Chronos Warlock [Chapters 1-10] (Patreon)

Hey peeps,

I'm going to upload the first 20 chapters in 10 chapter chunks. These have been tweaked and changed slightly, including adding in more details, making somechap things clearer, etc. 

Hopefully you've been enjoying,

Shami

Book 1 Recap

Adair and Carter Finch were warlocks, brothers, and partners in their own magical PI agency. Throughout their years of traversing the globe to solve crimes for witches, wizards, and other magical beings, they never once failed a case.

They were legendary, with few privy to the secret of their success.

Those in the know attributed Adair and Carter’s remarkable abilities to a pact they had made with Chronos, the manipulator of time. Thanks to Chronos’s magic, the brothers could rewind time up to twenty-four hours. This allowed them to rectify mistakes, endlessly investigate, and even daringly test risky theories, helping them solve the most complicated of murders and locate the most elusive of victims.

Unfortunately, while on a mission in France, Carter had died, and Adair had failed to rewind time.

It wasn’t Adair’s fault—a monster claiming to be a god had the power of nullifying magic, and prevented Adair from saving Carter. But Adair was never the same after that.

Adair returned to his hometown of Stockton, and for ten years, wrestled with depression that hounded him like a second shadow. He stopped taking clients, rarely used his magic, and found himself eating into his savings to pay for DoorDash and Amazon.

Until Bree Blackstone, a twelve-year-old girl, came pounding on his apartment door.

Bree’s mother, Vera, had been murdered. And Bree had been specifically instructed to go to the Finch brothers if ever she was in trouble—they never failed to help a client, after all.

Now going by simply “Finch” after his brother's death, Adair was initially hesitant. But realizing the gravity of Bree’s situation, he reluctantly took on the case.

Bree’s father was the prime suspect. He had been killing cats by the dozens, and the night before Vera’s death, there had been an argument between him and his wife. Even the lead detective on the case, Rhett Jenner, figured it had to be Liam Blackstone, the only apparent person with a motive.

However, as Finch investigated, someone shot Bree, attempting to silence her, the only witness to the crime.

Finch rewound time, saving Bree, and restarting the day and he became convinced that the true perpetrator wasn’t Bree's father, but someone or some group involved in Vera’s demise.

In order to gain lockpicking abilities, Finch made a pact with Kullthantarrick, a trickster spirit. This spirit, who everyone called “Kull,” said she would help only if Finch found her a human body to inhabit. Finch agreed.

Ultimately, his investigation led him to believe the police were behind the murder. When sifting through the police station, it turned out that the cops were caught up in a witch’s feud, which had cost them the lives of several police officers. Because of their paranoia, they had forced Liam Blackstone to kill cats and make them magical items, which upset his wife. Vera, attempting to tell the police to leave them alone, was killed in the resulting struggle.

Once Finch, Bree, and Kull pieced together the events, Bree implored Finch to identify the exact officer responsible for her mother’s death and put an end to the witch’s feud, thereby preventing further police fatalities.

Again, Finch reluctantly agreed.

Finch solved the feud by defeating the leader, who had murdered the cops, and brought her to justice. Then, just as Finch was confronting the Rhett Jenner, the lead detective and actual murderer, Detective Jenner revealed himself to be a warlock.

Jenner had bonded with the magic mollifying monster that had killed Carter—Gixmoth the Desolate.

And now had the same abilities to neutralize Finch’s magic.

Without his ability to rewind time, Finch had to physically fight Jenner. In a cowardly attempt to distract Finch, Jenner turned his gun on Bree. Finch pushed her out of the way, getting shot in the process.

Kull leapt into the fray, but was crushed by Jenner’s boot and killed.

And in their final moments fighting the deranged detective, Finch swore he wouldn’t lose anyone else. He made sure Bree was safe before throwing himself at Jenner for the final showdown.

Fortunately, Finch won—via electrocution—and before he died, Bree returned to give him the motivation he needed to rewind time.

And on the final day, Finch did everything perfectly. He solved the witch’s feud, gathered all the perfect evidence to convict Jenner, and even managed to squeeze in time for a haircut.

Finch had saved Bree, her father, Kull, the police, and even a random dog. Of course, he still owed Kull a body, and Bree some lessons in magic, but those could wait for another day.

Now onto “Chronos Warlock,” the second book in the series…

Chapter 1

Finch had fondled a lot of things in the past, but corpses had never made the list.

Until tonight.

He exhaled, and his breath came out as a fine mist. The temperature was set to freezing in the mortuary’s locker room. The steel doors, colder than the air, practically burned whenever Finch touched them with his bare hands. He would’ve given his left leg to have a pair of gloves in that moment, however.

Frisbee-Bloth & Carlos Mortuary was one of the most popular in Stockton, and Finch had visited many times. He had also used their autopsy suite on several occasions, with permission from the owners, of course. Few knew the strange needs of the owners, who had to feast on dead flesh in order to stave off their magical illness. A layperson would call them zombies, but to those who knew anything about magic, they were known as draugr, people on the verge of losing themselves to the curse of the undead—unless they consumed human flesh.

Finch kept the secret to himself in order to have full run of the mortuary after hours.

The mortuary’s locker room was built to hold forty bodies at a time. Against regulation, “longer term” residents were packed into a freezer room in the back, allowing for sixty more dead bodies. That was how the mortuary kept their prices so low—by skimping on the costs of individual packaging.

Uninterested in the back room, Finch rooted around the lockers. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, creating an atmosphere perfect for any horror movie.

Finch opened a large steel door, reached inside, and yanked out the table.

Normally, a single body was placed into each locker, positioned with their back on the table, their toes pointed upward, their body covered by a modesty sheet. Unfortunately, Stockton always had a parade of people getting shot, getting hit by a vehicle, or being punched in the heart by obesity and diabetes. Mortuaries were overworked, as sad as that statement was.

Two dead men rested on the table, each on their side. Finch yanked off the white sheet. The corpses were barely embalmed and still awkwardly malleable. Their stomach skin sagged into a disgustingly fleshy pool around their midriffs. Finch pushed one body to the side and then rolled the other onto his back, so he could get a better look at the individual.

The man’s mayonnaise complexion and sunken eyes screamed dead.

“What about this one?” Finch asked, his voice gruff and betraying his irritation. It was well past the time he usually hit the sack.

A plump pigeon hopped around on Finch’s shoulder, her eyes giant, yellow, and staring in opposite directions. She replied with a soft coo as she tilted her head from side to side.

Finch knew he looked like an insane hobo speaking to a flying rodent he had smuggled into a mortuary. Thankfully, he wasn’t losing his mind—the pigeon was a trickster spirit by the name of Kullthantarrick the Sneak. She swaddled her true appearance with the forms of animals, hiding from humans in plain sight.

Kull—as her friends knew her—leapt from Finch’s shoulder and landed squarely on the stomach of the dead body.

She lowered her bird head and observed the navel. “I’m not fond of outies.” Then she eyed the genitals. “They looked squished up.” And finally, she examined the corpse’s legs. “Stubby. Not hairy enough.”

Finch pinched the bridge of his nose. How did he get into situations like this?

“I don’t like this one,” Kull said with a dismissive coo. “This body is so… lumpy. I want a form with more panache.”

“What does that even mean?” Finch asked.

“I want to be memorable. I need be a human with something distinct! A plain body won’t do. It’s going to be the only body I have for the rest of my life, after all.”

“This guy is fat.” Finch pointed to the corpse. “That’s a distinct feature.”

Kull shook her head. “No. I need to be special. I need to have something that sets me apart.” She spread her blue and gray wings. “I want to walk into a room and have everyone turn their heads to see me.” She shook her largest feathers, her gaze on the ceiling, her focus clearly on images only she could see with her mind’s eye. “I want everyone… to think about me afterward.”

“I think I saw a tattoo on the face of this other corpse,” Finch said as he rolled the first dead body back onto his side. Kull leapt off and landed on Finch’s shoulder. Then Finch yanked the second body until the corpse was on his back. “That would be distinct, right?”

Kull pushed her feathers, her eyes giant. “Oh! A giant tattoo? On his face? Perfect!” She flapped her wings and landed on the dead man’s collarbone to better examine everything.

Finch cringed.

The second body did have a tattoo. He hadn’t seen it fully until this very moment.

It was a swastika. On the corpse’s forehead. With two tiny uzis on either side.

After a happy coo, Kull turned around to face Finch. “This one is perfect.”

“No,” Finch groaned. “Forget this one. I’m not letting you inhabit this body.”

“W-Why not? I’ll definitely turn heads with a crazy tattoo! No one will forget me.”

Finch frowned so hard it almost hurt his face. “I swear to God, if you plant your spirit in this body, I will shoot you myself.”

All Kull’s enthusiasm deflated faster than a popped balloon. She leapt back onto Finch’s shoulder and then drooped her wings.

Finch hastily shoved the table back into the locker. The foot of the first man caught on the edge of the door, and the whole table slammedhalfway into position, unable to go any further. Finch groaned as he shoved around the dead bodies, fidgeting until they were squished together enough to close the locker door.

As Finch fumbled at his task, his cellphone buzzed. He tried to ignore it as he kicked the locker door shut, but the buzzing continued. Who was calling him at two in the morning? No one who had any respect for him, obviously.

Finch walked over to the next locker.

“Can we look at the female bodies next?” Kull asked with a sad coo. “I think most human women get more attention than the men.”

“I don’t want to look at dead naked women,” Finch muttered.

“But I want the option to be a female human. I’m more femalein my actions.”

Finch eyed the pigeon. “You said you were okay with any human body, regardless of age or gender.”

“Well, I am a shapeshifter.” Kull fluffed her feathers. “I’ve never been too attached to my physical body. I just figured, since everyone refers to me in the feminine, maybe I should be female.”

Finch grabbed the next locker door, and was about to open it, when his phone beeped. Someone had sent him a text message. Hating the fact someone even had his phone number, Finch dug around in his coat pocket and withdrew his phone.

It was the latest greatest Apple whatever. He despised it, but at least his phone had the DoorDash app, so he forgave it for constantly stealing his location data and purchasing trends. Without the underpaid deliverymen of his area, Finch was pretty sure he would’ve starved to death years ago.

Finch glanced at his phone. Sure enough, someone had texted him. He also had nine missed calls, which was odd. He hadn’t remembered his phone buzzing that much.

When Finch poked around at the call history, he noticed they were all from the same person.

Jayson Edworth Woolsy the Fourth.

Or as everyone in Oakland knew him… Jay-W the Landlord.

Finch knew the man. He owned hundreds of buildings in and around Oakland, along with plenty of empty plots. Jay-W was the type of person who specialized in helping people file for government assistance, so that he could reap all the benefits of California’s tax system. He specifically rented his apartments out to low-income families and gangsters, so he could get their monthly checks and barely do any maintenance. The residents didn’t have any options to leave, which was the whole key to the scheme.

Everyone knew, actually. It wasn’t a hidden operation. Some people just didn’t care—so they became his tenants.

Finch had done work for the man over a decade ago. Well, Finch and his brother had done work, but after Carter had died, Finch never returned any of Jay-W’s calls.

Jay-W’s text to Finch read:

i kno ur back in biz u POS

Finch exhaled, but his frustrations stayed with him.

“Is a friend texting you?” Kull tilted her pigeon head, but Finch hid the screen. She bobbed her head up and down. “I didn’t know you had any friends, actually. And I’ve been living in your apartment for weeks now. Weeks. Why don’t you have anyone in your life?”

Finch placed his hand on Kull’s bird face and practically squished her against his shoulder. “Shh.”

His phone beeped again. Another text message. It read:

i ne dur help w/sumin

u kno i got the $$$

If there was one thing that Jay-W had in excess, it was money. The man owned an entire warehouse worth of vintage cars. They all ran. They were all cleaned and waxed monthly. Jay-W also owned several mansions. One in Oakland, one in LA, and one up near Lake Tahoe. And he also collected sports shoes by the hundreds, with famous athletes having signed most of them. Jay-W desperately wanted his face next to the word gaudy in the dictionary.

Finch decided he would reply this time.

He wrote:

Thank you for your inquiry.

A representative will get back to you within 3-5 business days.

It was sarcastic, but Finch didn’t care. Why was Jay-W contacting him in the middle of the night? Finch had important work to do.

He pulled open another corpse locker. The smell from this one caused his stomach to twist into a tight knot. He gagged and then coughed back the pungent odor of chemicals.

Kull, unaffected, fluffed her feathers. “Why haven’t I met your friends? You’re not embarrassed of me, are you? I can change shape into something cute…” She curled herself on his shoulder, in a way unnatural for birds. But when she unfurled her body, Kull had transformed herself into a brown squirrel.

Kull pressed her front paws into her chubby cheeks. She moved her whole face around, her black eyes twinkling with elation. Boasting a coat of fluffiness that would give the softest pillow a run for its money, Kull puffed her tail.

She was a mischief spirit, capable of turning into the most mischievous animal of a given category. The most mischievous bird was the pigeon, according to her. And the most mischievous feline was the black cat. And now, apparently, the most mischievous rodent was a brown squirrel…

“I’m adorable now,” Kull said in a tiny voice. “Everyone will love me. You should definitely introduce me to your friend.”

Finch’s phone beeped.

The new text message read:

this is sserisous

call me

ur the only warlock i trust

Finch couldn’t stifle his groan. He didn’t much care for Jay-W, but he also knew the man would escalate the methods of pestering him if Finch ignored this.

After coughing back more of the chemical smell, Finch glanced over at the squirrel on his shoulder. “Do you like this body?” He motioned to the decomposing lump on the table.

“No,” Kull stated.

Finch slammed the locker shut. “Then I guess we’ll need to check another mortuary. Some other night. Right now, let’s get out of here. I need to make a phone call, anyway.”

“To your best friend?” Kull asked, her tiny squirrel ears perking up.

“Jay-W isn’t my best friend.”

“Who is?”

Finch didn’t answer that. He didn’t want to think about the depressing reality of his quiet life. However, in his silence, Kull smiled wide. She placed her squirrel paws on the side of his cheek.

“Is it me?” she whispered.

Finch swatted her away. “Stop that. My best friendis not a mischief spirit.”

“Is it Bree?”

“It’s not a twelve-year-old girl, either.” Finch scoffed as he stomped off toward the door. “I have plenty of other friends. Good friends. They’re just… busy. And live in other countries.”

“Oh.” Kull swished her puffy tail. “After you’re done talking to Jay-W—who sounds super fun, by the way—can we call your other friends? To let them know you’re doing better than you were before.”

