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Chapter Text

...

McAnally's pub was packed full of people. Wizards, Vampires, and Wolfkin. Harry was oddly caught in the middle. He was both a wolfkin and a wizard by his blood rite.

The Wolfkin were not signatories to the Unseelie and Seelie Accords. But the Wizard Council was. The White Council had invited the Wolfkin to send representatives to the summit meeting of the Accords.

Harry recognized the Clan Head to be Willard Cates. To his right was Tyler Creed the Heir Apparent and to his left was Matthew Donner. Tyler and Matthew nodded to him but Willard ignored him.

A part of him that he had shoved in the recesses of his mind wanted to go greet them. Tyler and Matthew specifically. Cates could go fuck himself for all he cared.

The Red Court entered a few moments later. The room went silent except for a low growl that sounded like it came from the entire pack of wolves. The vampires didn't even flinch at the growls. Harry could feel the tension rolling off the wolves and the vampires. He could also feel the magic from the wizards and other beings in the room. It was a powder keg of a situation and he hoped that no one struck a match because there was no way to put out this fire.

Harry rubbed at his chest. His heart was beginning to speed up and his muscles tensed. His eyesight sharpened and the smell of the room hit him. Sweat, blood, food, booze, and more. He needed to calm down. If the moon sickness took over now. Then the world could burn.

Calm down. Don't start this here. Calm down. He could feel the beast inside him clawing at his insides. Demanding to be let loose.

The three other Wolfkins' heads snapped around to look at him. Their eyes widened. They could sense the change in him. But they didn't know why.

Creed caught his gaze and mouthed, "You need a minute?"

In such close proximity he could feel their presences in his mind. The blocks on the bond was barely keeping them out. That was not good. Not at all.

Harry was about to move to the backroom of the pub when the door opened and the White Council strode in. Merlin, Ancient Mai, the Gatekeeper, Listens-To-Wind, McCoy, Martha Liberty, and Cristos. Luccio was not in attendance. She was likely too busy with the Wardens.

Ebenezar looked like he wanted to come over to Harry. Like the Wolfkin there was a flicker of concern in his face. Harry shoved everything he could in a corner of his mind. The walls were cracking. And then the beast was roaring. He tried to shove it down and was mostly successful. But a shiver wracked his body and he panted lightly.

"Welcome to the Accord Meeting," greeted Merlin looking at those present, "As a reminder there will be no combat this Tavern's grounds. These is Neutral Grounds."

Ancient Mai stepped forward, "I would like to thank the McAnally Clan," she gestured to Mac, "For allowing us to have the meeting on their premises. I would also remind you that anything spoken here cannot be used against the speaker or their clan. This is a time to negotiate and find peace. There has been too much bloodshed already on both sides."

The Merlin picked up, "We have read through your demands, Lord Ortega. And we have found the majority to be acceptable. However, some are not. We would like to discuss the ones not met and see if a compromise can be made. If not then we will have no choice but to continue fighting."

Ortega took a seat as did Willard. Harry didn't recognize the vampire that stood at Ortega's shoulder as counsel. Willard chose Matthew as his counsel.

Not a bad choice in counsel. If it was Harry though he would have brought Blackstone with him. Sherman Blackstone was the oldest wolf in the Clan and had almost as much magic as Ebenezar did. No one was sure exactly how old Blackstone was. Matthew was a good strategist but like Harry it'd been years or even decades since he shifted.

Negotiations began and Harry only listened with half an ear. The Council was willing to give up their ties on him. He was almost 100% sure that outside of Ebenezar they would happily hand him over. However they were only one half of his ties.

It'd been almost forgotten in his history since he hadn't shifted since he was 16 that he was Wolfkin on his dad's side. But the tie was one of blood and even if the Wolfkin weren't part of Accords they had a right to him.

After an hour and a half they had to break for a recess. In that time the two groups would speak amongst themselves. Harry was going to go to the restroom before the second round began. He needed to splash his face with water.

Heat like hellfire burned under his skin. His shirt and jacket felt constricting on his upper body. It was a relief to enter the coolness of the bathroom. He turned the sink on and splashed his face. When his breathing was normal again and his heart was steady once more, he straightened to find Ortega there.

Harry froze. The vampire's dark eyes roamed up and down his form with a frown. Harry was suddenly very conscious of his appearance. Of how worn down and exhausted he was. How his clothes had holes in them and his bones were starting to show. He hadn't eaten a decent meal in a week. And his fridge was empty and his wallet was emptier.

Harry stepped around Ortega and said politely, "Excuse me."

But of course, things weren't that simple. They never were with him. Ortega blocked him from exiting. Harry narrowed his eyes and reached for his blasting rod. He wouldn't make the first move but he would defend himself. He didn't want to kill anyone, at least not here.

"Is something wrong, Lord Ortega?" inquired the wizard, "If not I would like to return. Recess is only 15 minutes and the second session begins in less than 10. I'm sure you have preparations of your own."

Ortega held up his hands palm up. It was meant to convey peaceful intentions. But nothing from the Red Court ever was peaceful or harmless. Harry did not trust the man or his intentions. He couldn't stop the sneaking suspicion that this had to do with him somehow.

"Peace Dresden," rumbled Ortega in a smooth accented voice, "I'm not here looking for a fight. The opposite in fact. I'm curious. Why are you not sitting with the Wolves? Are they not kin to you? Blood of your Blood, so to say?"

"That's none of your business," he stated bluntly and tried to step around the vampire.

Only to have Ortega block him. Again. Harry glared and moved in the other direction and again the damn bastard was in his way. Harry was tired. His head hurt and his muscles ached. All he wanted was for this to be over with already.

"Dresden," rumbled the vampire again, "Your Council intends to sell you."

"Tell me something I don't know," muttered Harry sarcastically, "It was my demand that children no longer be used for blood or turning."

Ortega tilted his head to the side and declared, "You're an odd man, Dresden. You seem to care little for your own life. Yet you fight tooth and nail to survive."

