Tales from Harborsmouth
QUICK SNEAK PEEKS:
It’s hard to pay the bills when you’re dead, but if you die in a city filled with faerie magic and have Ivy Granger on the case, you sure as Hell can settle your debts.
A detective’s job is to take note of the little things, the small details that can break a case wide open, but having anthropomorphic snot treat you like you smelled worse than a troll fart could give a girl a complex.
There was a serial killer in Harborsmouth with a penchant for murdering faeries. Happy freaking holidays.
If a faerie, a vampire, and a demon walk into a bar, you wait for the punch line. At Private Eye, when a faerie, a vampire, and a demon walk through the door, it’s just another day at the office.
I blew a stray lock of hair from my eyes while running a damp cloth over the bar. The raven black curl froze at the edge of my vision, ice crystals from my breath coating it like the dust of fractured diamonds. But within seconds the damp chunk of bangs thawed from the perpetual heat of the club. The heat was one of the many things that I despised about bartending at Club Nexus.
Deviance is nothing if not full of variety and Puck had discovered how to capitalize on each and every one of our desires. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the imp was purposely late to our meetings to build the suspense, and empty my wallet.
It had been centuries since a human had piqued my interest, longer still since anyone had stirred feelings of lust and longing, but there was something unquestionably magnetic about the woman my eyes now frantically sought.
Of all the nightclubs, in all the cities, in all the world, the freakin’ demon had to walk into Club Nexus.
I’d seen a lot in my nine lives, but nothing so strange as Ratfink’s Family Fun Palace and its tone-deaf taxidermied talent.