“That woman needs a muzzle more than your dogs,” Greer said. “You better get, son.”
“Come on,” Parker said to me. “My place is just three streets down.” He didn’t bother waiting for me to answer as he headed in the opposite direction of my uncle’s café. Smooshie and I were right on his tail.
So was Mrs. Kapersky.
“Parker!” The woman used his name like a demand. “I know you can hear me.”
I looked back over my shoulder. Her blonde hair had enough hair spray that it barely moved, even with her brisk pace. She flapped her pocketbook in our direction.
“I think she’s going to follow you all the way to the shelter.”
“Probably,” Parker said. He stopped and turned. “Mrs. Kapersky. So nice to see you.” Even though his words had been meant as a polite kindness, I could taste the lie like a green persimmon’s bitterness on my tongue, an unfortunate side effect of my witch inheritance.
“I saw that dog of yours running around the streets.” Her finger shook as she pointed it at him. “Between your beasts and the crazy drivers, this town is turning dangerous for folks to even walk around in.”
Had she seen my near miss with the car, or had she had a close encounter of her own?
The creases between Parker’s eyes deepened. “My dogs have never hurt anyone, and you know it.”
“The board meets this week, and I promise you, we will be voting on whether to ban the shelter from the city limits.”
“Mrs. Kapersky.” Parker’s body went rigid, his hands flexing as if self-control was something he had to practice. “This is Lily Mason. She’s adopting the dog right now. You won’t have to worry about her anymore.”
“Too little too late,” the woman snapped.
Parker’s dad was right behind her. “If you want a real cause, Katie, you’d get this sign fixed. Miss Mason here almost got ran over.”
The woman turned her laser beam eyes to the mechanic. “You stay out of this, Greer.” And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed off.
Parker shook his head.
His dad said, “That woman was born in a briar patch and never got all the thorns out of her sorry hide.”
“That’s no lie,” Parker agreed.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Miss Mason,” Greer said.
I nodded at him. “Thanks.”
“All right.” He gestured toward his son, who was already heading off again. “Parker’s a good kid. He’ll take care of you. I’ll give him a call when the truck is ready.” The scowl on his face returned as he stared down the street at the Kapersky woman. “Have a nice day, Miss Mason.”
It took a minute to catch up with Parker. Smooshie, who’d been silent during Mrs. Kapersky’s tirade, whined. Her sad gaze made me want to go werecougar on the horrid woman. I know it had only been five minutes, but Smooshie was under my protection now. Anyone foolish enough to be mean to her would find my claws in their behind.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
Parker scratched behind her ear. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he said. “She’s an old witch.”
Alarm rang through me. A witch was responsible for the deaths of my parents and my brother. While I knew they weren’t all bad, my best friend Haze, for example, I also knew that a rogue witch could cause a lot of damage and chaos. “A witch? How old?” The older ones tended to be more powerful, and as wrinkly as she looked, she had to be a thousand years or more.
“I’m pretty sure the crone celebrated her sixtieth birthday last year.”
“Only sixty?” I tucked my chin. She couldn’t have strong magic. I was still getting used to my own witch DNA, and I didn’t really have a hold on my own power yet. The blonde hair marked Mrs. Kapersky as a creator. “Do you have many…witches living in Moonrise?”
“We have our share, just like anywhere else.”
Really? It surprised me that he would know about witches. I was certain this was a human-only town, with the exception of my uncle. Hazel, now the chief of police in my hometown of Paradise Falls, had lived in the human world for nearly two decades, and no one had been the wiser. She said it was pretty easy to hide. But she’d been a witch, not a Shifter, and I wondered if it was easier to hide magic than shifting.
“Does she have a coven?” I asked.
Parker raised his brow at me. “A what?”
“Mrs. Kapersky. I just wondered if she had a coven because I don’t sense her magic.”
“If by magic, you mean pure meanness, then yeah. That woman is a demon.”
Was she a witch or a demon? I was lost. Surely, Uncle Buzz would have mentioned if paranormal beings lived here.
