Mason paced his living room furiously. A battle of wills raged within his mind. "Rube'll kill me," he muttered to himself. "Rube will definitely kill me." It didn't matter that he was already dead; Rube would find a way. Yet, despite that, he couldn't get past the fact that Jexter recognized him and that he somehow knew both who and what Mason was. Nor could Mason ignore the fact that something was going on for Jexter to be in town in the first place.

Mason stopped and let out a frustrated yell. He sighed. "Rube is going to chop me up into little bits and eat me for breakfast," he told himself ruefully. He'd made his mind up. He would just have to be careful to not be caught.

He reached into his jacket, feeling around for the makeshift pocket he knew was there. He hadn't put it there; the jacket's previous owner had used it to conceal a wicked sharp knife. Mason had ditched the knife and put his wand in its place.

Mason wasn't a heavy magic user, unlike most wizards. Most of his time was spent in the Muggle world. He would occasionally stop at the local wizard haunts and stores for a change of scenery or when he had a post-it note. He didn't think that Rube knew those particular locations were wizarding haunts, but none of Mason's coworkers ever had to go to those places in his stead.

He'd kept this wand with him since he'd become a reaper. He'd left the one he'd owned in life with his body, but this one worked just as well. It was eight inches, pine, with a feather from a crow's right wing dyed in augury blood at the core. He carried it with him everywhere, even though long stretches of time could pass without him using it.

He transferred the wand to his left hand and walked over to one of the tables. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out the map he'd seen in there earlier. It was a map of Seattle and a small portion of the surrounding area. He wrestled it open and laid it out on the table. "This had better work," he murmured.

He tapped each corner of the map once with the tip of his wand. "Locate Jexter Rayne."

At once, a small number of areas on the map glowed bright yellow. They indicated every part of the town Jexter had gone to. In some places, there were streaks where Jexter had walked in a straight line; in other places, there were blotches were he'd meandered about in a confined space. Mason recognized the alley that contained the wizarding mini mall known as Listrious Place. Nearly that entire area was alight. Mason also noticed a blot of light at the site of the bar they'd been at the previous night. There were many streaks that ran alongside some of the streets, indicating the routes Jexter had taken when walking from place to place about the city. Some of those routes led to a few other bars, while other routes led to places Mason didn't recognize.

Mason studied the map a moment. "All right, then." He slid the wand back in its pocket, then folded up the map and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. He pulled out a yellow post-it note from his right pants pocket and glanced at his watch. His eyes bulged. "Shit!" He'd wasted too much time already. He'd never get there in time to catch his appointment if he walked. That left him with only one choice.

"I really hate doing this," he muttered to himself. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and took a half step forward.

One breathless, squeezing-the-life-out-of-him moment later, he opened his eyes and found himself in a bathroom stall in the same building as his appointment. Mason let out a sigh of relief, thankful to have survived Apparating yet again. Each time he did it, he expected to end up in pieces.

He heard a slight gasp. Mason winced and looked behind him at the open-mouthed, staring man sitting on the toilet.

Mason smiled and waved a little. "Just a figment of your imagination," he told the poor man. Hurriedly, before the man could come to his senses, Mason pulled open the stall door and shot out of it and the bathroom.

Once he was safely out in the corridor, he looked around. He was at City Hall. The corridor was long and white and the floor was covered in tiled, midnight blue marble. According to his post-it, the death would occur somewhere in the corridor. At the moment, however, he was the only one there.

Mason started pacing up the corridor. He stopped near the doors and, taking the map out, leaned against the wall. The streaks and blotches on the map were still there, but no new marks had appeared. Either Jexter had left the city or he was in one of the places already indicated on the map. Mason hoped it was the latter.

The doors to the men's and women's bathrooms opened simultaneously. Three men and two women walked out. Mason turned his attention to them and watched. One of the women, who clutched several bags tightly in her hands, collided with the second man. Her bags swung, and the contents of one fell out and spilled across the floor.

One of the front doors swung outward. An immaculately dressed woman in high heels walked in. Her attention was focused completely on searching through her purse.

Mason reached over and brushed his fingers against her upper arm. She didn't appear to notice and kept going. Ten feet away, she skidded on one of the objects spilled on the floor. Despite her attempts to prevent it, she lost her balance and fell with a sickening crack against the marble. Mason winced sympathetically.

