**********

Ten year old Shawn Spencer opened his backpack ... again ... and tried to cram even more things inside ... again.

"Come on. Shawn. You don't need to put any more stuff in that pack. You've got enough in there for three people as it is." His friend Burton 'Gus' Guster called. "If we don't leave now, we won't make it to the campground before sunset. It's bad enough you didn't want to take the bus with the rest of the campers, so now we have to hike there all by ourselves. That's almost twenty miles. Do you know how long it's going to take us to get there? Forever. That's how long."

"Okay. Okay. Don't get all bent out of shape. I'm just about finished and we've still got almost five hours of daylight left. We'll make it with plenty of time left over. Besides, we don't have to hike. My dad's due home any minute now and he's going drive us."

"Who's going to drive who where?" Sergeant Henry Spencer of the Santa Barbara Police Department asked as he came in the front door of the Spencer house.

"You're going to drive us up to Boyle's canyon. Gus and I are going camping this weekend with the Y. Remember. I told you all about it, and you said we could go, and that you'd be glad to drive us up there."

"Exactly when did you tell me all about it? 'Cause I don't remember you saying anything to me about you and Gus going camping ... or about me driving the two of you there. Or about me saying I'd be glad to do it."

"I did too tell you."

"When?"

"It was about ... ah ... er ... about six months ago." Shawn confessed.

"Well, you can't go, and that's the end of that. Besides, we've got a guest." He pointed to the youth of about eleven standing behind him. "This is Harry Dresden. He'll be staying with us for a few days."

"But Dad ..." Shawn pleaded. " ... You promised. You can't go back on your word. Not now."

"Look, son. I'm not trying to go back on my word or anything like that. You see, it's like this. Harry's from Chicago. His father is a magician. He was rehearsing his act at the Deuce Club when it was raided in a drug sting operation this afternoon. All the available evidence points to the fact that Harry's father has nothing to do with the drug operations and that he's just an innocent bystander. But until he can be formally cleared, he has to stay in jail. Harry's got no family or friends in the area, and he's got no place to go. It was either find him a foster home or send him to Children's Services. So, I volunteered to bring him home with me. He's about the same age as you guys, so I figured the three of you can sort of pal around together until Malcolm Dresden is released from jail."

"D-a-a-a-d!" Shawn whined. "Gus and I have been planning this trip for ... well ... for months now. For the past six months to be exact. You can't expect us to change our plans at the last minute, can you?"

Henry Spencer's face brightened. "I have a brilliant idea that will take care of everything. Why don't you take Harry with you? I'm sure he'd like to go camping too. All boys like to go camping. You'd like to go camping with Shawn and Gus, wouldn't you, Harry?"

Harry looked a bit puzzled, but he was not about to argue with the policeman ... Especially when that policeman was a sergeant ... And had temporary custody of him. He just hunched his shoulders. "Yeah. I guess so." He said in a small voice.

"Good. Now that everything is settled, I'm going to go upstairs and change clothes." Henry started up the stairs leaving the three boys in the hallway. "You guys can start getting the car packed. Just put all of Harry's things in the trunk with your stuff. We'll sort everything out when you guys get back." He pointed to the thin beaten up suitcase sitting on the floor behind Harry.

Shawn looked at Harry. "You really don't like to go camping, do you?" It wasn't so much a question as a statement of fact.

"I don't know." Harry admitted. "I've never been camping before."

"You've never been camping?" Gus asked.

"No." Harry hung his head and said softly.

"Never?"

"No."

"Not even day camp?"

Harry slowly and sadly shook his head 'no'.

"Then have you ever slept out in your backyard? Or maybe even out on your porch?"

"Never. Back in Chicago, we live in a fourth floor apartment. We don't have a backyard. Or a porch. Just a fire escape, and it's way too small to sleep out on. And I don't spend that much time in the great outdoors, either. I do a lot of traveling with my dad though, but I spend the majority of my time in motel rooms when he's on the road. I mostly go back and forth between there and whatever club or theater he's playing at." Harry's face brightened. "I do sleep with the windows open a lot of the time. Does that count?"

Gus only rolled his eyes.

"I can see the handwriting on the wall already." Shawn whispered to Gus. "This is going to be a real fun weekend."

**********

"California here I come ... " Harry Dresden sang very off key as he folded a shirt and placed it in his suitcase. " ... Right back where I started from ... "

"How am I supposed to get a decent sleep with you caterwauling like that?" Hrothbert of Bainbridge, Harry's resident ghost complained. "That horrible racket you jokingly refer to as singing could wake the dead. Which is what it did in this case. Let me give you some great advice. Don't give up the day job. A Luciano Pavarotti you're not"

"And your lame excuses for humor are atrocious. Could it possibly be that you are making a futile attempt at ... deadpan humor?" Harry chuckled at his play on words.

"Why are you packing your suitcases?" Bob asked. "Have we been evicted?"

"No we haven't been evicted. That's not another attempt at a joke is it?" Harry said sarcastically. "For your enlightenment and information, the rent has been paid. Including all the back charges. And the utilities are all up to date too. I'll have you know my bank account is rather well off after my last case. The client gave me a hefty bonus for taking care of the problem in record time."

"Then why are you packing?"

"Because I'm going to California."

"You have another case? That far away?"

"No. I don't have another case. I've decided to take some of the extra money I've got and take a vacation. I haven't had one in ... Let me see ... " Harry exaggeratedly scratched his chin. " ... When WAS the last time I had a vacation?"

"That means you are going to leave me here all alone. With no one to talk to. No one to see. Except Mister." Bob's sounded positively pitiful. "I spent nearly a thousand years all alone. Without any human companionship. Even after your uncle found me in that disorganized excuse for a museum. He never once talked to me. Or even let me out of my skull. I was just some curious ornament sitting on his library shelf. My only company was the mice that lived in wall. And mice aren't particularly friendly creatures. Do you know how disheartening that can be?" Bob's face fell. Literally. It sat on the desk beside Bob's skull, leaving the area where his face should be nothing but a blank piece of skin. "You're the only friend I have. And now you're going to abandon me." He sighed heavily. "Who knows how long you are going to be gone? Or even if you're ever coming back."

"BOB!" Harry declared. "You can cut the fake heartbreaking chatter. I'll only be gone for two weeks. And I'm not going to abandon you. Do you really think I'd leave you behind? You're coming with me."

"I AM?" Bob's face instantly returned to its correct location on his head. "OH JOY!" He immediately morphed from his conservative suit into a loud Hawaiian shirt, baggy shorts, and flipflops. Sunglasses and a huge calypso straw hat completed his outfit. "THE SUN! THE BEACH! THE GIRLS!" He began dancing around the desk. "WHAT SUBLIME RAPTURE!"

"Bob! Calm your enthusiasm. I've just got one question. How are you going to explain those?" Harry pointed to the remnants of manacles that encased Bob's wrists. They were permanently attached. Only the chain between them was missing. They were an ongoing reminder of Bob's eternal punishment.

"Maybe I could say they're a fashion statement." Bob answered, holding his shackle enclosed arms up. "Besides, given lackadaisical nature of the culture in La-la land it's doubtful anyone will even notice."

"You've got a very good point there."

"By the way. What will become of Mister while we're gone? You can't in all good conscience leave him here alone for two weeks. Who knows what havoc he could wreak in that time."

"He won't be alone. Murphy and her daughter have agreed to take him in and look after him while we're gone."

"When do we leave? What flight are we taking? Is it a 747 or a Aerobus? Are we leaving from O'Hare or Meigs? Will it be going straight through or are we going have to change planes in Dallas? Do we travel first class or economy? Are there in flight movies?" Bob asked, his questions practically running into each other.

"Will you PLEASE calm down. We're not going by plane. Too many electronics on board. Do you know what havoc my aura can cause with all that stuff? You wouldn't want me to be responsible for a plane crash, would you? Think of all those poor innocent people who would be doomed to a hideously gruesome death because of me." It was Harry's turn to fake sincerity.

