My great aunt is from the old country, and she has one hell of a nose for occult items. If you let her wrinkled highness within ten feet of anything carrying a curse, that old lady will sniff it out for you.
Of course, not a lot of people know how to handle cursed items, these days, and even less want to deal with them. That’s how my business, Snakebit & Co., came into existence. It’s basically a hands-off, magically protected repository for all the cursed paraphernalia people don’t want to deal with. You can’t destroy a cursed item, but, for a modest monthly storage fee, you’ll never have to come in contact with it again.
Curses are a funny thing, though—it turns out that one woman’s karmic trash is another one’s treasure. For instance, I recently took in a crystal ball belonging to a recovering nympho fortune teller. That ball had been cursed by an ex-lover and every single time she looked in the glass, guess what happened? Faster than you could say Chippendales dancer, a Grade A, UDSA approved man appeared.
Now, the nympho might be tired of all the men but, well, let’s just say the president of Snakebit & Co. has been going through a bit of a dry spell in the boudoir, lately, so … she’s currently learning all there is to know about the scrying game.