Why is her perfume so overwhelming? Does she just bathe in this stuff? Where is Tommy? He's supposed to be the one doing these client meetings.

I was broken out of my thoughts when the older blonde in front of me gave an indignant cry and said "Hello? Are you listening? You people promised me that you would be ready by Tuesday. It's Thursday now and we only have three days left before the opening day and you lot haven't done a thing."

Decked out in an expensive dress and jewelry with a large hat and bag worth more than my car, Mrs. Anderson was the picture of wealthy entitlement. In her mid-fifties by that point, it was clear that she'd had quite a bit of cosmetic surgery done to try and remain youthful.

I tried to hide my annoyance and said "Apologies Mrs. Anderson but as we told you when you first visited us, we need all relevant staff and blueprints before we can decide the best way to assign resources. I see here that while you gave us the correct dimensions and specifications of the site, you initially told us that you had twenty staff who would be working the event. However, according to what the catering company said, the total staff will be 35 individuals."

She let out an angry huff and said "So? It's fifteen people what's the big deal?"

"That's fifteen people we now have to try and vet before the day of the event. Look ma'am, you hired Silver Hex Security because we have a reputation for being one of the best security companies in the city. But we can't do our job unless we have all the relevant data. I promise you; this company is working on it even as we speak. If there is anything else we can do for you before the day of the event, or if you have any further concerns you wish to discuss with us here is the number for our lead manager." I handed her a business card then added "Now if you'll excuse me, ma'am, I have to get back to looking over the plans for the event." With that, I rose and offered a hand to shake. She ignored my outstretched hand, instead choosing to turn and leave without another word.

I let out a long sigh before exiting the meeting room and making my way to the back office. I plopped down in my seat and fired up my computer. A few minutes later I had YouTube pulled up and was happily watching some random video about movie history. But my good time ended as soon as it began when my phone rang. The familiar voice of Billy Joel belting out the lyrics to For the Longest Time. I glanced at the phone but didn't immediately recognize the number, but I decided to answer it anyway as there weren't many people who had my phone number.

"Hello?" I said tentatively.

"James Grey? This is Lieutenant Donald Harris ECPD. I don't know if you remember me but I'm currently at the Northrop Hotel. I need you to come down here as soon as you can." Came an exhausted-sounding and vaguely familiar voice, "I'll have one of my guys waiting for you in the lobby when you arrive."

Hoping my gut feeling was wrong I replied, "Can I ask what this is about?"

"Just hurry."

I quashed my growing dread and informed Lieutenant Harris that I was on my way. I scribbled a quick note to whoever got back first then made my way to the front. As I exited the building I thought back to my first meeting with Donald Harris, Detective Harris as he was called then, but quickly tried to put it out of my mind. After all, thoughts of my adolescence and teenage years always lead me to think about Jax, and any thoughts even tangentially related to that bastard never failed to sour my mood.

A few minutes later I was cruising down the road in my beat-up Acura. While it doubtlessly was a nice-looking car when it was first released, that was a solid twenty years prior. Now the car's black paint job was covered in scratches, dings, and dents from years of use and abuse. As I made my way past the shops and restaurants lining the streets I enjoyed the sights and sounds of the city. And as always, found me slightly sad that the world at large was unaware that Eden City even existed. After all the twenty border cities, which served as bridges between our world and the magic realm were not well known except by practitioners and those who called the cities home. The sky overhead was the same strange Copper color typical of all the border cities, broken up at odd points by streaks of blue and green. Despite the odd-colored sky, the weather always remained the same as anywhere else. And at that time, as summer began its transition to fall the air was still warm on the skin. As if to emphasize the nice weather I passed a small café where a pair of elves sat sipping their tea. After another thirty minutes of driving, I pulled into the parking lot of the Northrop Hotel. Built approximately ten years prior on one of the highest points in the city and catering almost exclusively to the wealthy and powerful, the Northrop stood as a shining reminder of the Valen family's status in Eden City. I made my way into the lobby of the hotel and was greeted by the sight of Detective Peters alongside a young handsome-looking man a few years younger than me. For his part, Detective John Peters of the Eden City Police Department was a balding and slightly overweight man in his mid-forties. Despite his long tenure on the force and the nature of the crimes he dealt with he never seemed to lose his jovial and friendly attitude. Indeed, he always came off as something more akin to one's favorite uncle than a seasoned homicide detective. And upon seeing me he broke out into a wide genuine smile.

