Twilight

Chapter One: Signs and Portents

Saturday, August 7^th, 2010

The clouds drifted lazily in the summer sky- their fluffy white shapes steadily transforming from one form to another as they passed through his field of vision, until they disappeared behind the deep green canopy of the oak tree directly overhead.

Alexander Mackenzie watched the clouds march across the sky from the hammock in his back yard, his arms resting behind his head and a small smile on his face. At thirty-two years of age, married with two young children, he had learned to cherish the small moments of quiet in his life; they didn’t happen often and didn’t last long.

It still amazed him sometimes that he was a wizard, and that he was lucky enough to have married the witch of his dreams. Born into a non-imaginative Muggle family, his magical and telepathic gifts came as quite a shock. At age eight he received the letter, and his decidedly planned future had been altered almost beyond recognition. He’d found a home away from home in his years at Green Mountain School for the Magically Gifted, the most comprehensive and renowned school for magic training on the continent. His first day there was an experience Alex would never forget, even now almost a quarter century later.

Of course, he’d spent a good chunk of the time since graduation living as a Muggle. There were good reasons and bad reasons for that, but it was years behind him now.

He knew he should get up and end his little moment of silent rest. Leo was coming over for dinner that evening and he needed to get started on the prep work for the meal. Bridge had bought the groceries in town earlier that day and reminded him that he was the one doing the cooking tonight. Just a few more minutes, he promised himself, and I’ll get up. It doesn’t take much time to prep dinner with a wand anyway. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the leaves rustling in the breeze and birds singing to one another in the branches.

It’ll be good to see Leo again, haven’t had dinner with him in almost a month. It was the older agent who recruited Alex into the Bureau and the Aurors, and he was looking forward to talking with his old mentor again. Leo usually had dinner with Alex and his wife at least once a month, often times more than that. He’d sort of adopted them as his own while Alex was still his trainee years before, and was an unofficial grandfather to their children.

It seemed like he’d barely closed his eyes when he felt a shadow fall across his face. Alex didn’t bother to look at the newcomer, but his smile grew larger as he stayed silent in the hammock, feigning sleep. With his telepathic ability he knew exactly who it was- even if he wasn’t actively scanning. Though even if he wanted to, he’d never be able to block her completely out of his mind.

“I know you aren’t asleep, soldier, have you got room for one more in that?” she sounded amused.

Alex opened his eyes and leered at the lovely, redheaded witch standing over the hammock and smiling at him. “Well, ah jus’ don’ rightly know,” he told her, purposely exaggerating his southern accent into a parody. “My wife, she’s a jealous woman. She don’ like t’ share,” he pretended to think about it for a minute “but if you made it this far and ain’ hexed, ah reckon it’d be all righ’.”

Her eyes flashed, and the corners of her lips quirked upwards. “You’re hopeless!” his wife scolded halfheartedly.

“Yep,” he agreed pleasantly, and opened up his arms. “C’mon in.”

Bridgette Mackenzie slipped into the hammock and snuggled up against her husband’s bare chest as he closed his arms around her.

I love you. He felt her mental caress through his shields and returned it gently.

I know. I love you too.

They laid there for several moments, just relaxing in each other’s company without thought. “The kids okay? Your parents' house still intact?” he finally asked aloud. Four-year-old Katie and two year old John, a.k.a. the demon children, were staying at his in-laws for the weekend up north in Vermont, a long distance from their home on the edge of the small wizarding community of George’s Crossing, Maryland.

“Safe and snug,” Bridge said with a sigh. “We have the weekend all to ourselves after dinner with Leo tonight. I’m sorry I’m late; it took forever to get Katie and John to settle down before I could leave.” She raised her head and looked at him. “They get their tempers from your side of the family, I was never so difficult at that age.”

He kissed the crown of her head and chuckled, “You weren’t a typical child, beautiful. Your mother has told me plenty of stories about you at Katie’s age. Excellent blackmail material if I do say so myself.”

His wife gave him a distinctly dirty look, a wicked gleam appearing in her eyes. Alex squirmed; after six years of marriage and ten years of love, he knew exactly what that gleam meant. Sometimes it was a good thing, other times it preceded a torture session that required ice cold showers to fix. He devoutly hoped he could make it the former. My wife is a very devious witch, Merlin love her. It made her a good attorney that much was certain.

“Alexander Jacob Mackenzie,” her voice had turned sultry, and she ran a finger along his chest. “There’s many ways I can make you regret that remark.”

“We’ll see who regrets what by the time I’m through with you, gorgeous,” he growled as he shifted in the hammock and pinned her under him, then kissed her. The best defense is a good offense.