The soul of B. Graceland rose up out of her body. He watched her glance around and waited for her to make her way over to him, but there was no need; Ms. Graceland required none of his assistance. A blue-tinted light lit up the far end of the corridor. Mason squinted and could just make out what looked like the entrance to a sweet shop. Smiling, he watched as she made her way over to it and walked into it.

Mason chuckled. He turned away and headed outside. Once out on the sidewalk, he headed for Listrious Place, which was three blocks away. It was the closest point on the map.

The entrance to Listrious Place was a blank wall painted brown. Only wizards or witches could pass through the barrier. The only thing that Muggles encountered was a hard wall. The lower half of the wall was covered in posters and sheets of paper advertising various Muggle-related events, bands and campaigns.

He checked to see if anyone was looking. Seeing no one, Mason slid through the barrier and emerged at the other side.

Listrious Place wasn't the only magic shopping center in town, but it was the better one. The alley was covered over by a glass awning, and the temperature underneath it was always the most desirable according to the weather outside. The floor was the color of amber and the storefronts were made up of solid browns and whites and muted colors of green, blue and red. In the middle of the alley was a small fountain whose bottom was nearly obscured by coins.

The shops were of the type one would expect to find in a magic-inclined mall. There was a store that sold magic books, quills, and ink; another sold owls and other wizarding pets. There was a larger store that doubled as a clothing and beauty supply store, and there was a sporting goods store that sold supplies for Quidditch and Quodpot.

The place was crowded. Mason wondered if there were any holidays coming up but couldn't remember any. Then again, the mall usually had a reasonable crowd in it, or at least it did on the few occasions he came there.

He walked steadily through the mall, hoping to catch a glimpse of his cousin. He didn't have any luck. Jexter may have come there before, but he'd obviously gotten what he needed then.

Mason let out a relieved breath when he stepped back through the barrier and onto the street, happy to be out of the mall. He pulled the map out again and looked for the next closest spot. It was a bar. Mason opted to scope it out that night; in the meantime, he headed for the next location, a wizarding restaurant and hotel called Barnub's.

The hotel lobby looked like any other hotel lobby, and that was on purpose; there was even a working computer behind the registration desk. Nothing magical could be found anywhere within the room. Such measures had been taken in the event that Muggles got past the Muggle Repelling Charms on the doors. The rooms beyond the lobby, however, were heavily laden with magic. There were moving portraits and photographs, radios blasting music broadcast from the Washington Wizarding World station, coffeepots that heated and poured themselves, and all sorts of other charmed objects.

This time, Mason struck pay dirt. According to the desk clerk, a J. Rayne had checked in two days ago and he had yet to check out. Mason waited until the clerk had gone to the bathroom before sneaking around the counter and searching the computer records for Jexter's room. Mason let out a quiet, "Yes!" when he'd found the room number before sneaking back around the desk and down the adjoining hall.

He passed a room containing four fireplaces where a hotel employee was collecting tolls from two witches departing by floo. Not much farther from the fireplace room, he reached the stairs and bounded up them to the fifth floor.

Jexter's room was near the end of the shorter corridor on the right. Mason knocked on the door, but as expected, no one answered. He put his ear to the door and listened for a moment, but he couldn't hear a sound from within.

He pulled his wand out and pointed it at the doorknob. "Alohomora." Nothing happened. Mason shrugged, took out his lock-picking kit and crouched down before the door handle.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" a voice demanded from behind him. Startled, Mason shot to his feet and whirled around, hiding his kit behind his back and attempting an innocent expression. He came face to face with a portrait hung on the wall directly across from the door. Annoyed, Mason queried, "What's it to you?"

"I'm supposed to guard this floor, that's what," answered the portrait, indignant. The portrait showed a bald old man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and khaki slacks. He stood posed on an empty beach. As Mason watched, a woman clad in what could barely be described as a bikini sauntered into the frame. She giggled and blew the reaper a kiss before scurrying back off the portrait.

Mason fought down a smile. It was a battle he was losing, badly. "You're supposed to guard this floor?"

The man, who according to the inscription was a Vance Hollyquick, glared at Mason. Vance's eyes narrowed and he took a step forward, suddenly curious. "You look familiar." His eyes widened, and he gaped. "It's you!" he gasped, incredulous. "My reaper!"

