"Gerard?" Ratty asks with a little out of breath.

Turtle shakes his head.

"If he's dead, then that just leaves Sam as our only suspect left." Ratty jumps up and down in excitement.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go interrogate Sam!"

"Yeah! Let's get outta here first. We are heavily injured and tired. Need some rest first."

"Of course." Turtle nods. "Let's get back to our car and drive off to home."

Turtle and Ratty go to their car, ready to head back home. The loud roar off the engine spooks the neighborhood dogs. The feel of the car racing through the street causes Turtle to feel amazing as the car zips past every old shop and building.

The Mercer's engine hums as the rising sun's beams spill over them. Turtle and Ratty are driving with a joy like no other. The world seems to be their oyster and there's nothing they could want more in the world.

"We're going to nail that bastard." Ratty says out of the blue, staring straight ahead. "I can feel it."

"I know, me too."

It takes a few minutes before Ratty utters any more but when he does it's more like a torrent of words.

"I wanted to kill that guy so bad, I got so angry." Ratty says. "And I so wanted to kill his stupid little dog too."

"I know what you mean." Turtle nods. "The bastard had it coming, but there's no need to harm the stupid dog."

"You're right. It’s just stupid. Without it’s master, it can't do anything bad. With good parenting, it might become a very good boy. Not sure if the stupidity will be cured, though. But, that's adorable."

It's nearly 7 in the morning by the time they reach the office. Turtle opens the door to the office, allowing Ratty to go first, and then lock the door behind him. It feels like a million years since he last set foot here. He's bruised, beaten, scorched and tired and all he wants to do is fall onto the sofa and have a good long sleep.

"Now, let's see what we can do about necking a few of these bottles and cans." Ratty suggests. "We got some great stuff here."

"Yeah, and this will help us get a good night's sleep." Turtle says looking at his wounds. "Nothing like a good healing sleep after a long night fighting crime."

Ratty is quiet as he works, methodically going through the office's alcohol reserves. Then, he eventually falls asleep.

They sleep for a good nine hours. Ratty wakes up first, stretching and scratching himself. "Jesus wept," he mumbles, as he goes over to Turtle who is still sleeping.

"Turtle?" he whispers, shaking his shoulder. "Turtle. Wake up."

Turtle wakes with a groan, throwing an arm across his face to block the sunlight coming from the window.

"Jesus, what the fuck time is it?"

"I dunno. Before 10 am I guess." Ratty says. "Do we have a plan, Mr. Detective?"

Turtle yawns and staggers into the bathroom, splash cold water on his face and brushes his teeth while he formulates. Lady Kelso has a death curse hanging over her. The same with Turtle and Ratty.

Magic like that, once it has been cast, keeps coming back until it gets the job done. Like the proverbial bad penny, it will just keep turning up. Even if he figured out who cast the spell, caught them and killed them, the curse would still kill the target.

First order of business is disarming the death curse, but that kind of magic is way out of Turtles league. Even if he had the right spell components and knew the counter spell, it probably wouldn't work. He doesn't have a whole lot of talent for dismissing black magic curses, but he knows someone who might be able to help. He pats his face dry with a mostly clean towel and then pours himself a drink from the bottle on his desk. "Someone put a powerful hex on us" Turtle tells Ratty. "A death curse to be exact. We're going to see about getting it dispelled."

Ratty: "How come we didn't do that from the beginning?"

"Two reasons," Turtle says. "First, I couldn't be sure we were actually dealing with magic. Some people see poltergeists in every shadow."

Ratty: "And the second?"

Turtle picks up his coat, finds it is still sopping wet and attempts to wring out some of the moisture. "This is high level magic. It don't come free," He tells ratty.

"We don't have much money at the moment!" Ratty panics.

"Money isn't the issue."

"You just said it wouldn't be free"

"I said it wouldn't be free. I didn't say it costs money."

Turtle sits at his desk and pulls out a piece of paper. He writes something down and then passes the note to Ratty.

"What's that?"

"It's an address to the abandoned circus." says Turtle.

"How do you know about that place?"

"I been there once"

"Why did you go there?"

"Long story. I know an Oracle who lives there. She's a shaman. She can lift the curse."

Turtle and Ratty are heading towards the abandoned circus. Driving the car.

As he passes by the Blue Dream bar and enters the seedy part of town, he thinks back on his last visit to this area.

It was right after his divorce. He and Luda went to the circus, which was performing in town. They sat in the upper level of the big top and ate cotton candy and gazed at the performers. This little happy moments of life make the life worth living. Perhaps, the passage of time makes life seem meaningless, but the true meaning lies dormant at the present with all those little moments. 

