Harry sat behind the wheel of his Blue Beetle. The once powder blue Volkswagon beetle that was now a multitude of colors and a lot of primer grey where the latest repairs to the left side where it had been smashed by a rampaging snot demon just a few days before. Harry leaned back against the seat catching his breath. He was hungry, he wanted a beer and most of all he was disgusted. He was covered in slime. Sticky green slime that was impossible to wash out. He looked over at his apprentice. Who was equally covered in slime.<span style="color: #00BF80">"We have a glorious job,"</span>Harry said in a tired voice. They'd just gotten paid by the owner of the factory whose property had been infested by snot demons.<span style="color: #00BF80">"So my place or Macks?"</span>Harry asked Molly wondering if he wanted food first or a change of clothing.<br/><br/>Harry ran his hand through his hair, which caused the strands to stand up in a disgusting mess. His hand came away slime covered and he frowned at it.<span style="color: #00BF80">"Slime,"</span>he mumbled.<span style="color: #00BF80">"Why does it always have to be slime.... Why not a nice fuzzy demon for once,"</span>he grumbled. Wizards were darn good at being grumpy and Harry was feeling particularly grumpy. He looked at his own reflection in the glass of the rear view mirror. His eyes were sunken and shadowed by deep circles under his eyes and his hair was black, cropped short and sticking up in spikes with a sickly green slime dripping from the strands.<br/><br/>Harry wore his regular leather duster, a black t-shirt which was now covered in green slime and liberally coated in snot. Blue jeans also covered in slimy snot... The duster with it's spells could be thrown in the fire to bake the slime off and removed later, it would take a  lot of work, but it was salvageable, the rest, not so much. He turned the key in the ignition and heard the rumble of the engine come to life with a whining wheeze.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Freya lay back amongst the cushions on the large blood red mid-Victorian era couch she found herself lounging on in a long black dress that offset her bright red hair fanning out around her over the deep lavender cushions. Her figure highlighted by the material of her gown, but not revealing enough to be risqué just enough to show off her curves and highlight her potential.<br/><br/>Freya was a red court vampire and after the mess with Bianca's idiocy and that ever pesky wizard Dresden she'd had to move her home outside the city of Chicago. She hated this above all else. If it hadn't been for that blank wizard she'd have been able to keep her huge mansion and her prestigious club. Now she was forced to live on the outskirts of the city, though still in a gloriously and much larger mansion than the one she'd sold after the Ortega nightmare. Freya didn't particularly care about the war. Her tastes ran in a different direction.<br/><br/>She merely wanted to kill the wizard so she could move back into Chicago and re-open her club. She missed the hangout. Where fresh blood wandered into the club and never left again. Such delicious little things, wild and youthful. She sighed heavily missing them terribly. If only she could find a way to get to the wizard. She had to be much more careful now. This close to Chicago,<span style="font-style: italic">the forbidden zone</span>, oh how she loathed this.<br/><br/>Freya daintily raised the glass to her lips and drank of the blood red liquid within, it stained her lips a deep rouge and a light smile curved her lips as she awaited her pet in hopes he brought back some much welcomed news from Chicago.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Reznik Tichacek walked through the streets of Chicago with a lighted cigar between his lips and a faint smile painted on his face. His eyes were a deep hazel, he stood at 6'3" in height and had a lean muscular build covered by a loose fitting pair of black jeans and a t-shirt of a rock metal band. He didn't look particularly dark, crazy or even evil, but Reznik was a terror in truth. A pure black sorcerer who had broken every one of the seven laws and who was wanted by the council in more ways than one. He'd arrived in Chicago three days ago.<br/><br/>Reznik could still taste the bright summer heat on his skin, but he'd had to move on, both the police and the Wardens were getting too close for comfort. It had been time. But here things were steadily getting colder and there was nothing more that Reznik hated then the cold. So he wandered the streets and finally came to Mack's place. He grinned broadly and walked in. He headed straight to the counter, ordered Macks ale and a chilly steak sandwich leaning up against the bar he scanned the room. His hazel eyes landing on the form of a young woman who didn't look quite at ease in the establishment as the other occupants. And much younger than the average crowd. A wolfish smile split his features as he took his food and drink and headed straight to her table.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFBF00">"Mind if I join you?"</span>he asked in a thick accent, before taking a seat at her table.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Karin Murphey walked into the hotel room with a feeling that this wasn't going to be a good day at all. From the call she'd received earlier this mess was right up Dresden's alley and she was frankly getting really annoyed of the weirdness. This particular weirdness was a couple of guys spread out on the floor. Their arms spread to either side and appeared to be bound there, without anything actually holding them in place. Dark congealed blood coated their wrists. Their legs were spread wide apart and for all appearance looked to have been restrained as well, but without actual restraints. The ankles looked identical to the wrist, blood and cuts deep into the skin done pre-mortem in a struggle. Only there was nothing actually there holding the victims.<br/><br/>They're chest where crush as though an anvil or piano had been dropped on them completely crushing the ribs, but nothing appeared on their chest at all. No indentations. Simply crushed without explanation. Yeah this was right up Dresden's alley. Murphey walked up to the young officer who'd called her earlier.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80FF">"What do you have for me officer?"</span>She asked the young officer still scanning the room for details. Pools of blood soaked the carpet around the two victims wrists and ankles and there was blood seeping from their nose and mouth. The room appeared pristine except for the bed which was a mess of sheets and blankets and pillows strewn about. Both victims were in various stages of undress and clothing littered the rest of the floor. Hinting at what the two had been up to. There was absolutely no sign of anyone else having been in the room. The door wasn't broken, the locks were intact and had been bolted from the inside according to the first call Murphey had received. It would be time to call in Dresden soon as the officer told her everything. She wasn't calling Dresden till she had everything she could on the murders first.