Finch pushed open the doors to the mortuary, his patience for the evening dying. As soon as his business with Jay-W was over, he was going to sleep for thirteen whole hours.

Chapter 2

Finch stood next to his car in the middle of the empty Frisbee-Bloth & Carlos Mortuary parking lot. Kull sat on his shoulder, her puffy squirrel body rather adorable, though Finch would never admit that aloud. It was a dry evening—all of California was devoid of moisture—and he quickly called Jay-W back from his contacts list.

It only took one ring.

“Finally answerin’ my calls, huh?” Jay-W said as he answered, his voice gruff, his accent strange. He spoke with some mix of southern twang and west coast casual.

“What’re you doing calling me at two in the morning?” Finch growled. He paced around his vehicle—a Toyota Celica that had seen better days.

“You’re awake, ain’tcha? Now listen—I need you to get over here as fast as possible.”

“Where is here?” Finch sarcastically asked.

“Oakland, fool. I’m back home to get business done. My two pukes for sons can’t handle nothin’.”

Finch made a full circuit around his vehicle. If he hadn’t been so tired, he would’ve come up with an excuse to get out of this, but as it stood, his mind stalled out.

“What’s the job?” Finch asked with a groan.

Jay-W snorted. “I’m not tellin’ you the details over the got-damn phone. Someone will hear, and this is for your ears only. Got it?”

“You don’t need me specifically. Get a local warlock or hire a witch’s coven.”

Jay-W could make a mountain out of a ditch with any situation. It was a manipulative trick he often used to get people to work faster than they normally would.

“You don’t understand,” Jay-W said, his voice practically a whisper. “This is different. I need the best.”

He always needed “the best.”

Finch rolled his eyes. “Can you at least tell me how long you think this is going to take?”

“No. Now get over here, Adair. And get your brother, too, huh? I tried callin’ him, but some old woman just kept answerin’ and tellin’ me she didn’t know who Carter was.”

“Carter died,” Finch quickly said, though the statement didn’t sting as much as it had before. It was just a fact now, and no longer a festering splinter lodged in his heart.

“Carter? Died?” Jay-W huffed out a laugh only a lifelong smoker could muster. “Damn. I didn’t think anyone could kill you two.”

Finch didn’t reply.

“Whatever. I only need one of you, anyway. Just get your ass over here.”

Jay-W ended the call before Finch could say another word. That was fine—Finch preferred that. As a matter of fact, Finch preferred Jay-W’s method of communication, even if Finch disliked the man. Jay-W hadn’t started their phone conversation with a greeting or any small talk, nor had he even bothered to say goodbye. Jay-W said what he wanted. That was it. Wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.

That was Finch’s style.

“Jay-W sounds aggressive for a human,” Kull said. She placed her squirrel paws on Finch’s cheek. “Why did you let him talk to you like that? Normally you get grumpy.”

Finch unlocked his Toyota and took the driver’s seat. He placed Kull on the center console. “Jay-W was one of our first clients.” Finch started his car and pulled out of the quiet parking lot. “He used to give Carter and me all kinds of work. Once we were a little more experienced, we started taking on clients from all over the world, but we always remembered it was Jay-W who got us our startup capital.”

“Aww… So he is a good friend!”

Finch gave her a sardonic glance. “No. He’s not. I’m just a chump for nostalgia.”

“From my research, all humans are chumps for nostalgia.”

“Research?”

“Yeah!” Kull snickered. “All the movies and TV shows I watched. And all the social media. Bree was even showing me all the newest YouTubers and celebrities. I know all about humans.”

Finch doubted that. Spirits rarely interacted with humans directly, including Kull, despite her fascination with them. Could someone learn human nature by just watching TV and doom scrolling through the internet?

After a long sigh, Finch turned down the street and headed for his apartment. Despite the fact Jay-W wanted him in Oakland right away, Finch was going to sleep first. He’d deal with everyone’s lunacy in the morning.

***

Finch awoke to the sounds of banging on his apartment door. He rolled over, marked the time, and then glanced at his phone. It was difficult to see the clock on his lock screen past all the notifications of missed calls and text messages. Jay-W obviously hadn’t slept last night—he was too busy pestering Finch.

Groggy and confused, Finch zipped through the messages, reading one out of every three words. Something about taking too long and this was important all mixed together with a dozen swear words.

Jay-W was panicked.

That worried Finch. Normally, Jay-W wasn’t this insane. Could there be an honest-to-goodness problem this time?

In the cold darkness of his messy bedroom, Finch heard his apartment door unlock and then open. There were only two people in the world who had a key to his front door…

His bedroom door slammed open a second later, the living room light streaming in and practically burning Finch’s eyes. With a groan, he sat up.

“Adair!”

Bree Blackstone leapt into his bedroom, a twelve-year-old girl with the energy and vibrance of a cocaine-addled parrot. She had long, dark brown hair that went past her shoulders, and blue eyes so striking, it was hard to see much else on her otherwise plain face.

Without another word of greeting, she jumped onto the foot of Finch’s bed, all smiles.

But her happiness died the instant Bree laid eyes on Finch’s bare chest.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Bree lifted her hand to point. “What happened?”

Finch grabbed at the old scar on his right side. It was massive, spanning from his collarbone to the underside of his armpit and across his upper ribs. And it never looked right—the edges remained red, even though he had been injured more than a decade prior.

He hated whenever anyone noticed it.

“Nothing happened,” Finch stated matter-of-factly. “Forget you ever saw anything.”

“It looks painful,” Bree said, her brow furrowed.

“I don’t feel a thing.”

“Maybe we should get it looked at. Papa is here with me, we can drive you. We know a witch and—”

Finch narrowed his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“But you really don’t take care of yourself.” Bree smiled again as she slid off his bed. “Don’t worry. Papa and I will help you.”

“I don’t want help.” He shot her a glare. “I’m a grown-ass man. I can take care of myself.”

Bree waggled her finger and then pointed at the scar again. “That looks gross. You’re in trouble. We’re helping you. End of discussion, mister.”

Out of sheer laziness—because Finch just wanted out of the conversation—he activated his magic. Everything froze in place, even Bree, mid-sentence. The colors drained from the world, melting to the floor and then vanishing. Then all the objects around him disappeared in the same manner, crumbling away until there was nothing but a white void.

And then there was nothing.

Finch blinked. When he opened his eyes, he was back in his cold dark bedroom, the sounds of knocking echoing through his apartment.

Chronos, a powerful manipulator of time, had made a pact with Finch. Now, Finch could rewind time to a point he had marked, up to twenty-four hours. In this case, he rewound time to a few minutes before Bree had barged into his room.

Instead of reading through his text messages, like he had done before, Finch swung his legs off his bed, grabbed the clothes he had worn yesterday, and tugged them on. A T-shirt, jeans, a coat, and black socks were all he needed. Once Finch was fully dressed, he picked up his phone and poked through all the notifications.

His bedroom door swung open and in leapt Bree, exactly as before.

“Adair!”

“Good morning,” Finch grumbled, never glancing up from his screen.

The girl leapt onto the foot of his bed and bounced up and down, smiling bright. “Papa and I are here because we have good news. Aren’t you excited?” Bree stared at him for a moment and then crossed her arms. “Hey! Did you know we were coming?”

No one ever felt when Finch rewound time—they sensed nothing, unaware of the world rearranging itself because of his power—not unless Finch had given them the Mark of Chronos before he activated his magic. Bree knew Finch had Chronos’s magic, but ever since her mark had worn off, she wasn’t aware whenever Finch rewound time. Now Bree just guessed.

“I had no idea you were coming over,” Finch muttered, still scrolling through the spastic text messages. “What news did you want to tell me?”

“Oh, you knew we were coming.” Bree squinted at him. “I bet you already know what I’m going to tell you, too.”

“Nope.” Finch found the last text message from Jay-W and sighed. It was nothing but a demand to get to Oakland, but this time punctuated by water gun emoji—whatever that meant.

Bree crawled over his wrinkly blankets. “But did you know I was going to do this?” She whacked him in the back of his head with his own pillow.

Finch, taking in a long breath, gave serious thought to rewinding time again just to catch the pillow before she struck him, but he opted against it. He smoothed his coppery hair and then stood. “Okay. Get out.”

With a giggle, Bree tossed his pillow onto the bed and then hopped off his bed. “Okay, maybe you didn’t know we were coming. But hurry! We have really great news, and we have to do everything before school starts.” She dashed from the room before Finch could say a peep in response.

Finch continued to poke around on his phone, his thoughts on Oakland, and the last time he had visited that God-forsaken city.

A panicked yell pierced the silence of the apartment, removing the last of Finch’s grogginess. He leapt from his bed, stormed out of his bedroom, and stood at the edge of the living room, taking in all the details.

Finch had a living room that bled into the kitchen, with some tile flooring, but not much. Bree stood by Finch’s four-chair table, her smile still squarely in place. Her father, Liam Blackstone, protectively held one of his arms in front of her, pushing her back and away.

A strawberry poison dart frog sat on the back of Finch’s shabby couch, the frog’s bright red skin, blue legs, and giant shiny eyes hard to miss, even if the apartment was gloomy. All the blinds were drawn, and only the fluorescent lighting illuminated the space.

“Adair,” Liam said, his voice laced with relief. “Watch out. I don’t know where that it came from, but it’s poisonous.” He pointed a shaky finger at the frog.

The amphibian licked one of its eyes with its long tongue.

“Kull,” Finch snapped. He strode to the couch and glared at the poisonous creature. In a low voice, he growled, “What did I tell you about scaring Bree’s father?”

The frog responded with a tiny ribbitand then a snicker. Kull leapt from the couch and landed on the carpet, but in the short time it took her to sail through the air, she transformed herself in a lustrous black cat with shiny fur unlike any other.

“I was just having a bit of fun,” Kull said with a laugh. “Bree enjoyed it.”

The girl happily nodded once.

Her father, Liam, glanced back at her with a frown. “You knew?”

Bree responded with an innocent shrug.

“Ah… I see.”

Liam was the type of man who could be easily mistaken for a hat rack. He had no spare body fat, his face was narrow, and his nose was large—and crooked—enough that one could hang a hat on it, if they wanted.

He wore brown slacks, a white button-up shirts, and thick-rimmed glasses. His dark hair was clearly where Bree got hers, but his nearly black eyes weren’t anything like Bree’s.

After straightening his glasses, Liam faced Finch. “I took the liberty of grabbing you breakfast.” He motioned to a cup of coffee and two donuts on the table. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Finch grumbled a mild protest, but he didn’t put enough effort into it to even form words. He ambled over to the table, plucked a donut off the plate, and then took a bite.

Sugary.

Despite Finch’s many attempts to get Liam to leave him alone, the man continued to linger. Apparently, Liam felt indebted to Finch for everything he had done to save him and his daughter. Finch didn’t care—he didn’t want any praise or any thanks. He wanted to be left alone.

“How are you today?” Liam asked, his words stilted, betraying the fact he didn’t know what to say.

“No, Papa, I told you what to say,” Bree harshly whispered to her father. She tugged his sleeve and dramatically rolled her eyes. “Remember? All the YouTube videos I showed you?”

Liam’s ears pinkened, and he nodded once. “Right. You did show me. Let me try again.” This time, when he faced Finch, his awkwardness radiated from him like a stink. “Adair, is everything Gucciwith you?”

Bree giggled, clearly delighted with her father’s modern slang.

“Everything is Goodwill at best,” Finch quipped. After he finished his donut, he grabbed his tepid cup of coffee. “So why are you two here? Just to force small talk on me? Or was there a goal behind all of this?”

Kull leapt onto the table and nibbled the other donut. “Are you here to spend the day with us? We’re going to Oakland.”

“Oh, goodness no,” Liam muttered. He shook his head. “We’re here because Adair said he wanted to lease out an office and start up his PI business again. Bree scoured the internet, and we found the perfect place.”

Chapter 3

Nestled in a prime location, near the cleanest McDonalds in all of Stockton, and only two blocks from the courthouse, was a vacant office space that was trying too hard to be hipand cool.

Finch stood out front, his gaze lingering on the large window walls and the glass door. The sign out front had a phone number and the picture of some smug realtor who clearly went through two hours of makeup before having their photo taken.

The floor-to-ceiling windows offered an impressive view of the bustling city outside, ensuring a dynamic backdrop to any workday. There were gigantic wide-open spaces with plenty of room to roll a chair around. And the office space boasted polished concrete floors that contrasted beautifully with the soft neutral tones of the walls, which was beautiful while being minimalistic.

Finch crossed his arms as his gaze panned to the back of the office.

Integrated, open-plan workstations, constructed with sleek metal and warm wood finishes, were strategically positioned to, no doubt, foster “collaboration.” A high-end kitchenette with stainless steel appliances and matte-finished cabinetry sat in one corner, perfect for those midday coffee breaks.

This office space literally had everything. And it was on the ground floor, with plenty of parking in the back. Damn near unheard of for Downtown Stockton.

“What do you think?” Bree asked. She bounced around the front door, as bright as the morning sun that shone all around them. “I found it online, and even though it’s the most expensive option, I think it’s the best and it’s so awesome. All the other PIs will be jealous.”

Kull wandered up and down the glass windows, peering inside with her large cat eyes. She purred then flicked her tail. “I like it. This is the kind of place you would see in fancy cities. Or on TV show. Or on the news.”

“I hate it,” Finch stated, no emotion in his voice.

Bree deflated, her frown so prominent it could be seen from space. Her father hurried to her side and gently patted her shoulder. Then he fixed his glasses and glanced over his shoulder at Finch.

“Really?” Liam asked. “You haven’t even looked inside. You could at least give it a chance.”

“I can already tell—it’s not right for me,” Finch said.

“You could at least,” Liam repeated, drawing out his words in a harsher tone, “give it a chance.” Then he subtly nodded to Bree, who had turned attention to the inside, still frowning.

Finch motioned to the office space. “There are pre-built cubicles in there for fifteen people.” He sarcastically pointed at himself. “Do I look like fifteen people to you?”

Bree’s joy returned just as quickly as it had left her. “Wait, no! This is the good part. You have room to expand and hire people.” She placed her hands on the glass windows, gesturing to the workstations. “See, you can go there, and a secretary could go over there. And that’ll be mydesk there, because it’s close to the window. And Papa will be back there.”

Finch pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not going to work for me.”

“But I’m your apprentice.”

That was technically true. Finch hadpromised to train Bree in the ways of being a warlock, though he regretted making that promise. Bree had the potential to be a witch, but for some reason, she refused to learn anything about her natural magic. She wanted to be like Finch himself—and someday make a pact with Chronos.