“What about the neighbors?” she asked when he let her come up for air. He noted that she couldn’t be that concerned; her hands were already working to unbutton his jeans. It was only fair; he almost had her top off…

“If they can hear us through five acres of woods, let ‘em listen! I want to make love to my wife.”

**

They had barely enough time to get dressed after the romp in the hammock before Leo showed up at the house, and it was sunset by the time everyone finished dinner. The blue sky had given way to the brilliant crimson-orange hue that was common in late summer.

The table was still filled with plates and bowls holding the remains of what Alex considered a typical American summer meal. They’d feasted barbequed pork chops, baked potatoes and corn on the cob, with a salad before the meal and vanilla ice cream smothered in chocolate sauce for desert. It’s a good thing we have exercise programs or we’d look like couch potatoes, judging by the way we eat.

Alex poured the last of the wine into his wife’s glass and returned his attention to his friend and former mentor.

Leo Finster was a short man, barely five foot six, and very thin. But he was a tough old goat, one of the most skilled men at hand-to-hand and anti-dark arts work Alex had ever seen. He had recruited Alex straight out of Special Forces, when he’d barely had a week before he returned to civilian (and wizarding) life. Alex still had no idea how Leo discovered what he’d done in Colombia, there had been only one other man with him that day…and he was one of the most reclusive wizards on the planet.

“Alex, you make a mean barbeque sauce. First time I tasted it I thought I was back home. How’d you learn to cook a pig like that?”

Alex laughed, “You aren’t getting my recipe, you old goat! Quit trying to wheedle it out of me, it isn’t going to work. The only people who are ever going to get this recipe are my kids. When I die I’ll leave it to them in my will.” It was an ongoing joke with the two men, though Alex suspected Leo found it slightly less humorous than he did: Leo was a fanatic about barbeque sauces.

Leo just smiled and acknowledged his defeat. “Bridge darlin’, would you be kind enough to get these dishes while I borrow your husband for a few minutes?”

Bridge’s eyes darkened, but she smiled at the older man and nodded. “Of course. I have paperwork on the WWW expansion to finish anyway.” A few flicks of her wand sent all the dishes on the table into the kitchen and she followed after kissing her husband on the cheek.

“You’ve been married six years, have two kids, and you still act like newlyweds. You’re damn lucky, boy.” There was a trace of envy in Leo’s voice and Alex could see the wistfulness on his face.

“I know. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Alex replied seriously. Leo’s own wife had died many years before, from a broken heart, some in the Bureau said, but Alex had never found out exactly what she’d died from. Their son James had been killed in Vietnam after following in his father’s footsteps. Anna had never been the same afterwards and died a few years later.

Knowing Leo for six years, and having been his trainee and partner for three of them, he could tell by the older man’s statement that he was thinking of her. “So… what did you want to talk to me about?”

Leo started, “What makes you think I want to talk to you about something?”

Alex crossed his arms and glowered down at his former mentor. “First of all,” he said, “I’m a telepath. I’m not powerful in that gift, but I am very well trained, as you should know. Second, of all the times you’ve eaten at my table you’ve only excluded my wife from any conversation twice. Both times it was shoptalk.”

Leo’s expression showed his irritation at being so easily read, and he pointed his wand towards the cooler next to the table. “Accio!” he muttered. The lid opened and two bottles of butterbeer flew out towards them. The bottles sped to the outstretched hands and were caught effortlessly. Leo twisted the cap off, lifted the bottle to his lips and drank deeply. “Let’s take a walk,” he nodded his head towards Alex’s garden, which had a path that winded its way through and into the woods beyond.

Alex stared at him intently. “What’s wrong, Leo?” His friend wouldn’t look him in the eye and shook his head.

“Let’s take a walk,” he repeated softly, and started down the path, leaving Alex no choice but to follow.

The two men strolled through the garden in silence. Alex forced himself to be patient: Leo would talk soon enough and whatever it was he wanted to talk about probably wouldn’t be good. He focused on his surroundings instead while he waited.

The moon was full and especially bright that night. Alex could easily make out the details of the various plants and flowers that made up the garden. Bridge once told him only half-jokingly that if she ever got him to leave the Bureau he’d be an inspired exterior decorator and gardener. He had to admit there was some truth to the joke. If I lived in a more peaceful world, I could be happy just being a househusband puttering in the garden and watching my kids grow.

It wasn’t until they reached the end of the stone paving at the edge of the garden that Leo spoke again. “Do you remember when we first met?” he asked Alex suddenly.

Alex looked at him, puzzled. He seemed serious about the question, but Alex had no clue why. He’d never seen Leo appear so intense when he was off duty. “Of course I do.” He didn’t think he would ever forget that day for several reasons…

-March 25^th 2004-

Camp Nowhere

Somewhere near the Colombian/Venezuelan Border

4:15pm local time

When the truck carrying himself and his team passed through the main gate to the compound, Alex felt himself begin to relax and unwind. It’s over. Thank Merlin!

