Soon she's home once again; she takes off her coat and hangs up her purse on the hook near the door. Then she removes her highly unusual bequest. She taps on the top of it gently. "Okay, fellas, end of the line. You can come out if you want to."

Two pillars of smoke, white and black stream out and materialize. Murphy is suddenly aware that she hasn't had a man in her home in years, not since her ex-husband ceased to darken her door. "Uh, there's a guest room...?"

"Are you alone here?" Bob asks, examining the photographs on the wall depicting Lieutenant Murphy holding a young girl.

"I get my daughter, Anna, every other week. She's nearly ten. Is she allowed to see you?" It's one thing to house these spirits, it's quite another to hide things from her daughter. It would take some pretty big lies and weak excuses to cover up these two.

Bob considers, as though he may be thinking along the same lines. "Provided she can be discreet, I have no objection."

"Oh, she knows there are things you're not supposed to talk about. Her father helped there," Murphy huffs, getting a small degree of pleasure from mad-mouthing the man.

"I'm sure," Bob agrees as Harry nods in understanding.

Secrets were always familiar to him. The only person he'd ever felt wrong about constantly lying to was Murphy, and now she's in on it. Oh, the things he could tell her now!

"Thanks for everything, Murph, I wasn't sure they'd let me come back. All I'd hoped for originally was that you'd give Bob a good home, and be his friend."

"Hey, what's one more? It's not like either of you is going to cost me anything to keep." She turns to Bob, "And strange as it might be, I like you already."

The pale ghost flinches; no one's ever liked him in ages, apart from Harry. He stares, dumbfounded. "You do?"

"I can't say I've ever been friends with a ghost, but...I'd like to be."

Yet another pleasure long denied to the cursed spirit was that of companionship. His other masters would often summon him to perform or to obey similarly trivial demands, others demanded his esoteric knowledge, but he was never summoned for social reasons. Only Harry had drawn near him for the sake of friendship, a frightened orphan seeking comfort from a grouchy, cynical ghost. At the time, it had taken some mental gymnastics to come to terms with their relationship. It had been as though fate had provided two sad, lost loners with a friend when each had needed one the most. A friendship which in its adulthood blossomed into love. And now another person—a warm, living, normal person—wants to be his friend?

Bob stammers, nearly stricken speechless, "I...I don't know what to say. Thank you?"

Harry recognizes the turmoil within his companion and takes his hand again, giving it a squeeze, clapping his other hand on his shoulder. "Things are looking up, huh?" He whispers.

Bob breaks into an awkward smile, as though he can't process so many miracles in one day. His beloved returned from the dead to stay with him out of love, a new guardian of a completely different cloth, who desires his friendship. Friendship! Of all things. "My dear Miss Murphy, I'm certain we will be." The bond between them strengthens, he can feel it with his very essence. Hers feels like a cord of silk. Material soft, beautiful, and luxurious, yet when twisted tightly shows unexpected strength and resilience. That was what Murphy felt like.

"Good," Murphy smiles. "Look, it's been a long, tiring, and very weird day. I have to get up at 6am, so I'm going to bed. I'm going to put this in the guest room if you'll follow me." She remembers to go at a slower pace so as not to end up dragging Bob again. It certainly looked uncomfortable. She sets the ghastly-looking thing on a bookshelf, faces them again, hoping for their approval of their accommodations. They thank her and she heads to bed.

Once she's gone, the ghosts look around. It's sparsely furnished, which is just as well since they don't need many home comforts at this point.

"We can set up the lab in here," Bob suggests, keen to get the place looking more like home as soon as possible.

"Something tells me Murphy isn't going to like that."

"Yes, perhaps you're right," he drawls. "Old habits die hard, I suppose. I can't imagine what we're going to do now." His fingers twitch irritably, itching for his musty old tomes and smoky gas burners.

Harry grins, "I'll see what I can do."

"Actually, it may be better if I asked her myself." Bob supposes thoughtfully, "Such a request would require a delicate hand. You, Dresden, are about as delicate as a rhinoceros in heat."