Mason's eyes bulged. His eyes darted down to the inscription. "V. Hollyquick?" he murmured as he reviewed his memories. It took him a bit, but he suddenly remembered it. Mason didn't remember the names of every soul he'd reaped, but Hollyquick was an unusual name. It had been twenty years ago, give or take a year. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember the particulars. "Um�live wire, wasn't it?"

Vance nodded. "Damn lightning hit an electricity wire and the wire fell on the pool while I was in it." He shook his head in wonder. "It really is you, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Mason said, nodding. He cocked his head and glanced around. Curious, he asked, "Can all portraits remember how they died? I mean, how the real people died?"

Vance shrugged. "No idea. I just remembered it myself. It all came to me when I recognized you." He shook his head and folded his arms across his head. "So. Still in the reaping business?" He stiffened and resumed glaring. "Or do you rob hotel rooms for a living now?"

"Er�" Somehow, Mason didn't think it was a good time to bring up the whole reapers-don't-get-paid-so-he-stole-from-the-recently-dead part of his afterlife. Instead, he hastily placed his kit back inside his jeans and asked, "Look, about the bloke that's staying here, when was the last time you saw him?"

Vance studied him. "You going to take his soul or something?"

"Or something," replied Mason, smiling slightly.

The portrait shrugged. "He came by late last night but left early this morning, hasn't been by since."

"Damn," Mason muttered. He debated waiting up there for his cousin. His stomach chose that moment to announce its presence, and Mason decided it would be a better use of his time to wait downstairs in the restaurant. "Well, thanks for everything," he told Vance. He started walking back down the corridor only to pause. "Oh, and about the whole reaping thing-"

"I know, I know, I won't tell." Vance smiled conspiratorially. "The wizarding world may be used to ghosts, but grim reapers, as we both know, are just a myth."

Mason laughed. He liked this guy, portrait, whatever. "Thanks."

Over the years, Mason had become particular adept at waiting idly for things to happen. It was an important part of being a reaper to stay as much on the sidelines as possible; that way, he had the least amount of influence on his surroundings. Granted, this was a situation where such precaution was unnecessary, but Mason utilized those skills anyway. He sat in one of the lobby sofas and spent several hours scanning magazine articles and studying the map. If Jexter didn't show before nine, Mason was going to start searching the bars. He checked his watch. It was six thirty.

Someone plopped down next to him on the couch. Mason glanced up from the map and grinned. "Jess!" he said, shaking his fellow reaper's hand.

"Mason, my man!" While Mason worked in the External Influences Division, Jesse worked in the Natural Causes Division. Jesse was an overweight thirty-something of mixed Asian/Native American ancestry, though he'd been born and raised in Sarasota, Florida.

Mason glimpsed the post-it note in Jesse's hand. "Here on business?" he inquired.

"Yep." He held up the post-it for Mason to see. Mason let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he saw it wasn't Jexter. "How about you?" Jesse asked.

Mason shook his head. "Nope, not this time. I'm waiting for someone." He glanced around again, but Jexter hadn't shown. "I ran into a portrait of a man I reaped. He recognized me."

Jesse looked surprised. "He did?" He glanced around, relaxing again when he realized there were no portraits to be seen in the lobby. "Freaky."

"You're telling me." He rubbed his nose, which itched. "I got me a new place. It's a nice one. How 'bout you?"

Jesse shook his head. "I rent a room here. I have to. Last two months, the people I've reaped either have massive numbers of family members that claim the house almost immediately, or they were guests in hotels."

"Now that is fucked up."

"You're telling me."

Shouts suddenly resounded into the lobby from within the corridor that led to the stairs. "Get away from me, you asshole!"

"But, Kate-honey, wait!"

"Don't you dare call me honey, you two-timin' little asswipe!"

Mason smiled, amused. Kate was an inventive one, if the words she continued to shout at her ex-lover were anything to go by.

"I believe that's my cue," Jesse whispered to Mason as he stood up. Mason merely nodded, afraid that if he tried to talk, only laughter would spill out. He covered his mouth with a hand in an effort to conceal his merriment.

Kate rounded the corner and stalked into the lobby, trailing a suitcase on wheels after her. She scowled at everyone she caught looking at her.

Her boyfriend appeared behind her. He looked very distraught, and he was panting heavily. A hand clutched his chest. He followed Kate on unsteady feet. "Kate, please, let me explain."

