Disclaimer: Harry Dresden and the respective characters, settings, terms, objects, and et all depicted herein from The Dresden Files belong to and are the property of Jim Butcher and/or his publishers. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

CHASING THE OUTER NIGHT

Prologue

Medellín, Colombia. Nice place this time of year. Warm weather, beautiful architecture, and accommodating locals, always ready to offer a greeting and a quick bite.

But don't be fooled by the beauty. Too many things in this world present an enrapturing front to beguile what lays beneath. I've seen and fought enough of them to recognize a lure that's been cast, and even with my Wizard's Sight closed, there was something just a little too appealing about the first young woman to sidle up to me at the marketplace.

Her flesh-mask was only a shade duskier than my ex's natural tones, smooth black hair drawn back in a ponytail to leave her half-lidded black eyes simmering with... well, everything you'd expect a supposed twenty-something female in her prime to display. A ragged white tee tied off at the midriff displayed prominent cleavage above and a toned belly below, and worn daisy dukes conformed to her hips as if they had been painted on rather than shimmied into. A pair of flipflops protected her feet from the rough, uneven cobblestone, not that you'd guess that from the way she sashayed over to me smooth as silk.

She met my gaze steadfastly and offered a saucy smirk. "Welcome to Medellín," she purred, accent rolling off her tongue delightedly. "I see you lack a companion. Would you like a tour of our modest city?"

Mhm. A man could get used to hearing that kind of tone for an hour or two. I know my libido appreciated it. I smiled and answered her, using a deliberately bad choice of Spanish, "Muéstrame el camino, seducir."

Her nose crinkled. "No, no. Stick with your Americana," she said without the same flair as before. "It will be easier for us both."

I can imagine it would. If she thought I only had a mangled grasp of the local dialect I could get away with feigning ignorance of the conversations along the way. Still, I put on an apologetic frown and said, "The guidebook always seems to scramble up something, I hope I didn't cause offense?"

"You..." she swallowed her response and smiled a little less brilliantly, "it is señora, sir. No matter, let us get under way."

I let her take my hand and guide me out of the marketplace. The crowds forced us close together, walking along between labyrinthine streets and buildings practically atop one another. Naturally my height afforded me a wonderful vantage point. I steadfastly kept my eyes ahead - although if I glanced down once or twice to make sure I didn't step on her smooth heels, who can blame me? I'm sure she noticed, turning her head this way and that way to point out a few relics from the old days while carefully skirting the real issues. I nodded and "Mhmm'd" and played the dutiful sap taken in by her looks and proximity until she finally dragged me down a less-used alleyway.

"What's down here?" I finally ventured.

In response she turned and pressed me up against the wall, cool moist lips latching onto my own. Immediately her tongue darted out, exchanging the toxic saliva that would reduce me into a relaxed bliss - the better for drinking from, now and every day to come.

I can't begin to tell you how good that felt. Really. It lit up all the little endorphin sensors in my brain and made my legs go weak, and she rode me down to the alley floor before straddling my hips. It was only then that she broke the rohypnol kiss and licked her lips in anticipation.

"I think I'll enjoy you slowly," she said. Her whole body shivered and abruptly burst open, and something black and ichor-y grew to fill the open space until it was taller than I was. It hunched over, spraying a noxious odor into my face. I smiled dreamily and closed my eyes.

Snicker-snack.

Silent as an empty grave, the silver blade flashed out from the side and shortened the vampire by a head, only at the end making the tell-tale swish as it severed neck from shoulders. A plume of black-blood erupted from the stump and fountained across my body, while the sword swung twice and thrice more to terminate the thrashing limbs before they could harm me. In just seconds the air rippled and a much more attractive young woman appeared on my left, blond tresses matted with sweat. A gray Warden's cloak ran from throat to ankle over a pale pink sweater-vest and faded blue jeans, and she wiped the sword clean on one edge of that cloak before sheathing it again. The garment soaked in the blood without spilling a drop.