"Wow, glad I came back. I can't imagine missing out on this abuse," Harry grumbles, but knowing better than to take it personally. It falls right in with their usual pattern. They'd tapered off on the put-downs since being honest about their feelings, but...old habits die hard.

"Even if we got all of that here, though, we can't handle any of it, we can't use it without hovering everything and that's a lot of work. And I don't think Murphy is sorceress material."

Harry's reminder had the opposite effect as intended. An interested expression crosses the smartly-dressed man's face, calculating... "Bob, don't even think about it. I checked, she doesn't have it. Besides, Murphy and magic don't go together."

With a heavy sigh of defeat, Bob paces, "All right, all right. But even just for atmosphere, it would compliment the new decor." He gestures to his skull.

Murphy had been on her way past their room to the bathroom when she hears a snippet of their discussion, particularly about Bob considering training her in wizardry. She groans silently, rolling her eyes, wondering just what she's gotten herself into. It couldn't hurt to let them have a few of their things, just to...darken up the room? It would make them feel more at home, and she'd been entrusted with their possessions anyway, so it shouldn't be a problem to get them.

"Well, I had a busy day, too, Bob. Life, death, life...I'm gonna turn in," Harry announces before misting away. Bob follows and the room is quiet again.

Sometime during the night, Bob feels restless. Since he hadn't been expressly banished to his skull, and had merely gone in of his own accord, he didn't need Murphy to release him. He walks through their bedroom door and looks in the living room. He begins writing in the air...

The next morning, Murphy rolls over, unsure of what roused her. She opens her eyes. Filling the room with soft golden light are the words "Good morning, Lieutenant Murphy" in an elegantly sloping hand., floating inches from her bed. Initially startled, she finds herself smiling at them. "Morning, Bob," she says in return. The words vanish and more float up at her, instructing her through her pre-work preening. As she gets downstairs, she finds another reminder near the fridge. "For God's sake, try to find something healthy." She gives a short chuckle at how her new ghost's tone is easily conveyed in written form. She can even imagine the look on his face.

She peeks into their room and sees the air glimmering with signs of a celebration. Bob's and Harry's names written together numerous times, last names interchanged, hyphenated, so many combinations, as though they were seeing which way looks better. Hearts and stars sprinkle golden dust from the walls and ceiling. She smiles, feeling as though she'd made the right choice in taking them in. Keeping her word, she moves the skull to the living room. While she isn't sure how far from it they'll be able to go, she hopes it will give them better access to the house, and they could even get back in their room if they wanted to.

As she's heading out the door, one last message floats up to her. "Have a nice day." Then- "Don't get killed," is scrawled in a familiar hand.

"I'll try not to, Harry."

Murphy goes about her day, while everyone around her are surprised by how unaffected she seems. Her regular freelance consultant dies at a crime scene and she looks perfectly normal. Some suppose she's glad to finally be rid of him. Some on the sidelines remark on how cold-hearted it seems to just get back to business like that. She could at least have the decency to look somber, but Lieutenant Murphy looks positively chipper. Amid the office mutterings and whisperings, it's clear she's definitely gone down in a lot of their estimations. Harry Dresden wasn't exactly a close friend of the force, but he at least made the appearance of doing what he could to help, he'd even died in the line of duty, trying to save others. Murphy's behavior, while businesslike, struck many as ultimately disrespectful.

Back home, around noon, Bob looks at a calender on the wall, this week is highlighted with Anna's name, starting today at 6. He hastily writes a reminder to his new mistress, squishes it down to a speck, and blows it away. It flies out the window and through the city. It zips into the police station and finds Murphy's desk. It unfurls with the reminder to pick up her daughter after work.

"Thanks," she whispers, and it swirls away discreetly.

Figuring she's on her lunch break, Bob chances sending another message. When it spreads itself out before her on her desk, she reads, "Might you be so kind as to pick up a few of our books and materials from home?" Not sure if she can answer, she hisses, "Later!" and the words vanish.

Harry spends the day restlessly pacing. Bob recognizes it all too well, recalling when he'd been recently killed, his early days as a ghost. The sudden feeling of uselessness sets in and makes one feel like a caged animal.

