Secret Magic: Shifty Magic Novella Series, #1

By Judy Teel

Kidnapping. Treachery. Annoying Feds.

New Private Investigator, Addison Kittner, is done taking jobs barely a step above hand-drawn notices nailed to telephone poles. So when she gets the opportunity to solve a kidnapping case, she jumps on it. Too bad the job comes with a liability, namely too-hot-for-her-own-good Were FBI Agent, Cooper Daine.

Never one to trust people who follow the rules, Addison ditches him the first chance she gets. A decision she regrets when she discovers who’s behind the kidnapping and they almost kill her.

She hates to admit it, but as risky as Cooper is to her peace of mind, not having the Were at her back is even worse. To have any chance at rescuing the kidnapped boy before it’s too late, they need each other. Maybe more than either of them wants to admit.

Buy Secret Magic and experience the adventure today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gold Swan Publishing
• Release date: Oct 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519979896

Judy Teel

–Teller of tales. –Blaster of boredom. –Creator of your next adventurous experience. Judy Teel was born in Virginia and moved to North Carolina just before middle school. She’s a fiction author and novelist writing in the dystopian urban fantasy genre. Her stories deliver mystery with some thriller elements, a kick-butt heroine with a large dash of snark in her, a bit more than a touch of romance with a guy that makes readers’ hearts beat a little faster, and a wild ride full of action and emotion from start to finish.

Book preview

Chapter One

Charlotte, NC — 2032

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Nothing kills the holiday spirit like getting run over in a dark alley by a fleeing criminal.

True, I hadn't picked the greatest shortcut, but after helping my best friend, Falcon, decorate his shop for Christmas, I was in a hurry to get to my only client's apartment and tell him to screw himself.

I was new to the PI gig, having graduated from high school in the spring and gotten my license over the summer. I'd stapled flyers around the city, and when a guy had hired me to find his cat, I was pretty excited to have the job.

Until I'd located his cat.

His six-month-old female tabby was not living the comfortable life he claimed. In fact, the vet told me that based on old and new injuries, she'd most likely been routinely starved and hit. She'd even suffered a fractured rib that had healed without medical attention. The vet finished his report by saying it was a miracle the cat had survived into her teen years.

I could identify. I was a child when the paranormal terrorists attacked cities all over the world, and my foster parents panicked and fled Charlotte, NC — without me. Over the next few years, I figured out how to survive, eventually collecting other kids in the same boat, as well as Falcon, the one person I really considered a friend.

There was no way the cat was going back to the bastard who'd hurt her.

I'd paid the vet with the money I'd been saving to treat Falcon and me to a Christmas dinner and spent what was left on a slice of ham for my fluffy new roommate. Then I'd left her to enjoy the first food she'd had in a while and headed out to deal with my ex-client.

Now it was after sundown, when nasty things still came out despite the paranormal terrorists' final beat down at the end of the war several years ago. With the sun gone, the wind cut through my jean jacket like I was wearing a bathing suit, and I was armed with only a knife, which was hidden in a custom-designed sheath in my right logger boot.

I wished for a winter coat that I couldn't afford, and my gun which I'd left at Falcon's shop. Good thing I had my temper to keep me warm and dangerous.

My shoulder hit the dirty pee-stained asphalt, and I rolled with my momentum, coming up on my feet and sprinting after the perpetrator before he'd cleared the other end of the alley. I'd been roaming the streets of Charlotte since I was a kid, and I knew where he was probably headed.

Once an upscale place for families, the Ballantyne area now sat just above poverty level. Homes that were still standing had been divided for multifamily living, shops and businesses that hadn't been destroyed were everything from rooms to rent, to bars, to other kinds of eternally profitable lines of business.

Coming out of the alley, I crossed a beat-up side street as the perp skidded into the turn, and then tore down the road, his black shoes slapping against the broken, damp pavement like someone was hitting it with a leather belt. He clutched a big purse in his fist.

I headed for the alley across from me and poured on the speed, coming out onto the better-maintained main road and turning left to run parallel to the purse snatcher. Dodging the police car speeding past, I took the next street and raced across the pothole-strewn asphalt to come out between two brick buildings; one with saplings growing up through the space where its roof had once been, and the other with a sad-looking string of holiday lights twinkling behind the thick bars protecting its windows.

Across the expanse of what had once been a parking lot came my quarry, his black overcoat open and flapping behind him. He glanced behind him and then slowed to a jog, providing me with a good look at his face as he passed under a threadbare row of streetlights on the other side of the square.

Skidding to a stop, I pressed my back against the cold bricks of the occupied building as angry elation zinged along my nervous system. Merry Christmas to me. The purse snatcher was my new cat's previous owner.

The huge orange purse now under his arm made a bright splash of color against his overcoat as he slowed to a walk and ambled across the open space, heading toward the building one down from where I was. Breathing hard, I watched him getting closer, calculating the angle of impact from my hiding place to him.

As he crossed in front of the old fountain in the square, I shot out of the shadows, hitting him in the back full force. At the same time, a police officer launched himself at us from the other corner of the building.

The momentum of the two strikes carried us all forward in a grappling, fighting clump. Over the wall of the fountain basin we tumbled and into the murky rainwater swill that filled it.