"Please. Tell me you do not intend to drive that ... jeep ... across the continent."

"No. I don't intend to drive that ... jeep ... across the continent." Harry mimicked Bob. "We're going by train."

"Train?"

"Yeah. Train. You know. Choo! Choo! Whoo! Whoo!" Harry pulled on an invisible whistle cord.

"I know what a train is." Bob said dejectedly. " ... choo ... choo ... whoo ... whoo."

**********

Harry adjusted the back of his beach chair and slathered on another layer of suntan oil. His only regret was that Bob could not be here on the beach with him.

Unfortunately, because of his centuries long imprisonment in his skull, Bob's ectoplasm was extremely sensitive to the sun. Even though he was essentially non corporeal, the UV rays or possibly some other part of the sun's spectrum gave him a severe sunburn the first time he tried to get a tan. Again, because he was non corporeal, even the strongest sunblock did no good. Thankfully, the redness and pain faded in only a few hours after he got out of the sunshine. At this time, the ghost was back at the hotel ... being miserable. Both physically ... and vocally. That was one of the reasons Harry was on the beach alone. Come to think of it, it was the principal reason Harry was on the beach alone.

Three young, nubile, bronzed creatures walked past Harry wearing the tiniest string bikinis Harry had ever seen. All three of them winked suggestively at Harry and waved. Harry followed their undulating hips, and prepared to follow them. Maybe he wouldn't be too alone too much longer.

On the promenade walk beside the beach, the sound of sirens and the flashing police and fire engine lights caught his notice. They were stopped front of a shop almost directly across from him. The sign above the shop fascinated Harry. 'MADAME OLGA PSYCHIC READER AND ADVISOR'. The ladies would have to wait for another time. This was too intriguing a scene to pass up.

Pulling on his jeans and a T-shirt over his swim trunks, he quickly joined the throng of curious people gathered around the entrance to the store.

"Well, that is the strangest fire we've ever been called to put out." One of the firemen commented as they came out of the building. "Nothing was on fire except the Madame herself. Her dress wasn't even singed." He shook his head. "Strange."

Harry's ears perked up at hearing this. If what he heard was correct, this was something that was right up his alley. He hurried inside.

The shop was cluttered with an eclectic assortment of objects that the average person would associate with a fortune teller's trade. Despite the acrid smell of smoke from the fire, there was the heavy aroma of incense clinging to the air. Candles were placed in numerous holders throughout the room, but it was plain to see that none of them were the cause of the fire. Curtains of heavy beads covered the window and the doorway. There was a large round table in the middle of the room, and in the middle of it sat the prerequisite crystal ball. Also on the table was a deck of tarot cards, and numerous rune covered stones of various sizes. Multicolored feathers from a variety of birds, and several types of dried flowers sat in a neat pile next to the tarot cards. Obviously, all of this was for 'divining the future'. A contact paper covered large coffee can, three quarters filled with coins and bills, sat at one edge of the table.

The fireman was right. Madame Olga's clothes were draped across one of the chairs at the table with a heavy layer of still smoking ash inside them. Her shoes were on the floor in front of the chair. They also had a layer of ash in them. The clothes and shoes were not burned, nor was the chair, nor was anything else in the room even slightly damaged by the fire. He had seen this phenomenon before. It reeked of supernatural.

Three persons were standing at the edge of the room, obviously discussing the event with one of the uniformed police officers covering the incident. Two of the people were definitely police officers as well. Detectives most likely. They were dressed in civilian clothes, but they were wearing badges clipped onto the pocket of their shirts.

" ... Madame Olga ... AKA Wilhelmina Charles ... cause of death ... incineration. From the evidence, I'd say we are looking at a probable arsonist." One of the men was saying to a woman who was most likely his partner. "Possibly Madam Olga surprised the perp during a robbery attempt and he barbecued her."

"Wrong, Lassie. Wrong. Wrong. And incorrect too." The other man said to the police detective. "This wasn't a robbery. If you'll notice, that coffee can is nearly full of money. A robber would have cleaned it out in a split second. This was deliberate murder." Suddenly the man began to writhe and shake. "I see something. Something evil." He said in a high pitched voice. " I'm getting a picture of the killer. Quick! Give me a paper and pencil." He pleaded. One of the uniformed officers tore a sheet of paper from his notebook and handed it to the man. The man quickly scribbled something on the paper and handed it to the one he called 'Lassie'. "Here is the person you're looking for."

'Lassie' shook his head slowly. "You've come up with some remarkably far out things in the past Shawn, but this is the farthest out you've ever gone." 'Lassie' held up the paper for the others to see. "Do you really expect me to believe that this is the arsonist?" It was a sketch of a devil. It also looked suspiciously like one of the figures on a movie poster on one of the walls.

"It's quite possible that he might be on to something." Harry volunteered. "And he might be closer than he thinks with the evil comment as well. This is not your average fire. Cases like this are definitely not your ordinary ... "

"Listen up Bozo." Shawn interrupted. "I'M the psychic here. Shawn Spencer. On contract with the Santa Barbara Police Department. I'll determine what is ordinary and what's not." Shawn handed Harry one of his cards.

"And you are ... " 'Lassie' asked Harry.

"Harry Dresden." Harry pulled out his wallet and fished out one of his cards and handed it to 'Lassie'. "Private Detective." He felt it unnecessary to explain the 'Wizard' on his card. Luckily, the detective either didn't notice, or didn't connect the word. "From Chicago."

"What are you doing in Santa Barbara, Mr. Dresden? It's a little out of your territory, isn't it?"

"I'm on vacation."

"Well, I suggest you go back to being on vacation and while you're at it, take Mr. Spencer here with you. Leave the detective work to the professionals."

"You have to excuse Lassie, Mr. Dresden." Shawn said. " Every so often he gets these delusions of adequacy. His real name is Detective Carlton Lassiter, and the woman over there is his partner, Detective Juliet O'Hara. Otherwise known as Jewels."

Juliet O'Hara gave a tiny wave.

"OUT!" Lassiter shouted, pointing to the door.

"I think we've been dismissed." Harry said as they walked out of the shop. Suddenly they both stopped short.

"Shawn Spencer?" "Harry Dresden?" Shawn and Harry asked at the same time.

"We've met before ... " Harry said. "It was in ... "

" ...1981." Shawn finished. "You were eleven and I was ten. You father had been arrested on drug charges and my dad brought you home. You stayed with us for a week until your dad was cleared of all charges."

"It was one of the high points of my youth." Harry said with just a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"Who's your friend?" Gus Guster said as he fell in behind Harry and Shawn.

"Gus. You remember Harry Dresden. He went camping with us one weekend back in 1981." Shawn introduced.

Gus began scratching his chest violently. "Yeah. I remember him."

"So sue me. Just remember. I 'm a city boy through and through. How was I to know that those plants with the pretty, shiny leaves were Poison Ivy?"

Gus rolled his eyes and raised his hands in a sign of surrender.

"I tell you what. Since we are persona non grata here, why don't we go to my hotel and catch up on old times?" Harry suggested.

"Persona non who-a?" Gus asked.

"That means we were not wanted." Shawn explained. "Lassie has his usual anal retentive bug crawling up his ass and he threw both of us out of the crime scene."

"Like I said before, let's go to my place." Harry suggested again. "It's just down the street and I can assure you, you'll be welcome there."

"Then why are we standing here for?" Gus said. He gave an exaggerated bow to Harry. "Lead on."

**********

"So, what are you doing these days?" Gus asked Harry as they entered the parking area of the Red Roof Inn.

"Here." Harry said, handing Gus one of his business cards. "This explains it all."

" 'Harry Dresden - Wizard'." He read. "Wizard. Is that like a math wizard"

"Nope."

"Or maybe a cooking wizard?"

"Wrong again."

"I got it." Gus said. "You're a computer wizard. Right? Maybe you can help me. My hard drive keeps freezing up every so ... "

"No cigar that time either. Actually, I'm a private detective. My so called wizardry comes from my ability to solve unusual crimes." Sometimes it was better to lie than to have to go through complicated and sometimes embarrassing explanations.