He did? Harry didn't really think he fought all that hard to survive. If anything he survived only to ensure his friends survived as well.

The sound of a clock chiming on the hour had Harry tensing. Time was up and now the second half of negotiations were to start. And he was trapped in a bathroom with an ancient vampire that could snap his spine without breaking a sweat. Joy of joys. Wasn't his life just a bundle of fun?

Harry shifted his weight but Ortega surprised him by stepping aside. What was the vampire's game? There had to be some sort of angle, a play, a goal. No one did something for free or out of the kindness of their heart. Not in this world.

Still he allowed Harry to step out back into the Tavern. Mac gave him a questioning look as if to ask if he was okay. Harry nodded in answer. He was as fine as he could be.

...

Dresden had been quiet the entire time. Which was not in the least surprising. It had been clear to him the moment the White Council had entered that the young man had no allies among them. Not even the Senior Council members that were present would help him. Nor would the wolves.

Both parties seemed to be more interested in using him as a bargaining chip. The scrawny wizard seemed resigned to it. At the beginning of the meeting the Wizard had looked ill. He had a lean, hungry look to his frame. As if he hadn't had a decent meal in a while. And his eyes had been glassy, his skin sweaty, and his limbs shaking.

Paolo wondered if the others could see it. The young wizard was dying. Slowly, painfully, and alone. A mere shadow of what he could have been.

Orginally he only wanted Dresden as repayment for Bianca and the slight done to Paolo. Now, however. Well, he had a weakness for wounded creatures. Something about him reminded him of a feral puppy. A large gangly, injured, and lonely creature. One that would bite the hand that offered to feed him. A patient hand though could tame the animal. That could gain the creature's loyalty and love.

Paolo's attention was drawn back into meeting. It seemed the wolves and wizards had come to an agreement.

...

"Then we agree," announced Cates and the Merlin shook his hand, sealing the deal, "Our Clan will become a Signatory of the Accord in exchange for a few concessions. Namely that the Wizards will no longer interfere in Wolf affairs and vice versa. And that the Wizards will no longer claim any rights to the Wolfkin in the US and the territories therein. This will allow the Red Court to have custody of the Wolfkin, Harry Dresden."

Ebenezar looked sick when Harry glanced at him. His former mentor fought hard to keep him from being handed over to the Red Court. The only concession they received was that Harry wouldn't be turned. As Wolfkin any attmept at turning would kill him anyways.

Matthew's lips were pinched. Tyler's jaw was tense and his fists clenched. Only Cates was happy. Harry and Cates never got along. Harry was a half breed in his eyes given he was born of a Wolfkin and Wizardess. Even if Malcolm Dresden never shifted.

"Agreed," said the Merlin, "We will no longer lay a claim to the Wolfkin. And in exchange for Dresden and peace the Red Court will no longer feed or turn on children. Does this suit the Red Court's needs Lord Ortega?"

"It does," answered Ortega, his dark gaze on the pale and sweating Dresden, "I will accept the Wolfkin Dresden in exchange. Upon the signing of the treaty the war will end and all prisoners shall be released to their people. Do the terms meet your approval, Dresden?"

Harry nodded mutely. It did and that was the horrible part. By giving himself to the vampires. Children would no longer be preyed upon. He could live, or rather die, with that.

Chapter Text

...

The Treaty was signed an hour later. All that was left was to wait for the signatures to dry. Then the signees would leave their blood seals on each copy of the document. They would then be distributed to each party and the respective leaders would receive their copies. Copies would also be sent to the Archive and the Faerie Courts. Thus the new Accord would be in place.

Harry was tired. He wanted to go home and get some sleep. Any amount of sleep would help at this point even if it was only for a few moments. Just enough to take the edge off. But he couldn't afford the luxury of a nap.

Instead he was waiting to see what Ortega wanted him to do. After all he was now a 'guest' of the Red Court. He was not a prisoner, at least not technically. But he might as well be. There was no escape. Any attempt would be seen as a breach of contract and a declaration of war.

Looking around he found Ortega talking with Merlin. Likely making plans to exchange the prisoners at a later date. All of the attendees were beginning to calm down. Relief was sinking in. Everyone was alive and the world wasn't burning. For the first time in a long time everyone could breathe. Except Harry of course.

A tap on his shoulder startled Harry and he barely withheld a flinch. Looking up he saw Matthew standing there and Tyler a bit behind him. Both men were eyeing him critically and a hint of concern.

"When is the last time you shifted, Harry?" Asked Tyler in a low pitched tenor.

It took him a moment to reply. Trying to remember. Years had passed in the blink of an eye and the days tended to run together.

Finally, after a long pause, he answered, "When I was 16. Before I left the pack to go to Ebenezar's farm."

Both of the older Wolfkins winced. Shifts were necessary to the wolf's wellbeing. The only reason Matthew was able to stay healthy was because he stayed with the pack. Harry didn't have that luxury. So instead he suffered and would continue to suffer.

"Is there anything we can do, Harry?" Questioned Tyler stepping closer to him.

Harry shoved him back and growled, "No. I am no longer any of your responsibility. Remember?"

His words were a harsh reminder to the two. Harry was shunned from the pack. In the eyes of the Wolfkin he didn't exist and thus wasn't their problem. It was a bitter pill and one that neither man liked to swallow. They stepped back reluctantly.

Harry could feel a headache starting. His heart was beating erratically. Sweat was pouring off him. And his muscles ached. God, he hated this. Every day was torture. Maybe, hopefully, death would finally grant him some reprieve from the pain.

A hand landed on his shoulder. This time he flinched. Spinning around he snarled at the person who touched him. The beast was pushing to the surface demanding to protect and defend itself.

"Calm, Dresden," ordered Ortega, "Calm."

He sucked in a breath calming the raging beast inside. Despite himself, he did calm and his shoulders eased down. The tension in his chest and neck disappearing.

