Curses were a funny thing.

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

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

Not yet, he thought. I’m already here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mmmm…coffee sounds nice, a feminine voice purred in his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Thank you for reading this excerpt of Sin Eater!