"Sort of like me." Shawn added.

"Sort of." Harry agreed.

Harry opened the door and ushered the two inside.

"It's about time you returned." Bob grumbled as he exited his skull. "Do you know what it's like to be cooped up all day in a space barely ten inches high by seven ... " He noticed Shawn and Gus. " ... OOPS!" He hastily morphed once more into a column of smoke and quickly poured himself back into the ancient rune covered skull sitting on the desk.

Gus let out a high pitched scream and his eyes rolled into the back of their sockets. His legs gave out and he headed for a collision with the floor. Shawn and Harry each grabbed an arm to shore him up

"Gus! Gus!" Shawn called to his friend. "Don't go freaking out on me like this. What you think you see isn't real. It's all just an illusion. The guy who is playing the part of the ghost was probably hiding in the bathroom. When the smoke came out of the skull, we were so busy watching it, we didn't see him sneak into the room. The rest of the hocus pocus is probably done with mirrors. Remember, Harry's dad was a magician. That's what the wizard on his card is about. He might be a private detective all right, but I'll bet he's also a magician too. This must be one of his tricks."

Gus straightened up. "I ... I guess I did overreact. But you got to admit. It did look very real." He looked at Harry. "You can tell your friend he can come out of hiding."

"Can I, Harry?" Bob popped just his head out of the skull. He looked at Gus. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to frighten you. Please forgive me. I didn't know that Harry would be bringing home any strangers."

"You can quit the illusion now." Shawn said. "That's a really good trick Harry, but I think your accomplice might be getting a bit sore from hunching in that position so long."

"Actually, I am quite comfortable." Bob said. "But if this causes you any discomfort, I will assume a position more familiar to you." He slowly rose from the skull and as he did, the rest of his body came into view. He then drifted down until his feet touched the floor.

This time, Gus was squatting in a corner in the fetal position. "I didn't see what I just saw." He whined in a high pitched voice. "I didn't see anything. I'm just hallucinating. Yeah! That's it! I'm hallucinating."

"No. You're not hallucinating." Harry said. "You really did see what you saw. I guess it's time I told you the truth about myself. The 'Wizard' on the business card means just that. I'm a real wizard. A dues paying, spell casting, enchantment invoking, potion making sorcerer. And Bob is very real too. He's a ghost."

"Yeah. Yeah. Look, Harry." Shawn said, picking up Bob's skull and examining it carefully. "You're not fooling anyone. I'm a psychic and I can tell when someone is stretching the truth. This is really a cleaver hologram, but where's the camera and projector?" He examined the skull from every angle. "Come clean. How did you pull this off?"

"It's not a magic trick. It's real." Harry said.

"He's telling the truth." Bob answered. "I'm not a hologram. I really am a ghost. Hrothbert of Bainbridge, at your service." He made an exaggerated bow. "I died in the year 1013. That makes me over a thousand years old. Now would you please put my skull back on the desk?" He slowly became semi transparent and proceeded to float right through Shawn.

Shawn's skin tingled eerily as the ghost passed through him. He turned a pasty white and hastily replaced the skull.

"Thank you." Bob returned to a solid state. "Incidentally, you are no more of a psychic than I am. You do, however posses a keen sense of observation and the uncanny ability to piece together clues that would normally go unnoticed by others."

"What makes you think that?"

"As I passed through you, I was able to read your aura and engrams. A true psychic's vibes are radically different from yours. That led me to believe that you're not an actual psychic. Therefore the most logical conclusion is that you have extraordinary powers of perception and deduction, and that you are able to use them quite skillfully to mask your lack of authentic extrasensory powers."

Shawn hung his head. "Okay. So I'm not a psychic. I will admit maybe you're a real ghost. That still doesn't mean that Harry is a real wizard."

"I AM a real wizard." Harry repeated. "Remember when I was staying with you and the TV kept going on the fritz? Your father grounded the both of us for messing with it. I'll bet you a twenty that it began working normally every time I left the room. Well, I was responsible for that. I didn't do it intentionally, of course, but it is an unfortunate side effect of my powers. I can't be too close to any advanced electronic items without shorting them out. Sometimes permanently. Another thing. How do you think all that food 'magically' appeared in our rooms while we were grounded? That was my doing, too. I just wished it up."

"Since the three of you are such good buddies, would you mind introducing your friends to me?" Bob asked.

"Sorry, Bob." Harry said. "This is Shawn Spencer and that person crouching in the corner is Burton Guster, everyone calls him Gus."

"Pleased to meet the both of you." Bob made a deep bow.

"Another thing, Shawn. Have you noticed that your cell phone hasn't rung since you met me at Madame Olga's shop?" Harry backed to the other side of the room.

Immediately Shawn's phone began to play the theme from James Bond.

"It's your father." Harry said. "And he is not in the best of moods. You were supposed to meet him an hour ago for a barbecue at his house."

"Where have you been?" Harry Spencer practically shouted as Shawn answered the phone. "I've been trying to reach you for the past hour. Have you forgotten that I'm having a cookout and you're supposed to be helping me?"

Gus's eyes widened as Shawn relayed the message to the group. "I guess maybe you really are a wizard."

Harry nodded knowingly. "The light bulb finally goes on."

"I tell you what." Shawn suggested as he put the phone back in its holder. "Why don't you and Bob come with us? I know my dad will be happy to meet you again. Just one more thing. Please don't mention that you're a wizard or that Bob is a ghost. I don't think he'd understand."

"That won't be a problem." Bob said. "I can't go with you."

"Why not?" Gus asked.

Bob pointed to the ancient rune covered skull. "I can't go more than fifty feet from that. It's my sentence for a crime I committed in the eleventh century. I was beheaded and my spirit condemned to reside in my own skull. I'm bound to it for all of eternity."

"No problem. We'll just take it with us." Harry replied, picking up the skull and putting it in a canvas backpack.

**********

"So what's your interest in Madame Olga's death?" Henry asked Harry as he put a hot dog on a bun and handed it to him. Henry was using an ancient charcoal fired grill rack to cook on. For some unexplainable reason, almost as soon as Harry entered the back yard, his expensive state of the art barbecue stove malfunctioned. "Shawn told me he met you at the scene and that you're a private detective."

"I don't have any real interest in the case." Harry replied. "I was on the beach when the police and fire department arrived, and my professional curiosity took over. I had to check it out." He couldn't very well reveal that he had felt strong paranormal vibes as soon as he entered Madame Olga's shop. And they weren't entirely peaceful and benevolent. At least not without revealing his true nature to Henry. Or his suspicions to Shawn. There was only one person in the Los Angeles area who could satisfy his suspicions ... and fears. He made a mental note to see him first thing in the morning.

"I noticed your friend Bob isn't eating anything." Henry continued, pointing to Bob. "And he does nothing but sit in the deep shade in that lounge chair on the porch. He talks with almost everybody here, but he wouldn't even shake hands with me. In addition, he guards that backpack like it had gold in it. Is he anti social or something?"

"Not exactly. He's allergic to practically everything, so you could say that he's sort of anti social. It's not that he doesn't like people. It's a defense mechanism. He's also on a special restricted regimen, so he can only eat a very limited macrobiotic diet. As for the backpack, it contains his life saving apparatus." Again, he couldn't very well explain that Bob hadn't eaten anything in almost a thousand years. Or that he didn't shake hands because his hand would go right through Henry's body. Or that his ectoplasmic body was photosensitive. Or that the backpack contained his skull. Not without seriously freaking everyone out.

"Sorry to hear that. He looks happy enough though."

"He's had plenty of time to adjust to his disabilities." < Like a thousand years. > "In fact, he doesn't even see them as a problem. He's just glad to be alive." < In a manner of speaking. >

"We all should all be so lucky." Henry slapped Harry on the back. "Enjoy yourself Harry. There's plenty to eat, even if your friend can't have any of it."