The cop and I wrangled the criminal around in the water until we got him pinned across the edge of the fountain. I spit out a disgusting mouthful of icy cold nasty and stood back while the equally wet and bedraggled police officer cuffed the guy's hands behind him.

The purse-snatching bully was too shocked from the dunking to look up, and I decided not to complicate things by letting the cop know I'd had dealings with the guy. Since I hadn't been paid yet, I saw no conflict around that.

Looking around, I spotted an orange blob in the murky water and pulled out the soggy pocketbook. Slogging to the edge of the fountain, I dropped it onto the chipped and broken flagstone paving of the courtyard. A scent like moonlit meadows drifted over me, and then a pair of men's black dress shoes stepped up and stopped a few feet from the fountain. My gaze went up, taking in black slacks covering long legs and narrow hips, a crisp white shirt and Daffy Duck tie lying against a flat stomach, broad shoulders set off by a black jacket, then a square jaw, a mouth that my attention stuttered over, and on up to a pair of luminescent silver-green eyes. I blinked and swallowed.

He was beautiful.

His sexy mouth tugged up at one corner. Isn't it late to be out on a school night?

My brain took a moment to process that, but when it did, my enthrallment of him vanished. I narrowed my gaze at him. You always dress up for a foot chase? I climbed out of the fountain, every movement a frozen extravaganza of discomfort as my soaked jeans adhered to my legs while my shirt and jean jacket tugged across my shoulders.

My boots made an unpleasant squishy thunk as I planted them on the flagstones one at a time. I was glad I didn't have my gun, which I'd left with Falcon for some upgrades I had planned. Maybe I'd add waterproof to my list.

The swoon-worthy stranger pulled a high-tech iC out of his inside jacket pocket, pressed a button on the side and flashed his badge at me. Pushing my hair out of my eyes, I glared at the screen. I didn't think purse snatchers were the FBI's style. Slow night?

Behind me, the cop hoisted the handcuffed guy to his feet as his partner came jogging up. Tall with blonde hair and the kind of pleasant boy-next-door face that inspired trust in most people, he stepped forward to help get the perp onto the flagstones. You were right, he said to his soaking wet partner. It's him.

The other cop splashed out of the fountain and shook dirty water off his hands like that would make a difference. He was good-looking and the uniform sticking to his body showcased a build worth looking at. He wiped his hand down his face, his features reminding me of the twentieth century actor Bruce Lee when he was in his prime, and gave me an open, friendly grin. Ever consider joining the police force?

I gave him a quick smile in return. PI is as close as I want to get, but thanks.

Be sure to add arsonist catcher to your resume, Ms...Kittner, FBI Guy cut in. I looked over to see him studying his fancy iC. He glanced up and must have read the outrage on my face at the fact that he'd scanned me without permission. Standard procedure. Might need you as a witness. He aimed the device at the taller cop and pressed his thumb to the screen. Officer Kyle Foster, he said after a moment. And... He repeated the scan on the Bruce Lee guy. Officer Jim Perry. Also human.

Still doesn't explain why you're here, I said.

I was on my way back from my hotel when I saw the woman get mugged.

The blonde cop, Officer Foster, pulled his older iC model out of the case strapped to his belt and aimed it at FBI Guy. Dots of lights chased across the top for a moment and then the readout bar settled on blue. Agent Cooper Daine, paranormal division, he read off the screen. Looking up, he gave Agent Daine a cool look. Were.

Wolf to be exact, the FBI agent said, his expression amused again.

Don't know why you bothered, I said to Foster as I picked up the pocketbook and handed it to him. How many humans do you know with eyes that can reflect light and hair brindled like a wolf?

Tough and observant, Daine said. The makings of a great PI.

I decided the compliment wasn't sincere and sloshed my way back toward the street. A couple of blocks down was a hoverbus platform, and I intended to make use of it. Gliding in the air about fifteen feet above traffic in large cities all around the world, the efficient, bus-like tubes called hoverbuses mysteriously combined hovercraft technology and magic in ways only their inventor, Jacob Laswell, understood. Not that any of us who relied on the magical tech cared. As long as it got us where we wanted to go and ran on time, that's all that mattered. And if I were lucky, I'd catch the last one to my end of town where a warm shower, footie pajamas and a cup of hot chocolate waited for me.

Wait, Officer Perry called. I stopped and turned around. Holding my ex-client by one arm, he gave his partner a look and gestured toward me with his head. Officer Foster grimaced, strolled over to me, and swept his iC up and down about four inches from my body. As I waited for the readout to process, the breeze chased through the old complex, cutting through me and making me appreciate how ice sculptures must feel. I shivered.

Thanks for helping, he muttered, his face turning red as he glanced at his partner.

Surprise ran through me, and this time, it was my face that heated up. I was no saint, but I wasn't used to most men being all that interested in me. Probably because I usually made a solid effort to discourage them. Let me guess. The new way to get a girl's phone number?

His mouth seemed torn between a rakish smile and an embarrassed grin, as he slipped his modern iC into its case. Something like that.

Turning away, Officer Foster walked back to his partner, and together they helped move the perp toward the main road where their cruiser was probably parked. Just before they rounded