He studied me. “I don’t mean she’s a real witch. She likes to complain about everything all the time and stir up trouble.”
Oh. I blushed. He wasn’t talking about real witches. Duh. “I think the word you’re looking for starts with a B. I’ve known a few of those, too. Ironic she’s married to the preacher.”
“No doubt.”
The rescue shelter smelled nicer than I thought it would. I mean, it definitely smelled like dog, but when you housed a bunch of dogs, that couldn’t be helped.
“How many do you have?”
“Right now I have enough room to take care of twenty dogs, but only enough volunteers for about eight. I’m trying to save enough to buy some property outside of town. I want to build a large shelter on at least ten acres to house at least two hundred dogs.” He shook his head. “I hate having to turn away a pit bull that needs care and attention. Some of them come to me in pretty bad shape.”
I hated to think of what Smooshie must have gone through before her rescue. “Do you take care of them by yourself?”
“I have two employees and some volunteers. Good folks who will come and hang out with the dogs in care, re-socialize them to people. When they are ready, we have foster homes who keep them until we can get them adopted. Like with children, it takes a village. We get donations in from all over the state, money, food, and such. The local vet office, Petry’s Pet Clinic, vaccinates the dogs for free, and neuters and spays them for me.”
“That’s really nice of the vet.”
“Ryan Petry is an old buddy. I usually ask for a small adoption fee from prospective owners. What I get, I give to Ryan. It covers his costs for the medicines.”
“How do you keep it going? I mean, if you give away the adoption fees?”
He chuckled. “The rest of this place is paid for with donations from animal lovers all over the state. We have regular monthly and one-time donors. It’s not a lot, but it keeps the lights on.” He smiled. “We have a website people can access.”
His love for the breed moved me. “That’s really wonderful. These dogs are lucky to have you in their corner.”
“I’d do anything to keep them safe.”
I hadn’t had much help when I was raising my brother. Maybe if I had, he wouldn’t have died so young. “It’s a noble endeavor.”
He smiled. “The dogs help me as much as I help them.”
He didn’t elaborate, so I didn’t pry.
“Thanks for putting me up,” I said, trying real hard not to move in closer for a better whiff of his delicious scent. “I won’t be a bother. I don’t plan to stay in town long.”
Parker’s blue eyes softened. “That’s too bad.”
Note from Renee
I do hope you enjoyed this book, I’d so appreciate it if you’d help others enjoy it too.
Recommend it. Please help other readers find this book by recommending it.
Review it. Please tell other readers why you liked this book by reviewing it at online retailers or your blog. Reader reviews help my books continue to be valued by distributors/resellers. I adore each and every reader who takes the time to write one!
If you love the book or leave a review, please email [email protected] so I can thank you with a personal email. Your support means more than you’ll ever know! Tha
nk you!
About Renee
Renee George is a USA Today bestselling author of paranormal cozy mysteries, urban fantasy, paranormal romance, erotic romance, contemporary romance, and romantic comedies. A published author since 2005, she has written and published over 30 books in the past decade. Accolades include: EcataRomance Award for Best Paranormal Erotic Romance and Best Gay Erotic Romance, and a Literary Nymph Blush Award for Best Paranormal Romance.
Connect with Renee online:
Subscribe to Renee’s Newsletter: https://app.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/m8p8u6
Join Renee’s Rebel Readers (on Facebook): https://www.facebook.com/groups/reneesunusualsuspects/
Follow Renee on Twitter: https://twitter.com/reneegeorge2008
Visit Renee’s website: http://www.romance-the-night.com/Renee_George
eBooks by Renee George
Visit Renee’s website at: http://romance-the-night.com/
Barkside of the Moon, a Paranormal Cozy Mystery series
1. Pit Perfect
2. The Money Pit
3. Pit Stop
Midnight Shifters, a Paranormal Romance series
1. Midnight Shift
2. The Bear Witch Project
3. A Door to Midnight
4. A Shade of Midnight
5. Midnight Before Christmas
Lion Kings, a Paranormal Romance series
1. The Lion Kings
Peculiar Mysteries, a Paranormal Cozy Mystery series
1. You’ve Got Tail
2. Thank You For Not Shifting
The Cull, a Paranormal Romance series
1. Claimed By the Alpha
2. Protected By the Alpha
3. Ravished By the Alpha
Renee recommends … Dakota Cassidy
“If you love funny paranormal romance books, check out this fabulous reads from Dakota Cassidy! She will leave you in stiches with her antics! I'm talking full on laugh out loud hysterics!”
