Life After Death

Chapter 1

Harry Dresden is dead.

Yeah that was the unofficial word circulating on the street. It was not the official word because Harry Dresden's body had never been found. What led officials at the police department to this belief though were the two high powered rifle bullets imbedded in the side of a boat bearing the name of Water Beetle that Harry had been temporarily living on and a rather large and almost certainly lethal quantity of blood in a trail from where the bullets were found to the side of the ship.

This combination of circumstantial evidence was enough for the City of Chicago's medical examiner to state that it was unlikely the individual wounded by the gunshots could have survived without immediate medical attention. Because none of the city's hospitals had any record of a victim matching these types of wounds described and the blood trail that ended at the waterside railing of the ship, allowed for the generally assumption that the victim had fallen into the lake and sank. Like the Gordon Lightfoot song said about bodies in the Great Lakes… The lake it is said never gives up its dead… But since no body had been found as of yet no official word on Harry Dresden's death had been made by the city.

Police divers had gone into the water around the Water Beetle looking for a body but they had not been able to find one both due to the murkiness and the piles of trash that littered the bottom. The lack of a corpse was not particularly rare in Lake Michigan as the underwater currents in some places could become as dangerous as rip tides and carry things like a body deep out into the murky depths where they would never be found. In Al Capone's day most mob hits were left as public statements, but occasionally when one of his hitters had to make someone like a Treasury agent disappear without a trace the lake served admirably for this purpose. This can also be attested to by the complete disappearance of crews of the numerous ships and planes that had been lost over these same bodies of waters as well; those were nearly twice the number to mysterious vanish without a trace than in the more highly publicized Bermuda Triangle in fact.

The divers had recovered Harry Dresden's leather duster coat and this had been placed into evidence. The coat had seen a lot of damage in its time and was stained in more than one place with the same blood type recovered from the deck of the boat. It had not, however, shown any signs of bullet holes in the areas of the upper chest where forensics had said the shots had most likely entered though based upon the blood splatter. On the front of the jacket that was not particularly curious as Harry did not always button the coat up but since there had been no exit holes on the back of the coat as well and since the rounds had been found in the cabin side it meant there was no way Harry Dresden had been wearing the coat when he had taken the rounds to his body. It was therefore assumed that he had either been holding onto it or had dumped it over the side for some unknown reason.

Had the police kept this story to themselves then the problems in Chicago's magical world would likely not have begun to immediately spin out of control. Unfortunately in the previous days leading up to his supposed death the building where Harry Dresden kept his office had literally blown up and a rather loose lipped detective on the Chicago PD who was working with the FBI let it slip to the press that the same building occupant was being looked at for terrorist related activities. The FBI put a quick quash on that comment since they had faced slander charges before, but a story that juicy was too much for the papers to sit on, especially when a day or so later the same potential suspect's apartment building was burned to the ground by what the fire marshal declared was arson. Rumors had it that he was also present at another key location when what has been described as a terrorist attack on the FBI federal building occurred as well.

So it was totally understandable that when the police learned the likely victim on the Water Beetle was in fact the same Harry Dresden as all three of these events but that no body had been found was just too juicy of a story for one of the uniform officers with a wife and kids bringing down only forty two thousand a year before taxes not to share with certain members of the press who were known to pay well for this type of information. And that was saying nothing of those others in Chicago with less altruistic First Amendment protected rights who liked to know everything that was going on in the city that they lived in and liked to call their own.

The papers and local news had run the story but surprisingly, had done so on the back pages as filler and even then had not mentioned Harry Dresden by name. In the modern world where scooping the opposition was the only way to get ahead in this business that detail being left out of all the stories and not even hinted at was incredibly odd. It was so odd in fact as to be completely impossibly without someone of significant power coming down on all these institutions and making them play ball.

Only three groups wielded that kind of power in Chicago. The first was the federal government who, since 9-11 tried to inspire this level of support from the media either through appealing to reason or through the application of outright intimidation. Oddly enough this was the least likely group to succeed because as juicy a story that possible terrorism was, the government trying to cover up such a story was even better yet, to the point that editors and media outlet owners started dreaming about the Pulitzer Prize. So the chance that not a single one of the papers or television news officer would challenge this media censorship by the federal government and let the story out under those conditions seemed farfetched.

The second group with that kind of power was the city mayor's office. Historically the mayor of Chicago had wielded such power and influence that even President Kennedy while he was immersed in the potential for nuclear war with the Soviets during the middle of the Cuba Missile Crisis had not dared cancel a fundraising event planned with the mayor of Chicago at that time. It is important to note that this was the very individual some conspiracy theorists believed had rigged the election in Illinois with just enough votes to allow the young Senator to become the next President as well.