In six more days and a wake-up, he would no longer be an active duty member of the U.S. military. The unit he was assigned to, Zeta Company of the 7^th Special Forces Group, had been in Colombia for the last fourteen months acting as advisors for the local militia at the ‘request’ of the Colombian Government. Zeta Company was stuck in Colombia for four more months, but Alex was leaving for the U.S. tomorrow morning.

A guerilla war entering its fortieth year was still being waged here in the highlands near the border. The guerillas mostly got their funding through the cocaine trade, and the current U.S. Administration was determined to wipe out the trade once and for all- a few years before it had begun to fund the Colombian military to the tune of several billion dollars per year.

The twelve-man SF unit that Alex led, Operational Detachment Alpha 707 (an “A Team” of the “Green Berets”), had just finished a month-long assignment leading a militia company on search-and-destroy missions in the mountain highlands. On several occasions they had engaged in firefights with guerilla units defending the coca fields or drug labs, and Alex was sick of it all. He was tired of having to be the aloof officer, tired of sleeping under a poncho if he was lucky, and most of all he was tired of the goddamned Army and its stupid Mickey-Mouse bureaucracy. Why six generations of Mackenzie men chose the Army as a career I’ll never understand.

It wasn’t that he disliked the men he served with. On the contrary, he greatly respected and admired the men he commanded (all of whom had more experience and most were older than he was) and he’d be proud for the rest of his life that he had led them in the field, but he had had enough. It was time to go back to the magical community where he truly belonged. His service obligation to the active-duty Army after graduation from the US Military Academy at West Point had been over for more than a year, and after this assignment in the jungle he was ready to be a civilian again and had put in the separation paperwork months ago. But like all officers who leave the military, his contact information would be in some personnel database somewhere and he would be back in uniform in the blink of an eye if the Army ever decided it needed him again; it was rare, but not unheard of.

Alex pulled a folded and dog-eared picture out of his pocket as the truck rumbled along the road to the team’s living quarters. He unfolded it and stared at the image of the pretty, auburn-haired witch in the green dress robes. It waved, mouthing the words Love you, soldier, while the engagement ring on her waving hand sparkled intermittently as the picture started over and played again. I miss Bridge so badly it hurts. Just a few more days... He closed his eyes for a moment and then put the picture back in his pocket as the truck slowed to a halt in front of the long rectangular hut that was the unit’s home at the camp.

Alex jumped down from the cab and pulled his gear out of the wheel well, slinging it over his shoulder. He blinked at the bright sunlight beaming down overhead and quickly donned his uniform cap and sunglasses as he waited for his second in command to assemble the men after they got out of the back of the truck.

They were rumpled and dirty, and hadn’t shaved in a week, but neither had he. Everyone was looking forward to their first hot meal since leaving the village two weeks before, and tonight they would be freshly showered and get to sleep in real beds in an air-conditioned barracks. Paradise!

“Mackenzie, welcome back.” Alex turned to see his CO, Major Jackson, walking up the lane towards him. He saluted and then shook the offered hand. “Sgt. Case has the travel paperwork ready for you over at my office, you’re leaving on the morning helicopter flight out of here at 0630. By this time tomorrow you’ll be back at Ft. Campbell and a week from now you’ll be a civilian. You’re a good officer from a good military family, Alex; I’ll hate to lose you. Are you sure you won’t change your mind? We can have the paperwork stopped in a heartbeat.”

“Thank you, sir. It has been an honor to serve under your command, and I’ll miss the men, but it’s time to move on.”

Major Jackson’s smile turned into a frown. “You didn’t tell me that moving on meant joining the CIA.”

Alex frowned also, and looked at his superior curiously. “That’s because I’m not joining the CIA. I’m done with government jobs for a while, sir.”

Jackson didn’t appear convinced. “Then why do I have some agency spook sitting in my office wanting to talk to you?”

“Damned if I know, sir.” Alex rubbed the back of his head in thought, and noticed his second, Master Sgt. Hugh McGuire, standing a discreet distance away waiting patiently. “What’s up, Hugh?”

“Anything going on involving the men, sir? Or can I go ahead and release everybody for the showers and dinner?”

“Go ahead, Sergeant,” the Major ordered, smiling. “I’ll make sure the Captain gets back before bedtime.” Alex felt his face turn bright red. He was twenty-six years old, but his face still could pass for that of a teenager except for the eyes now hidden beneath his sunglasses; they told a very different story.