"Lord Ortega," he greeted politely.

"Dresden," the ancient vampire greeted in return, "You are ready to leave, yes?"

Harry nodded in agreement and replied, "Yes, Sir."

"Very well," stated the Vampire, his expression and voice blank and emotionless, "Come. My associates have a vehicle out front. We will be leaving shortly. Say goodbye to anyone you need to."

And the thing was. He didn't have to. The only person he was close to on the White Council was Ebenezar. There was no need to say anything to the Wolfkin.

So with a nod to Ebenezar he followed Ortega outside.

...

To his surprise, they didn't go straight to the airport. Instead Ortega ordered them to drive to his apartment. Reluctantly Harry allowed Ortega through his wards. Mister rammed his shoulders into Harry's legs in greeting. He picked up his cat to keep him from running off.

To the candles he said, "Flickum Bicus."

Instantly the room was filled with light. Mister meowed at the new comers and Harry set him down on the counter. Ortega walked forward and inspected the small area. Finally he stopped in front of the bookshelves. His eyes ran over the books' spines, reading their titles. Some were his and others were Bob's.

"Pack what you will need immediately," said Ortega, "The rest will be shipped."

"And Mister?" He questioned.

"You are welcome to bring him," replied Ortega, "I'm sure the plane will not mind a cat on board. Especially if you keep him confined to his crate."

"Thank you, Lord Ortega," thanked the young wizard.

Ortega inclined his head and moved to inspect the other parts of his tiny apartment. Namely the bedroom. Harry put Mister down on the couch. Then he went to his kitchen and grabbed a duffle bag. Inside was a photo of his dad and him. It was worn and the edges were ripped.

Then he kicked open his trap door to the sub basement. He caught the surprise on Ortega's face and gave a faint smile. It was a good hiding spot. No one would suspect the door or the stairs underneath. The lab was his pride and joy. He could make just about anything in it.

Bob was sitting on a shelf and called to him, "Hey, Harry. What's going on? Who are those guys upstairs? Why are they packing your stuff? Are we moving? Where to? Somewhere warm and sunny? And with naked women?"

"Bob the treaty was signed," said Harry without looking up from his packing, "Ortega requested me."

"What?" squawked the skull, his glowing eyes wide, "What do you mean, 'he requested you'?"

"Exactly what I said, Bob," explained Harry, his tone tired, "I don't have time to explain. You're coming with. But I need you to hush. Please, for once in your afterlife. Be quiet. Don't draw attention to yourself. When we reach our destination then I will explain everything. Understand, Bob? Keep silent and hidden."

"Of course Harry," agreed Bob though he was clearly unhappy.

Just as Harry put Bob in the bag with his ingredients a pang of pain went through him. His stomach cramped and his knees buckled. A whimper of agony escaped him. His skin burned and his vision swam. Black spots danced across his field of sight and his breathing was shallow and quick.

The cramping and spasming of his muscles were getting worse. Everything in him screamed to shift. He knew that if he looked in a mirror amber eyes would stare back. His Otherside wanted... no needed to run. Run and hunt and fight. It had been too long since the last time. Far, far, far, far, far, too long.

He could smell the vampires upstairs. He could smell the scents of people and wolves on himself. Of the pack.

It made him sick to have that scent on him. They didn't care. They had abandoned him. Left him to rot. Alone. Abandoned. Forgotten. Weak. Pathetic. Unworthy. That's what they thought of him. And the truth was. It was right. He was weak, pathetic, and unworthy. Nothing would ever change that. He would always be alone. Always be an outsider.

A hand landed on his twitching shoulder. A cool touch that felt like a balm on his overheated skin. He wanted to lean into the touch and shove the person away. Both at the same time. How could such a simple act cause him so much confusion?

Harry stood on shaky legs. Turning around he came face to face with an impassive Ortega. The vampire was watching him curiously. His dark eyes roaming his body taking in every little detail.

His body finally stopped fighting him and amber eyes returned to brown. He was able to stand straighter and his breathing was even and normal.

"Dresden are you well?" Asked Ortega.

Harry nodded in way of answer. There was no way in hell he was admitting to being sick. It was likely that the ancient vampire could tell something was wrong. However until someone spelled out the problem, it wasn't real and wouldn't impact him in any meaningful way.

"I'm ready to leave," said Harry in response, "Do I need anything from the bedroom?"

"No, my men already have everything packed," answered the vampire, his gaze piercing, "We will be leaving shortly. Dresden you look half dead."

Harry laughed bitterly. He knew he did. Hell, he felt half dead. More than that. Truth was that he was dying. And not a slow or peaceful death. This would not be easy or pretty. It would be painful and bloody. The moon sickness didn't have a kind or gentle grip on him. Instead it was a vise that was slowly crushing his heart and lungs.

He should have told the vampire this except. An act of good faith and all that. But the vampire like most of the supernatural community knew very little of the Wolfkin. They were a tight lipped bunch that didn't trust outsiders. Their secrets had to be earned and respected. Only a few knew of the moon sickness. And those that did know weren't willing to share the information. Not with the Red Court, that was certain. So, instead Harry asked a question.

"We're going to Mexico, right?" Questioned Harry.

"South America actually," corrected the Vampire Lord, "Honduras is where my estate resides. Casaverde."

Harry nodded and began walking upstairs, the vampire on his heels. He packed the essentials from upstairs. Most of it was old rune and ward stones. He was breaking them down in a very specific order. Otherwise the wards would explode. Something he did not need to deal with today or ever.

After they were packed along with the candles and a few of his favorite books. Like the first edition of Journey to the Center of the Earth and Frankenstein. The rest would be packed and shipped. Along with his furniture and clothing.

When everything was packed he said rubbing the back of his neck, "I need to make some calls. To alert a handful of people that I won't need rescue."

"By all means," stated the vampire, gesturing to the phone, "Take all the time you need. We will wait until you are ready to depart for the airport."

