Realm Beyond the Mist: The Realm Beyond, #1

By Justina Dodson

A new unicorn shifter romance by Justina Dodson.

Glitter is a pain in the ass.

For private eye Violet Stone, there's no escaping it. She's constantly finding the sparkly crap in her hair, on her clothes, and worst of all, on the lens of the camera she uses to snap incriminating photos of her clients' husbands with their mistresses. Maybe not the most respectable day job, but hey, it pays the bills.

When Violet is abducted shortly after an unsettling encounter with a mysterious stranger, speckled camera lenses and questionable career choices become the least of her worries. These crazy fools think she knows something about a missing gryphon. Her glittery condition doesn't help matters. And while she's grateful to the strange lot of misfits who come to her rescue and whisk her off to a mansion in a misty hideaway, they don't seem to be any saner than her captors. In fact, they're convinced she is a unicorn.

When the glitter kicks into overdrive and Violet begins to experience more disturbing anomalies, she decides that maybe everyone hasn't gone mad. Maybe it's just her. But with vengeful mages on her alarmingly literal tail, she'll have to bridle her doubts until the storm passes. Rainbows come after the rain—Violet just hopes the one she's waiting for doesn't shoot out of her ass.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justina Dodson
• Release date: Jan 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386292371

Book preview

DEDICATION

For James. Thank you for making my dreams come true. Especially the unicorn ones.

by Justina Dodson

The Realm Beyond

Realm Beyond the Mist

Realm Beyond the Shadows (coming soon)

Realm Beyond the Light (coming soon)

Realm Beyond the Mist

Chapter One

LURKING IN THE SHADOWS of the alley, Violet peered through the viewfinder of her new Cannon, watching the man in the distance exchange pleasantries with a mystery woman on the curb. It was dark, and even with the long-range lens, she could barely make out the shadows of their silhouettes as he lifted his hand, offering to light her cigarette. Violet stepped out of the alley and sprinted a few yards down the sidewalk, slipping into the darkened storefront of a café that had closed hours earlier.

Peeking through the viewfinder once more, her vision was obscured by a fine misty substance falling in front of the lens. Was it raining? She reached out her hand but felt nothing, save for a cool fall breeze in the empty night air. Retrieving a microfiber cloth from her pocket, she swiped the lens, keeping her gaze locked on the shadowy couple in the distance. When she looked again, the mist-like substance had been replaced with chunkier flecks, turning the image of the couple into a grainy mess.

Frustrated, she glanced down at the cloth and noticed a multicolored iridescent dust, shimmering in the glow of the street light. Is this—glitter? she guessed. Not again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d willingly came into contact with the black sheep of the craft world, but lately, it had been showing up at the most inconvenient of times. Growing increasingly irritated, she used the hem of her shirt to wipe the lens and searched again for the pair.

The man had stepped closer to the woman, and she took a long draw from her freshly lit cigarette. He slipped his hand around her waist as a thin trail of smoke curled out the side of her mouth, escaping up toward the sky, before dispersing in the wind. She moved forward, leaning into him and he dipped his head lower to meet her gaze. This is it. The money shot. Violet hesitated to press the shutter, waiting for just the right moment to get the proof she needed.

Stepping out of the store front, she tried to get a little closer; so focused on her target, she failed to notice the man watching her from the rooftop above. Just as she was about to press the button, the man leapt from the top of the building, blocking the scene as he landed, facing her. Violet was startled by the dark shape in her view and dropped the camera as she collided with the man, smashing her face into his collarbone.

Hey, watch it! she yelled, shoving against his chest. Desperate not to miss her shot, she reached down to retrieve the camera, but the man grabbed her shoulders.

Amethyst? he asked. He had a crazed, desperate look in his eyes staring at her as if he’d seen a ghost. Aquaria is in trouble. The realm has fallen apart, and the mist is fading. The kingdom needs you. It’s time to break the spell. Violet couldn’t make much sense of what the man was saying. It all sounded like the ramblings of a crazed lunatic. And then she looked up and recognized his face. He was the same guy who had approached her in her favorite coffee shop a few weeks before, and then had shown up a week later as she was tracking a client’s husband through a park.

Oh, no. Not you again! How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?

I know you think you don’t remember me, but I promise, this will all make sense soon. Without warning, he took her face in his hands and kissed her, hard. She wasted no time deploying her knee, and he grunted, grabbing himself as he dropped to the pavement.

Get off of me! she demanded, jerking away from him as he fell. The man groaned and struggled back to his feet, clutching his groin.

It was a long shot, he wheezed. I was hoping you might remember.

Irritated, Violet glanced back down the sidewalk just in time to see the couple retreat into the bar.

