Sam assumed that the talking pile of trash was either someone's idea of a joke or an elaborate hallucination to go along with the talking rats.

  "Well, hello there, Spirit," she said cautiously. "I'm here like you asked. What can I do for you?"

  Spirits were not unheard of. Ghosts would frequent their haunts or occasionally possess a hapless victim. They could be problematic if they thought they had unfinished business here on Earth. But a simple exorcism would send them on their way. Sam knew how to do those.

  There were old stories of nature spirits that were either beneficial or treacherous or both, depending on who was telling the story. She had never heard of anything like this, though, and her skepticism always led her to the right places.

  The Spirit smiled patiently and said, "Samantha Fontaine, I know you do not believe me. I am the spirit of the city, as old as the first brick laid in the first building, and as old as the dirt paths worn by bare feet and wagon wheels pulled by horses. I am older even, because where every city is born, the potential for a city always existed, and I am that."

  "I have called you here to help protect you, and to prepare you, and to guide you. You do not need to believe who I am. You do not need to believe anything. I can show you what is about to happen."

  "Okay," said Sam. "Thanks. Lay it on me thick."

  "First, I should teach you about cities. Long ago, before humans settled in cities, they wandered and no cities were born. And those unborn cities did not yet have spirits. Instead, the humans that wandered were close to the spirits of the land. This was enough for a time. But when humans began to settle in places, the places they made formed spirits.

  "If the city is roads and buildings, and the people that occupy them, the spirit of the city is what comes from the collection of all of that.

  "Humans have learned to use magic of a sort. They make their sigils and they call out to vast powers and those powers answer and grant them back a fraction of what they offer. They never realize how unfair those trades are.

  "Cities are a pure sort of magic, the kind humans never finished learning. They found the demons and this was enough for them. But there is strong magic in the art humans make, and in the music they sing, and in their dances.

  "I was here at the beginning and I will be here at the end. I want to protect all of you despite your flaws, despite your evil hearts. You, in your own way, created me and I, in my own way, have protected you.

  "Since the angels were exiled and the demons took over, the world has been out of balance. I was weakened by the cataclysm, the wars that raged, and the sudden shift of power.

  "For centuries I have slept. Now I am strong enough to exert my will once again. The world and my city are in danger. I cannot allow this. Yet, weak as I am, I cannot act on my own. I need your help, Samantha. I need you to lend me your cleverness, determination, and strength."

  Now Sam was on surer footing. This was a client. The client had vague terms she needed to clarify. And she needed to negotiate her pay.

  "Sounds like you're hiring," said Sam. Wary as she was, she would still accept any sort of client, be they human or spirit, she supposed.

  "I know you doubt me still," replied the Spirit. "Let us discuss your pay. It may go quite a long way to earning your trust."

  The Spirit stretched out her hand, palm up. A glimmer came from one of the piles of refuse, a great mound made of the city's debris. The glimmer shot toward the Spirit's waiting hand. She caught it and held up a single gold coin.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Consider this a deposit," the Spirit said. "A retainer for your services. Each time I ask something of you, I will find you another one of these.”

  Sam took the offered coin. She eyed it suspiciously. It bore the Emperor's profile, and on the back was the eagle seal of the American Empire. She bit into it. The soft yellow metal gave way to her teeth. It was real. A gold coin was more than she hoped to make in ten years of taking on the sort of poor, desperate clients available to her. Anybody who could afford a gold coin wouldn’t hire Sam. They would go to a diviner or another type of sorcerer who could directly solve their problem rather than traipsing about in, say, a dirty sewer looking for a lost dog.

  Sam was suddenly grateful for the rats.

  "Okay," said Sam. "You have my full and undivided attention. Now, tell me what I have to do in exchange. I'm keeping this, by the way."

  The Spirit gave a soft, ringing laugh that sounded like wedding bells heard from far away.

  "Of course," she said. "I think it is better now to do without words. Allow me to show you some of the coming dangers and the allies who can help you become who you need to be to meet them.”

  The Spirit extended one of her constructed hands and touched Sam gently on the forehead. The world faded.

  In a ruined church, Sam saw Missy, the little girl who asked her to find her dog. She was crying in the darkness. Her mother walked towards her. A man stood behind her mother, his eyes red, his fangs bared. Blood dripped from Missy's mother's hands. She stretched them out to her daughter. The vision faded.

  Next, Sam saw a group of men sitting round a table. Their faces were hidden by masks, their heads covered with hoods. The men discussed murder. Above them stood the Van Thorne heiress. Her pale skin glittered in the candlelight. Moonlight spilled on her back, framing her pale hair. It looked like it was made of icy fire. They were coming to kill Sam. Again, the vision faded.

  Sam was next shown a man dressed in black cultist robes she was already sick of seeing. His skin looked rotted and thin. But his eyes looked determined and filled with hatred. He stared right at Sam as if he could see her. Behind him, an army of soulless corpses walked, their eyes white with death, their mouths slack. He was coming for Sam, and everyone in the city would pay the price for his anger.

  The final vision faded. Sam was once again standing in the middle of a garbage dump, talking to animated trash.

  "Thank you for the warning, Spirit," she said. "You mentioned that I would have allies. Will you show me them?"

  The Spirit once again reached out and touched Sam. The world once again faded.

  Now, she saw Lisa Everson, who had been possessed. Her blonde hair blew in the wind. Behind her stood a fearsome horned beast. Its red skin taut over a muscled frame, its black eyes glaring. It had its hands on the woman's shoulders. It was ready to fight.

  Next, she saw her friend Emil, the once-diviner. He had helped her a few times in the past because he owed her a favor. When she was looking for the Van Thorne demons, he helped her again for the low price of a finger. He was sitting in his apartment, hunched over a library full of musty books. He was reading one of his books. He looked up, looked directly at Sam, shut the book, and pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to stop a headache.

  Finally, she saw a man wearing boxing gloves. He sat on a stool in the corner of a boxing ring, elbows on his knees, head bowed. His dark skin glistened with sweat. His nose was flat and wide, like it had been compressed over and over. He lifted his head, a look of grim determination on his face, his eyes golden with slits like a cat’s. He stood, entered the ring, and raised his fists.

  The world faded back in for Sam.

  She regarded the Spirit and said, "Okay. So I deal with problems I was going to have to deal with anyway. And you're going to give me a gold coin every time I do it. Is that the deal you're working on right now?"

  "Yes," the Spirit said, simply.

  "Why?" asked Sam. "Why pay me for something that I was going to have to do in the first place?"

  The Spirit responded, "Because I want you to trust me. Because I want you to come when I call. Because I want you to understand that protecting this city is worth more than you can possibly imagine."

  "I would do all of those things immediately for just one more gold coin," said Sam.

  Sam made her way back to her apartment. In light of her newfound wealth, the place seemed shabby. She didn't have enough energy or time to consider moving again. This neighborhood knew her, the people here were starting to trust her, and those were worth a considerable amount. Not quite a gold coin, but they were worth something.

  The Spirit's vision had shown the little girl Missy, who'd hired her to find Rex. If the vision was to be trusted, Missy was in danger. She needed to find this ruined church before the monster from the vision got to her.

  Before she was able to make any progress on that, or try and get drunk again, the phone rang.

  "Hello? Samantha Fontaine? This is Sarah Everson. I'm sorry to disturb you again. But we're having another problem. It's my husband this time. I think he's been possessed."