“Thanks, sir, we try to keep him out of trouble, but you know how kids are.” McGuire flashed a grin at Alex and saluted, then turned and walked back towards the rest of the team.

“I’m going to the officer’s mess and eating dinner, Mackenzie. You go find out what the spook wants and get him out on the evening chopper. It leaves in thirty minutes and I want him out of my office when I get back.” Jackson returned his salute and walked off.

Why would the CIA be interested in me? Alex couldn’t think of anything that would attract their attention. The incident with the witch had been hushed up, he and Potter had memory charmed and healed all the men who were affected by her actions or who had witnessed their battle with her, so there was no way they could know about it. He reached the Headquarters hut and quickly made his way into the Major’s office.

Inside he found a short man with close-cropped iron gray hair. He was dressed in brown wizard robes over a khaki outfit and wearing riding boots that went up to his calves. The boots were propped up on the major’s desk and the man was sitting in Jackson’s chair smoking a cigar while reading what looked like Alex’s service record. Alex stared at the wizard, and realized he must look very stupid with his mouth hanging open and shut it. “Who the hell are you and why are you here?” he asked bluntly.

The older man smiled. “Straight to the point, eh, Captain? I like that!” The man talked with such a thick Texan accent that Alex had to run the words over in his head twice to make sure he understood what was being said. The wizard took a few puffs from the cigar and continued. “My name is Leonard Finster and I’m an Agent, Auror actually, with the U.S. Federal Bureau of Magical Investigations. The reason I’m here is simple. I found out about your little stunt you and Potter pulled off eight months ago. I did some investigating and was impressed, so I’m here to offer you a job with the Bureau in the Aurors.”

-2010-

Leo’s voice brought him out of his woolgathering and back to the present. “I knew right away you were interested,” the old man said. “I’ve been a people-watcher all my life and I could tell by the way you ever so slowly stopped leaning against the door that I had you hooked, it was only a matter of time before you realized it yourself.”

“That’s true enough,” Alex replied, running a hand through his hair as he tried to understand where Leo was heading with this conversation. What is going on here? He tried to ask his old mentor that same question telepathically, but couldn’t get through.

“Leo, why are you shutting me out?” he blurted, really starting to worry now. “You know I would never go any deeper than surface thoughts. With agents, I can’t go deeper than surface thoughts; we’re too well trained to resist psychic intrusion.”

Leo stared out into the woods for several heartbeats before shaking his head and taking another pull from his beer. “I can’t let you in, Alex. Just humor an old man and let's say it out loud.”

He patted Alex on the arm. “You’re the best Auror I ever trained. You have more talent than most and you have a true dedication to protecting others. I wish…I wish James were here with us. You would have liked him, I think. I like to think he would have turned out as well as you.”

Alex gripped Leo’s arm firmly and wouldn’t let go until the older man looked him in the eye. “What’s going on, Leo? If you want to talk about James, let's go back to the deck and sit down. We’ll have a few more butterbeers and talk about the old days and you can sleep in the guest room tonight. The kids are at my in-laws and Bridge won’t mind.”

Leo gently disengaged Alex’s hand from his arm and took it in his own. He looked at it intently, as if he were examining it for something. “Tell me, Alexander Mackenzie,” his voice sounded different, the Texas accent that normally overwhelmed his English was much more subdued, with a hint of something else underneath. “Do you still practice the art of the sword?”

Alex blinked. What does this have to do with James? “You know I do,” he said slowly. “Every day since I started taking lessons at Green Mountain my first year, except for my deployments overseas in the Army. It’s part of my exercise routine, you’ve even sparred with me a few times.”

“That’s true…” the older man seemed lost in thought and let go of the hand. He stared off into the woods again, frowning. Alex followed the gaze, but saw nothing but trees and underbrush.

Leo suddenly shook his head and seemed to cheer. “I guess I’m just feeling especially maudlin tonight. It’s the anniversary, you know.” The accent was back to normal and he was still so tightly shielded that nothing leaked out.

“I’m sorry, Leo,” Alex said, confused. “You never told me when James died and I never wanted to intrude on something so private.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding. It was forty-two years ago tonight that he died. He just had bad luck; he put his foot down in the wrong spot and stepped on a land mine. There was nothing anyone could do,” he sighed heavily. “One minute he was there, healthy and whole, with two months left on his tour. The next he was gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex repeated, wishing there were something he could do.

“Don’t worry about it,” Leo told him. “It was a long time ago, before you were born. Not even Harry and his wife can bring someone back from the dead, Alex, and you certainly can’t.” He patted the younger man on the back. “I’m sorry I got all worked up. You go back to that pretty young wife of yours, make me another niece or nephew.”