But the modern mayor's office exercised only a mere shadow of the power and influence the office held in those early days of the sixties. They still could bring the axe down on specific people when it was called for, but there were too many right-wing outlets now that loved exposing this type of gangster style corruption when done by the left so again it was unlikely the Chicago mayor's office had been the ones behind relegating the story to the back pages and relative obscurity.

That left the most likely subject of this odd event a certain notorious local figure by the name of Gentleman John Marcone. Johnny Marcone is to Chicago crime what Coke is to soft drinks, yeah there were others out there but everyone knew who owned the lion's share of the business. Those willing to speak of him, and they were relatively few and likely allowed to do so with his permission only, compared Marcone to Al Capone, only Marcone was far smarter, more well liked and respected by those who had business with him, more feared by those whose business turned sour, and far more ruthless it correcting sour businesses than any of Chicago's colorful history of former mob bosses.

If Marcone had decided that Harry Dresden's possible death should not be reported in the press, it was a fair certainty that this request would be honored by those whom he had made that request to. It was one thing for a managing editor to stare down the feds knowing he was backed up by a bevy of high priced lawyers and a Constitutional challenge in the courts that would bring even more press coverage. It was a totally different thing to face down the barrel of the gun that Marcone would send instead. The bevy of lawyers never seemed to want to step in front of those and it is likely the results would also end up barely reported on the back pages as well. There was no profit motive in crossing Gentleman Johnny Marcone.

But while Marcone could keep a lid on such things in order for them to avoid the mainstream, even the most ruthless killer could not keep everyone in a city of nearly four million from speculating in private. Johnny Marcone controlled Chicago's underworld, but its equally shadowy mystical world was another story all together. And in the places where these two worlds crossed, where those with mystical talent used it for crime, where things that would be better left living in dark holes they spent their days came up for air, or where those without magical talent went seeking those with for dark purposes, the word that Harry Dresden was likely dead had spread like wildfire in late summer as lesser powers jockeyed for position in this new reality.

See now that just was depressing to me. I, Harry Dresden, had spent the past ten years of my life keeping the mystical world in Chicago fairly well under control. I had a few challenges along the way of course, but nothing that a reanimated tyrannosaurus rex named Sue had been able to deal effectively with. I also had a bevy of local talent, a pack of werewolves and a resident Knight of the Cross to name the most prominent, who assisted me to reach this goal. And truth be told in the last few years especially, it had not been local trouble makers who I had been dealing with when trouble appeared in Chicago but rather some out of towners who had decided to set up temporary shop until I convinced them otherwise that this was a bad idea.

Inadvertently I Harry Dresden had become to the mystical world around Chicago what Batman was to Gotham City; its defender against the darkness and the crazies that seemed to think they should be allowed to play free. Unfortunately like a bad comic book, now someone had inadvertently sent the word out that Batman was dead so now all the same crazies in Arkham Asylum who normally were too afraid to show their faces thought it was instead the perfect time to party. I'm not sure just how Batman would handle this type of situation but for a wizard named Harry Dresden it meant I had to let the word get out fast that I was not in fact dead and that the situation had not changed. And since Marcone seemed predisposed toward that line of thinking as far as I could tell for whatever reason, I figured that by getting to him to get the word out that I was alive was the most effective means at my disposal. I could then concentrate on the ones and twos who had not gotten the message. This was a much more efficient way then rebuilding my powerbase from scratch.

Tracking Marcone down is never a simple affair as the man has dozens of businesses, each with his own personal office, spread out throughout the city. Also, while I wanted him to get the word out on the street that Harry Dresden was indeed alive, I also had this nagging issue of not knowing who it was that had tried to kill Chicago's resident wizard with a high powered rifle a week or so ago. Until I knew that little detail and had dealt with this person directly, the fewer people who knew where I could be found and what I was doing the better it would be for everyone involved, especially my friends who might find themselves the next target to draw me out.

The added complication to tracking down Malone was that I was without my own form of private transportation at the moment. My loyal car of decades, the Blue Beetle which had not really been blue for a very long time, was now a piece of crushed scrap metal thanks to a rather disagreeable hunting demon-like thing from the Mayan culture that the Red Court of vampires had sent after me. I could not rent a car to replace it for two important reasons. One I did not have a credit card as the damn magnetic strips always shorted out on me and since 9-11 no one liked to rent cars on a strictly cash basis. And two modern cars lasted less than a day usually if I had to drive them and that is all most car rental agencies kept on hand.

Thankfully my lovely, perky, and all around wonderful apprentice Molly Carpenter had a sixties Mustang that she had been driving for the past few years. She was currently a listed patient at the Cook County hospital for a gunshot wound to the upper leg that had just missed her major artery which thankfully allowed her to survive the experience and continue as my apprentice; well if it weren't for my reported death that is.

