up

  now

  .”

  She nodded. “Will you do me when

  I

  die

  ?”

  “Yes, good night, Hessa.” She acquired most of her clients through word of mouth or by them sitting through a sin eating ritual as a witness. Most of the world had forgotten that her kind even existed.

  She left the room and headed down the hallway, but paused when the other woman called out to her. “Does it hurt when you

  do

  that

  ?”

  Aria turned and shook her head, her long, dark, wavy hair moving back and forth. “Does it hurt when you do your type of magic?”

  Hessa’s eyebrows rose together in an expression that told Aria that she understood. “But, how come there aren’t more

  like

  you

  ?”

  Aria shrugged and gave a confused look, though in truth, she’d known the answer for over sixty years. Most of her kind had decided that they would rather die than go on absorbing the sins of a mankind that thought throwing innocent people into death camps was a good idea, or slaughtering innocents by the millions was acceptable. There were a few hundred sin eaters in the world, and only a handful left in the United States. She was the only one she knew of in Miracle Falls, California.

  “Goodnight,” she said again with a little more agitation in her voice. The Final Rite had exhausted her, and the last thing she wanted to do was recall memories of the

  1940

  ’

  s

  .

  As she went down the steps of the front porch and headed toward her car, she slipped her hands into her jacket pocket. A biting chill hung in the November air, but what caused a tremor in her fingers and her body to shudder was the effect of the ritual. It tired her out, making her feel like an athlete who had just passed her peak and was about to head downhill. She knew of only one solution

  to

  that

  .

  She shoved those thoughts aside and concentrated on what she could attain immediately. She wanted a big glass of wine. She needed her nice, warm bed. And then, she needed to magically be prepared in the morning to serve as nanny to a mind-reading ten year old, and her awkward older brother who probably knew more about human history and magic than most scholars in the world.

  Joy.

  2

  Harry

  Curses were a funny thing .

  They were like a chronic disease that just kept agitating you, breaking you down until it finally destroyed you. Truth be told, Harry would’ve preferred a quick death that night when he fought the wizard, Warren Bright. Instead of snapping his neck, the twisted bastard blasted him with an eerie force that seeped into his clothes, skin, and mind. Imperare, was what it’s called. To Harry, it was

  sheer

  hell

  .

  Harry’s hands twitched as he let go of his steering wheel. He pulled his key out of the ignition and threw on his jacket. His stomach churned as he felt the familiar throb in his ears and his

  eyesight

  blur

  .

  Not yet, he thought. I’m

  already

  here

  .

  He got out and locked the door to his black ’77 Maverick. He didn’t like being out so late at night in this part of the city, but when the choice was between running into a few gang members and the occasional wino, versus losing his damn mind and going on a killing spree, he’d gladly take his chances with the thugs. If he was lucky, maybe they’d put a bullet through

  his

  head

  .

  He intentionally parked under the only available lamp light in the parking lot. He briskly made his way past the few cars occupying spaces, finding an odd solace in the gravel crunching beneath his feet. It made him feel like he was still in control of his body and mind, that he still had a physical connection to this world.

  “You got an extra dollar, Harry?” Chad sat against the side of the building the parking lot was attached to. He probably hung out on this side instead of near the front because Mayra threatened to cure his alcoholism with an alchemical potion.

  Harry’s hands trembled. Shit. He didn’t have time for this. “Not now, Chad. I’ve gotta see Mayra before she closes

  the

  shop

  .”

  Chad flipped him off, his scraggly beard reeked of liquor and un-brushed teeth. “Harry…it’s only a buck!

  Come

  on

  !”

  “Shut up, Chad.” He turned the corner and stepped onto the sidewalk, ignoring Chad’s insult that he was a selfish bastard.

  He approached the front door of Gaia’s Apothecary and hammered on the door with a tight fist. The throbbing in his ears drowned out the sound of traffic from passing cars and the barking of a few dogs. He prayed Mayra had his potion ready. His nerves calmed a little when he saw the petite blonde woman approach and unlock the door. She flashed him a half-smile and ushered

  him

  in

  .

  “I’ve got it ready for you, Harry. Don’t worry.”

  He sighed. Good old Mayra. He could always count on her. Maybe if he found Warren, the wizard who cursed him, and forced him to undo it, he’d ask her out for coffee.

  Mmmm…coffee sounds nice, a feminine voice purred in

  his

  head

  .

  “Mayra, I can hear them! Give me the potion, now!” If he let it progress past this stage, the three spirits who swooped in and possessed him would overtake his will and assume command.

  Coffee always gave me jitters and kept me up at night, a nerdy ass male voice commented.

  Mayra nearly tripped as she scrambled to her counter and grabbed a small amber bottle with “Harry Storm” written on its white label.

  “Stop talking, you hear me? All of you!” He snatched the bottle from Mayra.

  You know what I want to do? a third voice, darker and deeper than the other two, asked.

