It was Clem. There had been a meeting. I hate it when people have a meeting. It always ends up that whoever’s missing gets the shaft and since I’... the schmuck who’s always seeing the world via every little dumbshit town in America the Beautiful-that would be me. This was no exception. My bosses had decided that rather than gamble that what had happened in New Mexico was a fluke (Which is what some of our greedier brethren were insisting.) this time they’d listen to the voice of doom-better. "What . How?" asked the third listener, a dark-haired man with broadshoulders."I warned the gentleman," Keep said. Six eyes looked at him curiously."It seems when the sorceress cast her spell, she also cursed the barstool theman had been sitting on." He motioned to the stool the woman was on. "Thatstool."The three men all backed away slightly, as if the curse extended beyond theseat. Looking as close as they dared, the red-haired woman was sitting on aplain wooden stool."Now any man who sits in. More

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