"Perhaps you should have gone on, dear," he tells him concernedly, gliding up behind him and rubbing his shoulders, still amazed at their new allowed closeness.

"Nah, I'm fine, bet it just takes getting used to, doesn't it?"

"It's not easy, and it won't happen any too soon. Just try to remain calm. It's one reason I wanted some of our effects here, for a sense of continuity." This does nothing to improve Harry's mood, and Bob is rapidly growing ill watching his incessant pacing. For once he's the stationary one. He'd always been the more active one of the pair. He wonders if Harry has noticed the change...

"Dresden," he drawls grumpily in his old school teacher tone, hoping to get his attention and make him stop. Then, in a warmer, more playful tone, "Harry...Bainbridge."

That name stops him in his tracks. Harry looks up at Bob, his mouth hanging open.

"Like it?"

With a light chuckle, Harry rubs his hand across his face, trying to look normal. "Not sure I could pull it off, but..."

"Yes, well, we'll work on that, shall we? In the meantime, try not to wear out Miss Murphy's carpet."

With a weak smile, Harry nods, eyes scanning the room for their skull. Ever since it had been stolen, he likes to keep it in view. Nice of Murphy to put it out in the open like that. Bob follows his line of vision, slightly confused.

"I still get bad dreams, when you were taken, only I never get you back. Terrible."

"Harry..." Bob soothes, cuddling in close. "You can't get rid of me that easily. I knew you'd come for me. Sorry for almost killing you."

"It's all right, Bob, it happens," he promises, hugging him tighter. "I think tipping Murphy and them off about how to find me when I was kidnapped makes us even."

"We do have a knack for heroics, don't we? At least with each other," Bob observes.

Then they pause, hearing a noise. They follow it back to Murphy's bedroom where her TV is on the cooking channel. Bob brightens up as it begins rerunning an old black and white Julia Child episode.

"Now she is a fine lady," he declares, as if daring to be opposed.

Harry laughs, "What, you're telling me you knew Julia Child?"

"Certainly. I might not have been able to fully benefit from her talents, but that doesn't change what a remarkable monument to womanhood she is."

"Was," Harry corrects, shocking Bob.

"What, she...? Oh..." he sighs is disappointment. "A fine lady," he repeats firmly. As the episode is introduced, Bob starts writing in the air again, rapidly copying down today's recipe as she delivers it.

"Bob, Murphy can't cook like that."

"If Julia can do it, our Murphy can do it. That's the whole point of the program, that's what she told me," Bob asserts steadfastly, not missing a line. He watches, adding to the notes as he goes. As the directions start coming faster, he switches to mystic runes for shorthand.

"So, what, was she one of your old flames?"

Bob looks scandalized, "I shouldn't need to remind you that I'm dead," he grumps. "And to insinuate that she'd be unfaithful to her husband is nothing short of defamation. I met her once, she was absolutely delightful. For that brief window, I'd forgotten what I was reduced to. She reminded me of my mother, if you must know."

"The bubbles in the world's champagne flute," Harry mockingly rhapsodizes.

"Precisely," Bob agrees in all seriousness, drinking in the show reverently, "Poor dear."

Once the whole thing is written down, he sends it floating down to the kitchen, he'd even included a shopping list of things she'd need.

Harry stands next to the wall, observing. "You're taking your new job seriously, aren't you?"

"What else would you suggest I do?" Bob gives the written instructions a look with a hopeful smile, "Besides it pleases her."

"You writing in the air? She likes that? I thought she hated magic."

Bob struggles a moment to explain, feeling very much as though he's back in the classroom with a student who cannot recognize the subtle nuances he's trying to illustrate. "She hates big, scary magic. This is little, useful magic."

With a bit of a grouchy expression, Harry asks, "So, she's made you into her personal supply of Post-It notes?"

Bob visibly wilts at the comparison, he'd had the impression he was helping his new mistress govern her life, which sounded as though it became horribly complicated at a moment's notice. He looks genuinely insulted, scowling, at the idea that Harry may be right.