Harry took the phone and dialed the first of a very short list. Karrin Murphy was the first on the list to call. After four rings she picked up the line. On the other side was the sound of traffic and the chatter of voices.

"Murphy," she said in way of greeting.

"Hey Murph it's Harry," he said keeping his voice from wavering but only just.

"Harry," greeted Murphy, her tone pleased, "How did the meeting go? Did anyone kill the others or themselves?"

"Everyone survived," answered Harry, "However..."

"Harry what did you do?" She interrupted, her tone wary and worried.

"It wasn't my fault," blurted Harry, "Not this time. At least not directly. Maybe indirectly. But not directly. Anyways the meeting was a success. The treaty was signed but there was a request made. I'm leaving Chicago."

"Leaving?" Her voice was high pitched and her words fast, "Where are you going?"

"Honduras," he answered, "With the Red Court. Well, one of them anyways. I'm not a prisoner. But-"

"But you have to stay to keep the treaty valid," finished Murphy her tone resigned, "Dammit, Dresden. Why do these things always happen to you?"

"I don't know," sighed Harry, "Maybe the world hates me. I just wanted to tell you so that you didn't call for a rescue party."

"You'll be safe, right Harry? You won't die or disappear or get hurt or-" questioned Murphy her words rushed and worried, "You'll be okay?"

"Yeah, Murph," reassured the wizard, his voice soft, "Yeah, I will. I'll try and come home. Eventually."

"Okay," accepted one of his oldest friends, "Take care of yourself. Okay, Harry. Just. Stay alive."

"I'll try," he said and then hung up.

His next call was to Michael. Thankfully Charity answered. Harry wasn't sure he'd actually be able to say goodbye to Michael. Explaining that he would not be coming back this time might have broken something in him.

The final phone call was to the Alphas. Billy didn't answer so he left a voicemail explaining what was happening. Then he gave Elaine's contact information in case they needed help.

For a moment he considered calling Elaine. But decided not to. If she found out later. Oh, well. She didn't have to know. Better to let her live in blissful ignorance. It would be kinder that way and less likely to cause a fuss. Besides it's not like he would have had the strength to have that conversation. She would have demanded to talk to whoever was in charge. And that would have ended badly for everyone involved.

Harry turned away from his phone and nodded to Ortega. The vampire inclined his head and motioned to the door. With the duffle bag slung over his shoulder and Mister in a crate in his arms. He closed the door to his apartment. Possibly, the last time he would ever see his sanctuary again.

Chapter Text

...

Paolo watched his newest charge from the corner of his eye. Dresden was as far from the engine of the car as he could get. He looked half dead. Something had changed in the time between the meeting and leaving the man's apartment. Now instead of merely looking ill the young man seemed to have given up entirely. As if a weight had settled on his shoulders and now he was too exhausted to carry on.

Current he was leaning his back against the door. One leg propped on the seat. His arm was wrapped around the cat carrier. Inside was the creature that was purring softly. Almost inaudibly. He would never call that creature a cat. It was too big to be a cat.

Dresden's eyes were half lidded as it scratched his "cat". Every once in a while a shiver wracked the wizard's body. Paolo was concerned that his new acquisition was at deaths' door. Perhaps a doctor should be consulted. A discreet one. One who knew about the ins and outs of the supernatural.

"You know," croaked out Dresden making his attention turn to the young man, "The few times I have been on a plane there have been problems. Technology and wizards don't get along."

"Is that so," humored the ancient, "What has happened in the past?"

"The first time the pilot had to perform an emergency landing on a stretch of empty highway," explained Dresden, his fingers tapping a tune on his leg, "The second time the jet nearly crashed into the water and blew up. Not exactly a confidence booster. I avoid planes like the plague. Busses last a couple hundred miles before they start acting up too."

"Are there any vehicles that work around you?" Questioned the vampire in amusement, his lips twitching.

"Well," answered Dresden in a dead voice, "My old car, the Blue Beetle. It's not always reliable when it came to my magic."

"Ah," mused Paolo, his dark gaze on the scrawny man, "Do not fear. The private jet will not crash. We will reach our destination safely. From there it is a two hour drive to Casaverde, my home. Once there, I expect you to follow the rules that are in place. Do that and no harm will befall you."

"I'm used to no one following the rules," commented the young man, his expression tired, "I'll behave as long as no one tries to take a bite out of me. Vampire venom doesn't effect Wolfkin the same way it does to everyone else."

"Interesting," murmured the vampire, his eyes sharp, "And how does the venom affect the Wolfkin, then?"

"Instead of a narcotic effect," started the young wizard, his tone weary, "It practically strips away the human side. The Other side comes out without any control that a normal shift allows. If you've ever seen a lup-garou act under the full moon. It's like that but worse."

"And why is that worse than a lup-garou?" Asked the vampire.

"Because," continued Dresden, "There's no time limit. They are stuck like that until the venom is out of their system. The last time it happened was at the party with Bianca."

Paolo blinked. He remembered the reports of a wolf going on a rampage. While he hadn't seen that part himself, the aftermath had been impressive. Blood and bodies everywhere. That had been a lone Wolfkin.

What would a pack of feral beasts be like in a battle? Then he had to remind himself that with venom they were rabid. No control, no sense. Nothing. Only hunger. For blood and death.

Still it was an interesting thought. What was even more intriguing was that the young wizard was willing to share that bit of information. Either he was a fool. Or there was nothing to worry about and no one would break the Accords. At least not yet.

"That is good to know," stated the Lord of the vampires, "I'll ensure that no one tries to feed on you. If you need to you are allowed to defend yourself."

Dresden looked at him. Really, really, looked at him. His brown eyes searching his face. Looking for a hint of falsehood. A sign of a lie. There wasn't one. Not that the ancient would allow to show.

Finally after a moment the wizard nodded in acceptance. He laid his head against the glass of the window and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep but he was letting his guard slightly. It would have to be enough for now at least.

