When he was done, and his weight back on his left leg without pain, he opened his eyes. Seeks-the-Moon was walking the edge of the ritual circle one last time, eyeing his handiwork. Hanna Uljaken was staring at Kyle, an odd, fascinated look on her face as the last visible traces of the magical energy he'd used drifted away from his body in wisps.

Kyle smiled at her, and she managed a tiny smile in return.

"Much better," he said.

Seeks-the-Moon looked up. "You're ready then?"

Kyle nodded.

"Will you need the shirt?" Hanna asked quietly. "I can have a car sent…"

Kyle shook his head. "No need." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small red and white sample container. "This time we can do it right."

He turned to Seeks-the-Moon. "Odds are something's going to come after me if I can't do this fast enough. I'm going to call Winston in for extra protection."

"If you must," Seeks-the-Moon said, shrugging.

"Winston?" asked Hanna.

Kyle held up his hand and shifted the frequencies of part of his spirit until they matched those of the elemental metaplane of fire. "Winston?" he called into astral space. In front of him, over the center of the circles, a spark leapt into life, and then quickly grew into a ball of flame half Kyle's own size.

"Good afternoon," the newly called fire elemental said. "You look well."

"Thank you," Kyle said. "You will remain here under Seeks-the-Moon's command, Winston, and work with Charlotte to guard this place and the people dwelling in it."

The spirit nodded, but seemed amused. "That one is not the smartest of your servants," it said.

"With great power comes great sarcasm," said Kyle. "Do as I say."

The spirit seemed to nod again. "Of course," it said, and vanished.

"Do you think it was referring to you or Charlotte?" Kyle asked Seeks-the-Moon, but his ally spirit didn't answer. He stood looking at the ritual circle, lost in thought. "Seeks-the-Moon, are you all right?"

"Yes, yes," Moon said, "I'm fine. I was only thinking." Kyle walked slowly into me center of me circle, careful not to disturb any of the markings. At its heart, he could clearly see its power. Seeks-me-Moon had inscribed a powerful circle, perhaps even better than Kyle could have done. It was a disturbing thought, considering Seeks-the-Moon's origins.

Kyle turned completely in place, waving his hand across the plane of the circle, the candles springing to life as he gestured at them. Even with the windows wide open, the powerful aura of the circle was evident. It was warm and solid and fit him perfectly.

He removed the ampoule of blood from its protective case, opened it, and poured half into his outstretched hand. Immediately, he felt the vibrations of Mitchell Truman's life echoing through it. Kyle closed his eyes, centered himself, and when he opened them again, eight metallic wheels circled him, spinning at different rates and angles to one another. Each glowed with power and rang with a musical tone that echoed its nature.

The power was Kyle's, and he changed the rotation of the copper wheel until it matched the vibrations of Mitchell Truman's blood pooled in his hand. The blood vibrated in response. Kyle willed the silver circle into position parallel to the copper one and slowed it until both spun at the same speed. Just as they did, the copper circle pulsed and began to rotate through its axis around him. Kyle closed his hand around the blood, and the copper wheel ran with red, crimson dancing along its edges. The wheel flashed again, and a translucent image of it expanded outward in all directions, drawn to Mitchell Truman's physical existence.

Kyle felt the forces of the wheel traveling outward, expanding from him in an ever-growing sphere. If left to continue, bound by no other constraints, it would grow infinitely, weakening as it did, but never quite ceasing to exist.

Some part of Kyle was with the leading edge of the magic as it rushed across the city, searching for the exact harmony that would match it. The blood in his hand was hot, burning with the power he focused. The wheels circled him, singing with energy, building upon the simple energies within.

The blood flamed, coursing through his fingertips, but not burning him. The copper wheel resounded, and its tone increased in pitch. It had found its source. It had found Mitchell Truman.

Kyle worked quickly. The argent circle shifted perpendicular to him, and an image of it closed around him until it reached his outstretched hand, blood-red flame leaping from between his fingers. The magical energies met there, and a flash of argent leaped in two directions. One into Kyle, merging with his aura so that he might see what lay at the other end of the ritual sending. And the other, the Sending itself, lanced outward beyond the circle, reaching for the conjunction of the mystical forces on Mitch Truman. It was only a matter of time.

But Kyle could feel a ripple in the Sending as it surged outward. Alerted perhaps by the ritual's connection to the Truman boy, something was following his magic back through astral space. He could not sense what it was, only its approach, fast and strong.

He pushed his casting, willing it forward, toward Mitchell. A flash of mystical energy coursed around the edges of the ritual circle. Whatever was coming, it was projecting before it, testing, probing.

The wheels sang, their tones changing to harmony. Kyle's Sending engulfed its target, spreading across and around Mitchell Truman. He felt resistance there as whatever magical forces shielding the boy strove to disrupt his magics. But blood was to blood. Kyle's spell locked on to the boy's body, and then washed outward, writing its location into Kyle's mind. He could not see Mitchell Truman, nor anything of where he was, but the magic told him where he was. Kyle felt the location within him and knew he could find it again.

The ritual circle flashed once more, and Kyle felt the presence coming against him grow. It was almost upon him when he collapsed the ritual, the blood in his hand burning away, reduced to ash and smoke. The wheels faded, the connection, the path to Mitchell Truman's body dissolving.

In his mind and far off in the distance, Kyle then heard a wail. A terrible, alien cry of anger. Frustrated at the dispersing of the bridge it had been following, leaving it nothing to travel. The howl died away, fading with the magic.

Kyle stood, his left hand smoking, the final traces of the ritual folding in on itself. The candles around the ritual circle faded, and Kyle nodded to himself, satisfied.

"I found him," he said.

The ride to his hotel was uneventful, and escorted by Daniel Truman's own corporate guards. Despite the assurances of the driver of his car, Kyle had no doubt he and his group had somehow been followed. He'd seen how much interest the Knight Errant guards around Truman Tower had shown in watching their little motorcade of three cars form up.

He was sure Knight Errant would not delay in responding to Daniel Truman's decision to take matters into his own hands. When Kyle had told Truman that he'd discovered Mitchell's location, the man hadn't hesitated even a heartbeat in telling Kyle to take care of it. Then he and his wife had walked slowly out of the room, Truman with the air of someone who'd lost what was most precious to him. He didn't understand everything that was going on, least of all the nature of what had destroyed his son, but he wanted some kind of retribution, some kind of justice. Kyle was more than willing to oblige him.

To do so meant taking action, and fast, but Kyle was reluctant to call on Knight Errant for help. Not only did they seem to have their own agenda, but the organization's forces, at least those he wanted to deal with, were almost exclusively trained for site protection, not field work. That left only one choice in Kyle's mind, a force that was standing and ready, and probably more man willing to jump at the bidding of Truman Technologies-the Chicago law enforcement organization, Eagle Security.