The look on the old sorcerer's face brings Harry to his senses, "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean anything by it. It's what you can do. She doesn't need any mystical crap bogging down her life. It's great you can help her."

"I'm not really her set of Post-It notes, am I? I used to be a rather accomplished, not to mention powerful wizard. I was a necromancer!" He's looking quite self-conscious about his lover's assessment of his abilities.

"I know you were. You taught me everything I know. Forget what I said, it was mean, all right? I guess I just can't think of what I can do around here. Don't let me ruin it for you."

Bob looks up at him sympathetically. "It's hard at first, I know all too well."

"Is this why you were always so jumpy and agitated, running around, gesturing wildly?" Harry sums it up with a colorful impression of his companion's mannerisms.

"Maybe," he shrugs, "Perhaps around the living I have to make a bigger show of it, to prove I still exist. You probably just need a rest. I was only able to be out for short periods at first, it was too much all at once."

Harry pouts, tracing Bob's bottom lip with his thumb, "You coming to bed?" They share a smile and mist away together.

Bob's suggestion turned out to be spot-on. After a good long timeout in his skull, he and Harry feel better. Harry is noticeably less surly and the feeling in the home is quite cozy again. The air is hung with messages and reminders in both of their handwriting, they'd been having fun mixing in ones meant to make Murphy laugh with the ordinary notes. They had to just to break up the monotony and to see if she's really paying attention.

Around 6:30, the door handle turns and a girl runs in, sees a strange man in the hall and glittering gold messages floating everywhere. Both faces become drawn and stunned, as Harry slaps his forehead. He'd completely forgotten about Murphy bringing her daughter home for the week.

"Mom! Mom, come quick!"

"Dammit!" Harry hears Murphy mutter. She'd clearly forgotten to tell Anna about her new roommates. She walks through the door and looks wonderingly all around. "Oh, wow, guys!" she gasps as the memos float down to her eye-level, vying for her attention. She wanders into the living room, where they'd simply drawn beautifully complex patterns over the TV and furniture. Her friends must've been bored, she surmises. Anna, on the other hand, is frozen in place, waiting for her mom to tell her what's going on.

"Just wipe through them when you're done," Harry tells her. "Just don't touch the one in the kitchen until you copy it down on paper."

Murphy still is looking in all directions, amazed. "Anna, this is Harry, he's a friend of mine," Murphy tells her.

"How did you do all this?" the girl asks, still sounding stunned.

Harry grins, adopts a few of his father's old stage magician gestures, "Magic!"

"There's no such thing as magic," Anna replies sadly, sounding like she's repeating something she's heard many times before.

Looking embarrassed, Murphy tries to help the situation, "Sweetheart, it's not polite to contradict someone."

"Yeah, people really hate that," Harry agrees pointedly.

That shuts Murphy up. She leads them into the kitchen where she sees the skull leering at her. Anna jumps back in fright.

"Mom, what are you doing with that thing?!" She hides behind her mother with a shudder. "What does all of this mean?"

Her mother is already used to the thing, her attention is drawn to the rather complicated, and not entirely in English, recipe drawn up near the stove. "Is that a hint?" she asks, gesturing at it.

"It was Bob's idea."

"I can't cook like that."

"Bob says if Julia can do it, you can do it. He got a little carried away near the end there, but he'll translate if you can't read his shorthand."

Looking at the rotating elemental symbols and strange runes floating amid mundane cooking instructions, Murphy nods silently. Meanwhile, Anna is examining the skull up close.

"What is this?"

Silently asking permission from Murphy, and getting it, Harry adopts a spooky tone. "That skull once belonged to a real live wizard! A thousand years ago, in England, lived Hrothbert of Bainbridge. Now Hrothbert was great, and powerful, and handsome. But...he did some bad things." Feeling a little uncomfortable telling the story, and hoping Bob doesn't mind, he continues. "He was in love with a sorceress, but she died. So he wanted to bring her back. He did, but it was decided that it was wrong for him to do. So to punish him, they cut off his head! And they put a curse on him, that he's to live forever as a ghost, always bound to his own skull." He finishes, and the girl looks to her mother with wide eyes. "Now he belongs to your mother, and he'll live here from now on"

"You're making that up! Mom? Was that story true?"

