The Dresden Files/Codex Alera is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.

"Harry!" Michael said, greeting me at the door. "What an unexpected but pleasant surprise!"

"Hey, man," I said.

"Come in, come in." He ushered me into his house.

Michael is a carpenter by trade and a Carpenter by name. He built his home, and every piece of it shows the love and devotion he shows for his craft and his family. Wood staircase with tongue and groove connections perfectly matched the paneling, which perfectly matched the flooring. He continually strives to make it as safe and inviting a place as he can.

"What brings you here, Harry."

"Any word from Molly?"

His face fell, and he shook his head. "It's like she never existed. I thought maybe someone would show up at our doorstep, but it's been almost a month now since I last saw her."

"I know."

"Everyone else is doing so well. I assume Maggie has integrated into your home appropriately?"

"She's awesome." I felt my heart swell as I thought about my daughter. "She and I play all the time, I'm teaching her to read and write, and Murphy has already started basic self-defense training with her."

Michael gave me a warm smile. "That's wonderful to hear."

I nodded.

"So is that what you came over to ask? If I'd seen Molly?"

I shrugged. "Murphy is starting to feel…"

Michael watched me struggle for words for a bit. He had that gift, the one of authentic listening, knowing when to be quiet. He also knows when it's gone on too long. "She feels their loss and is concerned for their safety."

"Yeah." I sat down on his couch. "Goodman Grey and her had a thing a few years back, and she's worried about him and some of the others."

"Goodman Grey was a terribly violent and destructive creature."

"Agreed. But he saved Murphy's life. Hell, he saved mine. Not to mention the million and a half times Molly saved my life."

"Including the time that in order to save your life first, she had to take it?"

I chuckled. "Exactly."

"So, what do you need from me, Harry?"

"You got a Coke? I could use something to drink."

"Of course." He walked into the kitchen while I looked at all the pictures of his kids. Pictures of Charity with Daniel, Charity with Mathew, Alicia, Amanda, Hope, and of course, Harry. All the Carpenter family was smiling and happy in various places, doing fun things.

All except Molly.

He came back and handed me a can.

"So, what is it you're avoiding talking to me about?"

I took a long pull on the Coke, draining it completely in one gulp. I set the empty can on the table. "Mac."

Michael grinned nodded. "You mean the physical manifestation of Our Lord and Savior?"

"Yeah, that."

"What do you want from Him? And why do you feel I could help with that?"

"Well, you used to be a Knight of the Cross. I thought you might have some way to, uh…communicate with him or something."

"I do communicate with him. Every single day. Sometimes multiple times a day."

"Oh? And what is his explanation of all this?"

"He doesn't explain things, Harry. I speak to Him. In Prayer."

"Ahh."

"You could try praying too, Harry."

I frowned, crossing my legs. "The big guy and I usually don't see eye to eye, but now that I know he's Mac…"

"I imagine if he needed or felt you deserved knowledge of this situation, he would impart it to you. Similar to me regarding my daughter."

"So you're taking it on faith that she's okay?"

Michael nodded, wiping a tear away. "It's why it is called Faith, Harry."

"So how does one do that, exactly?"

"Do what?"

"Pray."

Michael chuckled. "It's the most natural thing in the world, Harry. Open your mind to Him, and let him know what you desire."

"You don't need an incantation, or spell, or alchemical solution?"

"Nope." He chuckled. "You know this, Harry."

"Yeah," I sighed. "I'm just…well. Don't get me wrong; I want to know Molly is okay. But on the other hand-"

"You've been given a gift. Even though you've been stripped of your magic, you have everything you could ever want right here, right now."

"Yes."

"Well, I can't promise you anything, Harry. But I can say, the Lord always answers prayers. It may not be in the way you want them answered. But they are always answered."

"So if I prayed for a million bucks, I'd get it?"

"Absolutely." Michael patted me on the shoulder. "But perhaps he would give you the strength and the clarity to see the path to earning that million bucks for yourself, Harry."