Peters beamed at me as he offered a hand to shake and said "James my boy always a pleasure to see you. When are you going to come over for dinner? Gloria keeps telling me how much she wishes you would visit more often. And I always find that she's a lot more agreeable to my fishing trips if I ask while you're there." he let out a little chuckle. Then turning to gesture at the younger man next to him he said "This is my new partner, Andrew Rivera. Andrew, this is James Grey."

I politely shook hands with the young detective and glancing at Peters said "Good to see you too John. The Lieutenant said there was a situation?" Despite the gravity of being called to an upscale hotel like this by the police, I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face at the sight of the man. Detective Peters was always good to me, especially after the passing of my father, And I tried to keep in touch with him in the years since. Still, it was the first time I had seen the pudgy man since moving back to Eden City.

At my words, he at once sobered some and said "Ah yes right. Follow me, it's up on the seventeenth floor. I'll warn you though, it isn't pretty."

As he led me towards the elevator and pushed the button for the seventeenth floor I couldn't stop a memory from flashing through my mind. A boy barely fourteen lying in a pool of his own blood. Around him carved into the floor of the room is a ritual circle. His body is marred by scars carefully etched into the flesh over time in deliberate patterns. Despite the many years that have passed since that fateful day, the pain of the memory was as sharp as ever, and I tried my hardest to shove the memory aside and focus on the task at hand.

Finally, I broke the silence and said to Peters "So what's this about? I mean it must be pretty important for Lieutenant Harris to call me personally."

Peters for his part was looking uncomfortable and simply replied "You'll see when we get up there."

Before we could all relapse back into silence Detective Rivera turned to me and said, "So you're some kind of Wizard?"

I sighed internally at his questioning and as if sensing my annoyance Peters jumped in with "Andrew here is a recent transfer to our department. This is his first time in one of the borders cities"

I nodded at his words understanding all too well that the outside world preferred to remain ignorant that things like these cities or magic existed. Finally, I replied to the young detective and said "No. A wizard is that funny guy you read about in Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. I'm a Mage."

He seemed unconcerned by the distinction but replied "Ok. But you can do magic right?"

"A type of magic, yes." I told him before elaborating "Magic is essentially an invisible energy within the world which certain individuals we call practitioners can harness and alter to effect change on the world around them via things like sigils, magic circles, foci, and chants. The specific kind of spells one does as well as what one uses to perform the spells determines what kind of practitioner they are. For example, Sorcerers are what we call practitioners who focus on large-scale ritual magic using magic circles. Witches and Warlocks are those who use the craft, magic with a connection to the elements and curses. Alchemists utilize a mix of chemistry and magic. They're essentially like magic scientists. Necromancers are pretty self-explanatory. Then there's Mages like me. We're sort of like the magical equivalent of a Jack of all trades, able to do a little of everything but lacking in the oomph of other practitioners. But. Unlike other kinds of practitioners, mages are capable of using magic without the need for a focus or a chant."

Rivera interrupted me to say, "You guys divide yourself into those tower things right?"

"The thirteen Towers headed up by the thirteen Archmages. Yeah, the majority of practitioners belong to one of the towers. Finally, there are Magicians..."

I was once again interrupted as he said, "Which tower are you part of?"

My annoyance grew slightly as I answered "None of them. It's complicated. Anyway, the final major type of practitioner is the Magician. They're something of an outlier among practitioners as unlike the rest of us they have no natural ability to perform magic. Instead, magicians manage to get around their lack of ability by inscribing the spell directly onto their bodies using their flesh and blood as catalysts to activate the spell. Because of this most Magicians know only a single spell and it's often passed down through the family as a work in progress, with each subsequent generation altering and improving upon the spell in an attempt to perfect it."