Murphy nods, looking a bit green. "He's right, sweetie, it's true." She sees Harry nodding towards the skull, clearly asking something of her. Finally it sinks in, he wants her to summon him properly as part of the show. Raising her hand theatrically, she says "Hrothbert of Bainbridge, I summon you!"

With an unusually large and impressive pillar of smoke and flame, Bob appears, looking rather put out. "Now, was all that really necessary? My own tragic past trotted out like a ghost story told around the camp fire?" He towers frighteningly over the child, making his voice deep and dramatic. "Do you believe in ghosts now?" Anna nods jerkily, pressing into her mother for protection. Murphy has no idea why he's being like this and is beginning to regret inheriting him. Then, his act drops, his demeanor shifts and he gives her an uncertain smile. "Well, I think we'll get along, then."

Anna and her mom breathe a sigh of relief. Murphy raises a hand as if to swat Bob on the shoulder but draws back, remembering. "You...Did you have to scare her half to death?"

Bob ignores the question and smiles down at the girl, "She's about the same age you were, Harry, when we first met. Remember?"

Harry grimaces, hands in his pockets, "Yeah, and you're still cranky. Not much has changed. Anna, this is Bob. He's a bit of a grouch but he's been my best friend since I was a kid. He won't bite."

Murphy takes some steadying breaths, then gestures behind her at his writing. "And I can't even read half of that." Another glance and she allows, "It's beautiful, but..."

"Oh, yes. Well, you know how they rattle off those recipes so fast you can't possibly copy it down quickly enough. I took a few shortcuts. I'll help you translate if you promise you'll try it. It looked quite enjoyable on the program." That's the second time she's called his writing beautiful, he looks at Harry significantly, gesturing to the writing in the air, mouthing "Told you She likes it."

"Just don't say anything against his best girl," Harry mocks lightly. "Him and Julia go way back."

Murphy smiles at this, "I always liked her, too. I never tried anything from her shows, but...I'll give it a try. Thank you."

"Your loyal servant," Bob bows. "Sorry, dear," he adds, turning to Harry.

Anna is looking up between the two men, "So do you both live here now?"

"Yeah, and you know what? I'm a ghost, too!" Harry proclaims, demonstrating by stepping through the kitchen counter, turning around, and coming back. The girl gasps, backs up, and passes through Bob with a loud shriek.

"Careful, careful. Easy does it," Bob coaxes. Let's get a bit more in the open, shall we, madam?" he gestures to the skull. "If you would be so kind."

Murphy obeys, picking up the skull and carrying it into the living room with her crying daughter clinging to her. Bob and Harry scuttle out, giving the two living residents plenty of room.

Harry still looks disapproving of how Bob introduced himself, but spoils it by trying not to laugh. "That was great, Bob, that was better than when we first met."

Bob shrugs with a broad smile, "Well, I wasn't used to kids when I got you. It's amazing we got off on even close to the right foot. If memory serves, I wasn't exactly approachable."

"Well, I didn't let a cranky old ghost keep me from knowing a friend when I saw one," Harry assures him, pulling him in for a hug. They've got years of backpay with interest to work through. How many times had they wanted to, needed to give each other a hug, but had been unable to? Hundreds, easily.

Bob purrs pleasurably, cuddling in, "I'll never get used to this, never." They completely ignore the fact they're being scrutinized. Harry brings Bob's chin up and they share a soft kiss, touching each others' faces as though they can't get enough of the feel of each other.

"Mom, those two dead guys are kissing," Anna whispers loudly. Murphy shushes her and tries not to stare at them. "Why are they doing that?"

"Because these two dead guys love each other," Harry loudly hisses back.

A sparkling memo floats down to be read, one of the joke ones, reminding Murphy to shave the dog on Tuesday. Anna reads it and laughs, mainly because they don't even have a dog She reaches towards it and prods the word "dog" with a finger. She traces it gently and it changes shape, turning into a drawn dog's face. All three adults stare at her.