"Yeah, I get it. The genie's curse."

"I wouldn't call it a curse, Harry, God works through us to achieve His design."

"Like Covid19?"

"COVID has nothing to do with God, Harry. And you didn't come here for us to go down that rabbit hole."

I sighed, "Okay. You're right. I thought I'd ask if you had anything from…before. I mean, are the swords still in existence?"

Michael shook his head. "Much like Excalibur, they appear to be legends and only real in the minds of those who were at the event. Waldo Butters remembers his Sword, but Fidelacchius is only a high-end lightsaber prop."

"So, that'd be a no then?"

Michael bobbed his head back and forth, his mouth staying closed.

"So, that'd be a yes then?"

He sighed. "Harry, some things surrounding being a Knight of the Cross are not accessible to the realm of Mortals."

"Can you lay off the cryptography, man, and cut to the chase? All I want to do is ask Mac if Molly and the others are okay. I don't think he's going to hear me if I try to pray, because that hasn't been working so far."

"God listens to all our Prayers, Harry."

I sighed. "Okay, well, if you ever want me to try to find out about your daughter, let me know, okay?"

"What's going on?" Charity said, coming into the room.

I shook my head. "Nothing. Michael has something regarding being a Knight of the Cross that he's keeping from me. I want to ask Mac if Molly and the other fae are okay — as I assume they are, but he says I should just pray about it."

"Michael, go get them for Harry. He's obviously forgotten about it."

Michael stared at his wife. "No."

"Get what?"

Something about that rang a bell. I'd been involved in a case where Nicodemus Arcleone had raided the vault of Hades. I'd recovered five items…what were they? It was like they'd been erased from my—

"He erased my memory of it, didn't he."

Michael nodded.

"What did I bring back?"

Michael sighed.

"Dude, this is important."

"If it was important, I think you would remember the items, Harry."

"Do you want to learn the location of your daughter or not?"

Charity looked at him with a pleading expression on his face.

Michael shook his head. "We have to go to St. Mary of the Angels."

Father Forthill was getting on in years. He still opened the side-door for us and embraced each of us warmly.

"It's so good to see you, boys. What adventures have the two of you been having?"

"Oh, you know us. Never a dull moment, Father," Michael said.

He led us into his small, sparse apartment. I knew it well, having spent quite some time healing up after having my back broken.

"So what can I do for you?"

"Can't old friends just see each other every once in awhile."

Forthill nodded and winked. "Of course we can, Harry. But I know you never use the side-door unless there's something you need and don't want the Community to see."

"Father, we need to see the…artifacts, Harry brought to you a few years ago."

Forthill frowned.

"Do you remember me bringing you certain items, Father?"

He nodded. "I do indeed, Harry. But those have been forward to the Vatican, of course, for safekeeping. Those were priceless relics, and they are still being studied."

My shoulders slumped. "Well, shoot."

Forthill nodded, standing up. "Sorry about that, boys. Will there be anything else?"

Michael stood very still. He was always a little eerie when in the grip of the Holy Spirit back when magic actually worked. It was like sound didn't exist around him when he communed with the Spirit.

"Father," Michael said. "I'm going to tell you a story."

"Very well, my son."

Michael took a deep breath. "Charity and I were pregnant before having Daniel."

Forthill nodded. "I remember."

"Do you remember what happened with that child?"

He frowned. "Of course. Mo…" he blinked. "A girl, correct?"

"Yes, Father. You christened her right here in this very Font."

"Why can't I…her name started with an M."

Michael nodded. "Molly."

"Yes! Molly. Of course. How could I forget her?"

"Where is Molly now, Father?" I said.

He looked at us, confused. "I assume she was…she was your apprentice for a time, right, Harry?"

"Yes, but apprentice as what?"

Forthill leaned forward. "Oh, my old age…of course, I should remember this."

"Well, let's go down the list. I'm currently a teacher, so was it in education?"

He nodded. "It was definitely education of some kind…but, not English…was it a foreign language?"