Rivera went quiet after that, no doubt thinking over my explanation and committing it to memory. The door slid open a few moments later as we reached the Seventeenth floor, and I was led to a door being blocked by a uniformed officer. With a word from Detective Peters, the officer moved aside, and I was allowed into the room. The first thing I saw was the weathered and grim face of Lieutenant Harris. Harris was a tall broad man with a build more deserving of a linebacker than a cop but was not an unkind man. His face retained features that hinted at a handsomeness some time in his youth. Now however it was marked by age and was home to a noticeable scar tracing from his right cheek down to his chin. The second thing I saw was the body. Because lying dead on the hotel's bed was a somewhat familiar face. Ulysses Grey, my uncle and one of the few remaining family members I had left. He was also possibly the man responsible for my father dying.

As I stared down at the body of my uncle for the first time in years, I took the opportunity to examine his features. Ulysses was easily in his mid-fifties and as always, his face would have been more at home on a man ten years his junior but was slightly curbed by his greying hair. His beard was trimmed in the same short and neat style as I remembered. But looking at him as he lay there, I found myself thinking about just how strong the family resemblance truly was. I'm far from having what one would consider model looks, but at the same time, I'm not too bad looking. My nose is a tad too pronounced, but that's easily compensated for by my striking brown eyes. I have the same thick black hair as my father and thanks to genetics While my height is arguably average at best, I'm naturally on the thinner side. As I grow older it becomes clearer that I am my parent's son. But by the same token, many of the familiar features I see in the mirror were now looking back at me from the face of a dead man.

My eyes roamed over the corpse and three things at once stood out to me. First, Ulysess' right eye and tongue had clearly been removed. Second, he was killed and mutilated in a magical ritual. And finally, I now knew why the Lieutenant called me to the scene of the murder as he did. Because carved into Ulysses' chest right above his heart was a sigil. But not just any sigil, the sigil which was being researched and developed by father before his death. The sigil which was only ever recorded in my father's personal notes found on him at the time of his death. A sigil that only three people alive had seen and could recognize. Three people who were now gathered in that room much the same as they were in a different room many years ago. And with that, I was led to the only clear conclusion. I was not asked there for my knowledge on magic, or to identify the body. I was asked there because aside from Lieutenant Harris and Detective Peters I was the only person alive who knew about my father's sigil. I was asked there because that sigil could mean only one of two things, my uncle was killed by the same person who killed my father. Or My Uncle was killed by me.

I glanced up at Lieutenant Harris and quickly said "I know what this probably looks like, but I swear I didn't do this. I mean last, I had heard he was living in Blackwood."

My fear must have been apparent because he quickly said "Relax James, I didn't bring you here to arrest you. I know you have nothing to do with your uncle's death."

"Is that coming from you or the badge?" I asked skeptically.

"I am the badge. Now calm down, ok? It's pretty clear from the scene that whoever did this killed your uncle with a knife. And we both know that if you wanted the man dead you wouldn't have even needed to be in the same room as him."

I breathed a sigh of relief and said "Ok. But how could whoever killed him have possibly known about the sigil?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. And why I brought you here. I was hoping maybe you could shed a little more light on your father's research." The Lieutenant's tone was gentle despite his harsh features.

"I don't know much about it. I mean Dad died when I was thirteen. All I really know about his work is that he was researching lost magic on behalf of the Midnight Tower. I mean I suspected later on that his work may have been connected to why he died but by that time most of his research had already been reclaimed by the tower. And besides, you were the one who said his death was probably because he was set to inherit the position of Archmage from my grandfather."

The detective let out a long and frustrated sigh before saying "I figured but it was worth a shot anyway. Don't suppose you'd know if your uncle has any enemies."