"How old are you, Anna?" Bob asks gently.

"Nine, going on ten."

"Nine," he repeats thoughtfully. "That's about when it starts to show. What else can you do?"

At this request, the girl looks frightened. "I'm not supposed to."

"Go on, it's all right." Looking at Anna reminds him of Harry when he first arrived at the mansion: uncertain, shy, unable to believe that doing magic was allowed. He looks up at the child's mother, demanding, "With all due respect, madam, hold your daughter for god's sake!"

"Why?"

"Because I can't...and she needs it. Have you any idea..." he trails off, looking up at Harry, who stands off to the side, scuffing his shoe, trying not to be overwhelmed by deja vu. Murphy kneels down and holds Anna close.

"It's all right, sweetie, everything is all right." She looks behind her as Harry draws near, flicking her glance between the two ghosts. "What...?"

"She's like us," Harry pronounces clearly, as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world. "Your daughter, Anna...is like us."

Murphy shakes her head firmly, looking desperately from one to the other. Bob grazes her cheek, chilling her, but she faces him obediently. He stands, looking firmly down at her. "I do have some experience in educating...children of magical blood."

At this, Murphy stands up abruptly, "Magical? Bob, Harry...this is some kind of joke, isn't it? My...Anna isn't..."

"Why not, milady?" Bob asks smoothly, crisply. "She's demonstrated the gift. A small display, of course, but she's quite young. I'm sure that in time she will progress at a normal rate, just like Harry did."

"Thanks to your excellent tutelage, of course" Harry adds.

His praise takes Bob by surprise, who's caught short. "Oh. Thank you."

"Your faithful student," he bows shortly, with just a hint of sarcasm.

Bob paces the room, passing through whatever furniture is in his way, he'll get used to the new layout but for now he's recovering old tracks. "Anna, can your father do things? Move things without touching them, make things happen?"

"Sometimes," she admits.

"Sometimes," Bob repeats, "But is it...deliberate or is more like an accident, like he loses control and bang!"

Anna nods, "The second one, but I've seen it happen."

"How long were you two married?" Harry needs to know.

"Two years," Murphy recalls, addressing the floor as memories surface.

"You'd think this kind of thing would show itself pretty regularly. You didn't notice anything?" Then he thinks back...even in the times when she'd seen and experience magic close at hand, times he'd even tried to explain to her, she'd put the blinders on and deny everything. "You chose to ignore it." He hits upon it firmly, looking thoroughly disappointed in his friend. "It didn't add up or make sense to you, so it couldn't be happening. Right?"

Murphy has gone still and silent, looking as though her world is falling apart. She looks between the ghosts and her daughter. "You're right. You're right. But don't you think for one second, you smug spook, that it's why we got a divorce." She looks close to tears now, sinking down into a chair with her face in her hands. Harry has to stop himself from trying to touch her, but still stands behind her.

His tone changes, more comforting, the bite of accusation is gone. "I never said it was. You obviously had your differences, and that's fine. He can't have been too bad a guy, or you wouldn't let him see Anna nearly as often. It happens. Nobody is saying that magic pulled you apart."

With an indulging look, she gazes up at Harry and Bob, "I...I, uh..." she clears her throat to steady herself as she admits, "I like yours better."

Bob stands before her now, his hands moving like an orchestra conductor. "Madam, if you would allow me, I would take your daughter on as a student. She has the gift, she must be trained properly if she's going to learn to use it And she must learn to use it, or she'll be like her father, having accidents all the time. That, among other things, is a security risk. I would like to teach her."

"Like you did with Harry?" she asks, looking to the other man briefly before turning back to him.

"Hey, am I being used as an example or a warning?" Harry wonders aloud, looking between his friends.

Bob smiles over at him encouragingly, "We're not always picking at your faults, Harry. You're a fine example."

"Yeah, of 'what not to do.' Remember?"

