He can feel it, the tingle from his watch face, the little popping sparks that indicate something faerie-made, the way the wind dips and changes-- the kite starts spinning like a top, impossible, jerking in his hands like it's going to take him with it.

"Dresden!" He braces against the pull, shoulders burning against the rotation, trying to keep it steady. "Get ready!" It starts spinning the other way, and he pumps on the string, pulling it with him towards the circle.