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Werewolf & Shifter Mystery
BY KATHERINE GILBERT
A werewolf, a witch, and a vampire walk into a murder scene . . .
Sgt. Marilyn Jaye of Supernatural Oversight (the investigative unit for all things which bump a bit too much in the night) is having a frustrating day. A simple case of a murdered ghoul has spun into a second murder of a gentlemanly Victorian vampire and a search for a rogue werewolf. Then there’s her unreasonable attraction to Henry, a young werewolf with a terrible case of PTSD (Post-Turn Stress Disorder). To solve it, she’ll need help from her friends, Hanover (Henry’s handsome Alpha and Marilyn’s ex-lover) and Julius Beer (a vampire who watches over his distressed comrades in Highgate Cemetery). Also alternately helping or annoying her are the other members of the S.O., including her powerful sorcerer boss, the eternal spirit of Romantic poet William Blake, a pool (yes, an actual pool) of secretarial sirens, and an imp who’s in love with a cat. And they better figure it out soon, because Marilyn is the next target.
Erick followed Marilyn to the door of a penthouse which seemed to take up the entire top floor. Odd noises were already coming from behind it.
He raised an eyebrow, as she turned to him seriously. “It’s going to go against your entire nature, I know, but I need you not to comment on anything you see here.”
His mouth opened to object, but she shook her head.
“Yeah, yeah, I know you think you’ve seen it all, but you haven’t. Not yet.”
She turned to knock, leaving him looking irritated, and then thought better of it, opening the door. For far too many reasons, there was no need to wait for an invitation.
Erick’s reaction was exactly the one she had suspected. She tried to stop his look of shock with her own hard stare, but he was, sadly, a bit too bug-eyed to notice. She couldn’t really blame him. It probably wasn’t every day that mortals walked in on a full-on orgy.
This was one of the better ones, too, she supposed. No one here was shy or uncertain, no one left out. There were at least 35 people in the room, all convulsing and cavorting in one rolling sea of naked flesh. The sounds of their orgasmic moans were nearly deafening.
Marilyn didn’t share her partner’s amusement or interest, however–and none of the participants’ apparent joy. She stood with her arms crossed, foot tapping, as a small man in a robe dashed up to her.
He had to be new. He looked at Erick speculatively and at her a bit worriedly, wondering. “Um, did you wish to join?”
She bit back the growl. “Just get him here.”
The little man’s look became beatific. “You wish to see our Master?”
Not really–but there was no avoiding it. Still, she couldn’t say it. “I know he’s here. Just get him.”
She was already mouthing the man’s response, as it began. “Oh, our Master is always with us!”
“I didn’t ask for a sermon, just a summons,” she growled. When her badge materialized, it glowed a sort of electric blue. She really was annoyed. “I’m a sergeant with Supernatural Oversight.”
The sound of her foot tapping nearly outdid the nearby moans. The fact that she didn’t give her name even caught Erick’s attention, which was hard to do, given their current distractions.
She disapparated the badge and crossed her arms more fully. This little man seemed far too interested in her cleavage.
“Just get the bastard.”
That surprised him. “Oh, but . . .”
She didn’t let him finish, using a very old trick to make her voice fill the room. She didn’t have quite the range of her mother’s magical abilities, but she hadn’t gone to a witch school for nothing. “NOW!”
She was pissed–it echoed.
Still, it got her what she wanted, a feathery light descending into the shape of a robust, older man. His steel gray hair had not a strand out of place, his deep blue eyes twinkling on seeing her, smiling at her angelically. “Now, Marilyn, didn’t I teach you not to interrupt anyone’s pleasure?”
She tried not to grind her teeth, ignoring the old barb.
Better to just get on with this. If he thought she’d already interrupted, he’d seen nothing yet.
“Hi, Dad. There’s been a murder . . .”
Having grown up surrounded by a house and town so gothic that she doesn’t bother to tell the stories, because nobody would believe them, Katherine Gilbert enjoys spinning tales of far friendlier paranormal beings. When she’s not either writing or teaching at a South Carolina college, she’s plotting her next adventure with her sister, so they can get together and cackle over having outrun most of their past.
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