Chapter Text
...
Pain radiated through his body as he jackknifed up. A string of colorful curses escaping him as he realized that once again he was reborn. How many had it been now? He'd lost track a long time ago. That plan was one he thought might actually work. Giving himself up to a painful death to He-Who-Walks-Behind. Well he'd been half right. It was an extremely painful death.
He glanced at his clock and saw that it was a little past 8 in the morning. With a groan and an angry scowl at the ceiling of his office. Why hadn't it worked? He pressed a hand against his forehead as he sat up. There was a lingering pain in his body both in memory of his most recent death and from recent battle.
As he pulled his hand away he looked to where he thought his calendar might be. It was there and he was unsurprised to find that it was just after the Victor Sells case. That was something at least. At least he would be out from under the Doom of Damocles. Morgan was always a prick to deal with. The man was a self righteous ass. A couple of times they'd come to an agreement of sorts when Harry was willing to help the world as much as he could before his death. But they would never be friends. Now though, he just wanted it all to end and to stay dead.
The raven mark on the back of his left hand glared back at him. Seemed that the damn thing would not let him go either. He'd tried everything short of cutting the hand off to get rid of it. Even the Sidhe had no idea what the magic was. He'd asked his Godmother and Mab in a previous life, either his second or third.
Never again would he fall to Mab's machinations. She'd broken him. Turned him into a weapon to use at her disposal. It was not a fate he would wish upon anyone. If anything he would have to watch her carefully to make sure that she didn't take an interest in him again. If she tried to force him, he'd imprison her on Demonreach. Again... he'd need to bond with the island again if he decided to stay in this universe.
Deciding on a shower, he rose slowly to his feet and his knee buckled. His curses echoed loudly through the empty apartment. Mouse had yet to to be born and Mister was likely roaming outside. With a grimace and a shake of his head, he made his way to the bathroom. He stripped down and did a check for any current injuries. There were a few bruises but otherwise he was healed. However there was a mark on his chest he never had before.
A black fox with silver markings and dark eyes stared back at him. What did it mean? He should probably ask Bob after his shower.
...
Nicodemus was used to waking from his sleep to discover that his plans had gone awry in some manner. It was usually because of the Knights of the Cross, or the Church. They were the biggest annoyance in his plans. This time however was different. Instead of an urgent call or a message from his daughter or his wife. Instead there was an odd feeling on his chest.
It didn't hurt, per say. It was more of a tingling sensation. Something was forming, and that intrigued him. Anduriel had startled for the first time in years. His Fallen was rarely surprised by anything. Slowly he sat up and pulled down the collar of his sleep shirt. Shock ran through him then a satisfied smile spread on his lips.
There was a large black wolf with deep dark eyes staring back at him. He could feel an immediate pull towards somewhere in the city. He'd come to Chicago originally looking a set of books. If his soulmate was in the city, he would need to them. For almost two thousand years, he'd waited to find them. Both he and Anduriel had thought perhaps that the White God had cursed him to never have one. Yet this was proof he did, finally.
With a pleased sigh, he reached for his cell phone and called his associates. Preparation would need to be made. He couldn't simply abandon his current plans. While the search would delay his schedule, he was not opposed to the idea of having a mate. Someone else who would stand beside him and help him carry out his goals. As he got ready, he could see that the mark had moved a little. No, it didn't move. It gained color that hadn't been there before.
Flecks of green and gold surrounded its left paw and leg. Perhaps his intended was a practitioner of the Art. That would be an interesting discovery indeed. So many things he would have to look forward to. As his daughter walked into the room, she stopped and stared at him curiously.
"What has you in such a good mood?" Deidre asked her voice sounding confused, and somewhat suspicious.
Nicodemus smiled at his child, and gestured to the soulmark. Her eyes widened in surprise and she approached to get a better look at the mark.
"We'll have to adjust our plans, I want to meet my Soulmate," Nicodemus explained to his offspring.
"Are you sure, Father?" she asked.
He raised an eyebrow at her and said, "I've waited a long time to find them."
"Of course," his daughter replied, and took the seat across from him.