"What were you thinking!" she hissed, crouching down to get a grip into my splattered shirt and shake me back and forth, though not hard enough to cause a concussion in my dazed state. "How often have you told me, over and over and over not to let them make physical contact! Not to let them get so much as a drop of that foul toxin in their mouths on my bare skin!" she ranted in a vehement whisper close to panic.

Molly Carpenter, ladies and gents, my one-time apprentice-turned-fellow Warden and Wizard of the White Council in recent times.

I let her rattle my skull around for a few more moments before finally raising and placing a hand atop her own. My left, to be precise, which had been burned and branded many years ago in two separate occasions. Most of the scarring had faded in the half a decade since, but that old hourglass sigil stood out more crisply these days than it had before, and it was mildly-hot to the touch as a result of the new fuel rumbling in my pipes 24-7.

She let go and backed up a pace or so without standing, staring in concern.

I wiped some of the muck off my face with my other hand and opened my eyes again, crisp and clear and devoid of any drug. "You did well, grasshopper, but giving me whiplash is going a bit far with the celebrations."

Molly huffed and looked away a moment, eyes downcast in thought, then glanced back to mine and studied my expression seriously. "How come you're rational again? I was expecting to have to lug your weight back to the meeting point." She paused another moment. "Not that I'm not grateful."

"When you get to be my age, Molly, a little more churning lust racing through the veins just doesn't seem that impressive anymore. I've seen and sampled far better delights."

The young Warden let a ghost of a smile grace her lips, relief growing at my tone of voice, though she squashed the emotion quickly. "You shouldn't have let it happen in the first place!"

I shrugged. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be clean as a whistle from here on out, no more hormonal death-kisses, I swear. Cross my heart and hope to... live?"

Molly huffed again and looked me in the eyes seriously. "We need to get that cleaned off before it draws every Red inside of a mile to us, the stench is horrible."

I stood up and drew her with me. "It tastes pretty foul too." I slipped out of my shoes and kicked them several feet back toward the alley opening, shook out my blasting rod, and aimed it roughly skyward before intoning, "Aquilevatus!"

A stream of scalding hot water flew thirty feet into the air, did a neat pirouette that would have scored a solid 9.9 out all but the Russian judge, and ruptured into a few thousand droplets of near-boiling rain. Some of it splashed against the walls uselessly, some fell out to our sides, but most of it came straight down. Molly yelped and ducked back beneath her Warden cloak with a jog for my shoes, taking shelter out of range.

Personally, after close to fifteen years of cold showers every other time I wanted to clean up, it felt like a little piece of heaven for the few seconds it lasted. I could feel an alien mirth at the comparison, there and gone again by the time I acknowledged it, which was nothing new.

"Ah," I sighed contentedly. "That felt about as good as... well, never mind." A bit of steam wafted up from my exposed skin, while my jeans and tourist tee were soaked through and dripping steadily to the pool of hot water-and-blood at my feet. I tiptoed out of that and concentrated on my next spell of choice, "Ventas reductas."

Warm wind stirred to life on a quiet sigh, gliding back and forth in quick succession about my form. It took near enough to five minutes before the worst of the wetness had dried out, including my socks.

"Now, where were we?" I asked Molly, smiling. She arched a brow and crossed her arms underneath her considerable bust, half concealed beneath that cloak.

"You were acting foolish and I was following discretely?" She offered coolly. Apparently her moodiness had returned. I suppose throwing around magic so casually wasn't a wise idea in this city, even with my dampener in effect.

"I like to think of it as distracting a potential source of Intel. I don't suppose returning to the marketplace will give us much more of a lead, do you?"

"Not unless you plan on letting every 'seducir' drag you around by the-"

"Hey!" I protested feebly. "I was fully conscious of my actions the entire time, thank you very much."

In response Molly simply shook her head and vanished beneath another steady veil, masking sight, scent, and body heat.

End of Prologue.