King was jogging down the steps, looking exactly as tired as I felt. “Ferro.”
“You going to arrest me for jaywalking?” I said.
“Youdidbreak in—I just wanted to make sure you were okay to leave. The doctor cleared you?” He moved as though he was going to touch my head again, but Laurel moved in front of me.
“Detective King, is it?” Her voice was chilly. “If you’re going to harass my brother again, I’m going to call back our lawyer.”
“No, that’s not—” He nodded at me. “Just glad you’re okay.”
I shook my head and turned away, tugging Laurel with me. “C’mon. You can buy me breakfast.”
She followed behind me, glaring over her shoulder darkly.
“You know Icancall the coven lawyer. Is he going to be a problem?”
Glancing back, I saw King looking almost forlorn on the sidewalk. His expression was that of purewant. What he could possibly want from me, I had no idea.
“No,” I said, turning back to her. “I don’t think he will be.”
To read more about King and Parker, check out Wormwood Summer available on Amazon and free in KU.
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A Belated Burial
A San Amaro Investigations Novella
A Belated Burial
A Belated Burialexists in the San Amaro Investigations universe betweenThe Oak Wood ThroneandA Gilded Iron Blade, but can be read as a standalone.
A missing dead body sends Parker Ferro on the hunt…
As San Amaro’s top paranormal P.I., Parker has seen more than his fair share of the weird and dangerous. So when he’s offered a simple retrieval case, he jumps at the chance to show his vacationing boyfriend his skills on a straightforward case.
He should know that his cases are never that easy.
A Belated Burial is a 15k complete short.
One
“No,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. “Even if he slams you every time he closes the door, you still have to open, or he’ll replace you.”
My door considered this argument. “But he always pounds on me.”
“He’s the building manager,” I said. “He wants to make sure I’m not in. This is the third time. He thinks you’re warping from age, so you have to stop it.”
The problem with being able to talk to inanimate objects was that theytalked. Once I pumped magic into something, more often than not, it had opinions. It was something that no witch or alchemist could understand, and it was something I had to hide to fit in with the other magic users in San Amaro.
“Warpingfromage?” my door asked, horrified. “Howdare—Parker, Parker, there’s someone here.”
She swung open, revealing a young man with floppy brown hair and the sort of soft expression that would make a hundred singer-songwriters write ballads about him.
When he saw me standing right at the door, he startled.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “Are you open?”
Nodding, I took a few steps back so it looked a little bit less like I was losing an argument with an inanimate object. “Yeah. I’m Parker Ferro. What can I do for you?”
