Special Delivery: Larkwood Chronicles Prequel

By Stephanie Kelley

My name is Lynne Larkwood. I come from a long line of witches that have hidden in the shadows since the witch hunts started centuries ago. Gone are the days when my kind would make spells and potions for a living. Hello, pizza delivery job. But what should be a nice easy night at work, turns into chaos when my hellhound boyfriend calls and says there are pixies in town.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephanie Kelley
• Release date: Apr 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463459492

Stephanie Kelley

Stephanie Kelley is a sci-fi geek who wishes Firefly was never canceled. She has a degree in Journalism from Lock Haven University of Pennsylvania. She enjoys writing in the urban fantasy and horror genres. In addition to her Alaskan Hunter series, she also has short stories published in various anthologies. Follow her on Amazon or Facebook for the latest updates.https://www.facebook.com/StephanieKelleyAuthor/

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Special Delivery

Copyright 2019 Stephanie Kelley

Published by Stephanie Kelley at Smashwords

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Special Delivery

by Stephanie Kelley

The constant beeping, honks, and yelling are just a thing when you traveled through New York City’s main streets. The traffic was always snarled and typically diverted in a direction I didn’t want to go. Since I was a lifelong resident of the Big Apple, one would think I'd remember that.

Or at least be accustomed to it.

But I'm not. I don't care for people. I don't care for crowds.

And I swear to Abaddon, that if I am late delivering one more pizza my boss is going to fire me.

Chill, Lynne, I told myself. Swearing to Abaddon? You're spending too much time with the hounds.

My stomach growled in protest, reminding me I hadn't eaten since lunchtime and it was just past sunset.

Okay, so maybe swearing to Abaddon is a bit harsh for this situation. It's just pizza. Warm, gooey cheese, zesty tomato sauce, crispy bacon pieces, and sweet warm pineapple.

Pineapple? Who eats bacon and pineapple pizza anyway?

My friend Dutch, that's who. The weirdo. He was always my last stop on a Friday night. If always meant two months. Johnny Slice wasn't a bad place to work in the city. I was just one of a half dozen delivery drivers the owner kept on staff, but I was the only one who drove a motorcycle.

Dutch played in a band with his friends over in a shitty little dive bar down by the Staten Island Ferry on Friday nights. Johnny Slice was up on the Upper East Side near where I lived in Central Park. To say this was just a way for Dutch to get to see me on a weekly basis wasn't far from the truth. We’d been introduced a year or so ago by a mutual