The White Court of vampires, of which my brother Thomas is a rather important member, had been responsible not only for her timely rescue to local medical facilities aboard a ship in the Gulf of Mexico, but also her eventual transfer to Chicago in order to be near her family while she healed. The Court was also picking up the hospital bills, which were not negligible in size unless you had a family fortune built upon lifetimes of immortals with the ability to seduce people out of not only their clothes but their riches as well, as a personal favor done for the apprentice of a deceased wizard and occasional ally. As luck would have it I happened to know just where Molly kept her hide a key under her car so my problem with transportation was lessened.

Another problem that I faced was being seen during the daytime. It's not like I was a vampire myself and could not go out in the sun or that there was anything else physically preventing me from doing so, only the realization that since there was obviously someone wanting to kill me I found it was better to restrict myself to only going out at night when rifle shots become far more difficult to make. That way there was little chance of someone seeing and recognizing me at a distance in the shadowy twilight of city lights.

Since I was restricted by time I decided I would scout out Marcone's evening centric businesses over the coming nights and hopefully cross paths with him at a time and place that would be advantageous to me. This way I could not only let him know I was indeed alive but more importantly I could see how he reacted to the news. As I saw things there was a slim possibility that he had been behind the hit of me that needed to be checked out, but with him likely keeping the kibosh on the whole thing I doubted he was the actual sources, or at least I was willing to start on this assumption as see where it led.

One of Marcone's more impressive nighttime businesses was a gym facility that had the absolute hottest personal trainers, male or female, one could ever hope to find. For those with such interests in a really hard workout, the staff supposedly even employed twins and triplets of equal physical qualities. Knowing what I did of Gentleman Johnny I had no doubt that each of the private workout rooms were also wired for video and sound in case any of the relatively rich and distinguished customers such as local judges or city council members who partook of these guest services would have a personal incentive to look the other way if the club's true purpose ever became speculated upon or more common knowledge.

Unlike most other fitness centers this one seemed to do its best business after dark and the number of Cadillacs and Mercedes that entered and exited the private parking garage underneath the building made me suspect that this might be one of the more likely places for John to hang out in the evening. But with all these high end cars and their drivers picking him out of the crowd coming out of this garage was going to be a whole needle in a haystack type of exercise. And that is exactly what it would have been except of course, the needle I really need to find just happened to have bright red hair and was built like a mountain gorilla in a three piece suit. As luck would have it he happened to be also be exiting the very building in question as I sat across the street and tried to plan my next move.

Hendricks, the redheaded near ogre in question, strode efficiently across the street and almost directly at where I sat in my car, so close in fact that I put up a very simple veil quickly so that if he happened to look in my direction he would not see me sitting behind the wheel watching him. Bodyguards for mobsters tend to take surveillance rather seriously as it is either police trying to take down their boss, or rivals trying to work their way higher in the organization. From his reputation Hendricks had experience dealing with both and worse still he had no qualms about doing so. In fact he had built his reputation on these activities.

Thankfully the big bodyguard was also distracted from his normal attentive responsibilities by keeping track of a young woman in her early twenties who was rushing to keep up with him. But unfortunately for her she was also wearing five inch spiked heel thigh high boots that were barely acceptable for standing, took serious balance for simple walking, and required a gymnast's coordination and control of her entire body for anything faster than that which the woman in question obviously did not have.

While the girl was certainly not unattractive she was also not in the league, looks or fitness wise, of those who worked at Marcone's gym. Her attire, which in addition to the boots was made up of a black rubber skirt and matching halter top that left the tattooed inverted pentagram on her stomach visible to the world and a new black vinyl raincoat, screamed she had read too many vampire love story novels as a recent teenager. Worst of all from a professional standpoint though was the apparent magic wand she carried that even at this distance appeared to be nothing more than a drumstick with the tip filed down so that a crystal cat's eye marble could be glued to the end of it.

Now while this girl screamed novice practitioner and probably did not actually have enough magic ability to heat tea to room temperature, the fact that Hendricks was with someone visibly attempting to appear to be of Chicago magic scene pinged my curiosity like a radar set. Hendricks was never far from Marcone so that meant Marcone also had either had dealings with this woman, or was planning on having dealings with this woman. Either way that seemed right up my alley.

Her lack of any true power as far as magic was concerned was confirmed as I noted she was texting someone with her off hand so Hendricks could not see her doings so. Bodyguards tend to get violently emotional when people talk about what they are doing and therefore discourage the practice. But still the fact that she had a cell phone that worked made me certain she had no real power backing up her 'hey look at me I'm a wizard' outfit.

