The first thing Heir-Prince Saffir did on reaching his destination was take his goddess’ name in vain and shield his eyes from the sunlight pouring down on him.  The heat of it against his pale skin was all but unbearable, and he stumbled back into the protection of the shadows.  How do Gaians live like this? he wondered, risking a glance out at the too-bright city. 

Obviously he had miscalculated something in his jump to the past.  He certainly hadn’t anticipated the reaction his darkness-accustomed body would have this close to the sun.  Gathering his power and focusing, Saffir disappeared into the time stream once more, coming out a few hours ahead of where he had been previously.  The night would be kinder to him.

“Much better,” the young man murmured, stepping out into public view after concealing the black crescent moon on his forehead.  The white electric lighting of this city was similar enough to the witchlights used by his people that his blue eyes only required a few moments to adjust.

He looked at his right hand and frowned – even those few moments in that scorching yellow sun had burned him, tinting his pale skin a pinkish-red.  He took a moment to regret that he had yet to study healing magic before setting out to explore the city.

 

—‡—‡—‡—

 

 “Erebus take it!” Saffir snarled not ten minutes later, having tracked down a newspaper.  All those weeks of preparation, his careful calculations… and he had missed.  By fifteen years.

Or you were right the first time and put yourself ahead fifteen years in an attempt to avoid the sun, murmured a treacherous part of his mind.  He ignored it; he’d long since mastered the art of travelling a few hours forward or back.  In any case, he was temporarily stuck in 2007 – it would take him some hours to recover enough power for another thousand-year jump.  I might as well make the best of it, he mused, looking up at the moon suspiciously.  If he wasn’t careful, he’d come back home darker than he already was, which would only lead to envy from his cousin Esmeraude and far, far too many questions from his brother’s advisor.

The Wiseman had no need to learn of his experiments into bypassing the domain of Sailor Pluto – not until the technique was perfected and Prince Demando told of his younger brother’s achievement.  And Saffir had enough to worry about with the Darkstar clan trying to steal his research on the subject so they could royally screw over the timestream in order to see their favourite on the throne of Nemesis.  Thank Nyx that Lapis Lazuli had been able to warn him before Jaspis turned up – Saffir had no love for the back-stabbing politics of his homeworld, but he knew the rules and played the game quite well.

And the young Heir-Prince wasn’t so lost in thought that he didn’t notice he was being followed.  A small, cold smile curved his lips as he began seeking a likely spot to… discourage further pursuit.  Spotting a likely alley, he turned down it, almost sensing his tail’s predatory glee.  Not yet, he thought, the smile fading.  Soon… almost… He reached the end of the alley, which had unsurprisingly turned into a dead end.  Now!  Aware that he had to conserve his energy if he wanted to get back to his proper time within the next twelve hours, Saffir elected not to teleport behind his enemy, instead raising his left hand as he turned around and letting fly a burst of energy as his pursuer leapt at him.

The thing hadn’t been expecting such an odd defence, and was unable to avoid the dark blue-tinted blast.  It yowled in pain as it was thrown back the way it had come.  The cold smile returned to Saffir’s face as he shifted into a more battle-ready stance.  “Nice try,” he murmured in his native language, “but I’m rather adverse to being considered prey.  Go find something else to eat.”

The whatever-it-was didn’t take his advice, instead lunging for him far faster than it had before.  Instinctively, Saffir focused on the area behind it, then moved himself there in a spectacularly boring teleport.  Confused, the beast yowled, trying to catch his scent.  Drawing a knife from a hidden sheath, Saffir smoothly stepped forward and slit its throat from behind, then leapt back before the decidedly non-human predator could gut him in its death throes.

He watched it die dispassionately, then stepped forward to study the body and determine exactly what it was.  It was more powerful than the droids he dealt with on a near-daily basis, but it was as nothing compared to his cousin Rubeus.  “What in the names of the Three Goddesses were you?” he said softly.  He’d not seen anything like this in any of the texts of Old Earth he’d read…

Saffir’s sharp ears caught the sound of running feet and he whirled, energy gathering around his left hand as he made ready to defend himself once more.

 

Harry Dresden, Chicago’s only professional wizard, was currently involved in a high-speed chase (on foot, but no less high speed) with a ghoul that had, for some reason, mauled a number of pedestrians. He thought he had in cornered in the alley it darted into, but skidded to a halt and very nearly tripped over his own feet when he saw a very pale man with a knife standing over the corpse of the aforementioned ghoul.

A bit clumsily, he thrust out his staff defensively; he would have preferred to use his blasting rod but he had not been prepared to go chase down a ghoul. He was, in fact, prepared to go have coffee with Billy and Georgia. I should just stop making plans… he thought.

The man whirled to face him, a blue glow shimmering around his left hand as he demanded in a rather regal tone, “You’re allies with this… thing, then?”

Harry blinked several timers, trying to register what he just said. “What the… that’s a fucking ghoul! What are you talking about?”  He then realized what had just happened and very nearly dropped his staff. “You… just killed a ghoul with nothing but a knife?”

