Sunday, October 1, 2023
👻🎃Random Paranormal Tales of 2023 Part 1🎃👻
Tinker's Apprentice by Jordan Castillo Price
Conrad has a special talent—one for overthinking even the simplest of decisions. As a tinker’s apprentice, he should have mastered at least some magichanics by now. Unfortunately, he hasn’t even picked out his starting tool. It’s not a choice to be taken lightly, though, and Conrad is certain that all he needs is a little more time to weigh the pros and cons.
But when a new Magimart comes to town, it threatens to wipe out all the mom-and-pop magic shops in Three Corners, including the one where he works. The pressure doesn’t help. A glimpse of an intriguing young man at the auxiliar shop makes him wonder if maybe a magical mascot can help him level up—but how would he ever pick the right one?
Conrad has never considered teaming up before—but if Magimart does drive all the small shops out of business, this might be his last chance. Or maybe it’s all an excuse to flirt with the man with the secret smile.
Can Conrad settle on a magical assistant, or should he just grab a random tool and hope for the best? Either way…it’s now or never.
Original Review May 2023:
A delightfully fun, creative, and unique novella that made me smile. The Tinker's Apprentice is a contemporary setting of a world openly filled with magic that has a steampunky-like quality about it. I've not read many but enough steampunk to know the Victorian era is key so no Tinker is not steampunk but the magichanicals(hope I got that right) remind me a bit of that genre. Made me think that perhaps this is where the world would be if a steampunk timeline were to naturally progress into present day.
As for the concept of Auxiliars, I was reminded of what familiars are to witches, and was fascinated how the author highlighted how they make things easier but they aren't there to do everything for you. A concept that we should apply to many new-fangled contraptions in the real world today😉.
Conrad and Rune are adorable, together and individually. I want to wrap Conrad up in bubblewrap for protection one minute and smack him the next screaming "make a decision!" Some might label Conrad as "wishy washy" but me? I think of him more as needing that one thing to jumpstart his focus. As for Rune, well he's just all kinds of lovely and when introduced to You Tube(and other websites) to brush up on a few things that loveliness is taken up a notch or two. Together they seem to be the other half of each other.
No ideas if the author plans to do more with these characters and the magicanichal world she's created but I know I'd be ready to follow along with the adventures. Some might be a bit confused as there's a lot of world building for this fantasy short but for me The Tinker's Apprentice is simply put: delightful, smile-inducing fun.
Summary:
Critter Catchers #2
A struggling small business. An odd job opportunity. Two friends figuring out they may be something more.
Demetrius and Cody stopped a murderous wolf man months ago, but that hasn’t done much to bring in jobs for their Critter Catchers business. Now, as the two best friends struggle to make ends meet, Demetrius also tries to find time to date Oliver, the new reporter at the Parson’s Hollow Herald, and Cody can’t help nitpicking about them. When veterinary student Agatha Tisdale approaches them with an odd case, they jump at the opportunity despite their misgivings. While Cody flirts with Agatha, Demetrius finds himself distracted by handsome farmer Reed Wilkes whose goats are being bled dry by something living in the woods around his farm.
While working to identify the blood-drinking critter, however, Demetrius discovers he’s having to remind himself more and more often to keep Cody in the friend category of his mind and heart. And for his part, Cody is realizing he might be more than a little jealous of the relationship developing between Demmy and Oliver. But all of that must be set aside when farmer Wilkes goes missing and Cody, Demetrius, Oliver, and Agatha follow a bloody trail into the woods and come face-to-face with something as dangerous as the wolf man!
Summary:
Monsters Hollow #1
Welcome to Monsters Hollow, where love knows no bounds—even in a town full of monsters!
Targan Wildethorne
A confirmed bachelor, and a historian by training, I haven’t the faintest clue how to care for twin orclings when I unexpectedly become their guardian. I’d love to retreat into the comforting sanctuary of my study, surrounded by my books and papers, but first I need to hire someone to help me with the children. Someone who can teach me the ropes of this new role.
Thank the Light for the All-Species Specialized Employment Services! In my most dire hour of need, they find the perfect nanny—ahem, manny—to help me look after my young wards. Now I can finally get back to writing my history of orc folklore for a few hours a day.
Or so I thought.
Instead I find the captivating new man in my home far too distracting. Max is so much more than I had expected. I’ve never fallen for a human before, but I can’t get him out of my mind. Could he ever feel the same about an orc? Humans are usually too intimidated by our large size and outer appearance. Can Max look past my green skin and tusks to see a man with a heart that yearns for him? And if he does, when he learns the truth about the children will the danger on the horizon send him running?
Max MacLeod
Working with kids is totally my jam and I’m damn good at what I do. Just call me Maxy Frickin’ Poppins! When a new job prospect comes my way, I’m intrigued. A chance to move to Mystic Hollow (aka Monsters Hollow) to be a well-paid manny for two adorable orclings? Talk about a dream position. Sold! But when I lock eyes with the seriously sexy orc who’s their guardian—and my new de facto boss—for the first time, I’m a goner. Big, muscular, and green all over–he’s giving me full-on Hulk meets stern professor vibes—and I like it.
As I get to know him, over meals with the kids during the day and soft-spoken conversations about history at night, I soon realize there’s so much more to Targan than the gorgeous orc who keeps starring in all my naughtiest dreams. He’s quite possibly the kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever met. And he accepts and appreciates every part of me and my flamboyant, full-figured fabulousness. I just want to feed and take care of him—and find out if he’s so deliciously big everywhere. Before I know it, I’m dreaming of being part of a forever family with him and his adorable twins. But an unexpected threat looms in the shadows that could threaten the safety of us all…
The Orc and the Manny is a (94k words) cozy small town M/M monster romance featuring a Hulkalicious silver fox orc professor who's better with books than kids, a flamboyant human manny with ALL the skills (think Nathan Lane in The Birdcage meets Mary Poppins), an age gap, a size difference, a three-headed hellhound and a feisty rescue Chihuahua, two adorable orcling twins, and copious amounts of orc…joy!