While the gym had its own parking lot beneath the building and I assume an elevator that connected it to the rest of the facility, Hendricks went instead to the bank across the street and into the employee parking area to retrieve a high end BWM that I, and likely everyone else, would have thought belonged to the bank's president. This was a good way to make sure no one decided to add an exploding feature since killers would expect the car parked beneath the building. I also noted that one of the bank cameras was pointed right where the vehicle was parked. I was willing to bet that feed also went to Marcone's security station in case anyone got too close to the vehicle.

After waiting her stumbling arrival, Hendricks allowed the girl to get into the front seat of the car before he drove the vehicle around and pulled up in front of the club. Years of practice between them had the timing just right as Gentleman Johnny Marcone exited the building and got into the backseat of the car before the wheels had fully stopped.

Okay the crime boss was meeting with someone connected to, or at least attempting to look like she was connected to, the magic community. There was no sign of Ms. Gard, Marcone's female Amazonian bodyguard, which meant either she was off attending to other business at her boss's behest, or she was covertly checking out wherever Hendricks was taking Marcone to ensure it was safe to do so. All of these factors made for a situation that screamed to me the need for further investigation so I started up the Mustang and began to follow the BMW at a safe and steady distance to not alert the driver as we made our way east toward the lake front. It struck me as we got closer that perhaps coincidentally or perhaps not this was also out toward the direction and place where I had died.

Traffic was relatively light as we got nearer to the lake and the docks area and while this made following the BMW easy it unfortunately also gave Hendricks the chance to note the tail and begin making turns to shake me off. I let him think he had done so by turning off my lights as he turned a corner and sped away out of momentary sight. Next I willed a simple veil around the entire car and raced to catch up, thankful for the streetlights in this part of town provided enough light to drive by since I could not turn on my headlights. I would not be able to keep a spell like this going for more than a few minutes at most but way out here near the docks I had to figure was our destination was close since it was not an area someone was likely to just drive to without a purpose.

We reached the warehouse section and Hendricks slowed way down as if looking for a specific number painted on the sides of the buildings. It was more likely he was looking for signs of a potential trap that the girl may be leading them into but there was no reason to explain that to her especially because if that proved to be true she was likely the first to die. The windows of the car were of course tinted to prevent anyone, especially someone with a sniper scope, from knowing exactly where the occupants were sitting inside. This was a smarted added precaution even though from the way the car seemed to sit much lower to the ground than others of its type I assumed it was armored and therefore had bullet resistant glass as well.

The car slowed down in front of one building that had light streaming from inside before driving on a little further in order to look down the alleyway on the opposite side. Hendricks then performed a perfect driving exam Y-turn and brought the car right back facing the big double doors to the warehouse and honked twice.

Almost immediately the doors, fifteen foot tall things on rails that were high enough to allow a tractor trailer to back inside, were each pulled open by a pair of two more Halloween costume dressed wizard wannabes, one male and one female this time sporting enough body piercings to make my apprentice look like an extra on Leave it to Beaver. I was really going to be depressed if all this turned out to just be some kids who had watched too many episodes of Charmed growing up; but not nearly as upset as Marcone would likely be. The car drove inside, not all the way, in fact only far enough for the rear doors to open without contacting the warehouse doors. The BMW's trunk stayed right where the two doors would close ensuring there was no way the getaway car could be trapped inside if this was indeed a trap. Like I said Hendricks may look like a gorilla, but he was not stupid.

I parked around the corner where my car would not be seen, let the veil around it drop and was instantly thankful for the less strain this placed upon me. Magic is tough. It's not that a basic veil takes a lot of magic to keep running , it just takes enough concentration to do it right as to become distracting from other things like cars running red lights or other similar things that could kill you if you did not pay attention.

I got out and stuck to the shadows, reaching the side door of the warehouse where the workers came out to smoke based upon all the crushed butts lying on the ground. I was also happily lucky to find this door was unlocked. I slid it open just enough to squeeze inside and moved carefully through stacks of boxes and crates all on shipping pallets. Thankfully the floor was poured concrete so by moving cautiously through the shadows I was able to stay quiet until I could find a place to observe what was really going on here.

By this time Hendricks stood in the front of the car holding a pump action twelve gauge shotgun that had a dozen or so extra rounds in sleeves along the stock. In Hendricks hands the weapon looked barely bigger than a long barreled pistol would look in my own. I had no doubt that with Marcone's general understanding of magic that the shotgun was special loaded with mixed bag of iron, silver, and even rock salt pellets that would be lethal to all types of magical creatures. Gentleman Johnny kept his position on top of the crime world of Chicago by thinking ahead better than anyone else.

The girl passenger stood by Hendricks's side obviously wanting to flee or at least be further from the bodyguard than she was now but a glare from the big man the one time she tried to slide another foot or so away was enough to make her meekly freeze in place. She looked nervous at being this close to the big man, but both his intimidating size and his quite obviously ready shotgun reached through to the rationale parts of her mind and convinced her running would be suicide even if such a thing were possible based upon her foolish choice of footware.