Liam, like Finch, was a warlock, but unlike Finch, Liam specialized in crafting magical items. That held no interest for Bree, apparently.

“You need to go to school,” Finch said. “Normal, human middle school. You don’t have time to work in a PI office.”

“Some of my friends have part-time jobs.” Bree grabbed her father’s arm. “You don’t mind, right, Papa?”

Liam stared down at his little girl, his eyes searching hers, his brow dappled with sweat. Ever since the death of Vera, Bree’s mother, it seemed Liam couldn’t deny his daughter anything. He sighed as he said, “I’m sure we can make it work if that’s what you want.”

“But I don’t want it,” Finch interjected. “And remember that I’m the PI, since clearly everyone has forgotten that fact.”

Kull sauntered over with natural cat-like swagger. She rubbed herself against the side of Finch’s leg, purring as she went. “You know,” she said, drawing out her words, “warlocks keep their promises. That’s the very cornerstone of their magic, after all. Well, goodwarlocks, at least. Bad warlocks break their promises. And usually die horrible deaths.”

That was true. Warlocks didn’t have magic of their own—they borrowed it from other magical creatures, but only after they made a pact. And a pact was just an old-timey word for promise.

Still, Finch rolled his eyes. Why were they all determined to guilt him into renting this office space?

His phone buzzed again. Jay-W had woken up, it seemed.

“I’ll think about it,” Finch snapped. He pulled out his phone and dismissed the notifications about fifteen missed text messages.

“I took the liberty of printing out the lease agreement for you to review,” Liam said matter-of-factly. “I left the paperwork at your apartment. It’s all on the counter next to the fridge.”

Finch stopped messing with his phone. He sardonically glanced up to meet Liam’s gaze. “You already printed off the lease agreement?”

“I like to be prepared.” Liam straightened his already straight and ironed suit. “It makes life infinitely easier.”

Bree clapped her hands together once. “You’ll read it over, won’t you, Adair? This is a really nice place. Can’t you imagine growing your offices? I can. It’ll be amazing.”

Finch glanced back at the empty office space. When he had run a PI firm with his brother, it had just been the two of them. They hadn’t even bothered with a secretary. They had preferred to do things at their own speed, and their own way.

But when Carter died, everything had fallen apart. No one was around to help pick up the pieces.

“I said I’ll think about it,” Finch muttered. He tore his attention away from the office. “How much is this place, anyway?”

“Only six thousand a month,” Bree said, smiling.

Finch ran a hand down his face. “You clearly haven’t taken any finance classes in school yet, have you?”

After a forced cough, Liam placed a hand on Finch’s shoulder and turned him slightly away from Bree. In a hushed tone, he said, “Bree spent a lot of time on this. Please just consider it.”

“Fine,” Finch growled. He stepped away from Liam and sighed. “Listen, I’ll deal with all this once I get back from Oakland.” He pointed at Bree. “At least bring me a list of your top five offices. Got it, kid? Give me options.”

Bree nodded once, and then gave him a salute. “Yes, sir. I’ll definitely do that. We’ll get all the lease agreements and all the details.”

“Fantastic.”

***

On paper, the drive to Oakland was only an hour and half. In reality, it was a four-hour endeavor that typically involved stop-and-go traffic, three car accidents, two homeless men crossing the freeway, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Before Finch left Stockton, he marked the time, just in case anything happened along the way. He didn’t want to run up to the time limit of his rewind ability. He could only go twenty-four hours from wherever he placed his mark, and allowing it to go to the limit had been the reason his brother had died.

So Finch made sure he had a little extra time before he met Jay-W.

He drove through Concord, hoping to miss most of the traffic that plagued the highways of California. Kull sat in the passenger seat of his vehicle, humming most of the trip since Finch kept the radio off. Occasionally, Kull shouted and pointed, and when Finch needlessly swerved, she snickered.

“You could be the death of us,” he growled as he straightened his vehicle and stayed on the road.

“I get really bored if I’m not causing some mischief,” she playfully said.

As they neared Berkeley, the sun was setting, painting the sky with dark oranges and pale shades of purple. The Pacific Ocean glittered with wonder, and Finch understood why people called California the golden state.

Finch kept the outskirts of the city. Oakland wasn’t far now. His phone had buzzed the entire way, though. Jay-W never relented. The man wanted what the man wanted, and he never took no for an answer.

An irritating trait.

“What’s that?” Kull muttered as she placed her paws up on the dashboard. “Traffic? Out in this area of town?”

“Damn traffic follows me everywhere.”

Finch glared at the cars stopped in the middle of the road. This wasn’t traffic. He pulled up behind them and counted a total of five cars all parked in the way. None of them were damaged—no fender scratched—yet everyone was outside of their vehicle and milling about.

After a long sigh, Finch parked his Toyota on the side of the road.

He then rummaged through his glove compartment until he found a permanent marker. He yanked Kull over onto his lap. “Hold still.”

She purred as he marked her fur with the point of the pen. Finch drew four straight lines, and then a fifth going through them, so that they were a line of lowercase Ts. Her black fur hid the pen’s ink perfectly, but that didn’t matter—Kull now carried the Mark of Chronos. If Finch rewound time, Kull would know it happened and also remember everything that had occurred.

Unlike the rest of the world.

“Is something wrong?” Kull asked.

“Wait here.” Finch opened his car’s door. “I’m going to ask these lunatics what they’re doing.”

Kull took a seat on the center console and tilted her head. Finch exited the vehicle, slammed the door shut, and stomped forward.

The road was mostly deserted, and obviously neglected. Potholes riddled both lanes, and the lines had faded almost completely from the concrete. On one side of the road was a large fence that made up the backyard to a dozen homes. On the opposite side was a scrubland forest, the kind that grew around the regional parks—the ones that often caused forest fires because no one ever tended to them.

Finch shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he reached an elderly man standing on the side of the road. The man wore overalls, a baseball cap, and thick boots. If Finch had to guess, he would’ve said this was some sort of handyman. Why was he here?

“What’s going on?” Finch snapped as he drew near. He motioned to the congested road. “Why is everyone stopped? I have places to be, dammit.”

The handyman frowned. “Oh, sorry about that.” He pointed to the woods. “A car was parked here for a long time, so some folks came to investigate. They heard screams. Apparently, a girl and her boyfriend went into the park, and only the boy came out.”

Chapter 4

“A girl is missing and no one has gone to search for her?” Finch asked.

The handyman shook his head. “It’s dark. A couple called the police. An officer said he would be here, but that was thirty minutes ago. Everyone is gettin’ worried.”

The dying light of the sunset offered little in the way of illumination. Finch rolled his eyes, his thoughts wavering back and forth between getting back in his car or searching the woods. Then his mind played a dark trick on him—and he imagined Bree lost in the woods.

Cursing under his breath, Finch turned toward the trees and stomped forward.

“What’re you doing?” the handyman called out.

“I work for the police,” Finch replied. “I’ll have a look.”

“Bless you!”

The undergrowth crunched beneath Finch’s shoes as he slid down a steep incline. The smell of damp leaves and fresh vegetation hung in the air like a mist. Finch shoved his hands into his coat pockets, fighting back the chill. The harsh shadows provided plenty of places to hide, and Finch wasn’t even entirely sure what he was looking for. How old was the girl? What was her name?

“What’s wrong with me?” Finch grumbled to himself. Asking basic questions would’ve made his life easier.

The creak of a branch caused Finch to whirl around on his heel, his heart hammering. Heat blazed within him, and Finch had to force himself to calm down, lest his flames ignite the woods by accident.

Kull, as a beautiful black cat, sat on the branch of a nearby oak tree. She swished her long tail, her sleek fur beautiful in the reddish glow of sunset.

“I thought I told you to wait in the car,” he said.

Kull leapt from the branch to Finch’s shoulder. She landed gracefully, barely disturbing him. She was a spirit first, and an animal second. If she wanted to be silent, and nearly weightless, she could be.

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun.” Kull purred as she hunkered down onto his shoulder. “I overheard everything. We need to find a girl before it’s too late.”

With a roll of his eyes, Finch resumed his forward march. In order to fully search a wooded area as large as this, a whole search team was often required. People would hold hands, walk in a straight line, scouring every inch of land. As a single person, Finch was at a terrible downside.

Good thing he had an infinite amount of time.

And a little flashlight on his phone.

***

After three hours of searching, Finch found nothing. The darkness was his enemy, and the frigid evening clearly wanted him dead. Finch shivered back the terrible discomfort as he sifted through shrubs and detritus, his phone’s batteries nearly depleted.

But still, there was no trace of any girl.

More surprising, Finch never heard the cops arrive. He knew Oakland’s police policy about missing persons—the cops typically waited twenty-four hours before starting a full-blown investigation, just in case the person showed back up on their own. However, the cops typically took the time to investigate potential domestic abuse cases. If a boy and girl ended the woods, and only a boy left, that was a red flag.

Despite that, there were no cops.

“We’re having a rough time of this,” Kull muttered. “Maybe we should split up?”

“No.”

Finch definitely did not want a mischief spirit out in the woods messing with potential evidence. But just as he was about to suggest rewinding time and starting over, he heard the faint sounds of growls and wet tears.

He straightened his posture and shone his light in the direction of the strange noises. With cautious steps, he made his way between the trees, careful not to trip on the exposed roots or piles of dead leaves.

Not too far from his location was a group of eight coyotes. They swarmed around a fresh kill, their muzzles bloody, their heads all shoved together to get most of the flesh. The smell of copper and wet dog replaced the natural odor of the woods.

“Oh, there’s our girl,” Kull said, which took Finch by surprise.

He flashed the light over the “kill” and realized there were a pair of human legs sticking out of the gnashing maws of the ravenous coyotes.

Finch snapped his fingers and embers flared from his hand. The coyotes took note and all eight of them flinched. When Finch waved his flames in front of his body, the canines grimaced and ran off into the darkness of the woods, leaving the girl behind.

The girl…

There was no point in examining her closely. Even from ten feet away, with his faint flashlight, Finch could tell this was futile. The coyotes had chewed through too much of her skin and muscle to properly identify her.

“Do coyotes usually kill humans?” Kull asked with a tilt of her head.

“No,” Finch intoned. “They’re scavengers. Which means the girl was dead before that lot stumbled upon her.”

There was no pool of blood around her. It was mostly jelly—coagulated blood—which meant she had been dead long before the coyotes found her. It took six to nine hours for the blood to congeal like that, which meant the girl had likely died before Finch even started his drive to Oakland.

That also meant whoever left the girl in the woods had likely killed her. Perhaps they were even banking on the coyotes to cover up most of the evidence.

“Well, do we have to stay here?” Kull batted at Finch’s ear. “I don’t like this. It makes me… not mischievous. And I don’t like that feeling, thank you very much.”

Finch rewound time.

Everything within the gloomy forest came to a standstill. The wind, the owls, and even the swish of the leaves—they stopped, frozen. Then the colors drained, leaving the area a mess of black. Lastly, the environment melted away into a white void.

Finch was back in his car, just outside his apartment. He sighed, because he didn’t want to have to make the whole trip back to Oakland, but here he was. Perhaps, if he was fast enough, he might be able to find some evidence left at the scene of the crime—or t least, beat the coyotes.

***

Finch drove like he had a pregnant lady in the back, and she was already eight centimeters dilated.

He flew through the streets of Concord, and then Berkeley, even getting honked at a few times as he dangerously cut off a few individuals in his haste to return to the shabby road. Once Finch arrived, he noticed the handyman and the couple parked by the side of the road, all three of them looking agitated.

After all that effort, Finch had only arrived thirty minutes earlier. They had likely just called the police.

Finch took a deep breath and glanced up at the beautiful sunset that was just starting to develop on the horizon. The light would soon fade, but this time, Finch knew exactly where to look to find the girl’s body.

“Let’s go,” Finch said.

He drew the mark on Kull a second time. She purred the whole way through.

Once out of the vehicle, and with Kull on his shoulder, Finch stomped over to the handyman. “I’m here to help look for the girl.” Without waiting for a response, Finch walked around the man and headed into the woods.

“O-Oh—are you with the Oakland PD?” the handyman called out. “You’re here already? That’s amazing response time.”

“We live to serve,” Finch shouted back.

“Is that a cat? Shouldn’t you have a search dog?”

“This is police business, old man. Just stay on the road.”

Determined to get to the girl’s body before the coyotes, Finch dashed through the trees, trying to remember his exact route to get to the girl. He made his way between thick tree trunks, and pushed aside several bushes, creating a shortcut. Thankfully, his memory was rather reliable—they made it to the girl’s body long before any scavengers.

And in the fading light of the sunset, she didn’t actually look that bad.

The “girl” appeared to be a woman in her early twenties. She wore a sleeveless lime green dress that went to the midpoint of her thigh and hugged her body as tightly as shrink wrap. Her outfit complimented her blazing red hair, which was long enough to be tangled in the twigs and leaves. Her skin was unnaturally pale—and obviously cold.

She had been dead for at least a couple hours.

Finch slowly approached the body, his chest twisted in equal amounts of disgust and rage. Who killed a young woman and then dumped her body out in the woods?

If he had gotten here earlier, he would’ve driven by and never known anything had gone wrong.

Finch knelt next to the woman, and Kull leapt off his shoulder. She landed on the leaves and examined the body alongside Finch.

There was a ring of redness around the woman’s throat. She had likely been strangled.

“Oh, Finch.” Kull arched her back in classic Halloween black cat fashion. “Look!”

Finch tensed and glanced around. “What? Where?”

“Here on the body! Right here. Do you see? The tattoo?”

On the woman’s left shoulder was a small black tattoo with the picture of a fox’s face and a handgun. It was rather distinct—but Finch had never seen anything like it. Was it a symbol for something? Perhaps an organization?

“I don’t understand,” Finch muttered.

“Are you serious?” Kull leapt onto his shoulder and purred so loud, Finch almost couldn’t hear himself think. “Her red hair? Her puffy lips? That signature dress? This is Fox-Pistol!”

Kull might as well have been speaking a foreign language.

Finch ran a hand down his face. “What is a fox pistol?”

“What? How do you not know?” Kull, obviously filled to the brim with excitement, leapt down again and trotted around the body. “Fox-Pistol is a Twitch and Instagram star! She’s a smokin’ hot gamer girl who also does a bunch of modeling.”

The information settled over Finch like a wet blanket. He really didn’t care about any of that. “Why would I know who she is?”