Summary:
Medium Trouble #1
Hiro
Though I was born with the ability to see the dead, I struggled with it until my brother was killed and his ghost was left behind. Now, I’m determined to figure out who is responsible for his death… the problem is that Detective Maddox Booker, the one working the case, is a grumpy and stubborn man who wants nothing to do with me and definitely doesn’t believe in ghosts. It doesn’t help that I keep finding myself looking ridiculous in front of the detective, thanks to interfering ghosts who enjoy laughing at my expense. Still, the more I’m around Maddox, the more I realize that beneath that surly exterior is a kind and caring man who will do anything to help.
Maddox
When another man dies, I know we have a serial killer on our hands—the same murderer who has remained elusive for a year and a half. To add to my frustration, I keep running into Hiro at crime scenes only to hear him claim that he can talk to ghosts. The words of the dead could lead us to the serial killer and even tell us who is next, but ghosts? There’s no such thing as ghosts. Hiro is determined and charming, and no matter what I do, I can’t stop letting him get involved. He's definitely snagged my attention, but when he nearly winds up dead, I know he's getting closer to the truth—and if I don’t do something soon, he might be next.
Ghost of Lies is full of action, mystery, humor, and romance. Though more is planned for this couple, the mystery is solved and there is a happy ending.
Offbeat Shifters #4
Charlie taught me I deserved to be loved. Will I be brave enough to claim him as mine?
Temporarily separated while he’s on tour, my love for him grows. He is my future—or he will be, once we’ve made our relationship public.
Charlie has been patient—probably too patient—while I’ve been struggling to get over my fear that history will repeat itself. An unforgiving media destroyed my career, I don’t want the same thing to happen to the man I love.
Telling the world is one of many obstacles we have to navigate. The only thing I’m sure of is that we’ll find our way together.
Unashamedly Us is the forth book in Offbeat Shifters, an m/m paranormal romance series with a continuing storyline. The series is best read in order, however Charlie and Austin’s story begins in book 3, Unapologetically Me. This book includes a monkey shifter who has to face his fears, an arctic fox shifter who will always stand up for himself, extended families, steadfast friends, lots of children, and a HEA ending for the main characters. There are pregnancy and birth scenes in this book.
Tinker's Apprentice by Jordan Castillo Price
1
Conrad
Back when Sputnik first launched and Chubby Checker was doing the Twist, household items stopped rolling off the assembly line at Apex Magichanical Parts and Fittings, and their factory doors closed for good.
No one knows what happened to the Apex founders, and the blueprints have been lost to time. Fortunately, there are shops that specialize in repairing magichanical goods.
Shops like Arti-fix.
The smell of dubious bacon and overcooked egg tickled my senses as my hand hovered above the breakfast biscuits. They stood on the cart in an orderly row wrapped in wax paper, waiting to be snatched up by someone indiscriminate in taste and short on time.
And I’d been standing there so long, unable to decide, the crowd had changed over three times as annoyed commuters grabbed around me.
Ham. Sausage. Egg. Cheese. It wasn’t as if there were all that many options.
And yet, I already knew that whichever sandwich I picked, I’d end up disappointed.
My friend Jeff had chosen our breakfast spot today–the food cart at the edge of Three Corners (come on, Conrad, it’s not so bad)–and of course he’d picked the one cart where the sandwiches were either rubbery around the edges from the microwave or vaguely moist from a steam tray. Why? Because the cashier was a pretty girl with tattoos on her fingers and a violet streak in her hair…the type of girl who wouldn’t in a million years give Jeff the time of day. In other words, the type of girl he couldn’t resist.
Despite the fact that we’ve never once had a good sandwich from that particular cart, when Jeff had challenged me to pick somewhere else instead, I’d caved right in and agreed.
“Did you hear the latest rumor about the new building project on the edge of the city?” Jeff said. I hadn’t, but of course he wasn’t talking to me. Not with that flirtatious lilt. The girl with the finger tattoos answered with a bored shrug as she made change for her current customer. Unlike me, Jeff was undeterred by a show of disinterest, and he only took her non-answer as a challenge. “I hear a new Magimart is coming to town,” he said dramatically.
That did pique the cool girl’s interest. She deigned to raise a thin, penciled eyebrow. But I wasn’t so sure how I felt about this new development. Sure, their selection was amazing and their prices were low, but… “If a Magimart opens up here, what will that mean for Three Corners?”
“What it always means,” Jeff declared. “No more status quo. Survival of the fittest. All the mom-and-pop magic shops will either have to find a way to stay relevant…or close their doors.”
Given that both Jeff and I worked for mom-and-pop magic shops, you’d think he wouldn’t be quite so blasé about the whole thing. But I guess he didn’t want to look fretful in front of his favorite cashier.
I settled on a sausage and cheese biscuit while Jeff speculated about all the wonderful things he’d heard you could buy at Magimart. Pens that wrote in any color, even ones you couldn’t quite name. Electric toothbrushes people actually wanted to use. Candles that smelled like rainy mornings, or playing hooky, or days at the beach—and never burned down. “Affordable, too,” he said. “So cheap that even Conrad could shop there.”
I rolled my eyes, pulled out a crumpled five, and handed it to the girl. At least…I tried to. But before tattooed fingers could close around the bill, a scaly creature the size of a pineapple waddled out from behind a coffee urn and snatched it from my hand.