  “No!” Harry poured the contents of the bottle down his throat as if it were the elixir of life. He shut his eyes and gripped the bottle so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His entire body grew rigid, tensing up as if expecting a

  devastating

  blow

  .

  Instead, the soft hand and lavender scent of Mayra’s perfume made contact with him and ignited his senses. His senses. He was still in control. The spirits did not

  overtake

  him

  .

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I made you an extra bottle, in case of an emergency.”

  Harry regained his composure, nodding slowly. “Thanks.”

  She went back over behind her counter and grabbed an extra amber bottle from what must have been over a hundred filled potions. They were neatly organized on shelves by bottle color and size. She slipped the extra bottle into a paper bag, folded the top, and handed it to Harry with a worried expression.

  “You should’ve come yesterday, Harry. If you push it this far again…”

  He took out a wad of cash and offered it to her. Her touch lingered just a few seconds longer than usual as she took the money. She slipped it into her pocket.

  “I’ll be okay, Mayra. Some snob hired me to keep tabs on the mayor’s chief of staff.”

  “And?” She raised an eyebrow. When she wanted to, she could be intimidating. All five feet

  of

  her

  .

  He shrugged. “I’ll follow the guy around, take some pictures, probably catch him with a whore…look, the point is, I’ll make enough money to buy some information. The right information I need to find Warren Bright.”

  “Just be careful, Harry. And please, be here next Wednesday. Not Thursday.”

  “I will. I have no choice.” He gave her a slight nod before turning on his heel and heading toward the exit. He breathed in the lavender scent of her perfume and glanced around the shop one last time, wondering if any of the medicines or potions could help lift the curse for good, and not just stave off its effects for

  a

  week

  .

  He headed back outside to the parking lot, finally pausing to give Chad his weekly dollar. He knew the man would probably go buy wine, or something worse, if that was what he was into. He liked to think Chad maybe took it sometimes and got something off the dollar menu at a fast food joint. He bet it pissed these guys off that people didn’t think of giving a few extra cents to

  cover

  tax

  .

  As he jumped into his Ford Maverick and started the engine, all he could think about was starting his new assignment. Make the money. Buy the information I want. Find Warren Bright. Rain hell down on him until he lifts the curse.

  He’d work out the kinks and details as they came along, but it was as good a plan

  as

  any

  .

  3

  Harry

  Finding Jacob Wolfe was easy enough .

  Apparently, the guy liked McCallister’s Pub, and the casual ease he exerted when he strolled through its front door meant that he went there damn near nightly. From the looks of it, the place wasn’t very lively. Couldn’t be the brew that kept Jacob going back, which made Harry extra curious about this job. What could a pub with poor ratings have that kept the interest of the mayor’s chief of staff?

  “Not gonna find out sitting on my ass,” Harry said to himself. He climbed out of his Maverick into the bite of the late evening chill. He almost expected his semi-permanent guests to start flooding his mind with their inundating conversation, just to get back at him. Luckily for him, the potion he took an hour ago was well into effect, despite him taking it a day later than he should have. With a grateful sigh, he thought back to the extra dose sitting in his glove compartment. If he needed it, it’d be there.

  He pulled the collar of his jacket up then zipped it closed. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Harry stared at the edifice once more. The neon sign buzzed in beat with the letters, illuminating one by one. O. P. E. N. All in red. Some semblance of signage graced other parts of the narrow building, weathered and worn, bleached from too much sun. The parking along the street seemed more for the club next door than it did for the pub as patrons continued to go in and out of the doors. Still, Harry watched Jacob walk into the pub. And if he wanted a paycheck, he had better light a fire under his ass and get

  to

  work

  .

  The streets were washed in the glow of the streetlights that kept the shadows at bay. Harry scanned every nook and cranny he could set his eyes upon in case Mr. Wolfe managed to find some way past him. Though quite a few men and women filled the sidewalks, Jacob had very distinct features. None of the men he saw wore expensive Armani suits.

  An array of scents hit Harry once he opened the door to the pub. Cigars, sweat, beer, and cheap cologne were just the first few he could pick out. Even then, he wasn’t sure. He approached the bar and sat on a stool at the furthest end, and ordered a shot of whiskey from the heavy-set bartender. Upbeat music played from the bar’s speakers, though it strained to be heard above the conversation of some of the patrons.

  He pulled a few bills from his wallet. He turned his wrist and tapped his watch. “It’s getting

  late

  ,

  huh

  ?”

  The bartender’s mustache twitched as he handed him his drink. “We’re open all night.”

  Harry nearly chuckled at how quickly the man grabbed the money. “Good, because I aim to get drunk.”

  He lifted his drink in a toast, using the arm that had his watch wrapped around his wrist. It was no ordinary watch, though. His HD spy watch could record audio, video, and had its own internal memory. Couldn’t tell time worth a shit, and no one ever noticed the clock hands always stayed on noon, but Harry wore it all

  the

  time

  .