"No—"

The Priest looked at us, his face cast in a frown as he considered it.

"I can see her. She used to go around here a lot back when…Formula? When some formula happened, and it was causing chaos?"

"The Fomor."

"Yes!" Forthill nodded. "She protected the city from the Fomor!"

"How did she do that, Father?"

"Well, with Magic, of course…Magic…why would I ever think…"

I put my hand on his shoulder. "That is what Molly studied with me, Father. Magic. I was a Wizard."

He shook his head. "That couldn't be…wait."

He sat down, staring at me. "Yes. You were. A Wizard. Very powerful one, too, weren't you?"

"Yes, Father."

"And yes, I remember. You raided the Vault of Hades. And brought back the relics."

"Yes."

Michael nodded, rubbing his scruffy chin. "So, you can see why we need to see the relics, Father. Magic has disappeared from this reality. And so has Molly."

"Oh, my boy!" Father nodded, getting up and embracing Michael deeply.

I watched them hold each other, and they both wiped a tear after a few moments.

Father Forthill touched the side of his nose and went to his secret compartment. He touched a special place on the wall, and it opened to display a shelf with several items within.

"I couldn't have sent these to the Vatican, they'd never believe me and would have destroyed them."

"It's okay, Father," Michael said. "You had the best of intentions."

Michael bowed his head, then made the sign of the cross. He withdrew several items and set them on the desk.

First was a piece of cloth. White, appearing to be made of silk. It was a shroud of some kind, well, not any shroud, THE Shroud of Turin. Second, a spear, with a wooden handle that looked ancient with an iron tip. Third, a sign or placard reading 'King of the Jews' in Aramaic. Fourth, a circle of what appeared to be rose stems. They'd been preserved somehow, but still brittle and ancient, and I realized they were The Crown of Thorns.

"Of course, the fifth item was stolen."

I blinked. "The fifth item?"

"The Grail, Harry."

"Right," Memories came flooding back. We'd quested for the grail, specifically. It was what Nicodemus Archleone had wanted, and what he'd stolen at the very end.

Father Forthill unlocked another box and took out a black satin bag. "I also still have all of these." He opened the pouch careful not to touch them, laying them onto the desk still nestled in the velvet of the bag.

"Careful with those, Father," Michael said.

At first, I thought it was a bag of money since that is what it sounded like. But then I noticed it wasn't money but coins. My mind finally congealed enough to remember they were the Coins of the Blackened Denarius. I counted the coins without touching them.

"Nine." I sighed. "Lasciel and Uriel should still be in Hades' vault.

"If someone hasn't recovered them, yes," Michael said.

"I wonder what would happen if someone were to pick it up now?" I mused. "I mean, considering the absence of Magic."

"Let's not perform any experiments." Father Forthill said, closing the satin bag with the drawstring. He put the bag back inside the locked box, inserted his silver key, and locked it carefully.

"Agreed." Michael smiled.

"So, apparently, not all supernatural objects have been removed from this reality, or continuum, or plane of existence." I stroked my growing beard.

"Perhaps one of the relics could assist you in reaching out to Mac?" Michael said.

"Possibly. Or it could have some other effect. I have absolutely no idea what these might do. Do you, Father?"

Father Forthill shook his head. "No, Harry. Other than knowing they must be quite powerful considering their source."

I nodded. "What's the holiest part of a church?"

Michael shrugged, looking at Father Forthill. "The Sacristy?"

Father Forthill continued. "If you are looking for the area where the most Holy of objects is held, the Sacristy is where we store our vestments and anything we might use in a service. It's where we bless ourselves with holy water, and where we go before and after each ceremony. The Altar is where we perform our ceremonies and is the focus of all our Masses."

I nodded. "Let's go to the Altar then. And bring these relics."

Both Father Forthill and Michael knelt before entering the Hall. I awkwardly did the same, following along behind.

Father Forthill gathered each of the boxes containing the items, and we carried them into the main hall. He set them on the altar, reverently, crossing himself after touching each one.