Alex felt the blood rush up to his face as Leo gave him a knowing wink. “I’ll see you on Monday at the office. And don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” With that he tossed Alex a jaunty salute and Disapparated.

He kept looking for several minutes at the empty space where his friend had stood, trying to understand just what had happened. Leo had never acted that way before in all the time he’d known him. He’d get sad occasionally when he was missing his family, but he’d never been so…odd…before.

Eventually, Alex turned around and leisurely made his way back towards the house on autopilot as he tried to analyze Leo’s behavior. He sat on the steps to the back door and looked up at the stars, finishing off his beer. He was close enough now that he could sense Bridge again; she had gone into her office and was catching up on the paperwork that seemed never-ending in the legal profession, Muggle or Wizard. The oddness of Leo’s behavior kept nagging at him…it just seemed wrong, somehow. He wasn’t bespelled, he would have tripped off the wards Alex had cast on his property to protect his family.

Tell me Alexander Mackenzie, do you still practice the art of the sword?

What was that supposed to mean? He stood, drained the beer and tossed the bottle with practiced ease into the recycling bin off to the side of the steps.

He opened the back door and walked through the kitchen towards the front of the house.

“Honey?” Bridge called out from her office. “Is Leo gone?”

“Yeah, he left a few minutes ago,” he replied absently. A moment later and he was standing in the middle of his study. The room was dark except for the moonlight streaming in from the sole window at his desk. Alex took his wand from his belt and pointed it at the fireplace. “Incendio!” he breathed, and the room was filled with the warm light of a roaring fire from the large brick fireplace.

Alex stood there, lost in thought, his eyes resting on the medieval long-sword that hung above mantle piece, safely secured in its scabbard.

Tell me Alexander Mackenzie, do you still practice the art of the sword?

Alex could trace his family history all the way back to the late sixteenth century, when they were still on the ancestral lands in the highlands of Scotland, and the overall history of Clan Mackenzie went further back centuries still. His ancestors had been forced into exile to the colonies after the ‘rising of ’45 when Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Stewart claim to the British throne had gone down to their final defeat at Culloden. The long-sword above the mantle had been passed down in direct descent father to son as far back as Alex could trace the line, but from the style it must have been forged centuries before that time.

It was the only thing he had left that belonged to his parents, beyond a few items in a safety deposit box. Their house had been burned to the ground by allies of the Dark Lord during the Second Voldemort War, back when the demon had returned from the dead in the late 90’s. His parents had been killed both to set an example and because he was a Muggle-Born wizard. The sword survived the fire untouched, though the scabbard had been burnt to cinders.

He’d made his peace with his parents’ shades as best he could before he married Bridge, but it still entered his nightmares on occasion. He would see his parents being tortured to death, the house set on fire with a magical flame no water could quench. Major General Joseph Patrick Mackenzie, US Army, and his wife had been casualties of a war they could do nothing to protect themselves from. Alex wondered, sometimes, if he might have been able to save them had he been there. It had only been two years since he’d graduated from Green Mountain, and had started his third year at West Point following in the family tradition. What if he had refused?

Tell me, Alexander Mackenzie, do you still practice the art of the sword?

The week he buried his parents was the worst week of his life to date. Even the missions he and his old unit had conducted in the Muggle drug war couldn’t compare, though there were times when they too, haunted his sleep.

Tell me Alexander Mackenzie, do you still practice the art of the sword?

Alex took the sword down from the wall and drew it from its scabbard. He hadn’t looked at it since he’d hung it on the wall four years ago, and even then he had never paid it much attention beyond its value as a family heirloom. It gleamed in the firelight, its polished surface looked as if it had been crafted just days before, not centuries. The sword was in perfect condition, better than the one he’d been exercising with for twenty years, really.

Why not? He tossed the scabbard on the desk and moved to the center of the room, making certain as he went that there was nothing within the blade’s reach. Alex straightened and gripped the sword with both hands, then swiftly drew it upwards and to the side in a guard position as he put his left leg forwards. He was in position to strike towards the throat of an imaginary opponent or block a strike coming at him, the blade at a slight downward angle.

After counting to thirty and feeling his muscles begin to protest, he brought the sword down in a smooth transition to a resting guard. It was slightly lighter than his practice sword, but had superb balance. An excellent sword, the best I’ve ever handled by far.

He freed one hand and moved over to his desk to pick up the scabbard.

Tell me Alexander Mackenzie, do you still practice the art of the sword?

Why did that sound so odd? He couldn’t get it out of his head.

“Jesus!” He started violently as arms suddenly fastened around his waist and he felt his wife press up against him, and barely restrained himself from a response trained into his muscles for years that would have skewered her.