Quit Your Witchin’
Witchless In Seattle Mysteries, Book 2
Dakota Cassidy
Chapter 1
“Crispin Alistair Winterbottom!”
“What now, Miss Cartwright?”
I ignored his aggravated sigh and my urge to lob something at the wall.
“You know exactly what. This will never work if you keep trying to land a date with our client’s deceased lover. Understood?” I whisper-yelled at my partner in spy.
“Bah,” he whisper-yelled back. “It’s not a date, Stevie. I was just asking if Kitty liked to dance. When has a trip around Plane Light Fantastic ever hurt anyone, Funstomper?”
I ran my hand over my temple before giving it a good squeeze to ease the tension. “That’s not the point and you know it. When we agreed to do this—reopen Madam Zoltar’s with me as her successor—you agreed to play by my rules when contacting the dead.”
“Nonsense. I am playing by your rules, Dark Overlord. You said nothing about asking a client’s deceased loved one if they had a hobby. Not a solitary word. Did she, Belfry?”
Belfry, my tiny cotton ball bat familiar, stretched and yawned from the bed he’d made out of one of the leaves of an elephant ear plant. “I hate to side with the Cumberbatch-alike ghost, but he’s kinda right, Boss.”
Chiding my ghost for not playing by the rules was as close to pointless as one got, but I did it out of habit. Much the way any mother of a toddler who needed repetitive reinforcement would.
Winterbottom, or Win as I call him, is my afterlife connection—my conduit to the other side.
Really. That’s the absolute truth.
Plainly speaking, he’s a dead British spy who barged into my life (or my ear, if we’re being literal) just over a month or so ago when he needed my help and wouldn’t leave until I caved.
If I helped him solve a murder, in return, he’d help me move on with my new life here in Ebenezer Falls, Washington, as a shunned, powerless, broke ex-witch—and give me all his worldly possessions as a reward of sorts.
“Worldly possession” being a decrepit old Victorian in crumbling, graffiti-filled disrepair and more money to renovate it than I could spend in five lifetimes.
The truth. My hand to God. That really happened. Though, according to him, he’d already planned on giving me his house and money before I’d agreed to help solve the murder.
He said my afterlife connections were enough of a reference to consider me a worthy recipient. Also according to him, that was all he needed to ensure his monster of a house—what I now lovingly call Mayhem Manor—would be in good hands.
Win never reminded me of what he’d so generously given my bat familiar Belfry and I. He never rubbed it in. He’d never asked for anything more than his initial request in return.
But he sure made up for it in other ways. Like today. We’d taken over Madam Zoltar’s tarot card reading and medium business here in town in her honor.
Madam Zoltar’s death was the murder I mentioned, and what brought Win and I together in the first place. Now it was the glue sticking him to my backside.
I longed for the days when I was a witch and I desperately missed communicating with spirits—my specialty before I was shunned (another long story). Running Madam Zoltar’s helped ease that ache a bit, even if I was only communicating by proxy.
Also something of note: Shunned is a kind word for what happened to me. After I literally had the witch slapped out of me by an angry spirit, I ended up booted out of my coven back in Paris, Texas, when I became mortal again, by the very leader I’d have trusted with my soul.