When they arrived at the airport his men got out first. Dresden made to follow but was stopped by a hand from Paolo. Instead he waited and watched the man. When his people were done loading the bags onto a trolley. They opened his door and motioned for them to exit the vehicle. Stepping out the wind whipped at his loose clothes. The air smelled of the city and fuel. Nothing fresh or new. Just old and stale smells.

He walked to the plane with the guards in front and Dresden behind him. It was odd having a wizard at his back. Even before the war he wouldn't have allowed such a thing. With the treaty though Dresden could be trusted to a point.

There were certain oaths that he would require and in turn give the boy. Ones that he refused to do in front of the White Council. Verbal oaths made and sealed in magic.

...

Harry eyed Ortega from the corner of his eye as he waited for the plane to take off. He was as far from the engines as he could get. Ortega was sitting across from and watching him in a calm way that had Harry tilting his head to the side.

That earned him a quiet chuckle. Great. Now he was amusing the damn vampire. Joy. Why couldn't life be easy for once?

"Is something wrong, Lord Ortega," inquired the exhausted and frustrated wizard.

"Lord is not necessary," dismissed the vampire, waving his hand, "You may call me, Paolo or Ortega whichever is comfortable if we are alone or with trusted."

"Trusted, Sir?" Repeated Harry in a confused tone, his brow furrowing, his fingers twitching on his knee, "Who are your 'trusted' ones? And why are you telling me who they are?"

"My trusted," clarified Ortega, his dark gaze on the tense wizard, "Are those that are loyal and will not spread my secrets to others. Some of the members of the court are not to be trusted. I will alert you when the time comes."

Slowly Harry nods but did not offer him the same. Afterall his friends weren't exactly secret. Neither were the enemies or frenemies. So, there was no need to tell the vampire that. Besides, the man would learn that soon anyways.

"What of yours?" Questioned Ortega curiously, his body relaxing back in the chair, "Who are the ones that are trustworthy, hm?"

"Karrin Murphy, Michael and his family," listed Harry, his hands tightening on the cat carrier, "Billy and the Alphas, Elaine Mallory. But if you want to go in order of battle readiness. Michael, Alphas, Karrin, Elaine. Karrin is human and Alphas are... lycanthropes."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment. Harry carefully avoided a soul gaze. That was the last thing either of them needed at the moment. A glimpse into each others soul would likely end in a fight to the death. Something that would not help his friends in the long run.

Ortega tilted his head and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and declared, "A Knight of the Cross, a group of fledgling werewolves, a human officer, and a wizardress. How curious. Tell me, Dresden, how did you come to ally yourself with such a varied group of individuals?"

Harry answered honestly, "Most of them I met on the job. Murphy is my contact within the police department. Michael and I regularly work together on cases dealing with demons. Alphas helped me on a case with a lup-garou and a man who would cause more problems dead than alive. Elaine... we grew up together."

"Indeed," mused the vampire, "And yet a Knight of the Sword would not associate with someone that was not of good moral standing. Nor would an officer. You seem to inspire trust and loyalty. Such a rare skill. One that is often overlooked."

Harry simply stared. He had nothing to say to that. Trust and loyalty was not what most saw in him. Most of the time it was distrust and wariness.

As the plane began to move and lift off the ground, his stomach lurched. It felt unnatural to be away from the ground. The Other side hated it almost as much as his magic hated technology. He nearly crushed the hand rests.

Ortega frowned at him. Then he stood and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. Panic did not ease even as He tried to get his breathing under control. It was only a few moments later that the plane leveled off. Still, his heart was racing and sweat coated his skin.

"Are you alright, Dresden," questioned the concerned vampire.

"Yeah," breathed the shaken wizard, running his shaky hands over his face, "Yeah, just peachy. Never liked flying. Too far from the earth. Don't feel right."

"No," agreed Ortega, "It doesn't. Something we have in common it seems. You're sick."

That wasn't a question. It was a statement and a correct one. Harry was very sick and it was getting worse by the day.

"I am," he agreed tiredly.

"What is ailing you," asked the ancient, his expression impassive, "I've seen the starving and the homeless. Seen those suffering from disease and injury. None of them have been this thin or looked half dead."

"It's called the Moon Sickness," confessed Harry, his eyes downcast and his voice low, "Not much is known about it because very few have fallen ill with it. It comes from denying the Other and being away from the pack."

"You have a pack," stated the vampire, his tone puzzled, "Do you not? Are they not the ones at the meeting?"

"I haven't considered them my pack in over a decade," disagreed Harry, his words harsh, his tone bitter, "I haven't shifted since I was 16."

"Then the symptoms are not lessening," realized the vampire, his posture stiffening, "They will only worsen and you will die. Yes?"

"Correct," admitted the exhausted and hurting young wizard, his tone resigned.

Ortega hummed and said, "The Red Court has a healer that will see to you. She will find a way to fix the issue. If not she will at the very least ease the pain."

Harry gave a shrug. He didn't care. Death had been a long time coming. Honestly, the fact that he wasn't already dead was a miracle in and of itself. Hell, the fact that the world hadn't blown up by now was a freaking divine act of god.

"Very well," sighed the vampire, his dark gaze on the slumped figure across from him, "Rest, Dresden. Sleep. You are safe. My men will not disturb us. We will reach Honduras in seven hours."

Harry wanted to protest. Wanted to stay awake. But the beast inside him was tired. And his magic was drained from the wards. Plus the stress of the past couple of days had finally caught up to him. Between the Council, the Wolves, and the Vampires. He was done.

So, instead of fighting the soft darkness, he accepted the embrace. He closed his eyes and let himself fall into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

...

Paolo watched as the young man slept. As the minutes ticked by the wizard's heartbeat slowed. His breaths were deep and steady. His body fInally relaxed. Even the tension in his jaw and neck eased and his head lolled to the side.