“Haven’t you ever seen the girl who plays her video games in a hot tub? That’s Fox-Pistol! C’mon, everyone knows her, even most fey courts.”

“I have never heard the words video games and hot tub uttered in the same sentence before. Why would anyone do that?”

Kull chuckled. She continued to circle the girl, as though she was a predator, but the tone in her voice betrayed all her joy.

“Why play games in a hot tub? To show off your bikini, of course!” Kull lifted her feline head and smiled. “And also, so all her viewers can pretend they’re relaxing in the hot tub with her. Fox-Pistol is one of the most attractive human women ever. Some witches claim she had to use magic to look that good.”

“Was one of the most attractive human women ever,” Finch morbidly quipped.

“She has over one hundred million followers.” Kull glared up at Finch. “You must know her.”

“I have literally never heard of her until right now.”

Although now that Finch knew that, he suspected he knew why Fox-Pistol was targeted. She probably had a lot of admirers—some of which might not be entirely stable.

“When did she get famous?” Finch asked, his thoughts on Fox-Pistol’s murderer.

“Two years ago.”

“Hm.”

Finch glanced around the area. He didn’t see any footprints, or any signs of a struggle. Fox-Pistol wasn’t even wearing any shoes. Finch suspected the killer brought her here after their tussle, though he wasn’t sure why. Was it because of the coyotes? Or had the crowds on the street scared the killed halfway through some sort of plan?

Kull sat down and sighed. “I still can’t believe you haven’t heard of Fox-Pistol. I’m a mischief spirit and I know all about her. What’s your excuse as a human?”

“I don’t have time to watch bimbos in hot tubs,” Finch muttered as he flashed his light around the clearing. The sunset wasn’t helping him search.

“I think your human biases have blinded you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Foolish humans equate beauty with ditziness. But Fox-Pistol runs her own business and makes millions of dollars. She’s strategic. Look at her videos!”

“Was strategic,” Finch absent-mindedly replied. The longer he glanced around, the more he became convinced there was nothing of interest. He stood and brushed himself off. “All right—let’s get out of here. We need to inform the authorities about the location of her body.” He exhaled. “Actually, we should probably wait here until the cops arrive. We don’t want our coyotes to mess up the corpse like they did last time.”

Silence grew between them. The hoot of a far-off owl echoed through the woods. Finch shoved his free hand back into his coat pocket.

“Wait,” Kull whispered.

“What is it?”

There was a long moment of cold quiet. Then Finch realized what Kull was about to say.

“No,” he said as firmly as he could muster.

“Please?” Kull leapt for his shoe and then clawed at his pants. “This is perfect. She’s dead! I could use her body. And I would be so memorable if I was Fox-Pistol!”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Finch pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because she’s famous. You can’t—”

“I can! This way, no one has to be sad about her death. And if the boy who killed her finds out Fox-Pistol is still alive, he’ll probably come back to finish the job. We can catch him then! Right?”

“That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Finch said with a groan.

“Please? Please?” Kull’s pupils grew circular and huge, until all the yellow in her eyes were eclipsed by black.

Finch glanced down at the lifeless body in the middle of the woods. It was a shame someone so young had to die in such a terrible manner.

Catching the killer would help bring more justice to the world…

Finch took a deep breath and then sighed for a full thirty seconds. “Fine. Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

Chapter 5

Kull purred as she took a seat directly in front of Finch, her back to the corpse. “Well, then… That means our pact is now complete.”

With a huff and roll of his eyes, Finch nodded. Spirits and fey were always so formal. Once he completed their pacts, they always wanted to formally acknowledge it, as though they were getting legal documents notarized.

As a black cat, Kull bowed her head until her fur touched the dirt. “I, Kullthantarrick the Sneak, recognize that you have completed your end of the bargain. Thank you, Warlock.”

“No problem.”

A sense of release flooded Finch’s mind. Kull’s shackles over him were lifted, yet her magic remained. Every magicless human had the capacity to make a total of five pacts—one tethered to each of an individual’s cores.

The five cores were the crown, the eyes, the heart, the soul, and the loins, and Finch had three of them bonded with different magics. Chronos, the greatest manipulator of time, was tethered to his crown. Ke-Koh the Ifrit of Rebellion, was tied to his heart. And Kull, the little mischief spirit, had claimed his eyes.

Normally, warlocks couldn’t untether any of the magic attached to their cores—only the creature who they made a pact with could do that. However, once the pact was complete, the warlock would retain the magic until they voluntarily gave it up. But once they had given it up, it was gone forever.

Currently, Kull’s magic prevented Finch from being caught on camera—or any electronic device. It was as if he was invisible. Her magic also allowed him to undo any lock, mundane or mechanical.

Finch decided to keep hold of her magic for now. It was useful, and he could ditch it if something pressing came up. Besides, he considered it smart to have utility powers. There had been one too many times Finch needed to avoid cameras to do his job properly.

He still had the pacts to complete with Chronos and Ke-Koh, however… But Finch knew he’d deal with those another day.

Kull stood and then turned to face the corpse of Fox-Pistol. After a prolonged moment of silence, she glanced over her shoulder and stared up at Finch with her feline eyes practically glowing.

“Adair,” she whispered.

“What?” Finch didn’t like where this was going. “I’m not going to touch the body.”

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

“I just said I wasn’t touching the damn body.”

Kull twitched her whiskers. “I want you to mark the time once I’ve… become human.”

After a full minute of mulling over the statement, Finch finally asked, “Why?”

“Because it would be disrespectful to Fox-Pistol—and to my decision to leave my spirit form behind—if I simply took her body for a test drive, as a human would say. I shouldn’t wear her skin as a suit, and then later revert back to a spirit, perhaps even to change my mind when I had the opportunity.”

“You don’t have to change your mind.”

Kull shook her head. “I don’t even want the option. This should be permanent. It’s a once in a lifetime experience that would only be cheapened and made sad if I did it over and over. Being born should only happen once. And this will be my birth.”

She sounded different. Serious. No mischief and mirth in her tone.

That was different. Finch hadn’t heard a mischief spirit get so contemplative before. Then again, he didn’t associate much with spirits outside of pacts. This was the first time he had known one for so long. He knew spirits had a wider range of emotions than the ones they claimed as their source of power, but seeing it was still surprising.

“You know, if you do this, you’ll die,” Finch said. “You’ll be giving up your immortality. And humans are fragile. You might die early. And then it’ll be over.”

“I understand. But it will all be worth it if…” Kull’s ears twitched. “If I find people who remember me. Love me. I’ve never experienced those things before, and I’ve lived so long… with the humans I love forgetting me. I want things I can’t have as a spirit. Like a family.”

Kull had once fallen in love with a human. Her reward? He, and his family, had forgotten about her. Nothing had ever hurt as much, apparently, and now she wanted to find someone who would cherish her like she desired.

“All right,” Finch said. “I’ll mark the time once you’re done.”

“Thank you, Warlock.” A cat, she fidgeted with her paws. “I have one more favor to ask.”

After a short sigh, Finch crossed his arms. “What is it?”

“Will you help me? Be a human, I mean? I know our pact is over now, and there’s no reason for you to help me, but… You’re one of the few humans I trust. Can I count on you? At least until I’m confident on my own?”

That was a much larger ask than marking the time.

But Finch wasn’t going anywhere. He had already figured he would need to help Kull navigate her way through the human world. He was about to abandon her now.

“I’ll help you,” he said. “You have my word.”

“Thank you… Adair, my human friend.”

The little mischief spirit stepped close to the dead body. Finch just waited. The night air rushed over them, as though it, too, wanted to watch everything taking place.

Kull leapt onto the woman’s chest. She sat down, but her body sank further than it should have, slowly disappearing into the corpse. Kull shimmered and became semi-transparent as she melded with her new form. Right before her feline head disappeared, it became wispy, ghost-like, and undeniably ethereal.

She vanished.

And then, the body took in a deep breath.

Finch wondered if the process had hurt. Did the spirit feel loss? He decided not to ask. It seemed personal, at least to Kull.

As the woman’s body regained color, the cold crept closer, filling the area with a harsh chill.

Finch marked the time just as Kull sat up in her new body.

5:29 p.m.

She was a woman with fiery red hair, puffy lips, a heart-shaped face, and a petite nose that upturned slightly at the tip. She had a lean frame, and when she stood, Finch understood why she was a social media star. Everything about her either screamed cute or sexy, sometimes a combination of both. Photoshop would have nothing to correct, even though she was currently smeared with mud on her sleeveless green dress, arms, hips, and knees.

With shaky hands, Kull reached up to touch her face. Her slender fingers grazed her cheeks, and then chin. She patted her neck, and continued to her collarbones.

“I’m alive,” Kull whispered, her voice different from before, yet strangely close to her tone as a spirit.

“Is it everything you ever dreamed of?” Finch sarcastically asked.

“Better.” Kull stared at him with her new human eyes. They were as blue-gray as the morning waves across the Pacific beaches. “I can feel myself breathing. It’s so amazing.”

“If you’re excited about that, get ready for the delight of constantly needing to use the bathroom,” Finch quipped.

Kull, with genuine earnestness in her voice, said, “I can’t wait. Perhaps we should go right now?”

“Do you need to?”

“I don’t know. Do I?” Kull giggled, her face lighting up at the mere thought.

“Oh my god.” Finch pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled.

It was going to be a long night, he could already tell.

Finch glanced at the clock on his phone. It was 5:30 p.m. The sun set so early now—it felt later than it really was.

Kull stepped forward, grimacing the whole time. “Ow,” she muttered. “Ow. Ouch.” She glanced down at her bare feet and frowned. “The twigs are poking me. Does this happen to all humans? Does nature hate us?”

“That’s why we wear boots and make sidewalks.” Finch glanced around, hoping her shoes would be nearby, but they weren’t. “Don’t walk around. I’ll carry you back to the car.”

He stepped close and then scooped Kull into his arms. She was lightweight, and Finch had little difficulty holding her, but she squirmed for a moment, clearly confused and awkward. As he turned to head out of the woodlands, Kull wrapped her arms around his neck and snickered.

“What is it?” Finch asked.

“You touched the body,” Kull playfully whispered.

He sighed as he stomped through the undergrowth and headed in the direction of the road. It was darker now, and twice a low hanging branch whapped him in the face as he marched through the gloom. Finch gave serious thoughts to summoning a shadow spirit just so he could see through the darkness.

As he walked, his phone buzzed in his coat pocket. Jay-W. The man was persistent.

“We’re going to need to stop to get you shoes,” Finch said, trying to ignore the vibrations.

Kull excitedly sucked in her breath. “And a clean outfit?”

“Sure, whatever.”

Finally, Finch stalked uphill toward the road and exited the woods. The handyman and the handful of concerned locals were still there. Once they saw Kull in Finch’s arms, a few of them clapped.

“The officer found her!” one person shouted.

Finch stepped onto the road and the handyman hurried over. With a smile, he muttered, “I’m so glad the girl is okay. I was mighty worried.”

“She got lost,” Finch said. “I’m going to take her to the hospital.”

“Good idea.”

Finch placed Kull down and brushed himself off. He cleared away leaves and twigs while Kull did the same. Then she ran her hand over her sides, smoothing her dress.

A man across the street, standing next to their POS vehicle, nodded toward Kull. “Hey! Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. Thank you, though! So kind of you to ask.”

“Right. Well, I’m going to leave then.” He quickly got into his car and drove off. The other looky-loos did the same, one by one driving off now that the drama was over.

Not the handyman, however. He seemed concerned enough to stay until the bitter end.

“Where is the boy who was with you?” he asked Kull.

“I don’t know. I got lost and he just left.” She patted her upper leg and then frowned. “Adair…”

“Yeah?” Finch walked over to his car and opened the passenger-side door.

“I don’t have any panties.”

The older handyman clearly hadn’t expected that. His eyebrows shot for his receding hairline and his eyes doubled in size.

“Maybe I lost them in the woods,” Kull muttered. She glanced over her shoulder. “Should we look for them? I hope they aren’t dirty.”

Finch, his face growing hot, quickly walked over and took her by the shoulder. “No,” he replied, curt. “We aren’t going to search the side of the road for your damn underwear. Let’s get into the car.” He leaned in close. “Less talking. More moving.”

He steered her away from the balking handyman and hurried her straight to his Toyota. With a forceful push, Finch loaded Kull into the car and then slammed the door shut. He practically leapt over his hood to get to the driver’s side, intent on leaving as soon as possible.

“Is that young woman going to be okay?” The handyman rubbed his red cheeks. “She was probably assaulted and can’t remember. Poor thing.”

“The Oakland PD will handle it,” Finch said as he took a seat. “Thank you for your assistance.”

He slammed the door just as his phone started to ring for the hundredth time. Finch glanced over at Kull. She sat in her chair with a wide smile, her eyes conveying her earnest joy. They practically sparkled.

“I’m a human,” she whispered, as if she still couldn’t believe it. “Your chair feels crusty under my new skin.”

Finch ran his hand down his face. He couldn’t believe this was happening. His normal evenings had long since disappeared. Now he had to deal with pantie-less spirits in human bodies complaining about the scratchiness of his upholstery.

“Can we shop at a Wal-Mart?” Kull tilted her head in a cat-like fashion.

Finch gave her the most disbelieving narrow-eyed squint. “Why?”

“That’s a very human experience. Everyone shops at a Wal-Mart, don’t they? I need to experience this as well.”

Finch’s phone buzzed again. In order to escape the lunacy of the conversation, he decided to answer it this time. He poked the screen of his phone and held it to his ear. “Finch here.”

“You motherfucker,” Jay-W growled. “Stop ignoring my calls.”

Finch hung up.

He glanced back at Kull. “You know what else is very human? Buckling your seatbelt.”

With a giggle, Kull grabbed her seatbelt and carefully secured it across her shoulder and lap. “I remember when cars didn’t have seatbelts,” she proudly stated. “I also remember when humans used to say cars wouldn’t replace horses, because horses were so much more reliable and affordable.”

Once again, Finch’s phone buzzed. This time it felt angrier than before. That was probably his imagination, though. He answered it again.

“Finch here,” he said, calm and borderline sarcastic, as though he didn’t know who was on the other end.

“You better not hang up on me again,” Jay-W said, his voice almost the same tone as Finch’s, just with a hint more seething. “Where are you? Why aren’t you at my place? You should’ve been here yesterday.”

“Stop calling me. I’m on my way.”

“Aren’t we going to Wal-Mart?” Kull asked. “We would stop there first.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll stop there,” Finch murmured.