Dammit! You just cost me a job. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been tailing that guy? She stopped ranting long enough to wipe the back of her hand across her mouth, much to her stalker’s dismay. You just bought yourself a restraining order, pal.

Amethyst, he tried again. Please, let me help you remember. He took a step towards her, and she backed away from him. Looking pained, he stared into her eyes, his sapphire orbs burning into her like two blue flames. Amethyst, he repeated. His gaze softened as he searched her face for signs of recognition.

Like I said before, she answered carefully, unsure of his mental state. You must have me confused for someone else. Please, stay away from me. She tried to turn away, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her closer.

No. You’re the one who’s confused, he insisted. He removed his jacket and dropped down on one knee, placing a brawny fist over his heart and began chanting in a language she didn’t recognize.

Debating whether she could survive an escape attempt, Violet paused to examine the strange man kneeling before her in the darkness. His face was tilted away from her view as he kept his head bowed, but she could see that his black t-shirt was stretched over a pair of broad shoulders, and she observed a large gryphon tattoo extending past one of his short sleeves down the length of his bicep. She hadn’t seen this in any of their previous encounters. Momentarily intrigued, she couldn’t help but notice the way the gryphon’s feathers seemed to sway in the glow of the street light as the man rambled on in some dead language she couldn’t interpret.

Willing herself to focus, she remembered her need to escape. She knelt quickly, reaching into the street for her fallen camera. Noticing her movement, he stopped chanting and looked up, locking his icy blue eyes on hers. She froze, and his stare softened. You really don’t remember me, do you? he asked.

Look. I’m really sorry, dude. I don’t know who this Amy-whoever is you’re looking for. I’m just trying to do my job. It’s dark and cold, my camera is broken, and that photo I just missed is going to cost me a month’s rent.

A look of understanding crossed his face.

I see. My mistake. I should go. Here. He retrieved her camera from the asphalt and rose quickly, brushing against her briefly as he stood. Handing her the camera, he took a few steps back, turned away, and leapt into the air, clearing the top of the five-story building next door. Violet stood in stunned silence. Did he just jump all the way to the top of that building?

A giggle in the distance interrupted her musings and she turned toward the sound, pleasantly surprised to see the couple she’d been following earlier had made their way back outside. As a taxi approached the curb, she raced down the sidewalk, desperate to get a picture of them, any picture, before they could get away. The shutter on her camera temporarily jammed, and she had to settle for a hasty snap of the taxi’s taillights speeding towards the highway. Hoping she could get some clues from the bar, she turned towards the storefront and was met with nothing but the empty façade of a long-abandoned shop, a tattered For Rent sign taped to the cracked glass window.

She blinked, certain there had been a bar there just moments before. Determining that in her haste she had just walked past it by mistake, Violet paced up and down the sidewalk peering in the windows of all the old, empty shops. Nothing. Other than the café near the alley, and an old antique shop cluttered with dusty relics of generations past, the other buildings on the block had all been vacated. The bar had vanished. Violet stood dazed, staring down the street in complete disbelief. A sudden pulsing in her jacket pulled her from her trance. She shoved her hand into the front pocket and yanked out her cell phone. It was 2:00am. Who would be calling at this hour?

Hello? she answered, still vaguely uncertain of her reality. A female’s shaky voice whispered on the other end.

Yes, hi. Are you Violet Stone? The...investigator?

That’s me.

My name is Mrs. Hayes. Rebecca Hayes. Just Rebecca, she stammered trying out different identities. I need your help. It’s my husband. He’s only out of town for a few more days, and I need to meet with you as soon as possible, before he gets back. Are you free tonight?

Violet groaned in protest.

Tonight? It’s 2:00am. Wouldn’t you rather meet tomorrow, at a more reasonable hour?

No. The voice on the other end was adamant. There’s no time to wait. Please. I can pay you double.

You don’t even know my fees.

I have money.

Fine. There’s a 24-hour diner at Cedar and 4th Street. Meet me there in an hour.

Surveying her surroundings, Violet realized it was going to be impossible to hail a cab at this hour. Against her better judgement, she decided to walk the ten blocks to the diner to clear her head. She’d been in the private investigation business for several years now. She’d always had a knack for figuring out the truth and was drawn to this line of work with the impression that she’d be somehow making the world a better place. Unfortunately, most of her usual clients were middle-aged women with rich husbands looking for a way out, in the form of a hefty divorce settlement. It wasn’t the most glamorous line of work, but it paid well, and she was good at it. Her clients weren’t usually this desperate, though.

As she entered the diner and slid in to a quiet corner booth, she wondered if Mrs. Hayes’ husband was an abuser. She ordered an iced tea and a slice of apple pie from the waitress and reached into her bag to examine her damaged camera. The image she snapped was blurry and didn’t have any faces in it. It would be useless in her investigation. The shutter button was a little sticky, and as she pressed down, a puff of purple dust exploded on her hands. She tried to wipe it off with some napkins, but her efforts were in vain as that only seemed to make it worse. What is this stuff?