  He glanced at Jacob Wolfe from the corner of his eye. He lowered his drink and positioned his wrist just enough to catch Wolfe sitting in one of the corner booths across from a pale guy wearing a baseball cap and a plaid shirt. An Armani suit-wearing, political bootlicker meeting with a guy who looked like he drove big rigs for a living. What gave? Perhaps Wolfe was into gambling and pale man was a loan shark.

  Harry used his other hand to grab his drink and slurp his whiskey. It burned as it hit the back of his throat. He made another furtive glance at the men, pretending this time to eye a tall blonde woman in skinny jeans drunkenly dancing with her date in the middle of the room. He sputtered a cough when he noticed that pale man wore a ring on his left index finger—the ring. Silver, with a sapphire stone in the center, and an inscription: Watchman, what time of the night?

  “Well, damn,” he said under his breath.

  “I know,” the bartender chimed in, “she’s

  hot

  ,

  huh

  ?”

  “Like fire.” Harry tapped his shot glass. The bartender winked and went to refill.

  Harry rolled his eyes. It was going to be a pain listening to that guy’s chatter when replaying the recording, but Harry didn’t want to pause a thing. This was much better than catching the mayor’s chief of staff with a prostitute. Jacob Wolfe, a wizard and member of one of Miracle Falls’ oldest witching families, was chilling at a table with a high level member of the Watchers.

  If anyone had an axe to grind with wizards, it should’ve been Harry. Warren Bright, the scummy bastard, placed a nasty curse on him that was a weekly ticking time bomb. However, even Harry knew that Warren didn’t represent all wizards, at least not the ones who he went to school with, enjoyed a beer with, and who actually helped him out when his own family wouldn’t. He certainly didn’t want wizards and other preternaturals dead or rounded up just because of people like Warren. His job as a private investigator led him to uncover some of the worst in humanity—both wizard and non-wizard alike. People were people, and he preferred the good ones to the bad, no matter what they looked like or where they

  came

  from

  .

  “Here ya go, buddy.” The bartender was back with

  another

  shot

  .

  Harry took it and it disappeared in a gulp. He nodded over toward Jacob Wolfe. “Tell me I’m not too drunk to recognize that guy. He’s with the mayor’s office, right?”

  The bartender leaned in, wearing a smug grin. “Well, he slips me a few extra bucks to not blab to the press…you’re not press,

  are

  you

  ?”

  “If I were, I’d be taking pictures and trying to get a quote.” Harry chuckled.

  The other man snorted a laugh. “Yeah, he says he’s trying to come up with some deal with the Watchers, get them to stop attacking wizards and

  all

  that

  .”

  “Really?” Harry scratched his chin and then slipped the bartender a crisp twenty.

  He pocketed the money. “I went to school with Jacob’s cousin, Martin. He comes by every now and then to hang out and have drinks. I keep telling him that I’m going to sell this bar; everyone wants to go to the trendy places downtown. I might as well burn my money. This place is a drain.”

  “Sorry to hear that. And, if you don’t mind me asking, who is that man sitting

  with

  him

  ?”

  He shrugged. “Some guy with the Watchers. I don’t know

  his

  name

  .”

  Most people on the street couldn’t tell the difference between low level Watcher and high level, but Harry knew what that ring on pale man’s finger meant. Arrogant pricks liked to think they were being profound with their little inscriptions and sayings. Still, whatever Jacob Wolfe was discussing with him, it must’ve

  been

  big

  .

  Harry’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and excused himself, walking over to the dim hallway leading to the men’s room. His watch still pointed toward Jacob Wolfe. He grimaced when he saw the caller ID and answered in a tight voice.

  “I don’t like being called while I’m on the job. I told you I’ll update you tomorrow, Belagio.”

  “I’ll call you any time I like, Mr. Storm,” the other man said in his British accent. “That’s one of the perks of hiring other people to do things for you. Now, where is Jacob Wolfe?”

  “At a hole in the wall bar on Ninth Street. I’m on him. Why do

  you

  ask

  ?”

  “So, he’s still there? Meeting with the Watcher?”

  Harry stepped further into the hallway and paused his spy watch. “Yeah, but why ask me if you already knew? You hire me to shadow this guy and dig up dirt, but it looks like you’ve already got that covered.”

  “Can you ensure that Mr. Wolfe doesn’t leave his seat for the next few minutes?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” He turned and scanned the entrance. A dark-haired, lanky man in a black jacket stepped in. He had his left hand in his pocket. Harry had a bad feeling

  about

  him

  .

  “Mr. Storm? Are you still there?”

  Harry hung up. Screw that guy. He didn’t sign up

  for

  this

  .

  He walked over to Jacob’s booth and side blinded the lanky guy just as he reached the table. He felt the bulge of a handgun concealed in a holster beneath his jacket. “Excuse me, buddy,” Harry said to the dark-haired man. He faced Jacob and held out his hand. “Jacob Wolfe, I thought that

  was