He was a truly pitiable creature. Starving and exhausted. His people had pushed him to this point. Originally he had only intended to use the wizard. Use him to gain access to his knowledge and strengthen his place within the Red Court. Now, however. Well, he wasn't certain what he would do. This was not some poor little lamb. No. It was a dangerous and wounded animal. More lethal than a cornered wolf. He would have to be careful. For both of their sakes.

An hour later and the wizard began to stir. He was groaning and shifting in his seat. Sweat dotted his brow and his shirt was soaked through. A shudder ran through the man's body. Paolo reached across to lay a hand on Dresden's shoulder. Almost immediately he realized his mistake. The wizard's eyes flew open. Amber eyes glared at him and a snarl erupted from his chest.

Quickly, Paolo withdrew from the growling and snapping man. Dresden was panting and his limbs shook. His teeth were clenched so tight the vampire heard the enamel grind. He had never seen the wolf so close to the surface before. Despite the fact Dresden didn't change it was still just beneath the skin. Ready to burst at the slightest provocation.

Dresden blinked and his amber eyes returned to warm brown. The man was shaking and his face was pale. Sweat continued to drip from his forehead and down his chin. Without a word to the wizard, Paolo stood and made his way to the bar. Inside the small fridge were bottles of water. He grabbed a cold one and tossed the plastic bottle to the younger man. Dresden caught it with trembling hands and drank the contents.

Paolo grabbed another and returned to the wizard's side. Cautiously he pressed the cold plastic against the back of his neck. Dresden tensed at first then he relaxed a little. Slowly, the tremors in the lean frame subsided. Finally the young man opened his eyes again. The amber was still there but there was more brown than amber.

"Sorry," rasped the wizard, his voice raw, "Nightmares. You should be warned that I don't react well to touch especially after a nightmare."

"I see that," said the vampire, his dark eyes on the exhausted wizard, "How often do you have nightmares?"

"Every night," answered Dresden, his fingers tapping on his knees, "It's been getting worse alongside the Moon Sickness. Used to have them every few weeks. Then days. Now though..."

Paolo felt a pang of sympathy. Nightmares were a curse on the mind. They were a constant reminder of all the wrongs that a person had endured or caused. Often, they were distorted, making the dreams worse. For a young man like Dresden to suffer through that. Well, it was a wonder the wizard hadn't gone insane. Perhaps the boy had and no one had noticed yet.

"Do you require assistance," inquired Paolo shifting his posture a little, "There are ways to lessen the memories and the effects of the trauma on the mind."

That earned him a surprised look just barely avoiding a Soul Gaze. Then it became a look of caution and distrust. Dresden's brow was furrowed and his lips were pulled downward. Clearly, he was considering the pros and cons of accepting help from the vampire. Paolo waited patiently for him to make a decision. There was plenty of time to convince the stubborn wizard if need be. After all, they were going to arrive at Casaverde soon enough.

"Maybe," hedged the wary wizard, his eyes flicking to the side, "I'll consider your offer, Ortega. Thank you."

Paolo nodded his acceptance of the refusal. Slowly he reached a hand out towards the wizard. When the young man didn't move to strike or flee, the ancient vampire rested a hand on Dresden's shoulder and squeezed it lightly. It was an effort to reassure and show that he meant no harm. To his surprise, the wizard leaned into his touch. Just barely. He truly was like a skittish stray dog. Rules and routine would do the wizard some good.

...

When the private jet landed in Honduras, Harry was relieved. He hated being in the metal death trap known as a plane. Technology and his magic were not a great mix. It was best to avoid anything that was reliant on modern tech.

Stepping off the jet and onto the concrete, was an absolute relief. He could feel the power in the earth once more. It wasn't Chicago. That was certain. But the land was powerful and welcoming. And the air smelled of flowers and spices and something else. Something old. It made his nose itch and his wolf want to run. To chase prey and hunt. It took everything in him to keep from giving in to the urges. Instead he forced them to the back of his mind.

Harry stayed close to Ortega and kept his eyes on the surroundings. He carried his duffle bag and Mister's carrier. Everything else would be brought by the vampire's men. All around the area were guards. Human. None of them were supernatural in anyway. It was odd. Especially since most of the Red Court had at least 20 or 30 vampires in their personal courts.

"Dresden," called Ortega, "Come along, hm? We have a two hour drive to the castle. Best to get there sooner rather than later, yes?"

"Yes, Sir," responded Harry, his shoulders tightening, his expression hardening.

Chapter Text

...

Casaverde was an impressive building. It was a massive stone structure that sat in the Jungles. From Ortega's explanation it kept people from getting too close. Not that the locals were stupid. It was tourists that got too close and became a meal. Ortega stopped to talk to the human guards that patrolled the grounds. Likely to check in and give orders or receive a report. They eyed Harry cautiously but didn't comment on his presence.

At the entrance was a tall woman dressed in a flowing red dress. She had long black hair and dark green eyes. Her skin was tanned a golden color. Around her neck was a jade necklace with a single ruby in the center. On her arms and wrists were gold and silver bracelets. Rings of the same metals were on her fingers. At the sight of the group she smiled warmly.

"Mi amigo," greeted the woman, offered her hand to Ortega, her tone light, "Welcome home, my friend. How did the meeting go?"

"It went well, Lady Ferera," answered Ortega, taking it in a firm grip, "The treaty has been signed. This is Harry Dresden both a wizard and a wolfkin."

Ferera looked at him in interest, her head tilted to the side. She stepped closer to him and sniffed the air. Her eyebrows raised and she gave a curious hum. Then she stepped back from him and turned her attention to Ortega, her eyes sharp.

"He is a sick wolf, Paolo," stated the woman, her tone clinical and detached, "How is this possible? Surely his pack would not allow such a thing to happen?"

"That would suggest I have a pack, Lady Ferera," dryly commented Harry.

"Settle, Mr. Dresden," ordered Ortega placing a hand on his shoulder, "Settle."

He settled under the touch. His breathing calmed and his muscles relaxed. It was a strange feeling to have someone calm him down so easily. Even his Other side seemed to agree. The beast was quiet and content. An unusual event.