I winced. The cashier’s auxiliar made me phenomenally uncomfortable—mainly because I could never quite tell exactly what it was supposed to be.
Auxiliars don’t have a “true” form of their own. In terms of appearance, they ran the gamut from naturalistic animals to completely fantastic creatures. The way they appeared to human eyes all depended on the preference of their owners…and apparently this owner wanted an auxiliar that looked like a cross between a giant bat and a constipated pug. Jeff thought it was supposed to be a gargoyle, but every time I saw that squashed-in face, I couldn’t help but think of the local dog park.
Unsettling as I might find the thing, I didn’t want to be rude. I kept my face perfectly neutral as the gargoyle pug made change. The coins looked like Frisbees in its miniature human-like hands, but it counted them out quickly enough and handed them over. I made sure to angle my body so it couldn’t see me wiping the coins on my pant leg before I pocketed my change.
I turned away from the food cart, doing my best not to wonder if the auxiliar was involved in making more than just change. Regardless of whether or not my food was prepared by its creepy little hands, I felt buyer’s remorse the moment I peeled back the wax paper wrapper. The cheese had slid all to one side and congealed into the paper, while a big hunk of stale biscuit crumbled off and rolled down my jacket, only to be snatched up by an aggressive pigeon whose pinfeathers nearly took out my eye. The sausage, now exposed, gleamed grayly beneath a sheen of grease. It smelled like the bottom of an old Tupperware.
I’d forced down most of my bad sandwich by the time Jeff finally strode away from the food cart. Once we were out of earshot, he shot me a smug grin and whispered, “And you predicted she wouldn’t say more than three words to me.”
“Are you gonna buy that? doesn’t count.”
“It’s only a matter of time before I wear her down.”
I have no idea where Jeff gets his confidence. Not only is he pudgy and pale with incredibly thick glasses, but because he works at an ephemeral agents apothecary, odd smells tend to waft off him at inopportune times.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Jeff went on. “When was the last time you strode up to someone and gave them your phone number?”
“How is this suddenly about me?”
“You should really capitalize on the fact that you dig sausage. I’d always thought it would be more straightforward if I was into that kind of thing. More insight into the thought process of the potential hook-up.” Belatedly, I realized we were no longer talking about breakfast. “If I were you, I’d be out playing the field, hitting up guys left and right.”
That was the thing, though. I didn’t want “guys.” I wanted someone special. It just so happened that I hadn’t met that someone…yet.
We crossed the street and found ourselves approaching a jumble of small, colorful storefronts and oddball bits of statuary and signage affectionately known as Three Corners.
The Y-shaped intersection was one-third parking lot. But a hodgepodge of old businesses lined the stem of the Y, storefronts that smelled like dried flowers and old paper with the occasional whiff of vinegar and paraffin. Its businesses catered to very specific clientele: the sorts of folks willing to spend lots of time and energy on a magical hobby that was mercurial, at best. Simply put, old magic was expensive, and not everyone was willing to scrimp and save, sift and study, for the ability to change the color of an old pair of socks or predict where the closest parking spot might be. Not nowadays, when science and technology had much quicker solutions.
As we passed the Tome Repository, the vintage manuals in the window display beckoned seductively with their yellowed pages. But Jeff and I passed them every day, and we knew better than to get looped into reading a primer on magically inking your mimeograph machine. Any book you might pick up in Three Corners would be more of a curiosity than a tool. Entertaining, maybe. But not particularly relevant, not anymore. Not when you could just whip out your phone and Google anything you might need to know.
A page fluttered plaintively…or maybe I was just projecting. Because the Tome Repository had no way of making itself “relevant.” And if Magimart really did set up shop in town, those books might as well be waving goodbye.
I was feeling nostalgic for the old neighborhood already, but Jeff was far more pragmatic. “It’s time to update our résumés.”
“What?” I stopped dead in my tracks in front of the auxiliar store. The repair shop where I worked, Arti-fix, was just across the street. Not that I was worried it could hear us. At least, I hoped it couldn’t.
“Think about it, Conrad. You’ve been slaving away in that dusty old tinker shop for how long–months?” Actually, we were coming up on a year…but I could tell it wasn’t to my advantage to point that out. “How many floors have you swept?”
“Just the one.”
“And how many ephemeral agents have you restocked? How many shelves have you dusted? And how many sorry, thankless customers have you dealt with, day in, day out, with their broken doodads and ding dongs?”
“People get touchy when their magichanical stuff breaks down. It’s not like you can just toss it out and buy a new one.” Even as I said it, though, I had to wonder. Apex products were marvels of magical technology, back in the day. But even the ones we managed to repair still showed their age. There just wasn’t as much call for a pipe-cleaner cleaner or a bouffant fluffer. Not like there was in 1955. But something new like a magichanical keyboard or cell phone case or GPS? People would go nuts for things like that, and not just the folks who liked magichanics for magic’s sake. I eyed the Arti-fix storefront cautiously, wondering how it might be possible to stay relevant after all if enchanted household items started rolling off the assembly line again.
The store’s prospects did not look good.
Jeff said, “Why the long face? It’s not as if you actually enjoy working there.”
“Hey, that’s pretty harsh.”
“Is it? I thought the whole reason you even applied was that you were hoping to get your hands dirty. Crack open some of those dusty old relics and see how they tick.”
Not gonna lie. The mere thought of opening up an old Apex salad refresher, weightless bowling bag or silent radio had me itching to scuttle inside the shop and get to work. Unfortunately....
“Ol’ Hester still hasn’t let you touch anything,” Jeff said, as if he could read my mind. “Nothing important, anyhow. Has she?”