“Alex? I knocked, but you didn’t answer. Are you all right?” He heard the concern in her voice, but that was the last thing he was thinking about just then.

Alex carefully and quickly untangled himself from his wife, and put the sword back in its scabbard in a single fluid motion. He then bounded over to the fireplace and placed it back on its hangers above the mantle before whirling around to face her.

“I could have killed you!” he said fiercely. “You scared me half to death just now. I’ve told you to never, ever, surprise someone who has a sword in hand!”

“I’m not a child, Alexander.” Bridgette folded her arms and stared at him. “So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me like one,” Her tone was cold and he could tell he’d hurt her feelings.

Alex felt his face turn bright scarlet and forced himself to count to ten. He took a deep breath before responding. “You’re right, I’m sorry. All I ask is that if you ever see me with sword in hand please don’t touch me unless I know you’re there. I could have run you through just then.” He started to shake and pulled his desk chair out so he could collapse into it. The very idea was bad enough…and if I hadn’t stopped myself…

Bridge came over and sat on the desk, her demeanor a good deal warmer. “Alex, I’m sorry I startled you,” she said softly. “I finished the WWW brief and thought I’d see if you were ready for bed. I knocked on the door but you didn’t hear me.”

“I’m sorry, Bridge. I didn’t mean to worry you.” He started to feel calmer, the adrenaline rush leaving his system as quickly as it had come.

His wife waved the comment away and smiled at him before she looked over at the fireplace. “I know that isn’t the same one you exercise with.” She pointed at the sword. “What made you take it down? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it unsheathed before,” She sounded curious, and he couldn’t blame her.

“Just something Leo asked me before he left.” For some reason he felt reluctant to share the conversation with his wife, as if it would be betraying the older man’s trust. “He put me in an odd mood, and I felt like trying out the old family blade.”

She shifted from the desk to his lap. “I know a way to get you out of that mood,” she suggested slyly, kissing him firmly on the mouth and moving her fingers to unbutton his shirt. “We have the entire house to ourselves until five in the afternoon tomorrow when my mom will bring the kids back.” She kissed him again. “I’m done with my homework and have all this time on my hands, think you can help me fill it up?”

Alex grinned. “I think that can be arranged.”

***

If this was a nightmare, it had nothing to do with his parents, or the wars. In fact, he didn’t even recognize where he was. He was running along a path atop a forested mountain ridge, stumbling and getting back up to keep running. Finally, he reached a clearing and stopped, hands on his knees as he sucked in air in huge desperate gasps, heart racing as if it would explode. This body was too short to be his and he had no control over it anyway, he was just a passenger in this dream. It was dressed in the same kind of uniform he wore at work, was it another Auror with the Bureau?

A thick mist covered the slopes of the ridge and the valleys below. It looked familiar somehow, but he couldn’t remember from where. He straightened and glanced about the clearing. The other with him gave off a strong sense of satisfaction and nodded. This would have to do.

A faint rustling broke the unnatural silence that filled the air, and he turned to look back. Six figures approached, almost gliding over the earth rather than walking. All were dressed in black cloaks and robes, and wore masks over their faces. Their eyes glowed red through the holes in the masks.

His hand shot towards his belt, only to stop midway. There was nothing to get, his wand had already been destroyed and he had no sword.

“There is no escape, Shódas,” the central figure called out to him. “I’ve been looking forward to this for some time.” It was a woman’s voice, low and throaty, and had an accent he couldn’t place.

The man straightened. “I am sure you have, Wadúna,” he said in an odd, formal manner, with the same accent. The voice sounded like someone he knew, but who? Why was he seeing this through this man’s eyes? “But I assure you, My Lady, that I have not.”

“You have failed in your attempt to stop us.” From another of the hooded figures, one to the right of the one called Wadúna.

“Neither have you succeeded in the task your masters have set upon you.” The man seemed calm and unafraid. “I have trained others who will take up the challenge,” he shrugged.

“You were not so uncaring the last time we met.” The woman edged closer, the others fanning out in a semicircle.

He shrugged again, but his voice was tight. “The last time we met you had not been corrupted by the dark.”

“Join us, Shódas, it is not too late,” the woman told him, her voice silky smooth, as she ever so slowly closed the distance between them. “Swear the blood oath and they will give back what you want most in the world. The dark arts can bring back the dead…would you not like to see your loved one walk the earth once more?”

“I will see those whom I love in the afterlife.” He raised his arms and shouted, “Vivus Incendio Ultimo!”

The witch in the center Dispparated just before the fireball struck. The others were not so lucky.