The blue glow vanished as the man slowly relaxed.  “A ghoul… I thought those were just stories, told by mothers to frighten children into misbehaving.”  He looked over his shoulder at the body.  “I suppose I was wrong,” he added dryly before looking back at Harry.  “The knife caused the death wound, yes.”

Harry looked the man up and down. He was… pale.  Paler than a vampire, paler than anyone Harry had ever seen. Like the lovechild of a Goth and a snowman. “And what, pray tell, are you?”

He looked rather amused by that.  “I’m human.”

Harry chuckled darkly. “And I’m Mary, Queen of Scots. Very few humans can take on a ghoul mano-a-mano. What business do you have down this dark alley, hm?”

“Ambush,” came the light reply.  “I noticed that it was following me with predatory intent, so I lured it to where I could properly deal with it and not worry about bystanders.”

Harry looked the man up and down once again, and filed him under Highly Suspicious. He lowered his staff, but did not drop his guard.  “Perhaps I should take you to be questioned somewhere.”

One dark eyebrow arched upward.  “And if I don’t wish to be questioned?”  The tone was bland, and could have concealed a world of meaning – or could have been no more than a simple question.

“The way I see it, you have two options.  You can be upfront with me now or I can call the police, and they so dislike being disturbed around this time.”  A quick probe with his wizardly senses confirmed Harry’s suspicions. “And I know you’re more than human.”

Dark eyes narrowed – the man had been outmanoeuvred, and not only did he know it, he really disliked it.  “Surely you don’t mean for us to discuss this in front of a dead body.  Someone might get the wrong idea.”  He didn’t make comment on Harry’s second point regarding his humanity or lack thereof – yet.

Harry looked at the dead ghoul, then at the strange man. “Fair enough. I know a place we can go.”  Harry lowered his staff to his side. “As a token of goodwill, you’re going to give me that knife.”

The man looked at the knife, then at the wizard, then knelt and wiped the blade on the ghoul’s clothing before handing it over hilt-first.  “If you lose it, I shall be very upset,” he growled, a strangely Germanic accent tinting his words.  He’d made entirely too little fuss about handing it over.

Harry wrapped it in a handkerchief and slipped it into a pocket. “Follow me.”

“As you will, strange tall man,” replied the other, an oddly mocking tone to his words now.

“Follow me, strange pale man.” Harry led the man around the corner, stopping at a payphone to make a quick call. “Murph? It’s Harry. There’s a dead ghoul in an alley off Fifty-First. I’ll give you the details later.” He hung up without another word and led strange pale man to the Beetle.

The stranger regarded the vehicle with an oddly curious look and tilt of the head, bringing his dark hair into the light – his dark blue hair.  Harry raised an eyebrow upon getting a look at the man’s hair. “Nice hair. Get in the car.”

This earned him another odd look, but he obeyed, folding his long body – though not quite so long as Harry’s – into the passenger seat.  He fumbled when handling the safety belt, as if it was something he had only read about, never encountered himself, but got himself locked in.

Harry gave him an odd look, but said nothing. He revved up the car and set off toward Mac’s. “Got a name?”

“Saffir,” he replied after a short pause.  “How about you?”

“Harry. Rather an odd name you have.”

“I was about to say the same thing,” Saffir told him dryly.

Harry rolled his eyes but, once again, did not comment. He pulled into Mac’s and got out, stretching a bit.  Saffir followed suit, muttering something under his breath in a language Harry didn’t recognise.  “So primitive…”

“After you, Saffy,” he said, opening the door to the pub.

The nickname earned him the iciest stare he’d yet to receive.  “That is not my name,” Saffir told him coldly before walking in.

Harry only chuckled in response. “Welcome to McAnnaly’s, where everybody knows your name and they’re generally glad you came.”

“It’s a bar,” Saffir observed, glancing around the room.  “An interesting set-up, though.  Feng shui to lessen the chances of magical accidents, I’m guessing.  I wonder if I could talk my brother into a similar arrangement…”

Harry let out a long, low whistle. “Not many people spot that, and that’s including the local wizards. Good eye.” And thus proving you’re more than you say you are…

“Have a seat. Don’t suppose you have any money on you?”

“Not any local currency, no,” Saffir admitted.  “I suppose I should have seen a jeweller when I had the chance.  Hindsight, etc.”

Harry chuckled again. “Figures. This round’s on me.” He had a seat at the bar, greeter the barman monosyllabically, and ordered two pints of stout.  When he returned to Saffir with the drinks, there was a silver ring with a small sapphire on it waiting for him.  Dark blue eyes dared him to comment.

Harry picked up the ring and looked it over. “I’m not going to insult you and ask if this is real. What’s it for?”

“My share of the bill,” came the cool reply.  “And possible hospital bills, if the rest of my night continues its downward spiral.”

Harry put the ring on the table. “It’s a beer, and I’m not poor. You can pay for the beer by being frank.”

Saffir shrugged and left the ring where it was.  “I’ll be as frank as circumstances allow,” he replied simply.