And it hurt—stung like no tomorrow. My fearless leader was Baba Yaga, in case having a name to attach to my tragedy is necessary, and the longer I thought about how she’d dumped me like a fickle girl dumps a ’90s boy band, without listening to a word of my defense, the less I was able to continue to outwardly support what she’d allowed to happen to me. I worked hard not to be bitter because technically, she was still Belfry’s head honcho, but as of late, the work had become harder.
Anyway, once the dust settled after solving Madam Zoltar’s murder case, Win and I concocted a plan—one that had given me a reason to get up in the morning.
I’d be the new medium, hence my turban and caftan (another shout out to Madam Zoltar and her keen, quirky fashion sense—hey, girl!), and Win would be my legit conduit to the afterlife. Being that he was in limbo and had no plans to change his afterlife Facebook status to “crossed over” anytime soon, our arrangement worked just fine—so far.
We’d agreed to take this journey together in memory of Madam Zoltar, a beloved figure here in Ebenezer Falls, and also someone Win had become very fond of just prior to her death.
But we had rules and stipulations to this agreement.
Though, hear this, I’d never take money to contact the deceased from someone who was in the throes of grief. Never. I’d also never take their money if I couldn’t truly communicate with said deceased.
So Win and I decided not only would we work as a team, we’d donate whatever the customer could afford to pay (yes, you read that right. Sliding-scale séances) to various charities—animal rescue being high on my list—and use only what we needed to pay the store’s expenses.
And that’s what led me here—to Spy Guy’s otherworldly philandering.
I looked at the picture of Kitty Talucci, the one our client, Edward Randolph, had brought to the reading. A picture of his lover, her luscious ebony hair falling down her back in a riot of curls, lying against the alabaster skin of her shoulders. Decked out in a strapless, red Lycra dress, which hugging her abundant breasts and accentuated her tiny waist and lush hips, she was beautiful. I pointed to it with the tap of my index finger.
“You were not asking about her hobbies, Win. I know it and you know it.”
“I beg your pardon,” he spat in that uppity British tone of his.
“Does Kitty look like a woman who hasn’t danced a time or two, Win?”
He
gasped with his high-pitched-mock-Stevie-girlie-squeal. “You’re stereotyping. That’s against the law.”
“Point for the dead spy,” Belfry chirped, stretching his wings.
“It’s called profiling and I’m not a cop, but even if I were, I’m really not profiling. Kitty was a dancer. Burlesque. You’d know that if you weren’t busy looking into her deep, dark velvety eyes. Now quit trying to pick her up and help me help Edward find her last will and testament, so he can prove to her evil ex that Snape is now his cat because Kitty left him to Edward in her will.”
“Who names their cat Snape?” Win balked.
Repositioning my turban, I smoothed my colorful caftan and made a face. “Women who like Harry Potter and Alan Rickman?”
“Ah, a fellow Brit. This bodes well for me,” he purred in his whiskey-smooth voice.
“No. There is no boding anything. Now, get out there to that table and let’s get ’er done. One more swish of your flirty ghost hair and it’s curtains for you, International Man of Intrigue.”
If I could actually see Win, I’d bet five bucks he was rolling his eyes at me right now. “Fine, fine. You’re the boss. Just remember, the spirits respond well to me and my hair swishing.”
I made a face at the air. “When I was a witch, I never had to swish my hair to get the spirits to communicate with me. They just did. No bribes, no flirting, no cash exchanging hands.”
“She speaks the truth, Winterbutt,” Belfry agreed, tucking back down into the green leaf. “Though, cash would have been nice.”
Win scoffed in that way he had when he wanted me to hear he was disgusted. “That’s because you’re a woman, Stevie. The game of pickup is not a two-way street. It’s a proven fact that women are far more successful at picking up men than the other way around.”
“I bet that fact checker was a man. A man who didn’t want to admit we just have better game. And you basically just admitted you’re trying to pick up Kitty.” I pointed to the door separating us from the room we’d privately dubbed Séance Command Central, and said, “Now go. We need to finish up because I have a lunch date with Forrest.”
The Money Pit Page 19