I knew it was small of me to let Hester bear the blame for my lack of advancement, but it wasn’t as if she’d care what Jeff thought of her. I just wasn’t up for the razzing I’d get if he found out that in all this time, I wasn’t able to begin my formal training because I hadn’t picked out my primary tool.
Chasing the Chupacabra by Hank Edwards
“First goat we found was probably a week ago, and we found him right about here. There was two that first time, and the other one was just about fifty feet away, over there.”
Cody leaned on the railing of the goat pen and looked down at the mud. Reed Wilkes might not be as tall as Cody, but he was more muscular, with a jaw just a touch more square, eyes the brilliant blue of a Photoshopped Caribbean Ocean travel brochure, and shoulders almost as broad as Cody’s. Almost.
Reed Wilkes was about four times younger than Cody had expected, and eighty-seven times more handsome. When Agatha had given them the farmer’s name—and the fact that the man was a farmer, in and of itself—Cody had conjured up a mental image of a grumpy, set-in-his-ways old man. But, instead, here they were talking with a men’s fitness magazine model. And one that was mean to his dog, to boot.
“Six goats altogether, right?” Demetrius asked, leaning on the railing on the other side of Farmer Wilkes. He stared up at the man, his blue eyes wide and his expression intent, as if he’d never heard anything so fascinating as goats found dead from blood loss.
“Right,” Reed replied, but then glanced down to where Agatha was making notes as she knelt beside the most recent victim. “And my wonderful Sophia is gone now.”
“Goat fucker?” Cody grumbled to himself.
“Did you say something?” Agatha asked, looking up from her notebook.
“Nope. Not a word.” Cody forced himself to listen as Reed went through each night a goat had been slain.
“Each time I was inside the house, reading by the fire—”
Cody had to restrain himself from an eye roll, the force of which would have surely made him black out. Farmer Wilkes was just a little too picture-perfect with his amazing body, handsome face, flannel and denim, and salt-of-the-earth act.
“—and I didn’t hear a goddamn thing. Just found them bled and dead the next morning.”
Well, Cody had to be impressed by Farmer Wilkes’s poetic rhyming when describing his slaughtered goats.
“I looked out the window,” Farmer Wilkes continued, “but from the kitchen, I can only see the front section of the pen, not the back area here. Never saw anything unusual.”
“The goats were found in the back of the pen each time, right?” Demetrius asked.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Reed replied with a nod at Demetrius.
Cody could have sworn he saw Demmy’s chest puff out a little bit with pride, and his irritation bubbled up too much to be contained.
“Do you always leave your goats out in the pen unattended at night?” Cody asked, hearing the sharp tone to his voice, but not able, or interested, in adjusting it. Something about Farmer Wilkes just rubbed him the wrong way. It could have been that Farmer Wilkes was so muscular, or so handsome, or mean to his dog, or flirting with either Agatha or Demmy, Cody couldn’t quite tell. Whatever the reason was, Farmer Wilkes was absolutely getting under Cody’s skin.
“Oh, well, yeah, sure,” Farmer Wilkes replied, and gave Cody an assessing look. “I mean, they have a shelter to go under if it rains, and if it gets too cold, I put them inside the barn. But the weather wasn’t bad this week, so I left them out.” He turned to look at Demmy. “I mean, I’ve always done it. I’ve never had a problem with losing my livestock.”
Demmy gave the farmer a sympathetic nod as he gazed up at him. What the hell was wrong with Demmy? Wasn’t Ollie the cub reporter punching all of Demmy’s buttons these days?
The Orc and the Manny by Chloe Archer
“Well, Princess Peach, this is it.”
My sweet baby, a feisty rescue Chihuahua, gives a little yip of agreement and I scratch under her chin. She nuzzles me back with pleasure. Today she’s wearing a cute little pink shirt with the words “I’m a princess” spelled out in silver sequins.
Princess Peach had a hard life before I rescued her. I don’t know all the details, but the shelter found evidence that she’d likely been used for breeding purposes in a far from humane situation. They believe she was abandoned on the streets when she was no longer able to provide new litters of puppies for whatever illegal operation had been going on.
After her tough life on the streets, I decided she deserves to always look as fabulous as she is. She may have a torn ear and be missing half of her teeth, but she’s beautiful through and through. I’ve matched our color scheme today by wearing a darling pink blouse with flowy pirate sleeves under my rainbow chiffon duster vest. The outfit is finished with a pair of shiny black leggings that hug my ample thighs and a sweet pair of purple ankle boots.
My foster mom would have been proud. I’m totally channeling my inner Stevie Nicks.
Adjusting my oversized purse—with everything a manny could ever need in a pinch—higher on my shoulder, I tuck Princess Peach gently under my arm and climb the steps to the front door of the enormous three-story Victorian. Painted gray with white and blue gingerbread lattice work, the home looks a bit tame for me, but I suppose I can see the classic appeal. It’s still an impressive old house even with the bland exterior and I can’t wait to get a peek inside.
After all, this is going to be our new home for the next little while, provided all goes well.
Pressing the doorbell button, I admire my freshly painted sparkly purple nails in the process. The fading twilight of evening starts to turn to darkness around me as I wait. It took me longer than I had planned to get here.
I hear the bell chime loudly within but get no response.
After several long moments, I ring it again. They are expecting me after all. Right?
Just when I’m about to press the bell a third time, the door slowly creaks open to reveal an orc with wispy white hair and stooped with age. He’s wearing a butler’s livery and shuffles to the side as if to bid me enter. I have a fraction of a moment to stare into the large entryway of the house before my brain has to process a whole lot of chaos all at once.
Two young orclings, presumably my charges, are headed my way as they chase each other. One of them is holding—is that an axe? Off to my left, I spy the intimidating but gorgeous gargoyle who interviewed me for the job—hello, sexy—but I stop breathing when I lay eyes on the man beside him.