I gave him a flat look reminding him of how stupid a question that was "He was the vice-master of one of the thirteen towers, as well as being a huge dick to half the people he met. Of course, he had enemies. But I couldn't for the life of me guess as to which ones could have or would have done something like this."

"Alright, you can go home now. But keep your phone handy, I'll keep you updated on how the investigation is going."

I nodded before asking "Have you told his family yet?" Now it was my turn to get the look, and I added "Right never mind." Internally I swore up a storm because it meant I was going to have to go talk to the last people I ever wanted to see.

An hour later found me seated at the bar of Siren's Call. A local tavern frequented by magic types. Damian the establishment's owner was tending bar while his ever-changing staff bustled about. I sat there sipping my crown and coke and watching as Damian flirted with another new patron. She looked to be in her early to mid-twenties with striking red hair and a respectable figure. Damian for his part was tall with a naturally tanned complexion which he always claimed was a result of his mother's Eastern European heritage. At present Damian was tending bar in jeans and a tight V-neck which did nothing to hide the stylistic black tattoos stretching down his arms and creeping towards his collar. Seeing me watching the interaction between him and the girl, Damian gave me a knowing wink and a grin. I couldn't help but grin back at my oldest friend. Growing up Damian spent more time with my family than his own, knowing even back then that he was different from his sisters and parents. Which is why it was no surprise to me when upon returning to Eden City after several years I reconnected with him only to find that my childhood friend Elizabeth was now living as Damian. Opening Siren's Call proved to be the culmination of a long-held dream of his and it didn't take long for the establishment to gain a loyal customer base. My gaze flitted past Damian around the interior of the establishment. The walls were covered in old movie posters and knickknacks. But the crown jewel in the place's decorations was located by the front door where Damian somehow managed to get his hands on a giant wooden carving of a Siren. Sarah as the patrons had taken to calling the statue was at present decked out in bead necklaces from a long-passed Mardi Gras celebration and perched on her head was a cheap plastic hat that reads Happy New Year. The redhead eventually left but not before writing down her number and making Damian promise to call her.

My friend seeing my amused expression held up the paper with her phone number scribbled across it and said "Her name's Jenny. She's a graduate student at UCLA studying Archeology. And I may have mentioned having a terracotta bowl from Athens dating back to the fifth century B.C."

"Do you even know what any of what you just said means?" I joked in replied.

He fixed me with a hard glare, but it only lasted a second before we were both grinning at each other. Damian bustled up and down the bar serving patrons while I sipped my drink and tried not to dwell on the day's earlier events. Once all his customers had been served their libations he returned to where I was seated and began polishing glasses in silence waiting for me to share whatever was on my mind. Eventually unable to keep silent any longer I looked over at my friend and said "I got a call from the police earlier today. Uncle Ulysses is dead and I'm looking like the prime suspect."

Without so much as missing a beat, he replied "Need an alibi?"

His words made me smile slightly as I couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate how lucky I was to have a friend as loyal as him. "First off, I didn't kill him" My only acknowledgment being a slight shrug I chose to push past it and continue "Secondly, I already have an alibi. I was at work at the time of the murder."

"Ok. So, your uncle is dead, and they think it was you. But I mean, if you didn't do it then what's the problem? It's not like you're actually sad about him dying."

Feeling slightly defensive I said "He was still my uncle. Still family. That counts for something. I may not have liked him much but that doesn't mean I wanted him to die."

Damian fixed me with a level gaze and responded in his no-nonsense tone "Bullshit. You're secretly pleased he's dead. We both know he had something to do with what happened to your dad, and even if he didn't it doesn't change the fact that when your dad died you were left an orphan. If it weren't for Jax you could have ended up on the streets and it would have been Ulysses' fault."

At his mention of Jax, my hand tightened involuntarily around my glass. I let out a long slow exhale and released the glass as I settled my nerves.

Always the observant one, my reaction was not lost on Damian "Still pissed at him huh?" it's clear that the answer was obvious. A sentiment I expressed a moment later with the look I gave him.