Their quarry collapsed onto the ground, and Alex passed from vision to nightmare…

It was the familiar nightmare again. It had never changed even after over a decade’s time, playing out as if he were watching a sickening horror movie over and over. There was his father, tied to a chair like an animal ready for slaughter. His mother was already dead; an unrecognizable lump of ripped flesh and broken bones slumped at the foot of the bed surrounded by a pool of her own blood.

“Scream for me, Muggle,” the cloaked figure whispered into the man’s ear. The deep voice spoke English with an accent Alex had never heard before and had never able to identify afterwards.

“A Mackenzie does not scream, demon. You’ll get no satisfaction from me.” Alex could see in his father’s eyes that he knew his death had come, but still he held his head high. The proud soldier to the end, damn him. Battered and bleeding from a half-dozen deep cuts, Major General Mackenzie still bowed to no man. Why can’t you unbend your stiff neck for once and end it? Stop being so goddamned noble! Alex wanted to shout at him, but he could only watch.

The figure simply chuckled and pointed its wand towards his father. “Oh, I think you will, Muggle. In the end, the pain will convince you, and you will scream for mercy. How many Muggle parents will send their Mudblood filth to pollute and corrupt our world after we make examples out of you? You will scream. Crucio!”

His father convulsed in pure agony, straining at the ropes that bound him. Blood seeped from his mouth where he’d bit his tongue to keep from crying out. The hooded figure kept the spell going for what seemed like forever to Alex, but in reality it lasted only a few heartbeats. Just do what he says, damn you! End it!

The spell ended and his father sagged in the chair. “Scream! Beg for death and you will have it…all you need do is scream.”

“I…will… not beg…for…my own…death,” his father panted. “If you want…t’ kill me…ge’ over wit’ .”

“Crucio!”

It took the hooded figure more than an hour and it had switched to knives, but in the end, it got what it wanted. Joe Mackenzie screamed; he screamed for a long time.

**

“I haven’t had a nightmare that bad in years, especially not about my parents,” Alex whispered hoarsely.

It was still dark outside, but the sun would be up before long. He’d woken up screaming incoherently, sitting upright and clinging to his wife in sheer terror while Bridge pleaded with him to wake up and calm down. Nightmares were rare but not completely unknown in the Mackenzie household since the children had been born, but it had been much worse immediately after the Voldemort War…then it all returned once more with his experiences with the Army in the then undeclared war in Colombia.

“It took me a few minutes to wake you up, Alex, you really scared me this time,” Bridge shivered. Her family was pureblood as far back as anyone could remember, and during the two Voldermort Wars they had simply hunkered down and tried to be invisible. She’d been spared most of the horror of that era, another reason he loved and respected his in-laws, even if they didn’t get along well with him. Alex caressed her, and kissed the top of her head. What did I ever do to deserve you?

“I’m sorry, love. I don’t know what triggered it. I did have a strange conversation with Leo, but…” He gave a small shrug and shook his head. “I just don’t know.”

She seemed lost in thought for a moment before looking up at his face. He could feel the fear through their bond and saw it her eyes. He pulled away slightly to be able to look her directly in the eye. “What is it, Bridge?”

“Alex…have you ever thought that maybe you should leave the Bureau, or at least fieldwork?”

He didn’t know how to respond to the question, so he kissed her lightly on the lips, rolled over and got out of bed, throwing on a bathrobe as he walked over to the window trying to gather his thoughts on the idea.

“Alex?” He heard her get out of bed, the rustle of silk as she slipped into the kimono he’d bought for her as an anniversary gift years ago. “Hey, soldier boy, look at me. Don’t shut me out,” she said as she reached up and turned his face towards her gently. He saw the concern and love on her face, could feel it through their bond, and he pulled her into his arms as he went back to staring out the window. It was another minute or so before he could find the words he needed to say.

I don’t know what else I could do, Bridge, he finally told her through the bond. If I left the Aurors and went to a training billet, or left the Bureau altogether, I don’t know what I’d do with myself. I’ve been a defender of others since I could walk, a soldier and soldier’s son in the Muggle world, Auror in the wizard; it’s the family business. West Point was the only University I was even allowed to consider from the day I was born all the way through ten years of wizard training, anything else was unacceptable.

His wife was quiet for a moment before responding aloud. “You’ve done your duty, Alex. You did what your father wanted in both worlds, but you’ve served your time. You don’t owe him anything.” She hugged him tightly for a moment, and then looked back up into his eyes. “You could start your own business using that green thumb of yours, but I think you’d be a great teacher. With your background you’d be qualified for several different positions, especially in DADA. I know you’re qualified for the Swordmaster position at Green Mountain. Professor Klink is retiring next year and he still says you were the best student he ever trained in the sword,” she sighed and then continued:

“I’m scared, Alex. I’m scared that the job is starting to eat away at you. My greatest fear isn’t that something would happen to the children, or that something would happen to you in the field. It’s that one day the man I married, whom I love and cherish, will disappear and an angry shell will be all that’s left of you. You know that foresight isn’t my strongest gift by any means, but I’ve seen what could happen…and it frightens me.” She shivered and he tightened his embrace, trying to comfort as best he could.