Jay-W ground his teeth so loudly, the sound came through the phone. “You are testin’ my got-damn patience, Adair.”

“I’ll get there when I get there.” Finch ended the call before Jay-W would say another word. Then he glanced over at Kull. “Okay, so, when I’m on the phone, no talking. That’s just good manners.”

Kull nodded, her smile never fading. “Yes. I need to learn all the human manners I can. I don’t want to be the goofball everyone laughs at.”

“I’ve got bad news,” Finch muttered. Then he pulled a pen out from his glove compartment. “Also, hand me your arm. I need to draw the Mark of Chronos on it.”

“So that I remember everything once you reset the time?”

“As quick as a whip, you are.”

Chapter 6

There were two Wal-Marts in Oakland—three, if you counted the one in Union City, just south of Oakland’s city line. And they were the worst Wal-Marts of all time.

Unfortunately for Jay-W, Finch had to drive by his home to head south, where all the Wal-Marts were located. Once inside one of the infamous Wal-Marts, Finch regretted all the decisions that had brought him there.

Entering the Oakland Wal-Mart was like stepping into a parallel universe where the laws of decency had been flung out the window. The entire store was best described as “the aftermath of a discount apocalypse.” Clothes everywhere. Towers of boxes set up like a mid-match Jenga game. Lights flickering overhead.

Finch traveled through the superstore with his hands in his coat pocket, his gaze straight ahead. It was 6:02 p.m., and the place was packed.

The floor, a mosaic of unidentifiable stains, crunched underfoot.

But despite the disgusting bargain-bin jungle, Kull practically skipped alongside him, her eyes big. She giggled a few times when her eyes landed on SALE signs.

“You never went into a Wal-Mart as a mischief spirit?” Finch asked.

Kull, still barefoot, took careful steps across the questionable tile floor. “I’ve been inside a Wal-Mart before, but that isn’t the point. Now I’m human. Now I can experience what everyone else experiences here.”

“Losing your sanity?”

Kull shook her head. Then she flung her arms wide, smiling wider than ever. “I get to purchase things!”

Her cheery decoration was silly, even for 2024. People glanced over, frowning. Finch shot them cold glares. The other customers left them alone.

“You don’t seem happy,” Kull said with a slight tilt of her head. “Don’t humans enjoy Wal-Marts? They’re everywhere!”

“I dislike this Wal-Mart.” Finch sighed. “Something terrible always happens. Somehow, it usually ends in a fist fight.”

“Really? That’s so exciting.” Then Kull gasped and grabbed Finch’s arm, jerking him from the tiled walkway and onto a stale carpeted portion of the store. “Look, Adair!” She dragged him into the swimwear section. “We found bathing suits!”

“We don’t need a bathing suit,” Finch grumbled.

“But what if I need to be in a hot tub?”

Finch pinched the bridge of his nose. “We aren’t going to any hot tubs. We’re going to focus on whatever Jay-W needs, and then we’re going to wait for the man who left you in the woods. That’s our current plan. Nothing extra.”

With her attention completely on the swimsuits, Kull giggled. Had she heard anything Finch said? He didn’t know. However, her sheer unmitigated delight dulled his irritation. At lease she was having fun during her first hour of being a human.

“This looks similar to something Fox-Pistol would wear.” Kull grabbed a pink bikini with glittering sequins and hugged it close. “I can’t wait to show it off for all my followers on Twitch!”

“Keep your voice down,” Finch growled through clenched teeth. He nervously glanced over his shoulder, hoping no one was paying attention to them. “Do you see any other humans shouting out their every action? No. Because that’s not normal.”

Kull nodded along with his words. Then she stopped and snatched an even smaller bikini from one of the display shelves. It was comically tiny thing—mostly string, with a single metal buckle over the front. It shone under the fluorescent lighting.

“This is even better,” Kull whispered in awe as she held up the floss-thin bathing suit. “And I can use the bottom as panties. Isn’t that great, Adair?”

Finch smacked her arms down and held back a tirade. With his face growing red, he glared down at her. “For the love of all that is holy,” he whispered, his tone heated. “Please. Keep your commentary to yourself.”

“Can I get this?”

“Fine. Sure. Whatever.” Finch ran his hand down his face, trying to rid himself of the building embarrassment. “Now that you have… a bathing suit… let’s go get you shoes.”

Kull held her new clothing close. The tag said the bikini—which was less cloth than a hand towel—was somehow forty dollars. And while Finch thought that was highway robbery, he didn’t comment. He didn’t want to be in the bathing suit section any longer. Sixty seconds had been sixty seconds too long.

They headed deeper into the Wal-Mart, away from the glorious escape of the front doors. The further in they traveled, the more the place had its own distinct smell. Fortunately, the shoe section masked that pungent odor with the scent of new leather, which was quite pleasant.

“Look at all these shoes!” Kull hopped over to the first display and fingered every pair. “I always wondered why humans amassed objects in a single location, but now I think I understand. Which will fit? I can’t change the shape of my body anymore. I need something just for me!”

An older lady, who was sitting on a bench and trying on a pair of sneakers, glanced up after Kull’s commentary, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Finch stepped between her and Kull. In a harsh whisper, he said, “Keep. It. Down.” He doubted anyone would figure out their situation from Kull’s bizarre comments, but Finch preferred not to speak to anyone. He dreaded the questions.

The older lady picked up her shoes and moved herself to another bench—one much further away.

“I’m going to look for something Fox-Pistol would like.” Kull hurried deeper into the section, giggling the entire way.

Again, Finch found his irritation draining when he realized how happy she was. At least one good thing had come of this trip.

Finch refused to go deeper into the shoe section, however. He awkwardly waited at an end cap, staring at a pair of sneakers with lights flashing at the bottom. He had thought they were meant for a child, but they were sized for an adult and on an adult mannequin.

“When did the world get so weird?” he murmured to himself.

Something shifted under the closet bench, and Finch stiffened. The older lady was far away, and at first, Finch thought it had been something she left behind, but he quickly realized that wasn’t the case.

The something under the bench was magical in nature.

A pair of yellow eyes opened in the shadows under the under bench. The pupils were slits, reptilian, but much too intelligent to be an animal. The eyes glanced up at Finch, but he couldn’t make out the shape of the creature’s body. The shadows around it were supernaturally dark.

“Warlock,” the something under the bench whispered.

Finch sighed. “Yes?”

“Are you here to make a pact?”

“No.”

“Wait… You’re Adair Finch, aren’t you, Warlock? I’ve heard the legends of your exploits. You must be here because of the killings.”

Finch shifted his weight and turned to fully face the bench. “Killings?”

The yellow eyes narrowed. “Don’t play dumb. You catch killers, don’t you? Supernatural threats. Haven’t you come to the Land of Oak to find one? The monster who targets women…”

“I didn’t know there was killer here.” Finch held back an exhale. He should’ve known the moment they found a body off the side of the road. Something terrible was going on here.

Perhaps Jay-W really did have a need for him after all…

“My magic can help you, Warlock. Make a pact with me.”

Occasionally, spirits, demons, and other sorts of creatures wanted to make pacts with warlocks. In those instances, it was because they wanted something specific—and they wanted them desperately. Finch disliked dealing with creatures then, because they often pestered their way into his life over and over again.

“Who are you?” Finch asked.

“My name is Festallenius the Revenge.” The yellow eyes moved through the darkness as the creature snickered. “I’m a spirit of jealousy, at your service.”

Finch absolutely hated working with spirits who derived their power from destructive forces. Sure, the pollution spirits were strong, but they were grimy in every sense of the word. A spirit of jealousy was no doubt heinous and probably wanted something sinister for its magic.

Then again, magic based on wanting things from others would likely be interesting.

“Make a pact with me,” Festallenius repeated. “Do it. Do it.”

“I’m busy,” Finch stated.

“With the spirit who gave up her eternal form to masquerade as a human? Bah.” Festallenius snorted. “Pathetic.”

Finch rolled his eyes. When he glanced over to the far corner of the shoe section, he realized Kull had gathered up ten pairs and were haphazardly trying them on. “What do you know about this killer?” Finch asked, his mind divided.

“I’ll tell you everything I know.” The spirits snickered. “If you make a pact with me.”

“That’s not how this works. How about you tell me what you know, and then I consider helping you.”

Festallenuis hissed. Then his yellow eyes vanished, and the darkness under the bench returned to the normal levels.

Why was a spirit of jealousy inside of a Wal-Mart? Normally, spirits were only found near areas that truly exemplified the core of their magics. Spirits of life were typically found in a hospital nursery, whereas spirits of grieving were found in a graveyard.

Perhaps Festallenuis came here in search of a warlock—or perhaps the Wal-Mart really brought out the worst in people.

Kull came skipping back, only four pairs of shoes in her arms. They were all the tallest heels available, each a shade of green that only slightly matched her dress. “Look, Adair. I found these. Help me.”

“Help you?” Finch repeated. “What’re you talking about?”

“I don’t understand how to walk in them.”

Kull sat on the bench, slipped a pair of six-inch heels on, and then attempted to stand. She swung her arms around in great circles, but ultimately fell forward. Finch caught her before she hit the dirty linoleum floor.

“What are you doing?” Finch growled as he helped her stand straight.

Kull smiled. “Fox-Pistol always wears shoes like this. Help me understand. Do I… balance in them? How do they work?”

“I have no idea. Just wear normal shoes.”

“I can’t do that. I’m Fox-Pistol now. Fox-Pistol always wears shoes like these.” Kull sat back down on the bench and fiddled with the footwear, like she could somehow find the exact right position on her feet that would make walking easier. Then she stiffened, her expression melting into something neutral. “Was there a spirit here? Just now?”

Finch nodded. “One of jealousy.”

“I can smell it. I think it’s still nearby.”

“How long are you going to retain your magic?” Finch knew some spirits inhabited bodies, but he had never associated with them. From his understanding, their magic faded, and they eventually died, like normal human beings. Unlike normal human beings, spirits who took bodies just ceased to be once their vessel had perished.

“The five cores of Fox-Pistol’s corpse were empty,” Kull said, her voice monotone. “In order to inhabit this body as a human, I filled the soul core with my spirit, and then I tethered myself by filling another core with my conscious. I attached myself to the corpse’s eyes, and by doing so, I’ve permanently weakened myself. The last three cores of this body are shallow, but they retain parts my magic… just not all of it.”

“Will you always be able to sense other spirits, then?”

“I’ll always have some of my magic, yes. And other spirits will know me for what I am—an imposter.” Kull’s smile slowly returned. “But now I can feel things. All the range of emotions, not just a keen sense of mischief. My new soul core—the one infused in this body—is something more than a spirit. I’m like a half-human!”

Most spirits thought it disgusting to give up their eternal life for a short-lived one of a human, but it seemed Kull didn’t have that regret. At least, not yet. Finch was grateful for that.

“I’ll find some other shoes… One moment!” She bounded deeper into the shoe section.

Then a hand slammed down onto Finch’s shoulder and turned him around.

Finch—in an extremely rare occurrence—had to look up to meet the gaze of the person. A corn-fed bundle of testosterone and muscle that was shaped like a man, stood before him. The man’s bald head shone from the overhead lights, his pupils so small it was as if he saw the world through pinholes.

He smelled of sulfur, and Finch felt the demonic essence of someone who had infernal bloodlines somewhere in their family tree.

“You’re Adair Finch, aren’t ya?” The man’s gravelly voice was as rough as sandpaper.

Finch’s eyebrows went for his hairline. “You’re… one of Jay-W’s thugs.”

The man grabbed the collar of Finch’s coat and yanked him close. “Unless you want to pick your teeth up off the floor with broken fingers, you’re coming with me.”

Chapter 7

Finch pulled himself out of the thug’s grasp. “Watch yourself. I’m not like other warlocks you might know.” He brushed off his coat, his nose wrinkling in disgust as the smell of sulfur grew stronger.

“And I’m not like most men you know,” the thug said, his breath as sweet as brimstone.

He wore an ill-fitting three-piece suit with a red tie that was too short. His muscles were barely contained, and he wore his clothing like he was punishing it for existing.

“I told Jay-W I would get to him when I was ready,” Finch said. “Beat it.”

The thug narrowed his eyes, his hands clenching into tight fists. “I had specific instructions to bring you back—no matter what.”

“I’m busy, asshole. I’ll get there when I get there.”

In Finch’s imaginings, the man would return to Jay-W, tell him to wait, and everything would be fine. Unfortunately, the real world wasn’t as rational as Finch’s imagination. The thug exhaled and then threw a right hook.

Finch got punched so hard he forgot cursive.

A few moments later, Finch opened his eyes, his mind fuzzy, his vision blurred. He knew, from the leathery odor, and the crust on the floor, he was still in the Oakland Wal-Mart, but it took him several seconds to remember everything that had just transpired.

“Ugh, not again,” he muttered with a groan as he slowly got himself to his feet. He pushed up on his own knee in order to fully stand, his jaw throbbing.

Heat surged through his chest, and he exhaled embers as he turned his glare to the thug. If Finch wasn’t careful, his fire could destroy the whole building, but if this thug wanted to fight, he would get a fight.

Either way, Finch was about to teach this loser what it meant to mess with a warlock who had zero fucks to give.

The other customers in the shabby Wal-Mart fled the area. They knew what was coming, probably from the look on Finch’s face. And no employees bothered to show their faces. This was California—you didn’t get involved in active crimes that were taking place. You just let them happen.

“Wow, you got into a fist fight so fast,” Kull said, standing in the aisle of the shoe section. She softly clapped a few times, her smile genuine. “Now we’ve had a full experience here at the Wal-Mart. Hurray!”

The thug turned his full attention to Kull and then froze. His eyes grew wide, and he sucked in his breath. “Wait,” he said. “Are you Fox-Pistol? The Fox-Pistol?”

Kull took one step forward in her new heels. She giggled, held two fingers up like a peace sign, and then held them close to the side of her head in a cutesy pose. “That’s right! It’s me, Fox-Pistol.”

“Fuckin’ A.” The man patted his coat, and then the pockets of his slacks. He pulled out a cellphone and then a pen. “Can you sign this?” He offered her the phone. “And then can I get a picture? M-My name is Lloyd, by the way.”

Lloyd’s entire tone and demeanor had shifted. Now, he sounded more like an excited schoolgirl ready to squee, his beef with Finch completely forgotten. As Finch rubbed his sore jaw, he watched the exchange in mild disbelief.

“Aren’t we in the middle of a damn fight, asshole?” Finch asked as flames formed in one of his hands.

