Two wraiths and a ghost accept a commission to deliver a message to the faceless thief who is stealing Downside’s treasures. Their journey takes them Far North to a cold, inhospitable land where humans rule and other races are shunned.
Meanwhile, a once powerful man is betrayed and his life is forfeit. With the dark angel dead, no one can help Alain Sauvageau. He is human now and only human skills can save him.
As Alain fights for his life, Rain, River and Castle close in on the thief only to discover there is more to his story than they were told. Someone will do anything to stop them finding him. But their new ally, a human Northern girl, may just tip the scales.
That's what she said as she walked away from the last ride she should ever have taken. And this one was smart. Kharon, even if he went by the name of Charlie these days, knew she'd be okay.
But this one wasn't just smart. She was different. Because this one came back.
Charlie's a trucker, an Independent. Meaner 'n snakes, he's been there, done that and kicked its butt—twice. What Charlie picks up, he delivers. Now Charlie's biggest customers want him to take on an extra little job—an investigation into missing deliveries. Charlie turns them down flat. Because when god an' the devil (not God and the Devil—it's a union thing) are both sounding scared, a smart trucker drives away.
Then Rosie comes back, scarred from a whipping she swears Charlie gave her. It's not like she's the first to try to kill him. But she damn near succeeds, and not even the idiot in the lion skin did that. And it's soon clear that whoever's stealing souls wants Charlie in the frame—so they can take what's in his truck.
Now Rosie's pissed. And Charlie's pissed-er. And someone's going to pay. Pay a lot more than Charlie's penny. Because nobody— not god, not demon, not poly-dimensional trans-optical hyper-sentient autonomous non-organic entity—nobody touches his truck.
With a day job that requires her to hunt down psychics who use their metaphysical gifts as weapons, Tarot-reading Justice of the Arcana Council Sara Wilde has no time for fairy tales. So when her newest case pleads for her assistance against brownies, sprites, and pixie dust, she’s more than ready to file it under “not a chance.”
But these Neo-Celts mean business, with a boldly charismatic leader who vows to return the world to the iron-fisted rule of the ancient gods. That plan infuriates the fiercest member of the Arcana Council, Death, whose deep Irish roots hide more secrets than Sara ever realized, and draws the focus of the dark-eyed, seductive Magician, deftly weaving his ever more twisted schemes.
At the Council’s behest, Sara plunges headlong into Irish folklore, fantasy, and the very real, very frightening truth of the spaces between worlds, where the darkest memories go to hide… Memories that could upend everything Sara’s finally claimed as her own.
Travelers beware! The fairies will all come out to play when you chase The Hallowed Knight.
The Father Declan O'Shea Supernatural Mysteries are a series of upbeat, redemptive and often comical urban fantasy short stories…with a Catholic twist. Approximately 7,700 words.
I'm Tiff Banks and I talk to the violently slain. I've learned to live with that, in fact I've made a career out of it.
Ex-detective Royal Mortensen and I opened our own investigative agency, and I thought we made a good team. I felt secure in our personal relationship too, until our new clients turned up. Why did Royal take them on without consulting me, and why are they withholding information which could help solve their case? I don't think they're human, and Royal knows exactly what they are, but refuses to tell me. I think there's a lot Royal isn't telling me.
I discovered that while I looked into the disappearance of author Gia Sabato's lover, Royal investigated something far more sinister. Are the two cases connected? Does an authentic nineteenth-century journal have anything to do with either?
When the case turns ugly, so does my relationship with the one man I've come to trust. So I'll do what I do best: pound the pavement and talk to dead people. The dead are always watching, they can do nothing else. They whisper to me.
Royal disappears. He is a demon with inhuman abilities who moves between worlds at will. He could be anywhere. He leaves me a clue that takes me to Bel-Athaer, home of the Gelpha, but the High House councilors kick me out.
I'm going back in. I'll find the mysterious Seer who sent Royal a message, and while I'm there I'll do my damndest to save the young High Lord from the Burning man and find the boy's missing companion, and at the same time elude assassins who are after my ass.
I need backup, someone as strong and fast as Gelpha. Of all the shit crazy things I've done, returning to Bel-Athaer in the company of a Dark Cousin and an egotistical Gelpha is high on the list.
I won't tear a world apart, but you can bet I'll turn it on its ear.
Royal is ever the optimist.
England is very confusing. To begin with, not all Brits seem to speak English, and what they eat . . . oh my goodness. Then there is the investigation - finding the client's long-lost nephew is not as easy as we supposed, and as usual, I am distracted by dead people who could use my help. And in ancient Little Barrow, when a creature of myth and magic cries out its pain, only Royal and I can hear.
Young Paul Norton is missing, and he's not the only one. Is our helpful innkeeper really a witch? Why did an upstanding member of the community run down and kill a teenager? With the assistance of some uncooperative British shades, we'll figure out what's really going on and bring peace to a demon on a distant shore.