Until now, Bob had never considered how truly disturbed and ashamed Harry was by his reputation. What can he say to set the man's mind and soul at ease? "Do you judge me by my past, knowing what I did? Do you judge me solely by my mistakes, my transgressions?"

"No, that's a horrible thing to say," Harry affirms, looking disgusted at the thought. Bob is his best friend, his mentor, the man he loves. "You're more than that."

Bob nods firmly, "Precisely, Harry. As are you. Your only risk in this case is in setting the bar too high."

Harry sighs, relieved, feeling as though he's been forgiven. He'd been carrying that weight around with him for a long time. He kneels down in front of Anna, "So what do you say? Can Bob here teach you magic?"

Anna looks up at her mother, then back at the pale ghost of a wizard. Murphy still looks uncertain, even a little frightened.

"Don't-! Don't...take her from me," she begs, keeping a firm hold of her daughter. Everything is changing so fast, it's all closing in on her.

"Miss Murphy, I have no intention of taking her from you, or indeed taking her anywhere. You'll be here with her the whole time, I promise. You can even observe her lessons if you wish."

This seems to comfort Murphy, and she relinquishes her grip on the girl. "Really?"

"Provided you can be discreet," he tells her, echoing his choice of words from last night, getting a watery smile from the accused.

Anna speaks up finally, "Are you really going to teach me magic? Is it hard?"

"Anything worth learning is hard at first," Harry tells her, speaking from experience. "But you won't find a better teacher than Bob. He taught me everything I know."

"And I still know more than that," Bob observes dryly, gently ribbing his former student. Then he turns back to his mistress. "You'll need to get our books and things if we're going to do this properly. Take us along with you and we'll show you what to bring back. Now don't be frightened. Everything is all right. Harry and I give our word. Now, you might attract a visit from a few of our...acquaintances, but hopefully they won't be too upset, all things considered. I'll take care of everything." He stops right there, pausing to step in her shoes for a moment. He sighs and adopts a more sympathetic tone. "Don't look at me like that," he asks, seeing a strange, soft look creep into her eyes. "Things aren't that bad, surely. Don't worry, Harry and I won't let anything happen to you."

"No offense, but you're dead," she reminds him bluntly. "How can you help if someone tries to..."

"No one is going to try to do anything. She's properly supervised, out of prying eyes, she came by the gift naturally, you both have already seen things. It's too late for the High Council to bother us now," Bob promises, hoping that it's true.

It seems to work, Murphy nods and stands back up. "Fine, you can teach her. Just...nothing dangerous, all right?"

Harry and Bob exchange looks, wondering what qualifies as dangerous. "Harry, why don't you stay here with Anna and get her ready; Murphy can take me down to our place and we'll gather our supplies." He turns to Murphy, adding, "We'll get you in touch with our usual provider. She only delivers on Wednesdays, and you really need to win her over, my dear." With that, he hops into his skull expectantly. Murphy stands there with her jaw hanging loose.

"What, right now? I just got home! And...all of this!" She gestures wildly at his glittering messages and reminders still floating around the room, waiting to be tended to.

With a swirl of smoke and flame, Bob reappears, "Fine, fine. I was just anxious to get started."

"It's okay, Bob," Anna offers, "I have homework anyway." And she leaves for her room.

Now that it's just the grownups again, they're quiet, each of them processing all that had just happened. "I don't know if I can take much more of this, Harry," Murphy whines in her old pet tone she uses just on him.

"Sure you can. It's actually a good thing we're here. Murph...her abilities, they would've manifested themselves either way. The only difference is, now you have someone to teach her to control it, to do something useful. That's good, right?" She thinks about it, then nods reluctantly.

She makes her way back into the kitchen, gesturing to the symbols floating in the air. "So, Bob, translate this for me."

It wasn't often that Harry actually commanded Bob to do anything while he belonged to him, besides getting in his skull, so both men involuntarily flinch at the order. With those two occupied, Harry retreats to the skull for some quiet time. In another hour, Bob joins him.

"Got enough room, Bob?"

Again, the older ghost snuggles in cozily, "I'll let you know if you spread out too much."