Lloyd sheepishly waved away the comment. “C’mon, man. I’m sorry. This is Fox-Pistol. The Fox-Pistol. I wouldn’t have thrown nothin’ if I knew she was here.”

Finch could hardly believe his ears. His fire died as his bewilderment grew.

He supposed the fight was over. For some reason.

Kull scribbled her name on Lloyd’s phone and then passed it back with a smile. The huge thug awkwardly stepped close to her and then held up his phone to take a selfie. He had to point it low to get Kull in the photo, and Finch was certain the angle of the camera saw far too much down the front of Kull’s green dress, but he didn’t say anything. Finch was still caught up in the bizarre situation.

After snapping a few pictures, Lloyd stepped away. He scrolled through his new collection, a smirk on his wide face. “Nice.” After a few moments, Lloyd glanced up, his brow furrowed in realization. “Wait, are you here with Adair Finch?”

“That’s right.” Kull wobbled on her legs and awkwardly took two steps closer to Finch. She didn’t fall, but her ankle shook something fierce. “I was attacked. And Adair is going to help me catch the guy.” She patted Finch on the shoulder. “He’s a great warlock, and my best human friend.”

Lloyd narrowed his eyes at the last statement, but his suspicion clearly didn’t last long. He returned his attention to Finch. “This is why you’ve been late?”

Although this wasn’t the reason, Finch half-shrugged and nodded.

“You’re popular if both Jay-W and Fox-Pistol hired you?”

“A lot of people want my time,” Finch said with a sigh.

“Jay-W is real mad, though. Big mad.” He turned to Kull like she would get what he was saying.

She giggled and gave him the thumbs up. Finch had no idea what was going on.

“I can’t believe you’re here, of all places,” Lloyd said, speaking directly to Kull. “I’ve been watching your Call of Duty gameplay videos for over a year now. You deserve more subs.”

“Thank you.” Kull placed a hand on her cheek. “It means so much to me that you know who I am.”

“Of course. Everyone knows about you. You’re smokin’ hot. Smokin.”

Finch finished rubbing his chin and then rolled his eyes. Everyone knew her? He doubted it.

“Well, I need to stay close to Adair while we track down my attacker,” Kull said. “As long as I’m with him, we can head over to Jay-W’s. Oh! But after I get clothes, because these are dirty, dirty, dirty.”

Lloyd nodded once. “Wait. Let me call Jimmy. He drives one of Jay-W’s limos. He can come pick us up, and I can take you over to The Boutique.” He quickly poked his cellphone, sending out a flurry of messages, his giant fingers struggling to tap all the correct letters.

“I’ll take care of her,” Finch stated.

Lloyd growled a curse under his breath. Then he shot Finch a glare. “You took Fox-Pistol shopping in a dump like this? The girl deserves somethin’ fine for a body like hers. Jimmy and I will treat her right.”

Kull clapped at these statements, which probably came across like brain damage more than it did genuine happiness. Finch wasn’t sure what to do about that, though.

“All right, all right,” Lloyd said as he tucked his phone back into his coat. “Jimmy’s on the way with the limo. Let’s get out of this dump and into a real store.”

“I can’t wait!” Kull kicked off her heels. “To real shopping!”

Finch glanced at his phone.

6:21 p.m.

***

The back of the limo was dark. LED lights lit up most of the floor, giving it a red and blue vibe that made Finch think of the police. There were special shot glasses with the word WOOLSY on the side. Jay-W’s last name. The man was obsessed with himself.

Kull sat on the bench seat next to him. She practically bounced in-time with the soft music playing from the limo’s impressive sound system. She wore a new blue dress that matched her eyes, and fine heels she could walk in, and it was all picked out for her by the woman who ran the boutique.

Now, she looked stunning. Even without much else—no makeup, no perfume, no styling of her hair—Kull’s new body had a natural beauty that practically oozed from every invisible pore.

Lloyd, the bruiser, awkwardly sat on a separate bench seat, the leather straining under his massive weight, his head tilted so he didn’t touch the roof. The limo stank of sulfur.

No one spoke.

Finch glanced at his phone.

7:13 p.m.

“Are we almost there?” Kull asked, her cheery tone completely out of place for the dark limo.

Lloyd nodded. “Yeah. Jay-W’s place is by the docks.”

“Oh, wow. And is Jay-W also a warlock, like Adair?”

The thug lifted an eyebrow as he slowly shifted in his seat to face her. “No, Jay-W isn’t. But… I didn’t know you were… in on all this.” He motioned to their surroundings. “You know warlocks and wizards and witches?”

“I know plenty of them,” Kull said with a shrug. “And you… You’re infernal, aren’t you? Just a little bit.” Kull pinched her forefinger and her thumb. “You smell as though you’re related to a powerful demon. A duke, maybe?”

Again, Lloyd became excitable. He shifted to the edge of his seat. “Yeah, that’s right. They say my great-great grandma had a thing with Valefar.” He quirked his head. “How’d you know?”

“Fancy demons have a special scent.” Kull tapped the side of her nose.

“Watching your videos and live streams… You never seemed to indicate you knew anything about this. You never mentioned magic or the realms beyond or spoke about the importance of the moon phases.”

“Oh, well, that’s because I just recently found out.” Kull pressed a hand on her cheek. “Um, I have awakened. I see the true world beyond the veil and delirium that keeps mortal humans ignorant. What’s the word humans use?” She snapped her fingers. “I’m wokenow.”

“That’s not it,” Finch said, monotone and sarcastic.

Ignoring Finch’s commentary, Lloyd asked, “And even though you know what I am, you’re not afraid? Most everyone won’t deal with an infernal. Only Jay-W was willing to give me a job.”

Kull waved away his comment. “Of course I’m not afraid of you. I have Adair with me.”

That statement chilled the man’s excitement.

Lloyd glanced over at Finch as though this were an elaborate prank. But then he sat back in his seat and visibly mulled it all over. “I suppose… Jay-W does say he’s the best.”

The limo drove into an underground garage, ending the conversation. Once the vehicle came to a complete halt, Finch once again glanced at the time.

7:20 p.m.

Lloyd stepped out and held the door open. Finch and Kull slipped out of the vehicle into the massive underground garage. At least fifteen cars were parked within, including two other limousines. Each was shinier and more expensive than the last, but Finch had seen them before.

Jimmy stepped out of the limo. He was one part man, one part coat rack—thin, tall, and draped in fancy clothes. He smiled wide, his yellow teeth the most notable feature about his appearance.

“Okay, I drove you, do I get a picture now?” he asked, motioning to Kull.

She smiled and nodded. “Of course! Anything for my fans.”

Jimmy walked over and held his phone up in a selfie-style photo. Finch sighed and wondered why no one ever asked him to take the picture, but he suspected the men preferred to be close to Kull when they snapped a shot.

And sure enough, Jimmy wrapped his arm around Kull’s waist, his hand sliding lower and lower, until he had crossed the line of decency. He took a picture right at that moment, snickering as he did so.

Finch, barely holding his anger back, grabbed Jimmy’s suit coat from behind and shoved him away from Kull. “Keep your hands to yourself,” he growled.

“What was that?” Jimmy shot him a glare and then reached for something held in a well-concealed shoulder holster.

“It’s okay.” Kull patted Finch’s shoulder. “He just likes me and thinks I’m smokin hot.”

Finch gave her a sidelong glance. “You shouldn’t let them touch you like that,” he whispered.

“Why?” she whispered back. “I want them to like me.”

At a loss for words, and unsure how to tell her that this wouldn’t get them to like her more, Finch decided to drop it. If Kull wanted to be human, she could learn about how disgusting humanity could be the hard way.

“This way,” Lloyd said. He gestured to the elevator door at the end of the garage. It was ornate, with white and silver fixtures. “Jay-W is already in a mood. We better not keep him waiting any longer.”

Chapter 8

Jay-W’s abode was everything Finch remembered.

Finch strolled into the living room from the garage elevator, his hands in his coat pocket, unimpressed with the opulent surroundings.

The living room was a cozy nook, if the definition of “cozy” included enough space to host a royal ball. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of Oakland’s port, which was a far nicer view than the city itself.

Famous artwork hung on the walls and over the massive fireplace. Each piece was worth the GDP of a small country, but that wasn’t why Jay-W had them. Anyone who knew anything about art dealing knew it was a massive front for money laundering. Since the “art world” typically accommodated those who wanted to anonymously buy high-dollar paintings, and since the industry regularly allowed large cash deals, it was perfect for avoiding taxes and paper trails.

And if Jay-W loved anything, it was avoiding taxes.

The massive thug, Lloyd, hurried across the living room. “C’mon, this way,” he said, as though Finch hadn’t been here a dozen times before.

Kull wobbled on her feet, clearly unaccustomed to her heels. That didn’t stop her from smiling, though. She marveled at the windows, grazed her fingers over the plush seats, and even admired the money-laundering artwork.

“What an interesting home,” she said in a dreamy tone. “It’s similar to Fox-Pistol’s. Hers is pinker, though.”

Finch casually walked by her, his interest solely on the far door. “Just stick close to me. You wouldn’t want to get lost in all this lavishness.”

When Kull attempted to rush to Finch’s side, her heels caught on a rug. She fell forward, but Finch rushed over in time to catch her. Kull held onto his arm, nervously chuckling.

“I’ll get the hang of it.” She stood straight. “I promise.”

Finch said nothing. He waited until she was back on her feet before turning around. Lloyd had already disappeared into the main hallway. Clearly, the lumbering stack of muscles wasn’t the most observant.

Kull shuffled her way forward, slower than normal. Finch also slowed his pace, in order to make sure he was close, in case anything happened. Once she was near the wall, Kull placed a hand on it for stability.

“Why aren’t you more concerned?” Kull asked with a tilt of her head.

“Concerned about what?” Finch walked to the hallway and stopped. He waited as Kull made her way over.

“Concerned about Jay-W. He’s been calling you for days. Don’t you think this is serious? Shouldn’t you run to him so you can hear what he needs?”

Finch rolled his eyes. “It’s not serious. I’m willing to bet my life on it. He’s the epitome of dramatic, and thinks every tiny problem in his life is the biggest concern in everyone else’s.”

“Oh, interesting.”

Despite Finch’s statements, he had a tiny niggle of a worry that Jay-W might have an actual serious problem. Finch had found a dead girl on the side of the road, and a jealousy spirit in Wal-Mart had claimed there was a killer on the loose who specifically targeted women. Perhaps Jay-W was concerned about this threat and had been trying to get Finch’s help this whole time.

Finch and Kull walked down the hallway. It stretched longer than a marathon, and passed a kitchen with marble countertops so shiny, they were blinding.

Once they made it to the end, Lloyd stood next to a large wooden door and motioned them close. He opened it and then silently gestured for them to enter.

Finch went in first, with Kull hopping in after him, her energy knowing no bounds. Lloyd shut the door without following, leaving them with the man who was already at his desk.

Jay-W.

He was as corpulent as he was demanding, and he sat behind his grandiose desk with a look on his face like Mufasa had just told him he owned everything the light touched.

In one hand, Jay-W held a glass of brandy. Finch wasn’t absolutely positive, but he was confident that it was the finest, oldest, and most ludicrously expensive brandy one could find in California. Because it wasn’t just a drink—it was a statement.

And in the other hand, Jay-W held a cigar. It was probably fancy in some way, hand rolled or something equally dumb, but Finch was done caring. The smell irritated him.

Of course, all those signs of wealth were to detract from the fact that Jay-W was not a good-looking man. He wasn’t even good-looking when compared to a dumpster—he was the type of person you didn’t want to stare at too long because of the lingering acne pockmarks, the thin hair, and the yellow-stained teeth that were too large for his mouth.

His eyes, though…

Jay-W had eyes so icy blue, they bordered on white. Magic radiated from them, different than the kind that sprang from spirits or permeated the undead.

“I finally got you here,” Jay-W said as he leaned back in his chair, his slimy smile growing.

“You had to send your thugs for me?” Finch shook his head. “What is it you want that was so important?”

Jay-W’s beady eyes flicked over to Kull. “Who’s the broad?”

As if she had been waiting for a cue, Kull giggled, smiled wide, and then made sort of pose with her fingers in a little peace sign. “I’m Fox-Pistol! You might’ve seen my channel on Twitch, or all my modeling photos on Instagram. Millions of people have! Remember to like and subscribe because I’m filled with rizz!”

It was as if Kull was mashing together several of Fox-Pistol’s slogans into one bizarre introduction speech.

Jay-W, clearly baffled, his large face sweaty, slowly returned his attention to Finch. Without actually speaking, he mouthed the words, “Did she just say she was filled with jizz?”

After a short sigh, Finch stepped in between Kull and Jay-W. He ran a hand down his face, trying and failing to tamp down his embarrassment. “No. She’s just… Using internet lingo. I think.”

Jay-W shook his head and frowned. “What the hell are kids sayin’ these days? Nothing makes me feel old like internet lingo.”

“Never mind that. Just ignore her. She has to stick close to me.”

“I help Adair with his work,” Kull said, glancing over Finch’s shoulder. “We make a great team.”

Jay-W waved a fat hand through the air, his cigar smoke swirling around. “I don’t care. She’s your assistant? Fine.” Then he eyed Finch. “You replaced your brother quick, huh?”

Finch narrowed his eyes. “Carter died over ten years ago.”

“Oh. My mistake. You were in no damn hurry to replace him. Heh.” Then Jay-W lifted an eyebrow. “Who did it? Who got Carter? And did you get your revenge?”

“I…” Finch hesitated to answer. He only just recently learned who the killer was, and the only reason he hadn’t left to go hunt down the witches and the magic-eating monster was because he didn’t have a way to deal with them. How was he supposed to counter their tricks? He needed more time. “I’ll get my revenge,” was all Finch finally said.

Jay-W shrugged. “Fine. You don’t want to talk, fair. But now we have to talk serious. I have work for you.”

“What work?” Finch demanded. “What’s so important that you needed the greatest warlock to look into it for you?”

Jay-W leaned onto his desk, his eyes narrowing. “My wife.”

That was all he said.

My wife.

Finch waited, hoping for some elaboration, but it never came.

“What about her?” he finally prompted.

Jay-W rested back in his large, leather chair. “She’s cheating on me. And I want you to find out with who.”

There was a brief moment where Finch gave serious consideration to leaving. Just… rewinding time, and exiting the situation so thoroughly that no one would ever know he had been here.

“Anyone could trail your wife,” Finch said through clenched teeth. “A normal PI you pay by the hour. Maybe even an Uber driver who wants money under the table. Literally anyone. You don’t need me—or my skills—to find out who your wife is seeing on the side.”