Holding up his hands in a placating gesture he said "Alright, alright. I won't bring him up anymore. Besides this isn't about him, it's about you and your uncle. All I'm saying is that no one's going to be shedding any tears over Ulysses Grey. Hell, his own kids hate him as much as anyone. Mark my words. This whole thing is going to be old news by week's end."

I gave a halfhearted shrug in agreement. But internally I couldn't shake the feeling that things were only beginning. As if to emphasize the point I heard the door to the place open and a moment later I was greeted by a familiar southern drawl.

"Well, Well. If it isn't his illustrious lordship, James Grey. I didn't think you'd ever show your face in this town again. So, imagine my surprise when I heard that not only were you back in Eden City, but you knocked off old Ulysses to boot."

I turned my head slightly and took in the appearance of Lucas Mccoy being trailed by a pair of meatheads. Between the handsome features, thick blonde hair, and sapphire-colored eyes it would've been easy to mistake the man for some Hollywood reject coasting off a few bit parts. But Lucas happened to be the eldest son of one of the Midnight Tower's most influential families, thanks to his familial ties to the Midnight Tower he and I had known and hated each other since we were kids. Word out there nowadays was that Lucas was just as involved with the criminal elements in town as he was with the tower. True to style, Lucas was dressed in an overly expensive silk shirt and wearing a fur-lined coat that would be more at home on a pimp in some seventies blacksploitation flick than what amounted to a member of the magical elite.

While I tried to ignore Lucas, Damian leaned forward hand on the bar, and said "What do you want Mccoy? You're likely to drive away all my customers if you stick around too long. Or if you don't, that abomination you call a wardrobe will."

"Lizzie, I see you're still keeping this dump afloat." He replied with feigned friendliness.

Damian straightened some and said "My name is Damian. Now if you're done bringing down the property value of this dump as you put it, kindly get the fuck out of my establishment."

Lucas's goons seemed to bristle at my friend's words, but Lucas quickly held up a hand signaling for them to back down. Turning back to Damian with a condescending smile he said "I just wanted to see James here, reminisce about old times. Oh, and let you know that as of right now, it's open season on your ass. See the towers can't have some rogue talent going around making us look weak. So, I'd start watching my back if I were you, Grey. Before someone decides to do everyone a favor and stick a knife in it."

"Out now!" Damian said growing angry and pointing at the tavern door.

One of Lucas's goons took a step forward, but I muttered the word "aneroc" and he was suddenly flung backward by a burst of air.

Lucas began a spell but was interrupted by the sight of Damian leveling a shotgun at him. With a steel tone, Damian said "Get the hell out. We both know that there isn't enough magic in the world that can help a bullet through your skull.

With a sneer, Lucas put his hands up in a placating gesture and said "Relax we were just leaving anyway. Don't want to catch a disease from this shithole." Turning to his other goon he gestured at the one knocked back by my spell and added "Pick him up we're done here." They made their way to the exit with one goon supporting the still-dazed one. On his way out Lucas pulled a knife from within his coat, drove it between the eyes of Sarah the Siren and exited saying "Be seeing you real soon James."

"Fuck that guy. He thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants just cause his family are big shots." Damian fumed. But I was too preoccupied thinking about Lucas's words. If the towers had decided I needed to be dealt with then things were only going to get more difficult. As a mage, I was fairly skilled. But there was no one out there who could hope to match up to the combined force of the thirteen towers.

No longer feeling like drinking I paid my tab and rose to leave saying "Calm down D. You know Lucas's mouth is always too big for his own good. I'm sure he was just trying to intimidate me. I'll see you around."

As I exited the building, I heard Damian call behind me "Be careful, you hear? And give me a call if you need anything. I'm serious James." I threw up a hand in acknowledgement letting the door swing closed behind me.

I headed to my car head down in thought wholly convinced this day couldn't get any worse but was stopped in my tracks by the words "Why have you been ignoring my calls?" I let out an exhausted sigh and looked up into the striking green eyes of Jax.

Yup definitely got worse.