The two door openers were not so tightly restricted in their movements and put distance between themselves as their hostage partner. Hendricks had obviously motioned for the pair to stay in front of the car where the headlights could keep track of them and they had wisely agreed to do so. They also conveniently for him stayed right next to each other, displaying a comfortable intimacy between them that lent each other strength but also made it likely that a single well place shot from Hendrick's shotgun would drop or at least wound the pair of them. Not only were they amateurs in magic but they were relatively stupid where potential conflict was possible as well. I noted that these two were also wearing almost exclusively black clothing as well and each sported the same new long black vinyl raincoat just like the first wore. Either all three shopped at the same store or there was a hell of a vinyl sale going on somewhere in the city.

"You said he would be here now get him to come forward into the light." Hendricks said to the girl as he grabbed her arm and shook her slightly, which for him made the scene look like a terrier with a stuffed animal.

"He…" The girl started and then stopped and swallowed again in fear before trying to speak normal again. "He is a master wizard. He will appear when he is ready." The speech she gave was obviously rehearsed but that did not mean she did not still nearly choke on it now having to say her lines while facing near certain death at the hands of a man whose eyes betrayed that he knew how to kill.

Master wizard? Those words certainly perked up my ears and made me happy I had decided to tag along. As Chicago's premier wizard and the only one listed in the Yellow Pages I liked to know when others came to town.

Hendricks spun the gun around toward the girl and placed the barrel right between the rubber covered mounds of her breasts. "You better hope that he is a little smarter than that." He said and with that the girl's knees gave out in obvious fear and she started to collapse.

Without a thought or even much effort the big bodyguard swung her around so that she ended up sitting with her backside on the bumper of the car and with the barrel of the shotgun now holding her locked in place. Her two companions squirmed at this display and seemed ready to bolt into the shadows of the warehouse as well but Hendrick's left hand released the girl he had been holding allowing the shotgun's barrel in his right to keep her steady and drew a long barrel .44 automatic from inside his coat and pointed this second weapon at the pair to keep them in place also.

"You get only one more chance." He said to the assembled trio. "Tell him to get out here or things will get bloody quickly."

The girl on the bumper could not find her voice even though she tried. Instead all that came out was an odd squeaking noise similar to a mouse that finds its tail caught in a trap. Luckily for her the other pair of rubber clad novices between them was able to pull up a little more courage and they followed Hendricks's orders just as he had directed them too.

"Wizard Dresden we call to you!" The pair said in obviously practiced voices that took on the quality of a near religious chant. They said it two more times.

Holy shit! What the hell was that supposed to mean? I could not tell if they were trying to fake a really poor summoning spell or if in fact it was an even worse attempt at a séance. I mean it's not every day that a group of wizards, okay even children pretending to be wizards, calls out your name and hopes you appear. I wondered if the rumors of my death had in fact made me some kind of modern day paranormal superstition like staring into a mirror and saying the name Bloody Mary three times. My god if that is going to be the eternal tribute for the life of Harry Dresden I'd rather be completely forgotten by everyone instead.

Much to my surprise then 'Wizard Dresden' walked out from the shadowy areas across from the car and directly into the illumination of its headlights. No it was not me. I was still standing off to the side trying to figure out what the hell was going on here when 'Wizard Dresden' made his appearance with yet a third female clinging to his side who was if anything even more scantily dressed than her sisters beneath her also new and open vinyl raincoat. Thankfully for my image at least this sycophant was the prettiest of the three.

'Harry' on the other hand had at least a modicum of taste where clothing was concerned and would not be sent off to the gallows by the fashion police as quickly as his friends were likely to be. Instead of vinyl he was wearing an actual leather duster, brand new from the sheen it still had, but almost identical to the one I had up until very recently regularly wore. Unlike me, he was also wearing a leather Stetson hat trimmed in silver. I had to admit I was a little jealous at the way this looked. The whole hat thing was actually pretty cool image. I was sorry I had never accessorized like this. But all my couture issues aside, Thomas had taught me that word by the way, the confrontation playing out before me was enough to keep me entertained at the moment and not buried into the could haves and should have of male fashion.

"You would dare threaten us with mortal weapons?" 'Harry' challenged Hendricks raising a wooden staff that had started out a dowel bought at Home Depot and looked like it had taken an entire weekend to notch symbols into with a Boy Scout knife. These marks had then been filled with what looked like phosphorescent paint and probably would have looked pretty cool under a black light bulb. Of course it looked rather pathetic in regular light. I also had a feeling if you channeled any real magic into this 'staff' the damn thing would exploded and shower the caster with a rain of splinters, but hey since this 'Harry' was only going for image I guess the staff was a good added touch.