**********

Harry stood nervously outside the door early the next morning. This was sacred ground. Not only to the paranormal Community but to the mortal community as well. He had never in his wildest dreams suspected that this was the headquarters of the Council in the western U.S. All he had been given by Morgan was an address. How was he to know it would be a hidden apartment in the Princess Castle in Wallyland? Hesitantly, he knocked.

"Come on in, Harry. I've been expecting you." The voice on the other side of the door said.

Harry's eyes nearly bugged out when he realized who the man sitting at an ornate desk was. < It can't be ... But it is ... > "Walter Yensid?" He asked hesitantly

"Who else?" Walter replied, grinning.

"But you're dead. You've been dead for years. I read and saw your funeral on TV and in the papers. Your body was cryogenically frozen."

"And you always believe everything you see and read?" Walter replied grinning.

"But why fake your death?"

"Simple. In addition to being a wizard, I'm also an immortal. A lot of us are. I had lived the expectancy of an average human. If I had stayed among mortals much longer, it would have raised more questions than I would have preferred to answer. So ... I died. That was 25 years ago. In a few more years, I can come back as possibly one of my nephews or grand nephews and resume my place as the head of Yen Sid Studios."

"And what about your family. Won't they freak out when you ... when you come back from the dead?"

"No. Most of them are immortals as well. They understand. Besides. This won't be my first reincarnation."

"But doesn't it get lonely being cooped up in this apartment for all these years?"

"Oh no. I get out quite frequently. Almost every day to be exact. You see, I have a job here at Wallyland as a Walter Yensid impersonator. And I do parades and festivals all over the country as well. In fact, last year I came in third in a Walter Yensid look alike contest in Long Beach." Walter laughed heartily at his remark. "First place went to a fifteen year old boy from Azusa."

"One question. How did you know that I was outside the door? Are you psychic as well?"

"Not at all." He pointed to the laptop on his desk. "There's a hidden camera on the wall by the door. Ancient Mai E-mailed me you were coming and sent a picture of you. She asked me to keep an eye on you for her. By the way, How is Mai these days? I haven't seen her in over a decade."

"Mai is ..." Harry didn't know what to say. How do you describe someone who is several thousand years old, devastatingly beautiful, and has the disposition of a surly, ill-tempered pit bull? < Don't ever let her know I even thought that about her. Not if I want to continue my existence with all my body parts in their proper places. > " ... Mai is ... Mai."

"I understand completely." Walter replied with a deep smile. "Now. What can I do for you?"

"What can you tell me about these?" Harry took out a ring and a book he had 'borrowed' from the fire scene at Madame Olga's.

Walter picked up the book ... The Necronomicon ... the actual Necronomicon, not the fake edition sold at sci-fi conventions ... and his face blanched. "Harry." He said in a half frightened-half authoritative voice. "Forget you ever saw this. It does not exist. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded. Obviously this book was one of the so-called 'forbidden books'. He had heard rumors of such books, but he had never seen one. Until now.

"Where did you get it?"

"From the shop of a fortune teller named Madame Olga. Her real name is ... "

" ... Wilhelmina Charles." Walter finished. "I heard that she had died yesterday. We have been monitoring her for a number of years now. She's one of us, but she has no inkling that she is a true sorcerer. The majority of her powers are ... I mean they were ... dormant. We had no idea she had a copy of this in her possession."

"Exactly what does this book do?"

"Among other things that you really don't want to know about, it can be used to summon demons from the dark side of the paranormal. In the hands of someone as inexperienced as Wilhelmina ... or even you ... it can be deadly. Not only for the Community, but for all mankind as well. Pray that she hasn't used it."

"What about the ring?"

Taking a jeweler's loupe from his desk drawer, Walter examined it closely. "It's possibly a talisman of some sort. Very similar to the bracelet that you wear. I'll have to turn it over to the research staff to determine its exact properties. I'll get back to you with their results."

"Is it possible that these things could have played a part in her death?"

"It's not just possible, but in my opinion, they were very instrumental in her death. This book contains some of the most powerful incantations ... and some of the most evil ... in all of the multiverse. And if she did what I think she did, it could have dire consequences for us ... and for the entire human race as well. Have you ever heard of the term Hekla?"

"It's supposedly one of the seven gateways to hell. You don't think she opened one of those, do you?" < Say you don't think she did. Even if you think she did. Say you don't think she did. >

**********

A worried Harry returned to the hotel.

"Why so glum?" Bob noted. "You'd think the world was coming to an end."

"It just might." Harry related what Walter had told him.

"So what do we do about it?"

Harry opened a large canvas bag that suddenly 'appeared' on the floor next to the bed. He began to remove objects from it. A true sorcerer's staff. A real magic wand. Several bags and bottles containing various powders and liquids.

"Harry. You are not thinking of going after the demons yourself, are you? You know the Council's stand on this sort of thing."

"This time it's different. This time I have Walter's complete approval and support. And I'm not going to be acting on my own either. Already there are teams scouring the area for any signs of paranormal activities. I'm going to be working with one of those teams. Where do you think I got all this stuff from? You know I can't afford any of it myself. Walter Yensid lent it to me."

**********

Shawn and Gus were waiting for Harry when he left the hotel. "Where are we going to start looking for our killer?" Shawn asked.

"WE aren't going to start anywhere. You two are going back to your office. Trust me, Shawn. This is no place for the likes of you or Gus." Harry replied.

"Look, Harry. I know you know that I'm not really a psychic, but I do have a rather phenomenal capacity for seeing what others miss ... even if I do say so myself ... and of putting two and two together. I've managed to fool a lot of people so far. At least let me help. Maybe Gus and I can find things that you might miss. For instance, I know we're hunting someone who is connected to the occult. And that you're prepared to fight fire with fire, so to speak. You're going to need somebody to cover your back. That's where we come in."

"Believe me, Shawn ... Gus. You're not nearly as competent to deal with what's going on here as you think you are. In fact, I doubt if any mortal is equipped to survive an encounter with the dark side. Please. Let those who are trained and skilled in this sort of thing handle it."

Shawn pondered Harry's words for a few minutes. "Okay. You're right. Maybe we are getting in over our heads. We won't interfere with your investigation. I promise."

"I'm glad to hear that." Harry headed to the parking lot.

"That ain't like you, Shawn." Gus said as soon as Harry was out of earshot. "You've never backed down from a case before. You're not gonna start now, are you?"

Shawn brought his hands from behind his back and uncrossed his fingers. "In a pig's eye."

**********

Shawn carefully inserted the lockpicks into the door, and when it opened, he eased through the 'crime scene' tapes that blocked the entrance to Madame Olga's shop.

"Be careful." Gus cautioned him as he followed suit. " Remember what Harry said. If there is magic at work here, I don't want to suddenly find out that I have a bullfrog for a best friend."

"Gus. Will you relax? All I want to do is look around. I promise I won't even touch anything." He picked up one of the tarot cards that were still lying on the table and hastily put it down. "Force of habit." He admitted sheepishly.

As he slowly and carefully glanced around the room, One thing caught his eye. A poster for the movie 'The Hell Brothers'. On it were pictures of numerous demon like figures. Most of them were in black and white, but one was in a black-gray-green color and this one looked more evil than the others. Another thing that interested him was a small spot of something that looked like a neon greenish gel on the floor near where the remnants of Madame Olga had been found. He bent down and was almost overcome by the strong pungent smell of sulfur. He touched it briefly with his fingertip and quickly pulled back. IT BURNED! He took a small vial and a pocket knife out of his jacket and scraped some of the goo into the bottle.

"Come on Shawn. Let's get out of here before something awful happens." Gus urged as he headed for the door.

Shawn needed no encouragement. He was right behind his friend. "Maybe we should tell Harry what we found." He said as the two of them half walked - half ran to Gus's car.

"Are you kidding? You heard what he told us. And he really could turn us into bullfrogs for disobeying him. Do as he says. Leave it alone."

"Burton Guster, don't tell me you're scared."

"Scared? Me? Damn right I'm scared. Messing with Lassiter's mind is one thing. Messing with whatever is at work here is another thing entirely. Lassie can't really do anything to us, but creatures from the dark side can get us killed. Or even worse."