Churches always made me feel a bit uneasy as if God were looking down into my soul from above and peeling back every layer to find the interesting bits in the middle. I felt like if I sneezed or otherwise caused some kind of noise, lightning might strike at any time.

He set the items on the Altar, laying them out and opening each of the containers.

"Now what?" Michael said.

"Well, when magic worked, and if I were performing a summoning, I'd need some kind of circle on the floor.

"Would a piece of chalk work?" Father Forthill asked.

I shrugged. "Who knows. Yes, it would in normal circumstances. Silver, gold, or platinum is best, but I used to use chalk out in the field.

"There's some chalk in the classroom, Michael."

Michael nodded and left to go get it.

Forthill sat down with me on the front pew, laying a hand on my shoulder. "How have you been holding up, my son?"

I smiled. "Wonderful, actually. Murphy and I are married now."

"Oh!" Father smiled. "I would have performed the ceremony if you had wanted."

"Well, it was a spur of the moment thing, and we had…well, the Big Guy himself."

Forthill nodded and smiled. "I'm happy you two have found each other."

"It's wonderful, Father. And Maggie is with us."

"That child is special in the eyes of God."

"And me!" I said, hearing footsteps behind me.

Michael returned and handed me the chalk.

I drew a circle around the altar, feeling somehow sacrilegious as I did it.

"Is there anything else you'd require?"

"Well," I said, dusting my hands off on my pants. "Invocations or evocations require three elements; A summoning circle, something symbolic that is tied to the person being summoned, and a catalyst. Usually, I use a potion or powder for the catalyst…not sure what I might use in this summoning."

Michael smiled. "I suspect incense and holy water might do the trick for us," Michael said.

Father Forthill nodded and prepared the thurible, a container at the end of a chain.

"In my ceremonies, I walk around the Altar, blessing it with the smoke from the Thurible." Father Forthill said.

I nodded. "Please proceed."

Father Forthill swung the smoking container, and I smelled the burning incense. He murmured softly as he walked all around. Then he took a pitcher and poured out a little blessed water, closing his eyes and murmuring over it as it sprinkled over the altar.

I stepped up, placing my hands on the shroud and the crown of thorns.

"I summon thee, McInally, Lord of Lords, God of heaven and Earth to attend—"

Mac appeared abruptly in front of the altar. He shook His head. "Harry, you didn't have to go to all this trouble, you could have just called. He held up a mobile device in his hand.

"But I didn't have your number?"

"Look at your phone."

I pulled out my mobile phone and unlocked it. After pulling up the contact list, I scrolled through it.

"Really?" I said. "Big G?"

"Hey, what did you want me to use?" Mac said.

"I don't know, maybe McInally?"

"And if someone happened to get your phone?"

"Well, okay, for future reference now, I know."

He chuckled, and we hugged each other. He shook hands with Father Forthill, who goggled at him, and I thought he might have a heart attack right there. Michael knelt on one knee, murmuring and clutching the cross around his neck.

"Arise, my son." He placed a hand on Michael's shoulder, and Michael stood up, abject adoration on his face.

"So, what why have you summoned Me?"

"We just want to make sure Molly and all the other Fae creatures are okay, Mac. We weren't prepared for them to be gone from this reality."

Mac nodded, a serious look on his face.

"So, are they okay?"

He sighed. "Define okay for me, please."

Michael spoke. "That my daughter is happy, healthy, and unharmed and is able to fulfill her life's potential."

Mac nodded. Then he sat down, putting his head on his fist. "Then, no, they aren't okay at all."

I felt my stomach turn to water. "What? We thought since you took away magic…"

"Harry, I didn't do this. I didn't take away anything."

"But, I can't perform anything magical, and there are no supernatural beings at all on this plane."

Mac nodded. "The Universe has been fractured."

I sat down next to him, as Michael and Forthill did the same.

"Hells Bells," I said.

Mac nodded. "Exactly."