Before Hendricks could reply the back door of the car opened up and Marcone stepped out, keeping the door open and between him and the rest in case any of the group were packing 'mortal weapons' themselves. Like I said John is not a stupid man. "You are not Harry Dresden." He said with a touch of annoyance in his voice. "Therefore this meeting is over." The way he spoke the word 'over' made everyone present wonder if he was speaking solely of the meeting or more likely of its participants' lives.

"Wait!" The 'Harry' called out as Marcone began to sit back down in the car. "It is true that the one you knew of as The Dresden has left his mortal coils behind." My god who talks like this? Either the plea or the subject was enough, however, to keep Marcone from getting all the way back into the car. It gave 'Wizard Dresden' the chance to dig himself even deeper.

"Dresden is merely a magical title for the senior wizard in the city of Chicago much as Merlin is for the greatest wizard in England." For a 'senior wizard' this 'Dresden' certainly did not sound all that calm and convincing while he made up this story. On the bright side I had to admit that this was a little more respectful of my death than being compared to the Bloody Mary urban legend. The fact that he got the Merlin detail wrong though made me think his reference point was more likely Disney's Sorcerer's Apprentice rather than the actual White Council.

"And you wish me to believe that you are now the new Dresden as you claim to be?" Marcone said getting a slow dip of the hat, just once from 'Wizard Dresden,' in response. Yep that cut it. If a hat could make a character like this look remotely convincing and intimidating in a bad situation then I had to get me one soon.

"Even if this were true, why should this concern me?" Gentleman John asked in a way that everyone present understood meant how could he profit from this particular piece of knowledge? "Are you indicating you were the one behind his death so that you could assume this role for yourself and you lackeys?" Yeah nothing like the term lackey to destroy a group's confidence and overinflated egos. But hey John, thanks for the question that I had not even thought to consider as a possibility.

'The Dresden' paused as if confused by the pair of questions. It was obvious he wanted something, but copping to a murder was not how his plans had expected to get it. "I did not kill the previous Dresden." He admitted. "The word on the street is that you employed the former Dresden from time to time to settle scores for you magically."

"Indeed. Is that what the word on the street says?" Marcone asked knowing in fact it was because largely through his efforts he had put that very word out on the street to explain our previous encounters.

"Indeed." 'Dresden' replied trying to imitate Marcone's cool demeanor and dialogue and getting only a raised eyebrow of disapproval from the crime lord in the process. "I mean it is what those in the magical community believe to be true. I therefore have come to you as the new Dresden with an offer to continue this relationship to the benefit of both of our individual interests." Wow I was not even buried yet and people were already lining up to find ways to profit off my death.

"And what references can you provide to demonstrate that you are indeed a worthy successor to the Dresden title and the sole claimant?" Marcone asked. Yeah, thanks for that too John. It's not like I wanted just anyone to take the name and run with it. If 'The Dresden' was really going to take on this type of meaning then there needed to be some sort of screening process. In fact this was something I should have made sure to trademark before I had died so that my daughter could collect the related royalties on it. Hey maybe it was not the Beatles music rights collection but every million dollar industry needs to begin somewhere.

"Unfortunately there are few who have crossed my path and have lived to talk about it to provide you this reference." 'Dresden' replied using one of the oldest wizard lines in existence. Next thing you know he will be trying to tell everyone how he lost his virginity so some hot girl in Canada when he was fourteen. The old reliable lies are really not all that reliable to those who have been around the block, they are just old.

"I see." Marcone said obviously not impressed with the story either. Go on 'Dresden,' now tell him about your Canadian summer of love at fourteen so we can get this over with.

"Well there is one old woman down in New Orleans that you could speak to." The story and the way 'Dresden' said 'Nawlins' made me suddenly realize who it was dressed up to be the new 'Wizard Dresden.'

Over a year ago I had finally decided to take a day off and just relax. I was seeing Warden Luccio at the time and had planned a nice dinner date when this group of wannabes tried jumping me right outside my apartment bent upon revenge. The leader of this group of two men and three women had been enraged because I had removed the curse he had placed on some kind old woman in New Orleans. All five had run off when I pulled out my gun but they swore one day to return for their revenge. Oh my god! This idiot was juggling nitro by dealing with Marcone and not having anything to back it up and had no idea he was about to get blown up.

"I don't think so…" Marcone said looking at Hendricks and giving a slight, almost unperceivable nod for his bodyguard to do what he did best. Things were just seconds from getting bloody so it was the appropriate time for 'The Real Harry Dresden' to make his appearance. I pulled in a little bit of magic, focused on the effect I wanted and let the spell go.