The door to Gus's car was blocked ... literally ... by a huge gentleman. He stood over seven feet tall, and was 300 to 350 pounds of solid muscle. His head was shaved bald and in his left ear he had a large gold earring. He reminded Shawn of a sinister looking Mr. Clean. The muscle shirt he wore clearly showed the tattoo of a hissing snake coiled around a sword, and the words 'Live Free Or Die' emblazoned on his left bicep. His arms were crossed defiantly across his chest. He had an attitude to match. "What are you doing here?" His voice sounded like a cross between a growl and a roar.

Shawn swallowed hard. To say that the man in front of them was intimidating was a gross understatement. " I'm Rip Hemhoff, KWAK-TV news, and this is my assistant, I. V. Dranablank. We're here to do a story on the death of Madame Olga."

Gus held up his cell phone as though it was a mini recorder. "Would you care to make a statement."

He was answered by a low rumbling sound that resembled thunder.

"Can you tell me if ... G-L-R-A-A-A-K!!! ... " Shawn squeaked as the man lifted him off the ground with a one hand choke hold around his throat. "I take it that's a no comment." He wheezed.

"This area is off limits. I strongly suggest that you leave ... NOW!" The man said as he dropped Shawn to the ground. Literally. Shawn landed ignominiously on his posterior.

They did not need to be told a second time.

"Feet don't fail me now!" Gus cried as he and Shawn took off at a dead run. They could always come back for the car later when it was safe.

**********

Harry approached Madame Olga's carefully. He had received instructions to meet Walter Yensid's Chief Warden here. According to his informant, the Warden would fill him in on the progress that had been made in discovering whatever Madame Olga had or had not done before her death.

Just as he was about to enter the shop, he was blocked by a man of unusual size ... and temperament. It was the same man who had confronted Shawn and Gus a few minutes earlier. "What are you doing here?" The man sounded like a cross between a hungry lion and an angry gorilla.

"I was told to report here to the Chief Warden by Wal ... I mean I ... I ... " < Great going, Dresden. You nearly blew the best kept secret of the centuries to the Gargantuan Genie here. > "I mean ... Nothing. I guess I am in the wrong place at the wrong time." He said sheepishly. He wanted to run, but for some reason, his legs would not obey him.

"Maybe you are, and maybe you aren't." The man replied. "By any chance is your name Harry Dresden?"

Harry nodded a small 'yes'. It seemed that his head was the only part of his body that was functional.

"If are looking for Walter Yensid's Chief Warden, you found him. His demeanor softened considerably. He smiled kindly and extended his hand. "My name is Dwayne."

"Dwayne?" Harry snickered. The man did not look anything like what the name Dwayne implied. "Dwayne ... ?" He repeated in a falsetto.

"You got a problem with that?" Dwayne resumed his threatening posture.

"Nope." Harry said quietly, < I will not laugh. I will be a good wizard. I do not want to spend the rest of my life at Wallyland in a permanent Jerry Gerbil suit. > "So. What has been happening with the hunt for any demons that Madame Olga might have released?" He said, trying very hard to suppress the squeaky giggle that threatened to break out.

"Actually, I haven't done too much investigating. I've spent most of my time chasing all the freaks, weirdoes, and curiosity seekers out of the area. Just before you showed up, I had to get rid of two reporters from KWAK-TV."

"KWAK? Are you sure that wasn't KLAX?"

"No. KWAK. Their names were Rip Hemhoff and I. V. Dranablank."

It was all Harry could do to keep from laughing. "Think about it. Rip him off and I've drawn a blank from Quack TV ... Sounds like something a couple of people I know might try to pull off. Let me take a guess. Was one of them about my height and age, slightly immature and impulsive? And was the other one a black man, very nervous and high strung? And were they driving this blue car?" Harry pointed to Gus's car.

"Uh huh."

"Shawn Spencer ... And Gus Guster." Harry said knowingly.

"You know them?"

"Yeah, I know them." He remembered the week he spent with them. And his meeting with them a few hours earlier. The same meeting where they promised not to do anything more about the Madame Olga's death.

"Good. I'm making it your responsibility to keep them in line. If they cause any kind of trouble, or interfere again in any way with our investigation of this matter, I guarantee I'll be all over the three of you like stink on a skunk."

"I'll do my best to keep them out of your hair." Harry looked at the sorcerer in front of him ... particularly at his head ... and gulped noticeably. "Figuratively speaking, of course."

"You better. I'd hate to see them run across someone who's not as understanding as I am. Who knows what might happen then?" Dwayne smiled at this apparent joke ... At least Harry hoped it was a joke.

"Now then. About Wilhelmina Charles. Her ring was a talisman, but it wasn't a very powerful one. Probably because she hadn't learned how to use it properly. And as far as we can determine, she didn't use any of the spells from the Necronomicon to open any of the gateways to hell."

Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief. Hunting down demonic hoards was not very high on his list of things he planned to do on his vacation.

"However." Dwayne continued. "We did find considerable evidence of poltergeist activity in the area. And not all of it the mischievous kind either. Some of it was downright malicious. It's entirely probable that they may have been involved in some way in her demise. It will be your job to determine how many poltergeists there are, find out what if any part they played in her demise, and to neutralize them."

"And just how am I to do that?"

Dwayne crossed his arms and glared at Harry. "You're a wizard, aren't you? You'll think of something, I'm sure. We know about Bob, too. You can use him if you want."

< And while you're at it, why don't you shove a broom up my ass and I'll sweep the floor as I go along, too. >

"What was that you said?"

Harry wasn't entirely sure whether he had thought it or actually said it. Either way, he wasn't taking any chances of offending the giant standing before him. "nothing ... Sir."

**********

Gus peered out around the side of the building where he and Shawn were crouching.

"See anything?" Shawn asked.

"Nope. He must be gone. There hasn't been anyone around the car for the last hour. Except for that cop who put a parking ticket on the windshield. You're gonna end up paying that, Shawn."

"Why me? It's your car."

"Because I didn't want to be here in the first place. That's why."

"Okay. I'll pay it, but you'll owe me for it. And I intend to collect. You're going to take me to your work and we're going to analyze this stuff." He held up the pill bottle that contained the sample of the green goo.

"Oh no I'm not. I'm in enough hot water as it is. What with my taking off every so often to help you, my record there is less than outstanding. Do you know what the Brass Asses would do to me if they caught us in the lab? On second thought you don't want to know. Neither do I."

"G-u-u-s-s-s." Shawn gave him his best hurt puppy dog look.

"Okay. But remember that famous line ... 'If caught or captured, I will disavow any knowledge of your actions'.

"That's not the way it went."

"Close enough."

"Speaking of work, I'm going to be late as it is. How about we do this tomorrow evening? That's Friday, and everyone will have left for the weekend and we'll practically have the place to ourselves."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

**********

"Gus. Do you know where you're going?" Shawn asked. "I know we've passed that corner at least three times already. You do work here, don't you?"

"Uh huh. But I'm a customer representative, not a scientist. I sell the stuff, not make it. I work on the third floor, not down here in the basement. All I know is how to get from the parking lot to my cubicle and from my cubicle to the restroom and to the cafeteria. Anything other than that, I don't know and I don't wanna know."

"Then how are we going to find the lab?"

"How about we look behind that door that says 'Laboratory' on it?" Gus pointed to the door opposite them.

"Good thinking, Mr. Guster. Let's try the door that says laboratory." Shawn said as he tried the door. As he expected, it was locked. Once more he took out his lockpicking tools and after a few tries he had it opened.

Cautiously, Shawn and Gus entered the room. There were several tables running down the middle of the room with a multitude of scientific equipment and other devices on them. Along one wall were more tables with banks of computers and monitors connected to many of the microscopes and other testing machinery in the room. Another section of the room held what looked like autoclaves and freezers. A series of shelves lined another wall and were filled with beakers, petrie dishes and test tubes. Most of them were filled with samples of products to be evaluated. This was obviously the right place. Now all they had to do was figure out how to analyze the green goo.