With a look of rage, Kate whirled on her heels and stared him down. He froze, wide-eyed, and visibly gulped. "What is there to explain, Jake? You had your hands all over her! You are nothing but a lying, cheating little shit for brains!"

Jake took a deep breath. He was shaking now. Mason idly wondered what was wrong with him, but didn't try to guess. He'd find out in a moment.

He watched as Jesse passed directly behind Jake, patting his back as if in sympathy. Jake didn't seem to notice. By this time, he was shaking like a leaf.

"Kate, I-I love you, you k-know�"

With a gasp and a shudder, Jake collapsed. He'd had a heart attack.

Kate watched as he fell to the floor. All anger drained from her features. "Jake?" she asked tentatively.

Spectators rushed forward, among them the desk clerk, as they realized something had gone terribly wrong. Jesse maneuvered around them on his way to the door, and Jake's soul followed behind him. Jesse waved at Mason before leaving the hotel, and Mason waved back.

An hour later, the hotel lobby was nearly empty again. The ambulance had come and gone, taking Jake's body and a distraught Kate with them. Various hotel patrons meandered about, discussing the death in the lobby in quiet tones, but Mason ignored them. He glanced up from the magazine only whenever he heard the door open.

At ten past eight, Mason glanced up and grinned happily. Jexter had just walked in. He walked across the lobby and entered the corridor without even noticing the reaper. Mason got up and followed him. He jogged to catch up before his cousin could ascend the stairs. "Hullo, Jex."

Jexter whipped out his wind and pivoted around, settling into a defensive position before he'd stopped turning.

Mason quickly held up his hands. "Woah! No need to hex me into the next millenium."

Jexter stiffened, eyes widening. "Mason? What are you doing here?"

Mason shrugged. "Looking for you. Look, I'm not going to reap you, alright? At least not today."

Jexter's eyes narrowed. "What about tomorrow?"

He shrugged again. "No clue. I hope not, though."

His cousin relaxed and lowered his arm. He licked his lips. "You are a grim reaper, though, right?"

Mason glanced around. He really hoped no one was listening in, or Rube would kill him just that much more. "Right."

When Jexter didn't raise his wand again, Mason decided it was safe to lower his arms. "So what brings you to Seattle, cuz?"

"The usual," Jexter began, then deciding that Mason might not know what that was, continued, "Fighting evil, keeping the balance."

"'F-fighting evil'?" Mason repeated, incredulous. "What the crap would you do that for?" Who was this man and what had he done to his cousin?

Jexter shrugged and smiled ruefully. "A lot of things have happened since you died, Mace." He made a face and bit his lip at this reminder.

Mason shifted from one foot to the other self-consciously. "Look, could we maybe�talk?" Mason ventured, uncertain. "Like, in your room or something?"

Jexter licked dry lips. After a moment, he nodded. "Alright. It's on the fifth floor."

The two wizards ascended the stairs in an awkward silence.

"Oh, hey, it's you again," Vance greeted Mason conversationally. Jexter shot his cousin a suspicious look, but then just rolled his eyes. Mason just looked amused.

"How's the beach?" Mason asked the portrait.

Vance grinned. "The babes are to die for." As he said this, two bikini-clad women wandered into the frame tossing a volleyball between them.

Mason chuckled. "Well, have fun with that, then."

Jexter unlocked the door and he and Mason entered the hotel room. It looked like an ordinary hotel room, for the most part. Out of curiosity, Mason went over to the closet and opened one of the doors of the wardrobe.

A rush of air flew out at his face, accompanied by a deep-throated scream. The door wrenched itself out of his grasp and slammed back shut.

"Careful, now," Jexter warned mildly, "I think there's something living in there."

"You should complain," Mason advised, just as mildly.

His cousin only shrugged. "It's the last thing on my mind, really."

He plopped down on one of the beds. Mason pulled out one of the chairs from under the table. "So�" Jexter began nervously, rubbing his hands together. "Been in the reaping business long?"

Mason shrugged. "Pretty much the entirety of my afterlife, actually." He cleared his throat. "Listed, Jex, exactly what are you doing here in Seattle?"

He sighed. "Like I said, a lot of things have happened since you�died. I own a shop in Cleveland now."