The four wizard wannabes that did not currently have a shotgun pointed at their chest were all looking around at each other for what to do now when the first notes of tinkling music, soft and very much like rain dancing on a pond, began echoing around the warehouse but coming from nowhere in particular. I was impressed that the building created out of corrugated steel walls had such good acoustics actually. When one tries out this kind of magic its effect tends to be hit or miss based upon the ability of the listeners to even catch on to it. Thankfully with no one talking at the moment and the fortunate ability for the sound to bounce off walls and ceilings it was like we were all right at the front of the stage for a concert. I half expected at least one of the 'wizards' to pull out a lighter as the song went on.

A few more seconds of guitar chords was all it took to make everyone assembled start looking around for the source. "One of the conditions for this meeting was that we would be alone and not be observed." Marcone said as he listened to the music but showed no emotion other than apparent annoyance that he was dealing with amateurs.

"We are alone." My doppelganger replied. "We did a full search of the building before you arrived."

"Obviously you were mistaken or more likely you are incompetent." Marcone answered. "Either way this is proof enough that you have no place in my organization."

Faced with this obvious setback to his plans their leader turned to his assembled minions. "Go find out who is here!" 'Dresden' ordered his flunkies and the other three scattered to do just that, each holding up something that was supposed to be a wand. The fourth member who hand the shotgun in her chest tried to move and search also but Hendricks pushed her back with the barrel as he looked to his boss for a decision. Gentleman Johnny Marcone was not about to have his most loyal bodyguard kill anyone if there was the potential for witnesses so with a wave of his hand he ordered Hendricks to let her join in the search as well just as the first vocals began.

It's all the same….

Only the names will change…

Every day…

It seems were wasting away…

Another place…

Where the faces are so cold…

I'd drive all night…

Just to get back home…

I could have stayed hidden under a veil and let the group search in vain for me but since I was now more or less committed to saving the lives of this rather harmless, though incredibly foolish, group of idiots that course would have been counterproductive. And just because I was planning to save all their lives if I could it did not mean I could not provide them a few bruises from real magic both to serve as a lesson and also to help further my own particular goals with Johnny Marcone at the moment.

I moved into a rather conveniently narrow channel of stacked boxes and aimed my own magic channeling weapon forward across the opening as I waited for my first victim to come to me. It ended up being my counterpart's love interest who chose the wrong alley to turn down and inadvertently came face to face with me instead. Her surprise changed to the beginnings of a scream of discovery but I had the drop on her and therefore spoke first.

"Forzare!" I said channeling magical force through my staff. Not too much or too tightly concentrated to break ribs but a near perfect amount to lift the girl from the floor and toss her twenty feet right over the hood of Marcone's car to crash into a stack of boxes on the other side. Her cry of 'I've found him' or whatever she was going to yell never made it past her lips but the alert got out all the same.

I'm a cowboy…

On a steel horse I ride…

I'm wanted…wanted… Dead or Alive…

Wanted…wanted… Dead or Alive…

I must admit I chose this particular song to play on what I have recently come to call my I-Pod spell because I had driven a Mustang (steel horse) to get here, and in fact whether I was dead or alive was obviously of serious debate both in the magical and underworld communities at the moment. For the record I did not profit from the use of this song incase Jon Bon Jovi ever wants to sue me for using his music without written permission.

I wandered over through another series of shadows and crates to find my next suitable ambush position as the inevitable 'He's over there' cries of the obvious began to circulate through the room. Thankfully these interruptions occurred only during the instrumental part between lyrics so no one really missed out on the song.

Sometimes I sleep…

Sometimes it's not for days…

The people I meet…

Always go their separate ways…

Sometimes I really think the gods of magic love me. I could not have asked for a better lead in for the next Hogwarts disciple to cross in front of where I was hiding.

"Forzare!" I called again and this time the original shotgun girl got a momentary taste of what it was like to fly on a broomstick around a stadium audience, well minus the broomstick of course. B she did get to fully experience a rough landing against a hard surface as well. Rubber may look cool in a nightclub but it has no real cushioning capabilities in magical combat. Man I hope none of these crates have the word 'Fragile' painted on the side or someone's insurance company was going to be really pissed. Two down, neither of which appearing overly injured but neither showed signs of any desire to come charging back into the fight now that they had experienced the power of a real wizard.

Sometimes you tell the day…

By the bottle that you drink…

Sometimes when you're alone…

All you do is think…

"Now he's over there!" My doppelganger screamed and while I could not see him from my current position I had no doubt that he was pointing in my general direction, or at least where I had been when I had tossed his last companion and before I had taken the time and move my position again. I did take a moment when I had the chance to look over at the car and noted that Marcone had his hand up keeping Hendricks restrained for the moment from joining in on the hunt. The overlord of all crime in the city of Chicago seemed quite content to see how this all played out.