"Here." Shawn said handing the bottle to Gus. "Do your thing."

"Me? I don't know nothin' about working any of this stuff. You're the one who wants to know what it is. YOU analyze it."

"Me? Remember. I flunked chemistry class big time. After I blew out all the windows in the science lab with that homemade stink bomb, Mr. Fletcher threatened to have me expelled. Actually, he wanted to flog me too. If it wasn't for the fact that my father agreed to pay for all the damaged equipment he would have kicked me out of school for sure. And had me flogged. As it was, I was prohibited from any extracurricular activities, and was sentenced to detention for the rest of the year."

"Then who is going to analyze this stuff?"

"How about me?"

Both Shawn and Gus turned, and both of them nearly collided with Harry.

"How ... How did you get in here?" Shawn gasped.

"The same way you two did. I picked the lock."

"No. That's not what I mean. I mean ... more like how did you know we were going to be here? Did you read our minds or something?" Shawn stammered.

"Nothing that complicated. I followed you. Before you ask, I was outside Madame Olga's when you were there yesterday. I saw you collect that bottle of goo. So ... my curiosity took over. When you said you were coming here tonight to analyze it, I decided to tag along."

"So can you work any of this equipment?" Gus asked.

"Not without causing some serious industrial strength damage. But I have something back at the hotel that can do the job as good as or maybe even better than any of this stuff could do."

"What are we waiting for? Let's go." Gus replied, heading for the door.

**********

"Wait a minute." Gus said as the trio approached Harry's hotel room. "I know you opened that door with your key card when we first got here, but then later you said that your vibes shorted out any electronic things. So how did you do it?"

"That should be an easy one." Harry said, grinning. "Shawn. Would you like to explain it?"

Shawn thought for a moment. "Magic?"

"Bingo. Actually, the electronic locks aren't that much different than regular key locks. Just a little more complicated." He stared at the lock intensely. "I just concentrate on the mechanisms inside the lock and mentally picture the tumblers lining up." There was an almost inaudible clicking sound. "Then ... " He turned the handle and the door opened. "When I'm with anyone who doesn't know about me, I put the key card in to preserve the illusion."

"So, where is all this wonderful equipment that you told us about?" Shawn asked as they entered the hotel room.

"Over here." Harry pointed to the ancient skull sitting on the desk. "Bob. Come on out." There was no response. "Please?" Still no response. "NOW!"

A column of thick black smoke rose from the skull and turned into the ghost. He was dressed in nothing but a towel. "What do you want now?" He said sullenly. "I was in the middle of a ... " He spotted the other two. Is it possible for a ghost to blush? Bob was doing it. He had turned a bright shade of pink. "Oh! Hi Shawn. Hi Gus. Give me a couple of seconds to get dressed." He disappeared, and sure enough, exactly three seconds later appeared in a flowered shirt and baggy shorts.

Harry held up the bottle. "What is it?"

"Do I get three guesses? Is it bigger than a breadbox?"

"Bob! Cut the sarcasm! Be serious. Shawn and Gus found this at Madame Olga's and we think it might have something to do with her death. We need you to see what you can find out about it."

"Oh very well." Harry opened the bottle and placed it under Bob's nose. Bob took a deep breath and screwed his face. "Eeew! That smells awful!" Seconds later, he morphed into a greenish gray ... creature ... with glowing red eyes and long fangs. He had no hair and a long triangular face with what could be best described as a wolf's muzzle for a nose. Or maybe a rat's nose. He had claws instead of hands, and his legs and feet resembled a goat's hindquarters. In a few more seconds, the familiar Bob was back.

"What ... what was that?" Shawn gasped, his voice at least a half octave higher. His face had drained of all color. Gus was laying on the floor, out cold.

"That ... " Bob informed him. " ... was the creature who left this ... stuff ... behind. Incidentally, that ... stuff is called plasticidic residue. When a creature crosses from the other side into ours, it's possible for it to pick up a minute amount if it from the gateway. That's what's in the bottle."

They were interrupted ... literally ... by the sudden appearance of the Chief Warden in the room. (Did you notice that everything about this man is 'literally'?)

Shawn nearly joined his friend and partner on the floor, but he managed to remain upright, though shaky.

"Take it easy Dwayne. There's no need to take any action against them. Or me." Harry said, positioning himself between Shawn and Gus and Dwayne. "I'm doing what you said. I'm keeping them under control. Besides, they have some important information on our killer."

"Dwayne?" Shawn said. Actually it was more like a squeak, but who's quibbling.

Dwayne stood imposingly over Shawn. "Dwayne!" He replied in his thunderous voice. He looked at Harry. "Why does everyone think that's funny?"

"No offense, Dwayne." Harry said, "But you don't exactly fit the preconception of what a person named Dwayne should be. A Dwayne should be on the skinny side, definitely undersized, maybe with glasses, with a squeaky voice and probably on the nerdy or geeky side."

Dwayne smiled broadly. Somehow it seemed incongruous. "Would it help if I told you I have a Masters degree from Cal Poly in horticultural biology? Or that I play Mr. Clean and The Green Giant in commercials and personal appearances?" He noted the puzzled look on Gus, who had managed to regain consciousness and was now standing unsteadily beside Shawn. "Of course I was on the Olympic weightlifting team, and a quarter finalist in the Mr. Universe contest. I've also been a heavyweight contender in the WWF. I've even done stunt work at some of the major studios. Furthermore, I've provided security for some of the best known celebrities in the world."

"Then why are you a Warden?" Harry asked.

"Because I'm a wizard." He said matter-of-factly. "Which leads me to the reason I came here in the first place. There has been another incident of spontaneous combustion. And this one is only three blocks from Madame Olga's."

**********

Detective Lassiter stood over the smoldering body. "I was right." He told his partner Detective O'Hara. "We are looking at a serial killer. George Kilbourne was murdered exactly the same way as that fortune teller, Madame Olga."

"The only difference is that this one wasn't a fortune teller or whatever they're calling themselves these days. He was a salesman." Juliet O'Hara added.

"But what was he selling? There doesn't seem to be any invoices or order forms or any other paraphernalia that a salesman would normally have. He doesn't even have a cash register." Carlton asked as he checked the rows of shelves that lined every wall of the office. There were a myriad of boxes, bags, bottles and jars. Most of them were not labeled. Many of them contained items that he could not identify. Some had things in them that he did not want to identify.

"Who knows?"

"Maybe I can help." Shawn said as he and the others entered the office.

"Spencer. I told you to leave these investigations to the experts." Lassiter snapped. "Believe me. There's nothing psychic or mumbo jumbo about these murders. It's a simple case of homicidal arson. Now take your friends and go back to wherever it is you came from and let us do our thing."

"We ARE the experts." Dwayne ... now dressed in a black business suit ... strode right up to the detective and stood face to face with him. Actually, it was more like chest to face, but Lassiter was just as frightened. "You have no idea what YOU are dealing with. So why don't YOU leave, and let US do OUR thing." He quickly flashed a badge case and an ID card. "Dwayne Blayne. FBI. We're taking over this investigation. And we're borrowing your psychic too."

"But I ... " Lassiter sputtered.

Shawn walked over to him. "Lassie. Go home." He patted Lassiter on the head.

Harry concentrated on the detective. "Shawn is right." He said softly. "Go home and take the rest of your crew with you."

Lassiter felt as though Harry's eyes were boring directly into his mind. "I'm going home. He repeated dully. "And the rest of you are coming with me." He started for the door with the rest of the police and firemen following him.

"Good work, Harry." Dwayne said. "Now we can get started with the real investigation."

"Dwayne Blayne, FBI?" Gus asked.

"Oh that." Dwayne explained, taking out the badge case again. The picture on the fake ID was definitely Dwayne, but in a suit and tie. "The card can read whatever I want it to." He pointed to the ID card. "FBI. SID. CIA. Interpol. Scotland Yard. Homeland Security." The names on the card changed to correspond with Dwayne's words. "As for the badge, take a real close look at it."