This orc is not old and he’s hot like fire.
He’s rocking full-on Hulk meets stern professor vibes and I am so here for it.
Unfortunately, I also suspect he’s my new boss.
I don’t have more than that flicker of an instant to admire him because an enormous three-headed creature comes barreling straight toward me as the two little orclings it’s chasing deftly feint one direction and then swerve out of the way at the last second, leaving me to face my fate.
Talk about a trial by fire in my first few seconds on the job.
Also, why the heck did no one tell me there was a motherfreaking hellhound in this house!
On instinct, I tuck Princess Peach’s head carefully in my armpit so I can cover both her ears. She settles in, trusting me implicitly, as always. Then I lift the whistle around my neck and give it a sharp blow, bringing the hellhound to a whining, screeching halt a few inches in front of me.
Phew! That was a close call.
As tall as the enormous front entrance, the gigantic beast towers over me, tongues lolling out of its three heads, momentarily dazed and confused by the dog whistle I always carry with me. You’d be surprised how handy it is when my baby and I go on walks. There are too many idiots out there with no control over their unleashed dogs, and I sometimes have to protect my precious little angel.
I reposition Princess Peach in the crook of my arm where she settles happily and kiss the top of her soft little head, getting a lick of appreciation in return before I take a deep breath and call forth my most dominant voice to utter the order, “Sitz!”
The hellhound cocks its three heads and looks at me confused.
Maybe he hasn’t learned German commands? That’s what my dog trainer taught me. Hmm…
Princess Peach snarls at him.
He immediately drops his rump to the floor with a ground-shaking thump.
I beam. “Platz!” I order next.
The hellhound cocks his three heads in the other direction, acting clueless.
My precious fur baby lets out a guttural growl and snaps out a warning.
The enormous beast lies in the down position, ears on each head flat, but all three tails wagging hopefully.
“Gut,” I praise as I reach into my purse—so much classier than Mary Poppins’s carpet bag—to pull out a plastic baggie with my stash of dog biscuits, then pluck out a handful. I’m fairly certain they’re fine for a hellhound if my dog can eat them.
After all, I baked them myself.
Ghost of Lies by Alice Winters
Chapter One
HIRO
The body is lying feet from me.
I can hear the sound of sirens filling the air as if frantically attempting to find and save the woman. But it’s too late, and now that she’s dead, I can’t let them find her yet.
The issue is, with the sirens growing closer every minute, I’m running out of time before they find me standing here in the woods, smack-dab in the middle of a crime scene, looming over a body they’re struggling to find.
Looks a wee bit suspicious.
But I can’t leave yet because just beyond the woman’s body, where she likely died before being dragged a foot or two, sits a young woman wearing the exact same clothes as the body on the ground. There’s a peculiar glow around her, but besides that, she looks the same as the body.
“Can you hear me?” I ask the woman.
She’s sobbing as she sits on the ground, knees pulled up to her chest as she rocks, and the sound is heart-wrenching, but if she won’t talk to me, there’s little I can do for her, so I have to keep trying.
As the darkness of the woods surrounds me, I walk over to her before kneeling down, knowing slow, steady movements are best when they’re in this state of mind. I reach out to touch her face, but she isn’t old enough for me to be able to feel. Instead, my hand passes through her.
“Can you hear me?” I ask again, voice gentle in hopes of reaching her.
She doesn’t act as if she can, even though I know my words can find her. The issue is that the ghost of the woman is too new. After a person dies, if their ghost is left behind, it’s generally inconsolable, unreachable, and fixated on their recent death. I know that better than damn near anyone, but I also know that right now, I need her to snap out of it because if she wants me to find who killed her, she needs to start helping me.
The sirens haven’t gotten any closer, telling me they’re probably on foot by now, searching the thick trees for the woman they’ll be unable to save.
“Ma’am, I need you to talk to me,” I urge.
She slowly looks up at me. “Did you kill me?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t kill you.”
“You killed me,” she says, sounding convinced.
It’s still too early for her to even comprehend what’s going on, so I don’t blame her for the wild accusations.
“You killed me, you killed me, you killed me.” She’s growing hysterical as she shakes her head and then begins to scream. The noise is tearing into my ears, making it hard to hear much else.
Shit.
“You better start running,” another voice cuts in.
I turn to look behind me and catch a different woman watching me. The glow around her is similar to the woman I’m kneeling in front of, but she looks more real and far more familiar. And I know if I reached out to her, I could touch her, even though no one else can.
“I can’t leave yet, Natalie,” I tell her. “She just died.”
“I didn’t want to die,” the wailing woman says.
I turn my attention back to her now that she’s stopped screaming. “I know. Where did he go?”
Her hollow eyes lock on to mine. “Why’d you kill me?”
They’re getting close now. Were they able to track her phone? Do they know the exact location? Think, think, think. “After I killed you, where did I go?” I ask, having found that sometimes if I just give the dead what they want, they’re more likely to work with me.
The ghost is quiet for a moment before pointing to her left, away from the noises, and deeper into the woods.
Quickly, I’m on my feet and running. I might be leaving prints behind, but if I can find the location of the killer before they get away, her ghost could pass on. She could be at peace and not stuck roaming the area where she died, begging to move on.
“Hiro, he’s here,” Natalie says, and I turn just as a man slips out from behind a tree and pummels into me. He drives a knife toward my face that I quickly dodge, but his weight is enough to throw me back, causing me to hit my head on the ground. He drops down onto me, planning to use his weight to keep me down.
Shit, shit, shit.