“I don’t know, baby.” He rested his chin on the top of her head “Mentoring younger agents is one thing, teaching kids and teenagers is different. As for running a business, I wouldn’t have the first clue where to begin.”

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, Alex, just think about what you’d do if you left the Bureau. That’s all I ask right now.” She looked out the window, the first rays of the rising sun starting to appear over the eastern sky.

“Isn’t that Copernicus out there?” she said pointing outside towards a tree in the yard.

Alex squinted in the direction his wife pointed. She’d always had better night vision than he had, and he’d gotten dependent on night vision goggles over the years for when it really mattered. I need to work on a spell for that.

He spotted what she was talking about and nodded. “That’s Leo’s owl, all right, looks like he’s finally been trained to wait for people to get up and about rather than just pecking the glass until you let him in.” He smiled at the thought, then frowned. “Leo was just here but eight hours ago. Why send Copernicus?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one who was partnered with him for three years.”

“Wiseass,” he muttered, and took his wand out of his bathrobe pocket. “Alohomora.” The bottom panel of the window unlocked and slid all the way up to the top. Copernicus hooted happily in the tree and flew over, landing on the windowsill. The great horned owl looked up expectantly at Alex and stuck out its leg.

“All right, all right, just hang on a minute.” Alex disengaged himself from his wife’s embrace and untied the string that attached the note to the owl’s leg. He absently reached over to a nearby shelf and removed an owl treat from the package he kept there and handed it to the owl. Copernicus hooted happily again and nipped the fingers that fed him the treat before flying off.

“Ouch! Damn bird!” Alex swore. He shook his fist at the bird as it flew away, and then inspected his fingers for damage. Bridge took his hand tenderly and kissed it.

“There, that should make it better.” Alex stared at her as if she’d gone insane, but she simply shrugged and gave him an unrepentant smile. “It works with the kids.”

“I’ve got another boo-boo that you could kiss, honey,” he wiggled his eyebrows and grinned suggestively. His wife merely rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Read the letter, Lockhart. I’m going to go make coffee.”

He shrugged and watched the back of her retreating form in admiration as she headed for the stairs: that kimono looked fantastic on her and he never got tired of watching her move in it. “Worth a try,” he called out, and laughed at the vulgar gesture he got in return. Still chuckling, he turned his attention to the rolled piece of parchment. A key fell out and on to the hardwood floor as he unrolled it.

“What the…” he bent down to pick it up. He recognized it as a Gringotts vault key. Confused, he went back to the parchment.

Alex-

Don’t let anyone at work know you have this key. I’m certain you’ll see Harry within a few days; take him with you to the Gringotts D.C. branch and enter vault #5318-B.

Keep the contents between you, Harry, and the Order.

So long kid, it’s been great knowing you.

-Leo

P.S. Burn this parchment as soon as you’ve read it.

P.P.S. Take care of Copernicus for me.

“Honey?” Bridge called from downstairs “There’s someone at the door.”

Alex frowned. What the devil did you do, you crazy old goat? He put the parchment in the fireplace and with a quick “Incendio!” reduced it to ashes. For good measure he cast “Pulveris!” on the ashes, then slipped the key into his pocket and hurried downstairs.

At the door were two wizards dressed in the Bureau’s brown robes, but with black trim on the edges. Internal Affairs. “Can I help you?” he asked politely.

“Are you Alexander Mackenzie?” the taller wizard asked.

“Yes. What can I do for you?” Alex forced himself to keep calm. It wouldn’t do to cause a scene with IA wizards. No, that wouldn’t be good at all.

“Agent Leonard Finster listed you as his next of kin. I’m sorry to say this but Agent Finster was found dead shortly after midnight.”

Glossary and Notes:

WWW: Weasley Wizard Wheezes

VMII: Second Voldemort War (i.e. books 4-7)

Military time: Operates on a 24-hour clock, 11:59pm would be 2359hrs, 12:01am would be 0001hrs, etc.

Officer’s Mess: a dinning hall/cafeteria, or a section of one, reserved for use by commissioned officers.

A regular company of infantry soldiers can be anywhere from 120-250 men depending upon the organization. Special Forces companies are generally composed of five teams of 10-12 men each led by a Captain and a senior Non Commissioned Officer (Sergeant); a Major commands the company.

During the Vietnam War, a tour of duty in the combat zone lasted for one year.