“Yeah, wise guy? Well, it might surprise you to know that I already did all that.” Jay-W took a puff on his cigar and then blew out a long line of smoke. “I hired a PI, a photographer, some shady lookin’ chicks who say they find cheating spouses all the time for celebrities—they couldn’t find anythin’.”

“What makes you think your wife is cheating, then?”

Jay-W pounded his hand on his desk. His brandy sloshed around in the glass. “She disappears every weekend and comes back on Monday smellin’ odd. She says she’s just out with her girlfriends, but she’s using magicto hide from me. Magic, Adair. She fuckin’ hired some witch to make a brew that makes it difficult to spot on cameras, and maybe she’s invisible, I don’t know.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s cheating on you.”

Jay-W pointed at him with his cigar. “No one goes to that length to hide if they’re innocent. She’s doin’ somethin’ she doesn’t want me to know about—and it’s another man. You got me? Find her. Find her and bring her back, with proof she’s been with some other guy.”

Finch sighed. He didn’t even try to conceal it—he sighed just loud enough that it filled the room. “So, this has nothing to do with the killer running wild in Oakland?”

“Killer? What killer?” Jay-W took another drag on his cigar. As he spoke, smoke wafted from his mouth. “There were more than a hundred dead bodies found last year in the city. All homicides, not some heart attack bullshit. Which killer are you talkin’ about?”

“Forget I mentioned it,” Finch muttered.

Oakland had the third highest crime rate in all of California, behind only Stockton—Finch’s hometown—and San Bernardino, which had connections to the cartel. Bodies piled up in Oakland likes leaves in autumn, and it didn’t surprise Finch that Jay-W had no idea what was going on.

“Okay, well, where do you think your wife is?” Finch asked, mentally resigning himself to the assignment.

“She’s definitely at the waterfront. Do you know where the Jack London Square is? There’s a fancy nightclub that opened there—Level 22, they call it. The first couple floors have fancy drinks, and near the top there’s a secret casino, but it’s not open to the public.”

Jay-W reached into a desk drawer and pulled something that resembled a metal credit card. He slid it across the top of the desk, and it came to a stop right at the edge. Finch walked over and scooped it up.

The little metal card read: You have reached Level 22. The letters were done in a beautiful font, and shimmered silver.

It was a nice card. Too nice. And it felt cold to the touch.

“What is this?” Finch asked as he turned it over.

“Level 22 is owned by some werewolf,” Jay-W said with a shrug. “And he hates the fae or something. All his cards are made from a special type of iron, and it hurts skin, apparently. I don’t give a shit.”

Kull’s eyes went wide. She slipped around Finch and snatched the metal card from his grasp. “Oh, wow. This is boreal iron. So fancy. If anything will burn the fae—it’s this.”

Finch took the card back and tucked it into his pocket.

Jay-W gave Kull a second glance, as though he were actually seeing her for the first time. “You can tell it’s boreal iron? Humans can barely tell the difference between types of bread. How’s a girl like you know any of that?”

Kull clapped her hand, and paused, after each word as she said, “I’m, Adair’s, assistant.”

Finch pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to tell Jay-W about how he found a dead body on the side of the road, and how a spirit of mischief took it over.

Then it occurred to Finch—was Kull acting this way specificallyto agitate him? That would be very… mischievous. He gave her the side eye. Kull just smiled in response.

This was going to be a long night.

Finch patted his coat pocket. “Right. Well, I have the card. I guess I’ll go ask around at the club. What’s your wife’s name?”

“Charlotte Woolsy. Sometimes people call her Charlie. Ask for both.”

“All right.”

“Good.” Jay-W took a longer drag on his cigar before adding, “And Adair—if you find my wife, and get proof she’s been messin’ around, I’ll pay you a hundred grand.”

That was a ridiculous amount of money for how simple a job this was, but Finch wasn’t going to complain. He sarcastically saluted with the card in his hand.

“Aye, aye,” he muttered.

With a hundred grand, he could easily rent out the office space Bree wanted. Finch told himself that was the reason behind doing this—to make her easier to cope with.

“What if we find your wife, and she’s notcheating?” Kull asked while holding up a finger.

Jay-W frowned. “Hmpf. If ya find her, and she’s innocent, at least get me all the details about the magic keeping her hidden from me. I hate being kept in the dark.”

Mimicking Finch’s movements, Kull also saluted as she said, “Aye, aye!”

Chapter 9

As Kull and Finch rode the elevator down into the private parking garage, Finch glanced at the clock on his phone.

7:32 p.m.

“So, what do you think about this case?” Kull asked, rubbing her chin with an over-the-top quality. “Is the wife innocent? Or sus?”

“She’s cheating on him.” That was the case nine times out of ten whenever a woman started disappearing for long periods of time. Plus, Jay-W looked like the type of man a woman would cheat on. If Finch had a gun pressed to the side of his head, he would confidently say that Jay-W had the right idea.

“But why? He obviously loves her.”

“Obviously?” Finch asked, curious as to how she came to that conclusion.

“Yeah. Look at how worried he is about her! Obsessively following her every movement, and upset when he doesn’t know where she is… He wants to be with her. It’s making him sad that she’s so far away. That’s love. It has to be.”

Finch ran a hand down his face. He would’ve called this stalkingor controlling, and definitely not love, but what did he know? He decided to drop the conversation. The mischief spirit clearly derived her understanding of human emotions from TV, YouTube, and Hollywood movies. It would be hard to explain reality to her.

Plus, what was Finch supposed to say? Kull was enjoying her new life. Was he supposed to tell her some things were just dour and terrible?

No.

Finch’s brother, Carter, always told him: never take something you couldn’t replace. And Finch couldn’t replace Kull optimism and joy with anything meaningful. Why depress her? The world would do that all on its own, without his help.

The elevator doors opened, and Kull confidently walked out. She even motioned to her heels as she did so—no more stumbling and bumbling. “Well? Do you like?”

“Like what?” Finch asked with a groan.

“My walking. Don’t you think I picked up on this fast? I’m drip.” Kull tossed back some of her fiery red hair as she said the last word.

Sus? Drip? Rizz? Finch was starting to lose track of all the made-up words Kull was using.

Finch slowed his walking and turned to face her. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you talking like that all of the sudden? You’re acting like you’re five when you’re actually five hundred.”

“W-Well, Fox-Pistol uses these phrases… So I should, too, right?”

Since Finch already had his phone in his hand, he unlocked it, and then offered it over to Kull. “Here. Show me one of her videos. Until I see what this Fox-Pistol is like, I feel like I’m never going to understand what you’re trying to be.”

Kull smiled wide as she snatched his phone from his hands. With shaky fingers, Kull tapped on the apps. She bit her lips and narrowed her gaze, fidgeting as she ambled her way through everything.

“You don’t think this is weird?” she whispered.

“What’s weird? Social media stars? Because I dothink those are bizarre.”

“I meant—me. Acting like Fox-Pistol. I’m not really a human. I’m just in her body now, assuming her life. As a human yourself, don’t you find that… odd?”

Finch did think Kull’s whole future was about to be one long Weekend at Bernie’s skit, but that reference was as dated as he was, so he didn’t make it. Instead, he shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot of weird things in my life. A spirit inhabiting an empty body is hardly at the top of the list. Stop overthinking everything.”

The corners of Kull’s lips twitched upward in a small smile. “Thank you.”

“What’s taking so long?” Finch asked.

Kull nervously laughed. “Uh, well, I just realized that I’musing a phone! I was trying not to shout or clap or too excited, since I’m trying to be serious face right now, but it’s so exciting. Look! I’m poking the screen with human fingers!”

Finch sighed. He glanced around, hoping no one was watching this awkward exchange between them. Fortunately, the limo and its driver were nowhere to be found. Obviously, Jimmy had to drive off to help one of Jay-W’s sons or something.

“Okay, here it is,” Kull said as she handed his phone back. “This is the YouTube app, by the way. I had to download it.”

“Fantastic,” Finch grumbled.

“She posts all her streams from Twitch over here, and she also makes fun little videos. See this one? It’s her most recent! Apparently, she made it yesterday. It already has four hundred and forty-two thousand views. That’s nearly half a million.”

Finch pressed the play button, ignoring the urge to make a sarcastic comment.

The video started up with a beautiful woman facing the camera. She wore a pair of designer sunglasses, even though she was indoors, and seductively licked her lips before she began speaking.

“Hello, ding-dongs. It’s me, Fox-Pistol.”

The rest of her outfit was nothing more than a skin-tight, strapless black dress. Her room was grotesquely pink, and she even wore bright rosy headphones with a pair of fox ears designed into the top.

“Today we’re watching a video about a dad who can’t afford to buy his kids soccer equipment.” Fox-Pistol winked to the camera. “Grab a drinky-drink or a snacky-snack and let’s watch.”

“I thought you said this woman played video games while in a hot tub?” Finch asked, already tired of the video. Everything about Fox-Pistol was exhausting.

Kull tilted her head. “You want to watch her in a hot tub? Didn’t you say that was dumb?”

“I-I don’t want to watch her in a hot tub. This just doesn’t fit with what you said would be happening.”

The video continued to play on the phone, even while Finch’s face reddened and he tried to think of a way out of the situation.

At first, he thought this would be a video about how Fox-Pistol would find a father struggling to pay for sporting equipment, and then she would pay for it herself. Finch had stumbled across those kinds of heartwarming viral videos in the past. He enjoyed those.

Instead, Fox-Pistol was just watching a video inside of her video. What was this? A reaction thing?

The father didn’t have enough money to buy the nice soccer ball, so he went to the very last cheap ball. Another man rushed over and took it out of the bin.

Fox-Pistol pointed to the video inside her own. “So, this guy said no one wants this ball and this other guy just spawns and comes to take it? Pretty sus if you ask me.”

“See? See?” Kull tapped the side of his phone. “She says these things. I need to say the same things now. Like drinky-drinksand snacky-snacks.”

The father in the video turned to his children and shook his head. He couldn’t buy the ball. Now they had to leave the store without anything.

Then Fox-Pistol laughed. “Wow, how pathetic is that? If my father couldn’t buy me a soccer ball for school, I’d die of embarrassment! What is it? Like ten bucks? Anyone can afford a ten-dollar ball you cheapskate dad.”

Finch frowned.

He hated this video.

“What is this?” he growled.

Kull glanced up and smiled. “Fox-Pistol makes humans laugh by making fun of these videos. She says she’s poking fun at the poors.Aren’t you amused? I just thought humans enjoyed things like this.”

“Most of us don’t,” Finch muttered under his breath. “Everything about this was awful. And these were my good video-watching eyes.”

Kull tapped at his phone screen and swiped the video to the very end. “This is the part where she talks about her upcoming release schedule, and when to see her stream next. I should, uh, probably know this… Since I’ll need to upload something.”

Finch just stared at her with his eyes half-lidded. “You’re going to make a video? You might want to wait until you’ve had some more practice blending in. Currently, you’re as human as a singing animatronic found at a local Chuck-E-Cheese.”

Fox-Pistol winked at the camera, her pink lips practically shining in the expertly-positioned lighting. “Anyways, that’s all for today! I hope you guys enjoyed this video. If you did, make sure to hit that like button!” She jutted her thumbs in the air as she made her last statement.

Finch was ready to delete the whole app, but Kull motioned him to continue watching.

“And just in case you’re wondering,” Fox-Pistol said with a coy smile, “this weekend I’ll be celebrating my boyfriend’s birthday.” She winked again and stuck out her tongue. “So no videos until Monday. Don’t worry my fellow foxes and vixens—I’ll have a fun compilation of all the crazy stuff we’ll be getting up to at the clubs. We’re even attending a private concert. I know you’re all jealous!”

Then the video ended.

Finch wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that.

Fox-Pistol’s body had been found dead on the side of the road. According to the witnesses, a man had accompanied her out, and then left alone. Had that been Fox-Pistol’s boyfriend? His birthday gift to himself was murdering her?

“Maybe you should make a video right now,” Finch whispered, his eyes narrowing until he was glaring at his screen.

Kull’s expression brightened in an instant. “Really? You think so? What should it be about? Should I watch someone else’s video and make fun of it? Or should I splash around in a pool?”

“Anything. Just let the killer know Fox-Pistol is alive. Maybe even mention we’ll be going to the Jack London area on the docks.”

Kull pointed to the elevator. “Oh! Let’s film inside Jay-W’s house. That’s the kind of location Fox-Pistol uses all the time.”

“Weird men’s mansions?”

“No. Just bougie. Fox-Pistol loves bougie things.”

Again, Finch found himself on the wrong side of the lingo divide. He had never been hip to the jive with the kids, and he figured he never would be—unless spelling kids with a ‘z’ was still considered cool. Finch could manage that.

“Whatever,” Finch said with a groan.

He tapped the elevator button, and the two of them rode it up. Finch had concocted an entire elaborate lie for why they were returning—to explain himself to the bodyguards—but when the elevator opened, the living room was empty. No Lloyd. No Jimmy. No Jay-W.

It was just them.

Finch held up his phone. “Okay. So, I film you? And then we leave?”

“I should do a live stream,” Kull said. She golf-clapped her hands together. “Fox-Pistol always does surprise live streams. I’m sure her fans—well, my fans—are totally expecting one. So many people will see it!”

“How are you going to do this? Do you even know how to log into Fox-Pistol’s accounts?”

Kull took Finch’s phone and poked around on his apps. With a smirk, she said, “Have you already forgotten that I’m a mischief spirit firstand a human second? I still have some of my magic… Like the ability to get past pesky things like passwords. Look here. I’ll be into her account in no time.”

As Kull poked around on the phone, Finch decided to creep into the long hallway. He stayed close to the wall, and glanced up and down, looking for someone. He heard talking from Jay-W’s room, and Finch listened hard to see what was going on.

“Got-damn I’ve gotten fat,” Jay-W said with a grunt. “I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror anymore.”

“You could always work out,” someone replied. Lloyd. His voice was distinct. Clearly, he had been called in to entertain the lonely Jay-W. Or perhaps lift things.

“Alexa, remind me to go to the gym,” Jay-W shouted.

“I’ve added gin to your shopping list,” a feminine voice replied.

“Eh… Close enough.”

Convinced Jay-W and his thug wouldn’t be walking into living room anytime soon, Finch crept back to Kull. She was still poking at his phone, but she smiled when he drew near.

“I have one of her accounts,” Kull confidently stated. “Her Instagram.” She flashed the screen over to Finch. “See? My mischief magic still works!”