Harry took a sip of his beer. “You’re definitely more than human. So what is it? Wizard? Vampire? Perhaps a bit of faerie in your genetic cocktail?”

The blue-haired man shook his head.  “No, I’m as human as you are.”  He paused, as if considering what else to give away, then added, “I was, however, raised in a place rather inundated in dark energy.  The odds are that’s the source of whatever else it is you’re sensing from me.”

Harry scoffed a bit. “First off? ‘Inundated?’ Do you carry a little pocket thesaurus around?  Secondly, what’d you mean by ‘dark energy’?” Harry could think of several things that could be described as such, but wanted to hear what he had to say.

For the first time, a small, genuine smile curved Saffir’s lips.  “Well done.  Hardly anybody sees through my ‘big words’ ploy.  As to the latter statement, there’s truly no other way to describe it.”  Another pause.  “It could be considered the magical equivalent of radiation, but it’s nowhere near as mutating or fatal.”

Harry smiled a bit, taking another sip of beer. “I think I get you. And what kind of a place might that be?”

This one earned him another long pause, before the slightly shorter man finally said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Harry actually laughed at this. “I’m a wizard. I’ve seen magic that can literally tear people asunder, watched the faerie courts go to war, fought more vampires than I’d like to count and was very much looking forward to having coffee with a pair of werewolves. Try me.”

Saffir shrugged.  “I’m from another planet.”

Harry, mid-sip, snorted a bit of beer. After coughing it out of his sinuses, Harry looked at Saffir squarely. “Admittedly, that’s a new one in my book.”

The pale young man shrugged.  “It’s the truth,” he replied.  “My people were banished from this planet many centuries ago, hence my being human despite coming from Nemesis.”

“Nemesis, huh? Pleasant-sounding place. Where exactly is it?”

“Beyond this system’s ninth planet – Pluto, I believe you call it.”

“Our scientists say that Pluto isn’t a planet anymore,” said Harry, rolling his eyes a bit. “Our tax dollars at work.”

Both of Saffir’s eyebrows rose ceilingward.  “I hope to Nyx and Erebus nobody ever tells her that,” he murmured in the language that had given him his accent.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Irrelevant,” he replied, this time in English.

Shrugging, Harry drank some more beer. “Have a bit of beer, it’ll do you good. So what’s a nice, er… Nemesite? Nemesoid? Whatever like you doing in a place like this?

“Nemesian,” Saffir corrected, taking a sip of beer and making an appreciative sound.  “This is good.  And I’m experimenting.”

“Experimenting.”

Saffir smiled grimly.  “I wanted to see if teleporting from Nemesis to this place was possible.”

Harry chuckled. “Every knowledge-seeker’s eternal motto: ‘Hey, I wonder what’ll happen if I do this!’  I’m gonna be frank with you, as long as Frank doesn’t mind. You’re a bit strange and could probably stand to get out in the sun a bit more, but as far as I can tell you’re on the level.” He reached into the folds of his coat and placed the wrapped knife on the table. “Here’s your knife back. Keep the hankie.”

Saffir accepted the weapon, and it vanished into a sheath hidden up the sleeve of his blue shirt.  “Thank you.  As for the sun, well… as I said, I come from beyond Pluto.  This system’s sun is little more than an overly bright star.”

Harry shivered a bit. “Point taken. So I’m going to finish my beer, and if you beg a bit I might just throw in a late dinner, and I’m going to leave you to… whatever it is you’re doing, as you don’t seem to be bothering anyone, save for the occasional ghoul.  But I’ve got eyes and ears all-over, and if it turns out I’m wrong about you, I will find you and we shall have Words.”

“Believe me when I say I have no interest in bothering anyone here,” Saffir replied.  “However, I would be amiss not to warn you that I might have been followed here by a man less interested in subtlety than I.”  He scowled.  “As much as I hate admitting it, he’s clever enough that he might have figured out my method of travel and come after me.”

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out one of his business cards. “You let me know if that happens. I’d be willing to bet good money that I’ve dealt with worse.”

With that, Harry stood up, finished off the rest of his beer in one chug, and ordered two steak sandwiches (one to go).

“You’ve never dealt with anything like the Darkstar clan before,” Saffir said softly, “and certainly nothing like Jaspis.  He should be easy enough to spot.  As pale as I am, only he bears a black star on his brow, as opposed to a crescent.”  Here the young man pushed his bangs aside, revealing a black moon shape on his forehead.

Harry looked at the mark oddly. “Interesting place for tattoo. Nice job on the concealing spell, though. I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“Keep your ears open, too.  Each clan of Nemesis has a power unique to them.  The Darkstars are able to drain energy from other beings.  So if you hear of any mysterious collapses, well, a Darkstar is behind it.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll make a note. Good luck with whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish. Enjoy your food. And watch yourself.” And with that, Harry turned and left, but not before making a cheesy “eyes-on-you” gesture.

 

Saffir shook his head and smiled.  With any luck, he wouldn’t have any Darkstars to deal with.  Surely Jaspis wouldn’t follow him a thousand years to the past?