This wasn’t part of the plan. My plan was to find the location the guy went to, tip off the police, and send them over to do the dirty work. My plan wasn’t to be stabbed in the middle of the woods by a guy who smells like he basked in a barrel of alcohol and has a mullet. I turn my head fast, trying to pull away, but I feel the blade of the knife whiz by me.
I always knew being nosy was going to get me killed one day…
I really didn’t think today would be that day.
Twisting hard, I try to get my leg up and knee him in the back, but he’s using his weight to hold me down.
“I didn’t mean to kill her,” he says, which really seems like a weak statement as he’s trying to cut my face off.
“Then why are you trying to murder me?” I pant, trying my hardest to protect myself from his knife. “If you didn’t mean to hurt her, you can fix this. We can figure out what happened.”
He shakes his head vehemently. “I can’t!” he yells, which I think is a bit of a lie, telling me that maybe it wasn’t such an accident after all. I mean… who accidentally stabs someone to death?
He swings the knife hard as I duck down and throw my arm up to protect my face. It catches on my jacket as I hear a noise to my left.
“Police, drop the weapon and put your hands up!”
I turn to look at my savior and immediately sour.
He’s not really the man I was hoping would come save me, but this is how fate works… especially for me. I guess if my options are between being stabbed by the killer or being saved by Detective Stick-Up-His-Ass, I find myself slightly—ever so slightly—leaning toward the detective.
“No! Please!” the man says as he chucks the weapon, like he can suddenly become innocent by flinging the murder weapon where he thinks they might not see. He puts his hands up and I shimmy out from under him.
If all goes right, the detective will be horribly preoccupied with the guy, and I will just waltz on out of here and run as fast as my legs can carry me back to my car and pretend that I had never set foot in this patch of trees in my life. I crawl a few feet before slowly rising up, like the slower I move, the sneakier I might be. I can simply slip behind a tree until the detective forgets about me.
“Mr. Moore, you are also under arrest,” the detective says as someone else handles the killer.
Now that startles me. “Wait, what?” I ask as he comes toward me.
“Ooh snap,” Natalie says, the ghost equivalent of the least helpful person around. Thankfully, no one else can see or hear her.
Detective Maddox Booker comes around the tree to face me. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I think he just wants to see you in handcuffs,” Natalie says, and at this very moment, I’m thrilled Detective Booker can’t hear her.
“I think you’re confused,” I decide as I give him a warm smile that does nothing to lighten the expression on his handsome scowling face. “I was helping you, see?”
“No, you were destroying the crime scene again,” he growls.
I… might have fucked up.
Detective Booker and I have run into each other more than once, but we rarely share words as I’m usually running as fast as I can back to my car and refusing to answer what I was truthfully doing. The last time he arrived at a crime scene that I’d beaten him to, he’d taken it upon himself to decide that I was the enemy and became a royal pain in my ass. Okay… maybe I’m also a pain in his ass by disrupting his crime scene, but I’m trying to help.
I keep smiling, even though it feels quite awkward at this point.
“Why’s your face look like that?” Natalie asks. “You look constipated. You never want to look constipated in front of sexy Booker.”
I ignore her but also drop the look, which makes her grin. “I was helping find the guy because you guys weren’t here yet,” I explain. “And aren’t you homicide? Why are you here? How did you know there was going to be a body?” I try to glance beyond him to what they’re doing with the killer, but Booker body blocks me before I can do anything.
“What’s it matter to you?” he asks as he sets a hand on my back and starts directing me away from the scene.
I can hear Natalie giggle, like she thinks this is hilarious. “If you’re lucky, he’ll handcuff you. I wouldn’t mind if he slapped some handcuffs on me,” she says.
I ignore her, as I usually do in the presence of others. When you’re facing the possibility of being arrested, the last thing you want to do is start talking to dead people that no one else can see. “I was helping.”
Detective Booker marches me into the clearing where I see his brother Ben, a police officer who is much nicer, arresting the guy. That must be why someone from homicide was here. Were they together when his brother got the call?
“Maddox, what are you doing?” Ben asks as backup begins to flood the scene.
“Isn’t it clear?” Booker says, like he’s rather proud of what he’s done as he orders me to stay right there for a moment as he turns to the other officers. As he talks to them, Ben walks up to me and smiles.
“Hiro, right?”
I nod, feeling more than a little defeated. “Yeah. I think I’m getting arrested.”
Ben shakes his head. “Maddox isn’t going to arrest you. He just shouted it in the heat of the moment. You’re fine.”
I eye him suspiciously. I know Maddox probably shouldn’t arrest me but I’m pretty sure his pettiness alone will spur him to do it anyway.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Ben asks with a quizzical look. He’s always been rather nice to me whenever I run into him, unlike his brother who thinks I’ve crawled out of hell just to irritate him.
The shrug I give is the least convincing thing I’ve ever done. “Just… you know…” I’m not sure how to explain this when the truth rarely does me any good. People don’t react well to being told that you were trying to deal with ghosts.
Speaking of which, I look around until I see the ghost watching them deal with her killer. She’s calmed down, already at peace, telling me she’ll be able to move on as soon as the scene quiets down. So arrested or not, I’m happy to have been able to help her with that.
Booker, seeing that I’m daring to open my mouth, rushes over to make sure I shut it. “Ben, don’t talk to him,” he growls and jerks his head in the direction of the car. I know I need to follow or I really will get arrested.
Ghost Natalie walks beside me for a moment before saying, “I feel like you’re enjoying this. I mean… how could you not be enjoying this?”
I give her a glance because it’s never a good time for that level of stupidity. The looks I get from the other officers as I’m marched over to the police car make me want to announce to everyone that I am not, in fact, the killer, because I’m kind of being treated like I am and see why they might be momentarily confused.