“Why don’t you have access to all her accounts?”

“Oh… uh…” Kull nervously played with her red hair. “It turns out, some of these programs have more security than I thought.” With a forced chuckle, she added, “But one is enough, right? We’re fine.”

“Sure. How do we do this?”

“Well, since it’s Instagram, maybe we shouldn’t go live. I don’t think that’s popular there. Instead, just film me, and I’ll make it a reel.”

Finch didn’t know what the difference was between streaming, a video, a reel, or a live stream was, so he just let Kull handle everything. She glanced around the room, ran over to the one of the gigantic couches, and threw herself on the cushions.

“Okay, film me here,” she said.

Finch held up the camera and hit the record button. “Okay. We’re filming.”

“Hello, ding-dongs,” Kull said. “It’s me! Fox-Pistol.” She laughed and then stretched out on the couch, arching her back in an exaggerated fashion. The dress threatened to reveal her bikini bottom, but it never actually gave up on duty.

“I’m here having a wonderful time in Oakland.” She winked. “My boyfriend’s birthday is going to be crazy, and I’m about to head over to the Jack London area of the Oakland docks to celebrate, because that’s what us humans do.”

Finch rolled his eyes and held back a groan.

The video had started strong, and now it was meandering into weird.

Kull lifted her hand up. Then she traced the edges of her lips with her pointer finger, and without warning, slid that finger into her open mouth. Her tongue played around the length of her digit and she moved deeper and deeper.

“What’re you doing?” Finch asked, louder than he wanted. And although he was flustered, he managed to turn off the video as he walked over to the couch.

Kull stopped her seductive act and tilted her head. “Hm? Fox-Pistol does that sometimes on her streams. Don’t humans consider it sexy?”

“You’re verging on pornographic.” Finch found it difficult to find the right words. He wasn’t even sure what the point of sucking her finger on camera was supposed to accomplish. He was so baffled, and at odds, he was silent for a full thirty seconds. “Maybe some people find it sexy,” he finally said, “but why would you do it?”

“Do you find it sexy?” Kull asked.

Finch, who was already bordering on crimson, somehow grew redder. He turned away rubbed his hot face, and stared at the floor. “Okay. New plan. I just set up the camera on a chair, and you film whatever you need to without me.”

“Okay!” Kull hopped off the couch and held out her hand. “Let me see the video! I’ll, uh, try to upload it. I think I know what to do. I’ve seen humans do it in the past. It doesn’t seem hard.”

After a long sigh, he handed over his phone. “All right. Once you’re done, let’s get out of here.”

Chapter 10

Since Finch and Kull had taken a limo to Jay-W’s, they had to take an Uber back to Finch’s vehicle in the Wal-Mart parking lot. The entire drive, Kull used Finch’s phone to edit her video until it met her approval. Then she uploaded it to Fox-Pistol’s social media at 7:58 p.m.

Once they arrived at Finch’s car, they both slid inside and fastened their seatbelts.

But Kull was quiet. Too quiet.

She glanced over, her hand shaking, her expression haunted.

“I have a problem,” she whispered.

“What is it?” Finch asked as he started up his Toyota.

“I’m… I’m dying.”

Finch snapped his attention to her, his brow furrowed. “What?”

Kull solemnly nodded. “I’m so sorry, Adair. I thought all these feelings would go away, but that’s just not the case. They keep getting worse.” She motioned to her face. “My mouth won’t stop watering.” She grabbed her stomach. “My tummy keeps clenching.” With a frown, Kull returned her attention to Finch. “At first, I just had dull aches, but now it’s so painful. My head is throbbing.”

All the information swirled in Finch’s mind until he wanted to laugh. He relaxed in his seat, taking a deep breath. Kull had almost killed him with her wild declaration of dying.

“I can’t believe I messed up being a human so badly.” Kull grabbed her long, red hair and twisted her fingers into her locks, pulling hard. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve taken better care of my body. Now look what happened!”

“Calm down,” Finch said with a chuckle. “You’re just hungry. We’ll swing by a burger joint on the way to Level 22. You’ll feel better after that.”

“R-Really?” Kull let go of her hair and perked up in her seat. “Everything will be okay?”

“Yeah. Everything will be fine.”

“But why am I hurting? I don’t understand.”

“It’s just your body’s way of telling you that you need something,” Finch muttered as he pulled his vehicle out of its parking spot. “It’s an urge. A signal. Whatever. Just listen to the signs and you’ll be fine.”

Kull clapped her hands together, her eyes bright with life once more. “Oh, excellent! I knew you would be a great human teacher. Thank you, Adair!”

Finch rolled his eyes.

Now… if only he could remember the place that had the best milkshakes…

***

8:22 p.m.

Finch and Kull sat in a booth at Grill Thrill Burgers. The interior red, white, and blue theming was as patriotic as it was garish. American flags hung on the walls. Pictures of people who had consumed a three-pound burger were on their “champion leaderboard,” and the restaurant’s mascot was, appropriately, a jolly fat man next to a charcoal grill.

Kull sat across from Finch, inhaling her burger like she hadn’t eaten in a week.

It was a monster of a sandwich. Kull had insisted on ordering the double-bacon western because, according to her, “All humans love bacon!”

Finch ordered the same thing, since it was easy, and he lazily chewed through his meal while watching Kull practically make a meme of herself.

With BBQ sauce slathered across one cheek, she glanced up and smiled at Finch. “This is the best thing humans ever invented.”

“Wait until you try the milkshakes.”

“Are they bacon-flavored milkshakes?” Kull pulled a strip of bacon from the burger and ate it all on its own. “I never knew food was this satisfying. No wonder humans are eating all the time—it hurts them when they get hungry. I thought three times a day was silly, but if it makes their tummy feel better, why aren’t they doing it five times a day? Six times?”

Finch sipped his water and lifted an eyebrow. “Some do.”

“Wow. Lucky!” Kull took another huge bit of her burger. She seemed feral.

A man with a tray of food walked by the booth and gave Kull the once over. He wore tight jeans and a cowboy hat, like he had just come from a dude ranch. The man smirked. “You’re lookin’ good.”

Kull happily smiled back at him. “Thank you,” she said with a mouth full of food.

“You here eatin’ with your father? Why not come sit with me, baby girl?”

Finch shot the cowboy a glare. “I’m only thirty-seven.”

Then he did some quick mental math, and his chest twisted in dread.

Damn, he thought. I could be her father.Finch pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. Goddammit. For a warlock with time powers, time had a way of continually sneaking up on him.

He consoled himself with the fact he couldn’t be Kull’s father—she was a spirit that was centuries old. But Fox-Pistol? How old was she? Twenty? Finch hated this realization.

“I’m twenty-one,” Kull said matter-of-factly, and then gave Finch a wink, no skill at subterfuge whatsoever.

“Right,” the cowboy awkwardly muttered. “You wanna sit with me?”

Kull shook her head. Then she swallowed the last of the food in her mouth. “No. I have a murderer following me, and Adair has to find Jay-W’s wife so we can prove she’s not cheating on him. It’s going to be a busy evening.”

The cowboy seemed to contemplate this and think it so bizarre he didn’t dignify her statements with a response. He simply walked off with his tray of food. Finch preferred this outcome.

Kull set her burger down and burped. Several other patrons glanced over and stifled giggles. Kull didn’t seem to mind their stares. She waved to a few of them.

“Are you done eating?” Finch asked.

She nodded. “Yup. It’s, uh, actually starting to hurt in the opposite direction. Like maybe I ate too much.”

Finch set his burger down. “All right. Let’s get out of here. We’ve already wasted enough time as it is.”

***

At night, the Oakland docks had a life of their own. Everything was lit up with yellow, red, and white lights, creating a bubble of illumination so bright, it turned the dark sky above it a lighter shade of blue.

Construction cranes dominated the edge of the docks, while skyscrapers sat just behind them, many filled with restaurants, bars, and exclusive clubs.

Cargo ships rested in the waters just beyond the nightlife, and the lights of the city reflected off the constant ripples, giving the whole area a pulse that invigorated Finch.

He parked his car in the cheapest spot—which still cost him thirty bucks for five hours—and then headed for the Jack London Square. Kull kept his pace, her gaze up on the lights, her mouth constantly in a O-shape of awe and wonder.

The logo for Level 22 was cleverly hidden inside the billboard design for the nightclub called Oasis. The palm trees were tilted and twisted in the shape of the word Level and the number 22was bolded in the billboard’s directions for how to get to Oasis.

That was how it was for most businesses owned by the supernatural. They were in plain sight, if you knew where to look. Most humans only saw the sign for Oasis, and a helpful set of directions for getting there.

The Oakland docks had a load of ambient magic, unfortunately. It was difficult for Finch to pick out one thing. Several fae were here, that he knew, but the stench of werewolf was also thick in the air.

He kept his hands in his pockets as he headed straight for his destination. A warlock like him could be considered trespassing on some supernatural creature’s turf if he wasn’t careful.

“I love this place,” Kull said as she pointed to a bright set of signs with a glittering advertisement on them. “Look at how wonderful this is. Humans are amazing.”

“Amazing?”

“They do all of this without magic? How is that not amazing?”

Finch hadn’t thought of that way.

Instead, he kept his sights on the road. It only took a few minutes of walking for him to reach his destination: a tall building filled to the brim with parties, nightclubs, and liquor. The Oasis had a sign done in gold, and it shimmered as Finch and Kull walked under it in order to get to the front door.

8:33 p.m.

The lobby was filled with individuals on their way to the ground floor bar and dancefloor. Each flashed their ID to the building’s security before making their way inside. Everyone seemed young to Finch—twenty-somethings, and all looking for a hookup. They wore sexy outfits, or slick suits, and were already in a jovial mood.

When Finch reached one of the bouncers, he flashed his iron Level 22 card. The muscled man gestured to the elevator, away from the magicless bar and festivities taking place in the Oasis.

Before he reached the elevator, Kull tugged on his coat sleeve. “Adair?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay down here while you do all your questioning?”

He glanced over, his eyes squinted. “Why?”

“I really want to go in to the Oasis.” Kull pointed as the doors opened to reveal a dimly lit bar and dancefloor. The multicolored lights flashed throughout the area as waitresses walked around with cocktails. It was a hip joint if Finch ever saw one.

“I thought you told that cowboy we were busy?” he asked.

“But places like this are where humans find true love.” She smiled up at Finch. “I’ve seen it all the time in movies.”

Finch held back a laugh. He wanted to tell her that was all nonsense, but he couldn’t bring himself to crush her dreams. Besides, there was a small chance someone could find true love in a bar or nightclub. Very small. But still a chance.

“Did you forget a murderer is probably after you?” Finch rubbed his temple.

Kull frowned. “But this is a public place. I won’t leave! I promise. And you’re Adair Finch. If anything happens, you’ll make it right with your magic, right? Everything will be okay for just a little bit.”

Although Finch thought this whole thing was silly, he shrugged and gestured for her to go into Oasis. He would be right back—as soon as he finished searching out Level 22. Kull probably wouldn’t get into too much trouble.

Probably.

Kull giggled, gave Finch a hug, and then hurried over to the bouncers. She didn’t have an ID, but the moment they got a good look at her, they motioned her straight in. Pretty girls got all the special treatment, it seemed.

Finch entered the elevator and rode it up to the top floor. The doors opened to reveal a small hallway with yet another muscled man in a suit. When Finch flashed his card this time, the man smiled wide enough to show off teeth that seemed just a little too sharp.

Not vampire fangs—but the wild teeth of someone who had been a werewolf for most of their life and disliked being in their human form.

Finch nodded once to the man before stepping into Level 22.

He quickly understood why Jay-W’s wife might be attracted to the place.

The luxury nightclub was stunningly beautiful. The chandeliers wept crystals, lush black rugs were made of some of the softest material Finch had ever stepped on, and the gentle golden lighting gave everything an expensive feel. Soft jazz music played from speakers in the ceiling, rounding out the ambience.

It was a place so fancy, even the perfectly spherical ice cubes in everyone’s drinks had pedigrees.

The clientele was also in a league of its own. The moment Finch took in a deep breath, he knew everyone here was supernatural in some way. While some looked completely human, magic radiated from them like heat off a heat lamp.

Plus, there was a werewolf behind the bar.

Not like the bouncer outside, who had to remain in human form. No, this bartender was a full-blown anthropomorphic wolf. He stood on two legs, his black fur shiny lustrous over a body made of pure muscle. He wore a suit tailored for his lycanthrope body, his little vest a shade of gray that complemented his ebony fur.

He even had a tail hole in his pants, so that his large and bushy tail could wag around, unhindered.

And the bar had clearly been built to accommodate a beast that was nearly eight feet tall. It was larger, more spacious, and made of material that wouldn’t easily be scratched by the man’s claws.

His long muzzle and pointed ears really gave him the silhouette of a wolf, but his dark eyes were alight with human intelligence. And having dark eyes was a good thing—only werewolves with red eyes were the ones who could spread the lycanthrope disease. If this wolf lost his temper and bit everyone here, there was no chance of a werewolf outbreak. Oakland had had too many of those already.

The wolf’s ears shifted in Finch’s direction as Finch walked over. The beast turned to greet him with a fang-filled smile.

“Good evening,” the werewolf said, his voice rich and confident. “You seem familiar, but I don’t think I’ve seen many warlocks in these parts. Take a seat. I’ll pour you something smooth.”

There were three others at the bar, all women. Even from ten feet away, Finch knew they were full moon witches—the most powerful kind. Magic had a scent, similar to gunpowder, and full moon witches wore their magic like musky perfume.

The witches all sat close together, laughing over drinks. Finch leaned away from them as he took a seat at the bar.

“I’m Enzo, the evening bartender.” The wolf man held out a clawed hand. “Let me see your card.”

Finch handed it over as he glanced around. There was a game of poker in the back, played on a large, solid-wood table. Next to that was a roulette wheel, but it seemed a white rabbit was the one manning it. A moon rabbit? It stood on the table that supported the wheel, its ears perked high. Moon rabbit spirits were rare, and often tried to trick humans by offering immortality in exchange for precious objects. Why was one running part of the casino?

It probably wasn’t a normal game of roulette, that was for sure.

Enzo examined Finch’s iron card. Then he brought it to his canine nose and inhaled deeply. “Wait a minute,” Enzo growled. “This smell… It’s Jay-W. He gave you his card?”

Finch nodded once.

The fur on the back of the werewolf’s neck stood on end, his lips curling back as he growled. “Get out. I told that fat, waste of space he wasn’t welcome here anymore. And that includes his stooges.”