigger I was hit by a hundred different emotions at once. Anger, fear, hysteria, regret, sorrow, shame, panic, and the desperate urge to scream like a girl overtook me.

Then, several amazing things happened at once.

First, I did indeed scream like a nine year old girl.

Second, my telekinetic burst ring gave off its customary sting, indicating it was set off.

Third, another shield erupted from my beadless bracelet to meet the oncoming bullet.

And finally, the letters WTF stamped themselves onto my forehead as the section of roof the shooter had been previously standing on exploded with the enormous force of a powerful psychic blow.

Magic rocks.

-O-

A/N: Yeah…this chapter a little sloppily done. I kind of just wanted it done and posted for you guys. Ohs wells, I'm pretty satisfied with what I've got. I mean, originally this story had no plot apart from Harry dying and Thomas mourning him.

Please review. Awesome sauce.

Reviewer Responses:

Thomas' Sword: You know, it really pleased me as to how damn fast you reviewed after I updated. It was really rewarding as a writer to get that fast of a response and really gratifying to know that people like the personal little tweaks I put on the Book/TV-verses. Good metaphor spotting. gold star

Cap'n Tami Sparrow: Okay, I didn't really understand what you meant by "I see these stories all the time…". Didja mean the whole, Harry dying thing? I dunno. I LOVE THOMAS AS WELL!! I also think he didn't get as much justice as to character detail once he actually started living with Harry. Before that you actually had a good feel for Thomas' character and you would think with Harry around him all the time you'd get a fuller picture, but instead Thomas withdrew which suited Butcher's purposes but us poor Thomas fans were left unsatisfied.

Innogen: Of course Bob is cheery! For Bob cases and information is the only kind of way he can actually carry out an existence, so he takes great pleasure in anything he does.

Silver Cateyes: Thank you, I try very hard to stay true to Butcher's original writings and I was really trying to distance myself from the normal Dresden Files stuff/crap out there. I really strived to tell my own story within the world of Dresden and I am happy that people have taken a good liking to it.

Chianna: Yeah, I think I e-mailed you in the hope you wouldn't abandon my stories. Hopefully, you've stuck around to stay for this update. . Anyway, yeah Harry's a little too stubborn to go out with anything less than a bang. He's got a role yet to play. Yeah, the fandom actually doesn't get too much of the Book-ies since Butcher doesn't condone fanfiction, but I know we're still lurking, looking for an apt enough story to read. I have taken the great pains in trying to write that story. At least the good reception of my stories makes up for amount. -

A Person: I'm glad I'm someone's hero. Helps me not think I'm as clumsy as I really am. No, I haven't stopped. Just perfecting a few things. I am really loathe to sacrifice my plot for just the story, so I hope you've been patient enough to get this update. THOMAS ROCKS!

velja: The Best, me? Wow, that is really high praise. Yeah, Thomas is way too cool of a character to just sit back and do nothing in the world of fanfiction, so I took the liberty to get him off his stunning arse and force him to entertain us. Harry's definitely not dead…I just misplaced him somewhere. Well, here's my update…although still not much about Thomas' revenge. I must remedy that next chapter. Thank you for the lovely and praising review. It made me happy! -