I question whether a plea attempt will work. “Detective, I really… I’m sorry I was here, and I’m sorry that I—”
“Trampled all over the crime scene, ran after a man who had a weapon, put yourself and possibly others in danger, and for what? Just some kicks? Do you watch too many superhero movies?” he asks.
“My name is Hiro,” I joke.
Clearly, I shouldn’t have joked.
The joke falls as flat as I did when the guy pummeled me.
The walk at that point turns awkward for everyone besides Natalie who is ridiculously amused by the whole thing.
“Tell him you did it because you were hoping to see his charming face,” Natalie says. “That’ll help. I know that’ll help.”
I decide that if I don’t want to spend the rest of my years in jail, it’d be best to not do that.
Assuming that he was just trying to scare me turns out to be quite wrong as he opens the back door to the police cruiser. I assume this means “Get in or you’ll be even more arrested,” so I quickly get inside. And without a word, he returns to the scene, leaving me to awkwardly sit there alone. I mean… if it was a real arrest, he’d have frisked me, right? Read me my rights? Done something. He’d have… I don’t know! I’ve never been arrested.
“Don’t say it,” I tell Natalie now that I’m alone with her.
“You realize you literally just jumped in the car to be with him a bit longer,” she says, then giggles. “He didn’t even tell you to get in and you jumped in.”
“You’re not funny,” I grumble as I lean back on the hard seat. “He was going to arrest me if I didn’t comply.”
“Was he?” Natalie sits beside me, able to sort of interact with things or at least appear to since she’s an older ghost. She’s haunted me the longest, and when she’s around me, it seems like she can do more things than when she’s alone.
I know most people wouldn’t use negative words like “haunted” when talking about one of their closest friends, but I sure as hell am going to say haunted when it comes to Natalie. She’s followed me around for most of my life, harassing and judging me and swearing like a sailor, even when I was a child. And still, I put up with it because there’s really nothing else I can do.
When Detective Booker and his brother head over, I realize that maybe now they’ll let me go. They’ll be like “Ha ha, just a joke. Don’t do it again,” and I’ll give them some finger guns or something and run off… maybe you shouldn’t finger gun an officer… thumbs up it is.
“Are you really taking him in to get his statement? You know we could do that right here?” Ben asks as he gets into the driver’s seat.
“Yeah,” Booker says. “He wants to go to the station, don’t you, Hiro?”
“Yes?” I ask, uncertain what the right answer to this is.
“He said he wanted a good tour of the station for his birthday,” Maddox says. “Isn’t that right, Hiro?”
“Um, sure?” What the hell is this? Why am I just agreeing with him?
Ben looks back at me. “Is today your birthday?”
“It is,” I say grudgingly.
He gives his brother a look of pure shock. “You literally looked into him, saw it was his birthday, and still decided that you were going to do this?”
“I sure did,” Booker says, looking awfully smug.
Ben whistles. “Jeezus, Maddox, you’re in a mood today.”
Which is funny when I thought Maddox was born “in a mood.”
Maddox gives no shits as Ben starts driving back to the police station while I awkwardly sit there with Natalie who is now blowing in Booker’s ear. Of course, he doesn’t see it and he definitely doesn’t notice when she climbs onto his lap.
She keeps looking back at me, like she thinks she could get me to say something or laugh. “Come on! It’s funny! It’s like a little lap dance for your birthday, but instead of you getting the sexy guy, I do.” The only way to solve anything here is to flip her off. Of course, that’s the very moment Maddox turns his head to look at me. His eyes narrow as I give him a sheepish smile.
“I wasn’t flipping you off. My finger… is sore. I jammed it. When I fell. Just stretching it.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” he says.
I glare at Natalie who gives me her best look of innocence as she climbs into the back seat with me.
“Maddox, are you going to Dad’s this weekend?” Ben asks.
“I don’t want to. I have that case I’m busy with, and all he wants to do is go fishing.”
“Last time you went out, you vomited all over, didn’t you?” Ben asks with a grin and a playful elbow nudge.
The best way to describe Ben and Maddox is to say that all of the happiness was drained out of Maddox’s body and shoved into Ben, probably sometime during childhood if I have to guess. I’m just glad I’ve only ever had the pleasure of seeing them, mostly Maddox, for a few minutes at a time. I think Ben is older than Maddox, so maybe their mother used up all the kind traits on Ben.
“I’ve never gone fishing before,” I helpfully add to the conversation.
Ben looks back at me in the rearview mirror. “Haven’t you?”
“Don’t engage with the prisoner,” Maddox says.
“Hiro, you’re not a prisoner. You’re a witness,” Ben adds.
I ignore Maddox but give Ben a soft smile. “No. My grandpa wasn’t really into any of that outdoorsy stuff. He tried taking me camping once when I was young, got drunk and fell down a hill. I spent three hours looking for him, only to find him curled up in the tent next to ours with some strangers because he thought it was our tent. We never went back.”
Ben laughs but Maddox just glances back at me. Ben says, “Your grandpa sounds like a hoot.”
“He was,” I say as we pull up to the station. Maddox immediately gets out and opens the door for me. As soon as I’m out he power walks off, leaving me to assume I’m to follow him into the station before he takes me straight back to a plain white room with a single table and two chairs.
“Stay here. You’ll need to give your statement when I get back,” he says.
“Okay…”
At this point, I decide he’s probably not actually going to arrest me and Ben was telling the truth. If he was, wouldn’t he take down my information and like… check me in somehow or something? Or read me my rights? Honestly, I have no idea; my knowledge of being arrested is extremely limited and based on movies. This is just to scare me.
Right?
…
Right?
Fuck, please be right. What if he really does arrest me? What am I going to do to get out of that? My claim that I was tipped off by a dead person does very little to help my credibility when I’m the only one who can see and talk to the dead person.