"Good," praised Ortega as he squeezed his shoulder, "Now come, I'll show you to your rooms. I'll see you after I get him settle, Ferera."

"Okay," sighed the exhausted wizard, his body aching.

He followed the vampire to his quarters. They were far nicer than his apartment. And bigger. There was a king sized bed in the room and a bathroom attached. In the closet was a selection of clothing that would fit him. Harry wondered who chose the clothes because they were mostly jeans, tees, and flannels. Though in the back of the closet were a couple suits. Likely for formal events. Ones that he would attend as a representative of the Red Court.

"Its nice," he said after a moment, "Thank you. What are the rules of the house?"

Ortega chuckled and explained, "You are to behave as a guest. Keep a civil tongue and attitude in my court. Do not start a fight but if necessary finish any that are started. If you are given an order that you disagree with. Bring it to my attention in private. Understand, Dresden?"

"I do," agreed Harry, his stomach twisting, his shoulders relaxing.

They were more reasonable than he was expecting. Far less restrictive and controlling. It was a pleasant surprise and one he wasn't going to question. Instead he would simply enjoy his new found freedoms and the lack of stress. Maybe a bit of peace would help him recover. Hopefully anyways.

"Good," nodded the vampire, "For now, unpack and rest. Tomorrow I'll show you where a room has been set up for you to make into a lab. Tonight there will be a feast tonight to celebrate our victory. You will attend and meet the members of the court. Wear something red and I'll be back to bring you to the feast."

With that, the vampire left and Harry was alone. Quickly he began to unpack his belongings. His books and candles went on the bookshelf. His crystals, foci, and potion ingredients were placed in the top drawers of the dresser. Bob and his skull were tucked away in the bedside table. His clothes were hung and folded neatly in the closet and dresser. Finally, Mister's food, water, and litterbox was set up in the bathroom. Once everything was put in its proper place and Mister was released from his carrier. Harry flopped on the bed.

It was softer than anything he'd slept on before. Harry wasn't sure he'd actually be able to sleep on it for awhile. However that didn't stop him from napping. He could hear voices and footsteps outside his door and the smells were overwhelming. But his exhaustion won and the young man fell asleep.

...

Warmth beat down on him. He was dreaming. He was in a forest that reminded him of the woods around Wolf Lake. Moonlight filtered through the tree leaves. A soft breeze rustled his hair and caressed his cheek. It was his inner world he realized after a moment. The place in his mind that held the essence of his soul. Of who he was at the core of his being. Why was he here?

Slowly he walked through the forest towards where he knew a lake would be. Sure enough a clearing opened in front of him. In the middle was a clear blue lake. Looking up he could see the mountain where he knew that his wolf resided within a cave. At his feet were wildflowers and clover. The moon above was a crescent shape. Its light bathed the ground in a soft, gentle, glow.

A low howl came from the mountains and was echoed by a higher pitched one. Curiously, he listened to the sounds of the wolves calling to each other. It was a beautiful sound and it was lonely and sad. Longing for a pack it didn't have. For the comfort of others of its kind. The ache that was in his heart was echoed in the howls. He turned away from the howls. He would not turn to that comfort.

Chapter Text

...

Harry woke to the sound of knocking on the bedroom door. Groggily, the young wizard stood and rubbed his eyes. Mister was stretched out at the foot of the bed. He was fast asleep and purring softly. With a fond smile, the sleepy man stroked his fur and then padded over to the door. Opening it, Harry found Ortega waiting patiently on the other side. He was wearing a red dress shirt and black slacks. His dark gaze was calm and assessing as he looked Harry over.

"You look awful," commented the vampire, his lips pursed, "Did you get any sleep?"

"A little," admitted the groggy and tired young wizard, his posture stiff, "I'm still adjusting to the new environment. It'll get better the longer I'm here."

Maybe...

"Perhaps," allowed the vampire, his expression blank, "But we need to work on getting your health back on track. When was the last time you had a physical? Seen a doctor of any type?"

"Outside of emergency situations?" asked Harry as he walked over to the closet, "Not since I lived with Wizard McCoy as his apprentice."

"Pardon?" Questioned the ancient, his head tilting, "I thought you were apprenticed to DuMorne. Before the Council executed him of course."

"I was," confirmed Harry, his voice rough, "And they didn't execute him..."

Inside the closet he pulled off his shirt and looked through the dress shirt that were hung up. Surprisingly they were soft to the touch. They were made of a material that felt like silk. All of the shirts had to cost more than his entire wardrobe from home. Hell, his entire life's worth of clothes probably didn't cost this much.

He picked a dark red shirt and pulled it on. He was buttoning it up as he stepped out of the closet. Ortega sucked in a breath of surprise at the sight. Harry frowned and looked at himself to try and figure out what the problem was. Nothing was amiss. So, what was the issue? Unless... he saw that several of his worst scars were visible. That made him button the shirt a little faster.

Ortega approached him in a few short strides. His hands grabbed the collar of the shirt and pulled it aside. He touched the scar from when he was shot by the Hexenwulfen. It was an ugly thing. The bullet wound itself wasn't that big. However the skin was warped and rippled outward. It was on his left shoulder just below his collar bone. The vampire's fingers were cool on the sensitive scar tissue. Slowly, the fingers traced the edge of the mark. Harry suppressed a shudder at the feel of the exploring digits. The feather light touches sent a shiver down his spine and a warmth in his belly.

"What happened, Dresden," demanded the vampire, his tone serious and stern, "These scars aren't old. So I assume that it wasn't DeMorne since he's been dead for over a decade. I still have questions about that."

"Hexenwulf," answered the wizard, his eyes watching the older man closely, "FBI agents who were trying to kill the local mob boss and I got in their way. It happened about three years ago, I think."

"And the ones on your back?" Pushed the vampire, his brow furrowed, his gaze calculating, "They aren't from a knife or blade of any sort. Are they? No. They are too jagged. What caused them?"