Mason fought down a smile. "Cleveland? What on Earth are you doing in Cleveland?"

Jexter looked hurt. "It's a center of mystical convergence!"

Mason coughed to hide his chuckles. "Right. So, what d'you sell?"

"Mostly wizarding supplies for potions and herbology. I have a whole greenhouse, too, really popular with the locals-I have the largest selection of magical plants and ingredients in town." He smiled, proudly. "I even cater to the Slayers!"

Mason's brow furrowed. "The who?"

Jexter gave him a frustrated glare. "The Slayers! Merlin's beard, Mace, don't reapers keep up with the times?" He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That's not important, at any rate." He sighed. "A little over a week ago, someone broke into my shop. They took a number of my more rarer items - some leaves, a few books. They were also my most valuable. That's why I've decided to track the thief down myself. If I advertise the fact that I even had the eleventh edition of The Most Gruesome of Dark Magicks, the Council is going to have my hide, no matter if I've sometimes helped them out or not. There's also the fact that whoever stole those things are obviously up to no good, no good at all."

Mason gaped at him. "Are you telling me that you've taken it upon yourself to track down someone who is probably a very powerful dark wizard?" He wanted to strangle his cousin. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Jexter glared at him. "No, I am not out of my fucking mind! I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Oh, really." Mason crossed his arms. "And exactly how have you gone about looking for this thief?"

"I used Wiccan Magic."

Mason's jaw dropped. Astonishment and wonder rushed into him. "'W-wiccan Magic?" he repeated, unable to think of anything coherent to say. He'd heard of such magic. It was the kind anyone could do, no matter if they were demon, magical creature, wizard or Muggle. Still, it took a considerable amount of skill and training to perform it successfully, and even then one needed to have a gigantic amount of self-control to keep from becoming addicted to the power Wiccan Magic offered. Everyone Mason knew who'd ever attempted Wiccan Magic had become addicted; he'd heard of people who had overcome their addictions, but they were few and far between.

He wondered what could have possessed his cousin to even think of trying it. Just how much had changed since they'd last seen each other? In 1966, Jexter had been barely twenty-five and still acted like he was fresh from Hogwarts. Jexter had been co-owner of a shop in Diagon Alley and had given the impression that he was happy there. Cheslie probably wasn't perfectly content, though, Mason reflected, thinking of Jexter's wife. She had been the adventurous type and had always pestered Jexter to go traveling with her. She must have gotten her wish if Jexter now owned a shop on a center of mystical convergence.

"Do you even know any Wiccan Magic?" Mason questioned, disbelieving.

"I know enough," Jexter said, shifted uncomfortably. "Not enough to get helplessly addicted. Like I said, I help the Slayers sometimes, and they've got a few Wiccans among them that've taught me a few things." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, there are only certain spells that one would need The Most Gruesome of Dark Magicks for. I performed a Wiccan spell that allowed me to sense when one of those spells was being performed. It worked, and I sensed one of those spells being performed here, in Seattle. So I came here."

"And exactly what spells can be found in The Most Gruesome of Dark Magicks?"

"Oh, nothing much," Jexter said, attempting nonchalance. "Just a few chaos spells, some world-ending rituals, no big deal-"

Mason shot to his feet. "'World-ending rituals?' 'A few chaos spells'? What the fuck are you trying to pull, carrying a book like that in your shop?!"

"I didn't want it!" Jexter said, hotly. "It just showed up one day in my shop! I don't know how it even got there!"

Mason laughed. "Oh, that's just bloody nice, isn't it? And you didn't think to destroy it?"

"Well, of course I tried! But I've never been very good at Charms, you know that."

"Fucking-" Mason bit off the curse and ran a hand through his messy hair. Furious, he took a step forward and bent over, sticking an index finger in his cousin's face. Glaring, he warned, "If you end the fucking world, Jexter, I swear to you, I will make sure you aren't able to move on, do you hear me?"

Jexter leaned away from the finger that was close to burying itself in his eye with each thrust. He stared up at his cousin, fear overtaking him for a moment as he remembered just what his cousin was now. The moment passed, and resolve overtook him again.

"The world isn't going to end," Jexter said, resolutely. "I've got a pretty good idea of which ritual he's performing, and I think I may know how to stop him. All I have to do is find the guy." He smiled hopefully up at Mason. "Care to help?"

Part Three