Time Square is a sensory overload waiting to happen—the heart of the city that never sleeps. Between the flashing boards, blaring traffic, and constantly moving people, it’s nearly impossible to find something in the mess.
Nearly being the keyword.
I leaned against the side of a building, slowly chewing a classic
Leave the dead to their derby, and they’ll leave the living to theirs. The ghosts don’t hurt anyone; they come, celebrate, and leave at midnight once a year. Horse races mean a lot to folks around here.
That’s what the old hillbilly had said as he pumped Reynolds’ gas. But leaving ghosts alone…
It isn’t positively raining, but there is a mist in the air that seeps through one’s clothes. A young boy stands beneath a lamppost, staring across the cobbled street. One trouser knee is patched, and the other needs patching. He shrugs his shoulders and buries his cold hands deeper into his pockets.
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Most people are skeptical when they hear a sentient cake has a PI’s license, but get your picture in the paper enough, and you begin to gain credibility with a capital C. That, and the delicious smell of my chocolate ganache, is how Agatha Vanderbruin Von Marnestein found her way to my office.
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Herman McMillan was the best detective in the history of crime, and I was the only one who knew it.
There was that time he found a murderer hiding in the air vents of a drugstore after using his dachshund to follow the scent of the cheeseburger left in the victim’s apartment. Another time McMillan returned
“Vampires, Marshal. Was a vampire that did it,” said the stout hotel manager.
Roland Chadwick, Deputy US Marshal, removed his fingers from the bite mark against Judge Wilkens’s neck. “Should send for a doctor.”
The manager leaned over the lawman’s shoulder. “Ain’t one in town, just the barber. He’s only good with stitches
Detective Caspian cupped the brittle gray blossom in his hands. That it had once been a rose was hardly believable. As he handled it, the petals crumbled to ash.
The ocelot beside him nudged his elbow, and he held the mess of gray dust out to the wild cat.
“Leslie, what do you think?”
Lykaina slid the box across the desk with a gentle smile. “A gift from the marshes of Hecate.”
Mr. Collins opened the lid and inhaled deeply. His eyes drifted closed. “Fresh cranberries. Marvelous.”
“Perhaps not the bounty one would receive from Demeter…” Lyka spread her hands. “But we share what is ours.”
“Of all the things we could do on your first trip as a Nightmare Hunter, you pick this.” Coppelia Potts carefully guided her submarine through the dark waters. Huge floodlights illuminated murky depths while her brother, Wolfgang, scanned the monitors for any signs of life.
Seth, their Nightmare Hunter trainee, leaned back
Sadie gives herself sixty seconds to decide the course of the rest of her life.
Follow the scorched trail or forget her entire investigation.
Arson investigator Detective Sadie Jenkins has spent six months following every lead on the arsons in the Northern National Parks. Though she’s sacrificed countless nights of sleep investigating the
Coppelia Potts, Nightmare Hunter, watched her brother Wolfgang pick up a tiny stone bird. He shuddered as he offered it to her.
“You know that scene in Narnia where the White Witch turns the animals to statues?” He swallowed as Coppelia turned the unfortunate bluebird around in her hands. “That’s what I feel
Planet Kraken’s space port was one of the busiest in the galaxy—the perfect place for smugglers to sneak goods out right from under the government’s nose.
Leaning against my leg, Rigel whined, his ears pricked forward. I knelt beside him, rubbing his head. His coat looked a little shaggy; my best mate
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