"Loup-garou," stated the wizard, his voice even and emotionless, "Same week as the Hexenwulfen. He also had a problem with the mob boss. I killed him using my pentacle necklace. Inherited silver after all."

"Indeed," murmured the vampire, his expression closed off, his thoughts hidden, "We'll discuss this at another time. Do you need anything?"

Harry shook his head. Ortega then placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Then he back up to allow Harry to finish buttoning his shirt.

...

The feast was a huge event. People were dancing and laughing. Food was everywhere and drinks were flowing freely. Paolo sat next to Ferera on a raised dais at a table. On his other side was Dresden. Brown eyes were alert as they scanned everyone around them. His nose twitched occasionally at the many scents in the air. The different members of his personal court gave the wizard strange looks. After all the war had ended and the treaty was signed. They were wary of someone so dangerous and deadly.

"Settle," came his soft order as he placed a hand on Dresden's shoulder.

Dresden tensed briefly and then relaxed. He was still on guard but not nearly as tense as before. Paolo had honestly expected the other man to fight him on orders. It would be on par with his reputation and what Paolo knew of the man. Yet the wizard settled at his order. Just a simple word. Settle. Paolo made a mental note to be cautious about how he used this trust.

"Dresden," called Lady Ferera, her green eyes on the wizard, "Tell me about the White Council. How often to they convene? Is it a formal affair or is it more casual?"

"It depends," answered the young man, his gaze searching the crowd, "They tend to meet once a year when there isn't major events going on. However the leaders of the Wardens meeting significantly more often. They also tend to be the ones that call for the Senior Council for trials with Warlocks. Smaller meetings happen between the different factions within the White Council but I was never invited to them."

Paolo gave a squeeze of Dresden's shoulder in approval. His information was useful and honest. While they were no longer at war the information was useful if the White Council tried to start something. It was unlikely to happen soon but gathering information was always a good plan.

"Are the meetings recorded and stored anywhere," inquired Ferera, "Or do they only keep records of trials?"

"They're written down and filed," revealed the lean wizard, with a shrug, "Some of them anyways. I believe the current scribe is a Wizard by the name of Peabody. I don't know much about him however."

"Interesting," hummed Ferera, her gaze sweeping across the crowd, her fingers tapping the table, "Very interesting. And the Warden's meetings?"

"No clue," admitted Dresden in a dark tone, "The Wardens and I have never gotten along."

That made Paolo turn to look at the wizard. There was a lot of anger in those words. A deep and bitter hatred. Clearly, that relationship was not a pleasant one. The question was why? Paolo however realized they had stepped right into the territory that could set the wizard off and he was not looking to discipline Dresden so soon.

He caught Ferera's eye and shook his head. She gave him a curious look. One that said she wanted to continue questioning. But after a moment the woman relented. She would not press the issue. Not that night at least.

After a time Paolo stood and everyone quieted. He looked over his people and his guests. Some of his vampires had fed and the people were sitting at the tables or being taken to a safe location to sleep it off.

"Hello, my people," greeted Paolo, his expression open and welcoming, "I am glad to have returned to Casaverde. Especially now that the war has finally come to an end. This is a day to celebrate and to honor our fallen. We have lost many to the White Council and their Wardens. It is a reminder that even if we don't age we can still die to a skillful opponent."

People were nodding in agreement at the statement. Everyone knew of someone that had been killed in the line of duty. It was a harsh reality of their world. An unpleasant one that was necessary to survive. Now they would recover and become stronger for surviving. They would endure and thrive in the peace.

"Today, we are celebrating," continued Paolo, his voice rising, his body moving in a slow circle to address everyone, "Not only do we have a peace treaty with the White Council but we have a new ally as well. Dresden."

At his name, the wizard rose and nodded to the room. Mutterings and whispers were heard. Many were distrustful of the wizard. They eyed him with caution. Others were more curious. Their gazes were assessing and calculating. Trying to decide if they could use the man to their advantage. Those were the ones that were the real threat.

"Dresden and I have come to an agreement and he shall be staying with us here," he continued to explain, "He is to be considered a guest in our home. Treat him well and he will treat you the same. Any attacks on his person will be met with swift punishment. Understood?"

There was a round of agreements from the crowd. Some were reluctant while others were eager. Either way the message was received loud and clear. The young wizard was not to be harmed. If he was then the guilty would face the wrath of Lord Ortega.

"Will he be turned?" asked one of the younger vampires.

"No," stated the ancient, his expression hard, his tone sharp, "He is unable to be turned due to being a Wolfkin."

There were a few gasps of surprise. Several mutters of disbelief. Afterall, the Wolfkins were believed to have died out. For one to appear at his side was surprising. Dresden for his part shifted a little. His discomfort at the attention was apparent. Still the wizard was handling the stress of the situation admirably. He was not a coward that was for certain.

"However, he will remain a guest of the Red Court and an ally of mine," declared the lord of the castle, his tone commanding, his body tense, "Now let the celebrations continue!"

Music started up again and the food and drinks began to flow once more. Paolo motioned to the chair beside him and Dresden took his seat once more. He was silent and his posture was stiff. The man was clearly on edge. Likely, from the amount of strangers and the sheer volume of noise.

"You can leave if you need to," said Paolo leaning close so that no one would overhear.

Dresden glanced at him and then away. Clearly, the young man was conflicted. He didn't want to seem weak or to run. At the same time, the entire situation was overwhelming to his heightened senses. He was likely experiencing sensory overload. Something that Paolo would have to help the younger man overcome. However this was not the place to deal with the issue.

"Its fine?" asked Dresden.

"Yes," confirmed the vampire, his expression softening, "Yes, go on."

With a quick nod, Dresden left the feast. He didn't waste time and slipped from the crowded room. Paolo watched him go with a contemplative gaze. There was much to learn and understand of the Wolfkin. Something that would have to wait until the following evening.