"What were the odds of that, though? Murphy's own kid having the gift, and her not even knowing about it?"

"Oh, she knew about it. It terrified her. Probably why your relationship with her was always so strained. It could have been easier, if she'd given it half a chance instead of closing her eyes and putting her hands over her ears."

"Good thing she's got you, you can at least put a respectable face on all this hocus-pocus."

Bob chuckles at the irony, "Considering I'm serving the longest life sentence possible, I wonder how respectable I am."

"Hey, at least you did what you did for good reason."

"Justin would have killed you, you acted in self defense. I committed crimes against nature and humanity-"

"For love. I told you, Bob, I don't care what color your smoke is."

Both ghosts are quiet, both feel as though their crimes are forgiven, at least in eyes of the only one who matters to them, and both rest peacefully.

That night, Anna is examining the rune-etched skull, turning it over in her hands. "Are they in here, Mom?"

Murphy looks around for any sign of them,"They must be. They're probably sleeping, don't bother them now."

"Are they always going to be here?" Despite their frightening introduction, she's taken to them both already. This is helped in not a small way by their promise to teach her magic. They must be safe, her mom talks to them as though they're old friends.

Murphy smiles, "Whether we like it or not. Harry died yesterday, he left me Bob's skull in his will, so he'd have a good home and wouldn't be all alone. Then he decided he couldn't leave him behind, and so he came back to be with him."

"They're like, super-best friends," Anna says decidedly.

Remembering Harry's and Bob's rather intimate behavior together, Murphy can't think of a better word for it at the moment. "They are. They love each other very much. Okay, pumpkin, say good night to them and scoot off to bed."

Anna kisses the top of the skull, "Good night, Bob, goodnight, Harry! You're gonna teach me to be a sorceress tomorrow, remember?"

"We remember, Anna. Good night," Harry calls out.

Late that night, Bob wafts out again and begins writing out the morning's notes for his new owner, this time including a few for his young charge. Knowing how difficult it is to get children to do things, he casts them in a positive and hopefully more enjoyable light...

When her alarm goes off, the first thing the girl sees is a message from one of her new ghostly tutors. "Good morning, Anna. A sorceress rises with the sun to greet the dawn. Draw strength from the first rays." Another floats out near the bathroom, "A sorceress must be clean and presentable, they're sorely misrepresented. Give them a good face out there."

As Murphy gets her day started, she sees another note hovering near her daughter's backpack. "The Wise attend to their lessons with an eager and ready mind. Learn all you can." She has to smile, feeling as though her new friend is doing what he can to take care of them both. She sees a message in Harry's hand, wishing her a good day and cautioning her to be careful. She finds the skull sitting on the end table and gives it a kiss, whispering "Thank you."

That night after work, Murphy shoves Bob's skull into her bag, and the three of them head down to the office previously used by Harry Dresden, Wizard for Hire. Harry shows her how to get into the secret lab where their more valuable materials are. She looks all around, envisioning them turning their guest room into a copy of this. She catches the look at the two ghosts, looking around with a sense of relief to be home. They like it here, they miss it.

They get back home and she and Anna start setting up the guest room. Already, it's looking more like their old lab than anything. She finds herself envisioning these friends of hers leading her only daughter down the same path, into the gloom and dust and secrets, of this other world she's not allowed to mention or completely know about.

"She'll be okay, Murph."

Anna runs in and starts looking around the room delightedly. There's a desk and a blackboard, stacks of moldering old grimoires and scrolls, curious instruments and rows of glass vials of ingredients, waiting to be put to use. Her eyes shine like stars, and Murphy sees then how the environment seems to suit her.

"You be good for your teachers. Dinner's at 7." She turns to the two newly nominated professors, "Don't make a mess, huh?"

Harry grins over at Bob, both men are looking quite satisfied with how things have come to pass. "And we were wondering what we'd do with ourselves."

"Yes Now hush, you might learn something." Bob replies with a badly suppressed smile. "Now, class, come to order. Today we will be lecturing on some basic principles of sorcery and the magical realm..."