I can’t tell him that as I’d been driving toward home, a ghost came shooting out into the middle of the street, terrifying the ever-living shit out of me. While ghosts meander across the street, there’s still a part of my brain that is convinced it’s a person before it sets in that I can drive straight through them. I had slammed on the brakes hard enough my car was left squealing, and he’d seemed to take note of me. He alerted Natalie who alerted me, before fucking off as ghosts are known to do. Whenever a death is imminent, they seem to lose their focus and become fixated on the death. Thankfully, the woods didn’t have too many ghosts lingering, or I’d have had trouble even getting near her body.
Natalie told me that the ghost had allegedly seen a man chasing a woman while holding a knife. Quickly, I’d pulled my car off to the side of the road, jumped out, and run in the direction he’d come from. Which is how I found the crime scene and the body.
But confessing all of this to the detective sounds like a bad idea, leaving me to sit here on the hard chair contemplating my choices.
Unashamedly Us by Colette Davison
“I’m feeling needy.” I walked up to him, pulling him close and kissing him while savouring his touch and taste.
“Me too.” Charlie smiled and then leant against my body. He stroked my back and breathed in deeply, his chest expanding against mine.
“What are you doing?”
“Memorising your scent.”
I kissed his hair and then inhaled so I could do the same. Charlie’s scent was very distinctive—toffee apples and crisp autumn mornings. My heart squeezed tight at the realisation that I wouldn’t get to hold, kiss, or be in the same room as Charlie for three months.
Staying behind and keeping our relationship secret, for now, was the right decision. Charlie didn’t need any stress on top of the rigours of touring. It didn’t matter that his schedule was more relaxed than most singers enjoyed; the demands of performing two-hour sets were exhausting. Worrying about the media gossiping about us was the last thing he needed. Or maybe it was the last thing I needed, and Charlie was an easy scapegoat for my fear.
But the media and Charlie’s fans would gossip the moment they found out we were a couple. I was nineteen years older than him, and we were both omegas.
Charlie slipped his hands underneath my shirt and started to walk me backwards, kissing me.
“This is nice,” I said during a brief break between kisses.
“I’m saying goodbye,” Charlie whispered as he tipped us both onto the sofa.
“Didn’t we do that this morning?”
“Uh-huh.” He pushed my shirt up and pressed kisses to my chest.
“And last night?”
“Yes, but I want to say it again.” He looked up at me. “I’m really gonna miss you.” He undid my belt. “I need to feel your skin against mine one last time before I go.”
Author and artist Jordan Castillo Price is the owner of JCP Books LLC. Her paranormal thrillers are colored by her time in the midwest, from inner city Chicago, to small town Wisconsin, to liberal Madison.
Jordan is best known as the author of the PsyCop series, an unfolding tale of paranormal mystery and suspense starring Victor Bayne, a gay medium who's plagued by ghostly visitations. Also check out her new series, Mnevermind, where memories are made...one client at a time.
With her education in fine arts and practical experience as a graphic designer, Jordan set out to create high quality ebooks with lavish cover art, quality editing and gripping content. The result is JCP Books, offering stories you'll want to read again and again.
Hank Edwards has been writing gay romantic fiction for more than twenty years. He has published over thirty novels and dozens of short stories. His writing crosses many sub-genres, including romantic comedy, contemporary, paranormal, suspense, mystery, and wacky comedy.
He has written a number of series such as the funny and spooky Critter Catchers, Old West historical horror Venom Valley Series, suspenseful Up to Trouble series, and the very erotic and very funny Fluffers, Inc., He is also part of the shared universe Williamsville Inn series of contemporary gay romance books that feature stories by Brigham Vaughn as well. He's written a YA urban fantasy gay romance series called The Town of Superstition, which is published under the pen name R. G. Thomas.
No matter what genre he writes, Hank likes to keep things steamy, kind of sassy, and heartfelt. He was born and still lives in a northwest suburb of the Motor City, Detroit, Michigan.
Chloe Archer currently calls the arctic wilds of Minnesota home but has spent much of her life abroad in places like Montreal, Edinburgh, and Tokyo. One day she hopes to live somewhere sunny and warm. She loves to travel, eat spicy food, and geek out about her fandoms. In her spare time (Ha! What’s that?) she’s an avid reader with far too many books and not enough bookcases, a wannabe tea and coffee connoisseur, and a karaoke fanatic. When she’s not making herself laugh out loud while writing adorkable gay rom-coms, she can be found walking her two Yorkies (Teddy and Jasper,) trying to finish that blanket she’s been knitting for five years or spending time with friends and family.
Alice Winters started writing stories as soon as she was old enough to turn her ideas into written words. She loves writing a variety of things from romance and comedy to action. She also enjoys reading, horseback riding, and spending time with her pets.
Colette's personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. Several years later, she’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.
Ever since she could hold a pen, Colette has been writing stories. Always an avid reader and lover of the arts, Colette graduated in Theatre Studies from Lancaster University in 1999, and in English Literature from the Open University in 2010. After studying for a P.G.C.E. in secondary education, and subsequently teaching english and drama for six years, Colette chose to become a stay at home mum and to focus on her writing.
Colette's first M/M romance, Why I Left You, was published in November 2017. Since then she has continued to write books that are sweet, sexy, and heartwarming.
Jordan Castillo Price
Hank Edwards
Chloe Archer
EMAIL: chloe@chloearcher.com
Alice Winters
Tinker's Apprentice by Jordan Castillo Price
Chasing the Chupacabra by Hank Edwards
B&N / KOBO / iTUNES AUDIO
The Orc and the Manny by Chloe Archer
Ghost of Lies by Alice Winters
Unashamedly Us by Colette Davison
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)