Shawn and Gus examined the gold colored badge closely. When he read the lettering that was emblazoned on the shield ... 'Junior Deputy Law Officer' ... Gus looked questioningly at the huge wizard. "I don't understand. This is just a toy. How can it fool anybody?" He asked.

"It is a toy just like you said. It's really not supposed to fool anyone. I got it at a dollar store. So far, everyone has been too intimidated to read it too closely. All they see is a badge and a real looking ID. That, combined with my appearance is usually enough to give them the willies and make them more than willing to cooperate with me."

Shawn knelt on the floor. "I think I found some more of that green goo like I saw at Madame Olga's." He pointed to a blob of green gel.

"Harry? What do you think?" Dwayne said. "HAR-RY!"

Harry was busy browsing the shelves. "Eye of Newt. Rattlesnake skin. Wolfsbane. Nightshade." He announced as he examined each of the containers. He dipped his finger into one of the powders and touched it to his tongue. "Powdered rotten eggs." He made a face. "Unless I miss my guess, the recently deceased was a supplier to the Community. That leads me to believe that the poltergeists we are chasing are definitely evil and are out after members of the paranormal society and not the general public."

"You can tell all of that this soon?" Gus asked.

"Well, we could wait and see if they eliminate any more wizards, witches, or sorcerers but I for one don't want to see any more of our people killed just to prove a point. What do you think, Dwayne?"

"I think that's one of our evil spirits now." Dwayne pointed to a shadow creeping past the door and into the street.

They followed the shadow ... and that was all that they saw ... to Madame Olga's storefront. There, the shadow oozed itself through the key opening in the lock.

"Let me open it for you guys." Shawn said as he fished his lockpicking kit from his back pocket.

Dwayne only rolled his eyes and gently pushed him aside. He snapped his fingers and the tumblers not only clicked into place, but the door opened as well. He executed a deep sweeping bow. "After you."

Inside, Gus covered his mouth and nose to block out the overwhelming smell of sulfur.

"They're using this place as a gateway." Dwayne confirmed. He pulled a bag out of seemingly nowhere and passed out the filter masks that were inside. "This will do the job much better than your hands." He told Gus.

"So what's with the awful smell?" Shawn asked. "It wasn't nearly this bad the last time we were here."

"The last time you were here there probably were only one or two demons on this side. Now there are a lot more than that going in and out of here." Dwayne replied.

"I thought you said that Wilhelmina didn't open any gateways to hell. Then how did that many demons come through?" Harry said.

"She didn't open any major gateways. But there are other lesser portals to the underworld." He pointed to the poster advertising the Hell Brothers movie. "That's one of them."

Just then, the poster began to shimmer and a huge greenish black creature came through. It was an almost exact duplicate of the creature that Bob had morphed into earlier. Except that it was much bigger and much more evil looking. "What do you want, puny humans?" It said in a voice that sounded like a blend of several voices. "We are Q'reth, Master of Demons. We order you to leave now or face the consequences."

"I don't think so, demon." Dwayne said pointing his staff ... which had suddenly appeared in his hand ... at the creature. "You are the one who will leave or face the consequences." Harry also drew his staff ... the real one that Walter Yensid had given him, not his hockey stick ... and pointed it at Q'reth.

"So. You are sorcerers!" The Q'reth said in shock. "We have dealt with your kind before. You do not intimidate us."

"If you mean George Kilbourne and Wilhelmina Charles, they were not nearly as powerful sorcerers as we are. Harry and I will not be so easy to defeat."

"We will see about that." Q'reth lunged at Dwayne with almost lightning speed. Before Dwayne could react, it had knocked the staff from the Warden's hand and pulled him into the portal with the proverbial strength of ten men.

A blinding blue white flash of lightning erupted from Harry's staff, but it was a split second too late. It exploded into the wall, leaving a huge scorch mark.

Almost immediately, another demon took Q'reth's place. "I am Bree'nzrd, the Enforcer, and you're next, wizard." It growled at Harry with the same multi voice.

"But now I'm ready for you." Harry pointed his staff at the new demon and another flash of lightning erupted from the tip. His aim was just a fraction off, and the bolt struck Bree'nzrd on the shoulder, knocking it into the wall. The demon used the wall as a springboard and knocked Harry to the floor. It began raking the wizard with its fang like teeth and sharp hooves and at the same time pounded its fists into Harry's stomach. Harry pushed it off and swung at its head, but the demon grabbed his left forearm and twisted. Hard. There was the unmistakable sound of bones snapping. Harry screamed in pain, and with his good arm managed to push the demon back into the wall. He brought his knee forcibly into the demon's groin and it doubled over. At the same time, he brought his right fist into its face. A purple-blue liquid ... presumably blood ... poured from its nose ... snout ... whatever ... and it was the demon's turn to howl in pain. Bree'nzrd retaliated by throwing its entire weight onto Harry's disabled right arm. Harry was knocked off balance and fell to the floor. The demon began kicking at his head with its hooves. Harry lay still, blood gushing from the gash in his forehead caused by the razor sharp cloven feet.

Shawn leapt onto the creature's back and began pounding it on the head with his fists. The demon bucked and tossed wildly, but Shawn hung on for dear life. Eventually though Bree'nzrd's superior strength won out, and it flipped the nearly exhausted Shawn onto the floor next to Harry.

"You can't do that to my friends and get away with it!" Gus shouted. He picked up Dwayne's staff and began twirling it like a ninja's shaft. "I should warn you, I have a third class green belt in Tai Kwan Do. EEEE-HAAAH!" He thrust the staff directly at the demon.

Bree'nzrd backed away slightly, remembering its encounter with Harry's staff.

"You don't like that, do you, demon? Well, here's another one! KAI-YAAAH!" Gus said as he jabbed again.

Since there was no burst of blue white lightning from the staff when Gus did it, Bree'nzrd became bolder and advanced on Gus. Gus swung the staff as hard as he could and landed a roundhouse blow to the creature's head. The demon staggered but quickly regained its balance. It turned on Gus. "What makes you think you are capable of defeating us, feeble mortal?" It bellowed. As Gus began another swing with the staff, Bree'nzrd grabbed it and started to pull Gus toward him. Gus closed his eyes. He knew that whatever was coming next would be extremely painful ... possibly fatal, but maybe if he didn't see it coming, it wouldn't hurt quite as much.

It never came. The next thing Gus was aware of was that the creature was screaming in pain. He opened his eyes and saw that Dwayne had Bree'nzrd in a choke hold and its left arm pinned behind its back. Its spine was in an unusual position, the result of being bent backwards over Dwayne's right knee. The demon was screeching and struggling, but this time the sorcerer was the stronger one.

A second later, Harry staggered into view and pointed his staff at it. This time his aim was true, and the demon crumbled to the floor under a constant stream of blue white lightning.

"Finally figured out to use this." Harry said proudly, holding the staff high.

"Thanks, Harry." Dwayne said, wiping traces of plasticidic residue from his shirt.

"My pleasure."

"Sorry it took so long to get back." Dwayne said as he dragged the unconscious Bree'nzrd to the poster and tossed it into the portal. "But Q'reth had a couple of friends with him over there too. They were real sons of bitches to deal with. Didn't want to roll over and play dead." He took his own staff and pointed it at the poster. The placard shimmered and wavered as concentric rings of energy emanated from the center. When they reached the edge, they reversed themselves and slowly shrink to nothing. There was a brilliant flash of light and an almost deafening boom, and the poster looked no different than any other movie poster. "It's done. The portal is sealed."

Dwayne noticed Harry's disabled arm. "Can I help?" He gently took the arm in his hands and concentrated. Once more there were popping sounds as the bones realigned themselves. Again out of nowhere, he produced a sling and positioned it around Harry's shoulder and arm. Then he touched the bruises and gashes. One by one they closed and in a manner of minutes there was nothing but new skin. "That should make you feel a lot better. By tomorrow you should be good as new."

"Tomorrow?" Shawn asked. "His arm is broken. That's going to take at least six to eight weeks to heal."