Frustrated, her thoughts drifted back to the stranger from the alley. Ever since he’d first appeared a few weeks ago, rambling on about otherworldly nonsense and acting like she was some sort of messiah with a sacred duty, this glittery substance was showing up everywhere. She tried to brush it off as just a series of strange coincidences with a random weirdo, but she couldn’t shake the image of the tattoo on his bicep, the way it seemed to move as if it were alive. And the way he cleared that building? She’d seen parkour before, but nothing like that. And what about the bar? It was like it had just disappeared. And now there was all this random glittery dust that kept appearing all over everything? Nothing was making sense.

I’ve got to stop drinking. Tomorrow. She produced a flask from her bag and shamelessly added a few shots of gin to her tea. The waitress interrupted her thoughts, delivering the slice of pie she’d ordered just as the door to the diner came swinging open, practically knocking the little gold doorbell off its perch. Mrs. Hayes came rushing in, nervous and shaky. She stumbled in her heels and clutched the lapels of her long trench coat to steady herself. Her hair covered with a big silk scarf and a pair of large, dark sunglasses concealed her features.

Tired, distracted, and nursing her spiked tea, Violet only half listened as Rebecca Hayes recounted her tale of the charming millionaire she’d once loved, who had suddenly turned cold and distant. He was working later and later, taking mysterious phone calls at all hours of the night, and during their most recent altercation, the argument had turned physical when she’d caught the scent of another woman’s perfume on his jacket. She removed her sunglasses to expose a fresh purple bruise around her left eye.

I think he’s having an affair, Mrs. Hayes predicted. But the prenup is only valid until the end of this year. He’s back in town tomorrow night, but he leaves again for Tokyo in a few days. I want to serve him the papers before he leaves on business to give me enough time to get out before he comes home. I’ve already contacted a lawyer, but I’m going to need some proof. That’s where you come in. She handed over an envelope with photos, of her husband, his car, his business associates, and the itinerary from his personal calendar. If you can find something, anything, in the next 72 hours, I’ll triple your normal fee. Do we have a deal? Violet slipped the folder into her bag.

Done, she nodded. Where should I send the evidence?"

I’ll text you with instructions. Mrs. Hayes stood up and bolted from the diner just as flustered as when she entered. Violet finished her pie while reviewing the itinerary. She paused when she noticed a regular meeting every other Thursday at 9:00pm. Drinks at the Warehouse. The Warehouse was an old pub that had burned down 2 years ago. The evidence was almost too obvious. She made a mental note of the man’s work address before heading home to crash.

AFTER SLEEPING IN, Violet spent most of the next afternoon researching her new client’s husband. She’d stocked her old Jeep with the usual stash of gas station junk food and energy drinks and spent the evening staked out in front of Mr. Hayes office, waiting to discover the true purpose of his Thursday night meetings and wondering where his activities would lead. As the clock crept closer to 9:00 pm, she leaned back in the driver’s seat, took the last swig of her drink, and tossed the empty can into the floorboard.

Two men exiting the building caught her attention, and she started her engine as she observed them getting into the husband’s car. She followed them through the city and off the main highway onto a rough, gravel road that led to a secluded, old building on the edge of town. The Warehouse from Mr. Hayes’ appointment book turned out to be the charred remains of an abandoned slaughterhouse. Violet parked her Jeep a few hundred feet away, tucked into a patch of tall grass on the edge of the dusty shoulder, and waited for the men to enter the building, before creeping closer.

There were no windows at the ground level, and the ones higher up were mostly boarded shut, but she managed to find one with almost all the glass intact, just a few panes missing. She stacked a couple of wooden crates and climbed up carefully, peering into the window. Spotting her mark, her eyes followed him as he stepped through the remnants of an old corral. What she saw put her on high alert. Rebecca Hayes stood near the center of the room talking with the two men who had just arrived.

What is she doing here? Violet whispered out loud. Something wasn’t adding up. All her internal alarm bells went off as she teetered on the edge of the stack of crates. A thin veil of dust suddenly clouded her vision, and as she went to rub her eye, her foot slipped. She fell forward, smacking her head into the hard, brick windowsill and clawing at the side of the building as gravity dragged her down into the rubble, leaving a trail of bloody glitter on the wall as she fell.

The sound disturbed the conspirators inside the building, and one of them came outside to investigate what had interrupted their meeting. Disoriented and sore, Violet struggled to get to her feet, but was stopped short as a big, meaty hand came from behind and grasped a handful of her hair.

Well, well, well, what have we got here?

Chapter Two