"That was a good time," Turtle thinks.

They enter to the outskirts of town, along a dusty road to the front gate of a forgotten circus. The wrought-iron fence that hems in the grounds is grown over with creeper vines. The tents, their red and yellow stripes bleached by the sun, look like they've been standing there long before the city came along and they'll go on standing long after the port town has dried up and all the people move on.

A breeze lifts the top of the nearest tent. It snaps back down. A large ferris wheel rears up at one corner of the park like an ancient monolith to a forgotten god. There is a rusting old tilta-whirl and a gilded carousel, too. The sign over the front gate reads "Trippy Circus".

The tires crunch on the gravel drive. Ratty shifts the car into park, plucks the stub of cigar from his mouth and gives a low whistle. "Sure this is where you want to be, pal?"

"Of course it is," Turtle answers. "This place hasn't changed in many years." He gets out of the car. "Where are you?" he calls.

"Over here!" a girl's voice calls from behind a tent. Turtle drops to one knee and peeks under the edge of one of the tents.

Two magical mannequins are guarding the tent. They're dressed in shimmering silver cloaks. One has her head cocked to the side, as though listening for them. The mannequins are holding weapons. They dance and welcome Turtle and Ratty.

Turtle and ratty get caught up in the spiels of the mannequins: how they're magical; how they're immortal; how they've been here since the beginning of time. They don't believe in the passing of time, because they've seen it all unfold since the first dawn of creation.

The girl is hunched over a table covered with weird stuff. They spot a purple glass bottle full of clear liquid. It emanates a faint, pleasant smell. There are three glass tubes with dark, offensive smoke drifting up from them. An old-fashioned retort with a Bunsen burner sits on the table. The girl is touching something over a piece of parchment. She turns towards Turtle.

She has wild black hair and a twisted, maniacal grin. It's hard to tell if she's pretty or not. Her eyes are completely black, like the iris's have been painted out.

The tent is much bigger inside than it looks from the outside. It's like he stepped into a different dimension.

That's often the case with magical abodes, though Turtle couldn't say why. It disturbed and disoriented him the first time. Now he doesn't bother questioning it. Go try to figure these things out and you might drive yourself insane.

The place is cluttered with colorful pillows, cooking pans, bladed weapons, scarves, a hookah pipe, mason jars full of magical ingredients and more things they don't even recognize. They certainly couldn't name them. Amongst all this various and sundry chaos sits a wizened girl with watery black eyes and skin like dried-up parchment. She's sitting cross-legged on a low stool. If she pulled out a rug and flew away it wouldn't surprise them much. She takes hit from the hookah pipe and blows vapor in their direction. The sickly-sweet smell of whatever she is smoking invades their nostrils.

Turtle tips his head at her. "Mazilla. Always good to see you."

Mazilla sniffs. While Ratty standing, Turtle unearths another stool from a mountain of blankets, pillows and yarns, have a seat and say to Mazillia , "I need a counter-spell. Someone is trying to kill a friend using some serious mojo. Maybe some of those defensive charms wouldn't go amiss either."

Mazilla continues puffing on the hookah. Her watery black eyes bore into Turtles like she can see right down into his soul.

"Look, I know we've never seen eye-to-eye" Turtle tells her. "But a lot of innocent people are getting killed. More are going to die unless you help me counter that death curse. What's it going to take to earn your help?"

Ratty adds " Some bottle of fine booze, maybe?"

"I don't deal with alcohol, weapons, women, or illegal substances." Shaman Mazilla's madder than a boxful of grizzly bears.

Turtle: "Geez, what kind of shaman are you?"

A small smile creases Mazilla's face, "You're still as bad as they say you are." She says, "A trial is required to dispell the death curse."

"A trial? For fuck's sake, I'm a detective!" Turtle snaps.

"It’s not easy to dispell a death curse. Even if you kill your enemy, the curse will remain. So, a trial is part of the standard ritual for dispelling the curse." says Mazilla.

"Well, what do I have to do?" asks Turtle.

She says, "What you need is the Spider's breath."

"What?"

Mazilla doesn't answer.

Mazilla goes over to a tiny shelf and grabs a black jar. She opens it and reveals a green substance like jade snakes. "Step back." Mazilla says.

Turtle readies himself. He's going to have to breathe near that stuff.

"Go. The trial begins!" Mazilla blows smoke and exhales directly into Turtle's face.

It's like breathing a cloud of mosquitos.

Turtle immediately covers his eyes. The smoke is so thick he can't open them. Even with his eyes closed, he can see everything is green. He starts coughing and hacks up green phlegm.

When it clears, he still sees everything is green. He opens his eyes slowly. As soon as he does, the scenery changes!