I'm a cowboy…

On a steel horse I ride…

I'm wanted…wanted… Dead or Alive…

Wanted…wanted… Dead or Alive…

The romantic pair who had opened the doors happened to be close and I only made it over one more row before the two of them entered the same corridor I was in, saw me, and raised their wands to point in my direction.

Oh I ride…

Part of me really wanted to wait and see if they could even make the tips of their wands glow, but unfortunately I had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment than wizard show and tell. I could have used the magical force spell and tried to toss them both but that chanced doing real harm to their bodies with that much force and as stupid as the pair was, I would rather they chalk this up as a learning experience rather than the start of long term disability. So what I needed instead was something a little more widespread but not particularly deadly.

"Ventas servitas" I called out and the natural tunnel created by the stacked rows of boxes allowed my spell to channel a regular air current into a brief moment of narrow hurricane winds that did not throw the pair through the air like the magical force spell had did to their companions but instead only knocked them on their asses and sent them tumbling back across the floor like two out of control rubber balls to crash up against the boxes on the far side as well. Their groans thankfully only lasted through the instrumentals.

I'm a cowboy…

On a steel horse I ride…

I'm wanted…wanted… Dead or Alive…

I stepped around to the main central hallway of the warehouse but still way toward the back where I was just a vague shadowy image out beyond the reach of the BMW's headlights. I exaggerated my movements just enough to draw 'The Dresden's' attention to myself and he turned toward me not unlike two cowboys about to face off on the streets of Tombstone. Cue the vocals Jon if you would be so kind.

I walk these streets…

A loaded six string on my back…

I play for keeps…

Cause I might not make it back…

I've been everywhere…

Still I'm standing tall…

I've seen a million faces…

And I've rocked them all…

'The Dresden' was fast and spun his wand around to point right at me. Had it been a gun he might have gotten a shot off. Had he been a wizard with any real power, heck he might have even killed me. But the best he could do was make the crystal on the end of his wand glow deep and sinister red before I launched my own spell.

"Solvos!" I commanded aiming my own weapon at his. The magical breakage spell snapped the wand and shattered the crystal into a fine rain of sandy particles that glimmered red in the air as the magic held inside the stone faded away.

I'm a cowboy…

On a steel horse I ride…

I'm wanted…wanted… Dead or Alive…

Cause I'm a cowboy…

I got the night on my side…

And I'm wanted…wanted… Dead or Alive…

I let the song fade away because you really cannot improve on the tension after a good showdown scene anyway. 'The Dresden' though was looking to the remaining two inch stick in his hand and then up toward me since I still had my own weapon pointed directly at him.

"You broke my wand!" He said looking back at it and then to me again in total shock and almost to the point of tears. "That is not fair!" Wow this kid really was out of it. I almost considered letting Marcone have his way with him but I did not want to ruin that really nice coat he was wearing. But that gave me a perfect idea.

"Your coat and hat." I said waving my weapon a little more at him to keep his attention and my intimidation. "Take them off and toss them over here." I ordered.

"My c… c… coat?" Wow, who knew that the new 'The Dresden' actually had a stutter issue when he got nervous? Damn that would making casting spells in combat a real bitch.

"And the hat." I said making sure not to forget that as well. I had to admit it really improved the image.

He looked heartbroken for a moment since the ensemble likely set him back more than five hundred bucks but prudence and a strong survival instinct won out and he stripped them both off, rolled the coat up carefully and stuck it in the hat and tossed the whole getup to land right by my feet. That unfortunately left him standing bare chested in only a pair of tight leather pants that would have probably made him extremely popular with Greek sailors but I figure that was his issue to deal with. Oh well embarrassed and alive is better in his case than dead which is what would likely have happened.

"Now pack up the kiddies and get out of town." I said unrolling the coat and putting it on to his obvious disappointment. The hat actually fit as well. There is nothing I like less than a tight hat.

The kid looked like he wanted to put up some last argument, but a quick look to his friends showed him that they were already scrambling to follow my orders as none of them cared for a second taste of what real magic can do. I hoped they would decide that new elections for team leader were in order soon. The one they had been following was obviously not the brightest bulb on the tree and few people outside of Hollywood ever lived through two mistakes of this biblically epic proportion.

I stepped up fully into the headlights of the BMW. "Marcone I believe we need to talk." I said.

"Well you at least give a better show at being Harry Dresden than those children did." Marcone replied. "However, the Dresden I know seems to prefer fire and I noted that you avoided using spells of that nature." He said with a hint of challenge in his voice. "Or should I take this as a personal insult that you only like burning down my buildings?"

"What can I say John?" I raised my hand and willed a magical fire to glow within it. "You are special to me."

*Wanted Dead or Alive performed by Bon Jovi*