"But we're wizards." Harry explained. "We heal at an astonishing rate."

"Can you do that, too?" Gus asked Harry.

This time Dwayne answered. "Yeah, he can do that too. But I wanted to show my appreciation to him, so I did it for him."

"Can you do it to others as well?"

"Let me help." Harry touched Shawn's split lip. In only a few seconds the lip closed and there was only a slight throbbing sensation to indicate there had ever been anything wrong. He put his hand on a bruise on his cheek and seconds later, it had gone from red to purple to green to yellow to nothing at all.

"Wow!" That's fantastic!" Gus exclaimed. "I'll remember this for the rest of my life."

"I'm afraid not." Dwayne replied.

"Do you have to?" Harry asked the Warden. It was a rhetorical question. He already knew the answer.

"Harry. You know the rules. Mortals cannot know. While I deeply appreciate the help they've given us, I can't ... " He took a deep sad breath. " ... I can't let them remember any of this."

"We promise we won't tell anyone." Gus said, holding up his right hand in the three finger Boy Scout salute. "Scouts honor."

"Besides, who'd believe us even if we did?" Shawn added.

"I'm sorry. I have the liberty to do a lot of looking the other way, but that's one rule I don't have the authority to waive. I can promise you this though. It won't hurt a bit. As far as you two are concerned, the past three days will not have happened the way they did."

Harry and Dwayne placed their hands on Shawn and Gus's heads. They both concentrated.

"This is what you will remember about the past three days ... " Dwayne spoke soothingly.

**********

Harry adjusted the back of his beach chair and slathered on another layer of suntan oil.

On the promenade walk beside the beach, the sound of sirens and the flashing police and fire engine lights caught his notice. They were stopped in front of a shop almost directly across from him. The sign above the shop intrigued Harry. 'MADAME OLGA PSYCHIC READER AND ADVISOR'.

Pulling on his jeans and a T-shirt over his swim trunks, he quickly joined the throng of curious people gathered around the entrance to the store just as the firemen were coming out. He stood back from the crowd and watched and waited.

Presently, two men came out. "Well, that is the strangest thing I've ever seen." Shawn commented. "Nothing was on fire except the Madame herself." He shook his head. "Strange."

"And you couldn't pick up anything in there?" Gus asked his companion. "That's not like you at all."

"I know. But with Lassie and all the others swarming all over the place, anything that could have been used as a clue was pretty well messed up. In addition, it seems to be pretty much straightforward arson. I think this one is just going to have to be left to the SBPD to solve." He was so busy talking that he ran right into Harry.

"Excuse me. I didn't see you. I was ..." He apologized. He stared at the man for a few moments. "Wait a minute. I think I know you." Flashes of a meeting twenty something years earlier unfolded in his mind. "By any chance is your name Harry Dresden?"

Harry shook his head yes. "Yes it is. And you are ... "

"Shawn Spencer. And this is Gus Guster."

The same bits and pieces of scenes coursed through Harry's mind. "Yes, I remember. I spent a week with you guys when my father was mistakenly arrested. I was eleven and you were ten. We went camping."

"You remember Harry, don't you Gus?"

Gus began scratching his chest violently. "Yeah. I remember him."

"So sue me. Remember. I 'm a city boy through and through. How was I to know that those plants with the pretty, shiny leaves were Poison Ivy?"

Gus rolled his eyes and raised his hands in a sign of surrender.

"What are you doing in Santa Barbara?" Shawn continued.

"I'm on vacation. What are you doing here?"

"I live here. I'm a consultant with the Santa Barbara Police Department. You see I'm a psychic, and I sometimes help them solve difficult crimes. I also have my own business, too. I help people with problems they can't resolve any other way."

"That's very interesting. I've never met a psychic before. Is there somewhere we can go and catch up on old times?"

"How about my dad's place? He's having a barbecue this afternoon, and I'm sure he'd be very interested to meet you again."

"Well, then. Shall we go." Harry put his arms around the two and all three of them walked down the street toward Gus's car.

**********

Harry sat his bags down in the private compartment of the Santa Fe Limited as it pulled out of the Los Angeles Union Station and opened the backpack. He took out the skull and almost immediately, Bob emerged.

"I want to tell you Harry, I had a great time. I know you couldn't allow me to accompany you this past week because of the memory wipe you and Dwayne put on your two friends. But thanks to that spell that your friend Walter cast on me, I was able to take my skull with me in the backpack as I traveled around town on my own. At least as long as I stayed in the confines of the city of Santa Barbara. That was pure genius. The shops and theaters were fascinating! I even went to a strip club! Whoo! Hoo! Those babes were HOT! HOT! HOT! Even though I could not go to the beach because I sunburned so easily, this still was one of the most memorable trips I have ever been on in the past thousand years."

"Exactly how many trips have been on in the past thousand years?" Harry asked the ghost.

"Ah ... Counting the trip when your uncle brought me from England to Chicago?"

Yep."

"... Two."

Bob counted the bags and suitcases on the compartment floor. "There seems to be an extra bag." He noted. "Did you by any chance ... forget ... to return the ... things ... that Walter Yensid gave you?"

"No. I didn't ... forget to return them. I tried to give them back, but Walter refused to take them. He said I could keep them as my reward for helping the Community deal with the demons. Besides, since I had handled them, my vibrations were imprinted on them and no one else would be able use them effectively."

"And what will become of your hockey stick and the drumsticks you usually use as a staff and wand? These have your engrams on them as well."

"Oh, I'll keep on using them. Although these are the real thing, I feel more comfortable with my own stuff. Besides, do you know how much it would cost to replace these?" He pointed to the bag. "A lot more than a hockey stick and a set of drumsticks, I can tell you that. So I guess I'll just keep these for special occasions."

"Good idea. You are somewhat of a klutz after all."

"Bob. Cut it out with the barbed comments, or I'll put you back in the backpack for the rest of the trip to Chicago."

"You wouldn't do that, would you?"

"Keep up the sarcasm and you'll find out."

"Party Pooper."

**********

"Well, I see that Lassie finally solved a case without our help." Shawn said as he refolded the Santa Barbara News-Press and put it back on his desk. "Turns out our arsonist was some nutcase that apparently had this obsession with getting rid of what he considered to be evil forces in the world. He believed Madame Olga and all other fortune tellers were in league with them, so he doused her with gasoline and set her on fire. He did the same to that other guy, George Kilbourne. He thought Kilbourne was selling evil potions. Turns out they were nothing more than role playing props. Fortunately, the fire department got to both of them before the blazes had a chance to spread and the only thing burned was the Madame and Kilbourne."

Shawn picked up his jacket and began to fold it when something fell out of one of the pockets. He picked up the clear pill bottle and held it up to the light. In it, a gelatinous neon green substance jiggled in the sunlight.

"What's that?" Gus asked.

"I don't know. It was in the pocket of my denim jacket. I haven't worn it since we went to check out the fire at the fortune teller's shop last week. I must have picked this stuff up there."

"Yeah. That's where we met your friend Harry. We really had a good time showing him around the area all week. You know, he turned out to be a pretty neat guy after all. Maybe if we ever get to Chicago we can look him up and he can return the favor like he said he would."

"Maybe we will. Someday." He began to examine the bottle once more. "I was so excited about seeing him again that I must have forgotten all about this."

Suddenly, the goo started to glow and then the gel began to boil and evaporate. In seconds, there was nothing in the bottle at all.

"If that don't beat all. Maybe it might have had something to do with her death. Now we'll never know for sure. But since they've already caught the perp and he confessed, it really doesn't matter anymore, does it?" Shawn said as he threw the bottle into the trash. "So much for trying to figure out what it was."

"You want to go out for lunch or order delivery?" Gus asked.

"Delivery. How about Chinese?" Shawn said picking up the phone.

"Sounds good to me. I'll have the House Lo Mein."

Outside the office, Dwayne nodded his head satisfactorily and took out his cell phone. "All loose ends securely tied up." He reported to his superior.

**********