9th Life Strife

By Patti Larsen

Good vs. Wicked. Willoughby vs. Darkmoore. And Eveline caught in the middle...

She's spent her whole life on the outside, not just an outcast bullied for being an unwelcome child of both sides, but the law states she shouldn't even be allowed to live. Whatever compulsion has both matriarchs of her families on the fence about her existence hasn't done Eveline Willoughdark any favors.

Can't they make up their minds already?

Carving out a life as a private investigator serving everyone but her bloodlines hasn't been easy. When she's asked to investigate a curse from a ninth-life familiar dedicated to solving his former mistress's power loss, Eveline almost says no, sure she will wish she had.

Yeah, fate obliges, having her stumbling on a body and enough intrigue to make her wonder--should she investigate after all or walk away and leave the families who abandoned her to whatever fate might bring?

Find out in 9th Life Strife, book one of the Wicked Witch Case Files!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patti Larsen
• Release date: Apr 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9781998948055

Patti Larsen

About me, huh? Well, my official bio reads like this: Patti Larsen is a multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in her head. But that sounds so freaking formal, doesn’t it? I’m a storyteller who hears character's demands so loudly I have to write them down. I love the idea of sports even though sports hate me. I’ve dabbled in everything from improv theater to film making and writing TV shows, singing in an all girl band to running my own hair salon.But always, always, writing books calls me home.I’ve had my sights set on world literary domination for a while now. Which means getting my books out there, to you, my darling readers. It’s the coolest thing ever, this job of mine, being able to tell stories I love, only to see them all shiny and happy in your hands... thank you for reading.As for the rest of it, I’m short (permanent), slightly round (changeable) and blonde (for ever and ever). I love to talk one on one about the deepest topics and can’t seem to stop seeing the big picture. I happily live on Prince Edward Island, Canada, home to Anne of Green Gables and the most beautiful red beaches in the world, with my pug overlord and overlady, six lazy cats and Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

Book preview

9th Life Strife

Wicked Witch Mystery Files: #1

Smashwords Edition

© Patti Larsen 2023

Find out more about me at

http://www.pattilarsen.com/

***

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Chapter One

Was there any worse sound in the world than someone chewing while they ate?

Yes, as a matter of fact. That same someone sighing as though put upon. Heavily. Repeatedly. While chewing.

Grumble.

I adored Red Rider (she hated being called Roisin), I really did. She was the best friend I could ever ask for, the kind of steadfast and loyal soul I could count on through thick and thin, who had my back no matter what happened. She’d been there for me since I was a kid, accepting me as a foster sister when her grandmother, Moira, took me in. We’d been inseparable through countless conflicts, and she’d stood up for me against local bullies who thought a mismatched daughter of magic wasn’t welcome. She never judged me or my unique family history. In fact, she didn’t care one scrap who my parents were or where I came from. She was the best of the best and I really did love her to bits.

Useful in any circumstance, but very much so when in the middle of a case.

That being said, I didn’t mean to grind my teeth and tilt my head to one side, or let out a soft huff of irritation, I swear. Nor did I intend to allow her soft humming to get under my skin and on my last, twitching nerve as she once again ran a big, gloved hand over her long, auburn hair, shifting from one booted foot to the other as she finally swallowed the last of her final bite and sighed so deeply and impatiently that I was certain the residents of every house on the street heard her.

Maybe if this had been the first time she shuffled and chewed and swallowed and sighed. Or even the tenth. Dear Hecate and Circe, even the hundredth. In less than a half hour.

I wish I was exaggerating.

You don’t have to wait with me. Stakeouts weren’t her forte. I knew that when she volunteered to come along with me tonight, resisted her insistence. What was with her? She knew better. Was there some need she had to torment me to madness I wasn’t aware of? Had I wronged her, and this was my penance?

It’ll be fun, she’d said only an hour ago. I’ll bring snacks, Evie.

Snacks she’d steadily and noisily devoured when I’d turned them down in favor of my own focus, forced to listen to her munch her voracious way through three packets of fried pork rinds, gurgling back two effervescences and chomp and smack the sad end to a roll of chocolates before burping soundly and falling into her present round of impatient sighing.

I said I would, she grunted at me, somewhat sullen, leaning into the tree I’d chosen to anchor the curtain spell to. I glanced her way, looking up where she towered over me, hair held back by her goggles now resting above her full brows, the tall collar of her deep brown leather jacket open at the throat, buckles catching what light reached our hiding place from the streetlamp ten feet away. Her deep green eyes squinted at me, full mouth pulled into a tight and annoyed line. She shifted positions again, boots thudding solidly into the grass, matching leather pants creaking when she did.

I’m fine, really. If she would just go away now. I always did stakeouts alone, and she knew it. We’d agreed to it when we’d started this business together almost two years ago. She had her strengths, but standing around waiting for something to happen?

Simply wasn’t one of them.

Let’s just go knock. She straightened, cracking her knuckles and her neck as she shifted her broad shoulders and settled them again. Red had the loveliest voice, melodic and entrancing when she wanted it to be. Like most banshees, however, she wasn’t built for patience, but for action. I bet I can make the target talk.

It was my turn to sigh as I faced off with her, hands on my hips. That’s not the way we do things, I said.

Red flashed me a grin, poking me with one finger. Gotcha, she chuckled. So serious, Evie. She sounded mournful when she collapsed into the tree once more, sagging and petulant all over again. "This is so boring."

Which is why you know better than to invite yourself along. I returned my attention to the dark house across the street, inhaling and exhaling slowly. I happened to like boring, thank you. And peace and quiet, most of which weren’t possible with Red around. Honestly, I’m fine on my own.

I know. She kicked at the grass at her feet, thumbs hooking in her heavy belt, the small crossbow she carried rocking a little on her hip as she did. This was a terrible idea.

I almost laughed, choked it back. No saying I told you so from me, not tonight. It was my own fault. I could have put my foot down. But the truth was, I hated cases like this one. The client’s insistence of his wife’s infidelity already made me uncomfortable and was my least favorite way to pay the bills.

And yet, the bills. They needed paying. Maybe part of me wanted Red along so I didn’t have to feel like a nosy and nasty stalker waiting to see if the werewolf footing this job was right, because the voyeuristic part of my career choice always left me feeling nasty.

Whatever the case, I’d said a reluctant yes and here we were. The source, of course, of my unhappiness that had nothing to do with Red or her impatience. Which meant I did my best to rein in my irritation despite myself.

I’m just taking some pictures tonight, I said. No confrontations necessary.

She shook her head then, pushing off from the tree and pacing to the edge of the curtain spell, so close to it I felt her magic vibrate against my own. The soaring song of the banshees was hard to tolerate at the best of times, but having it butt up against an active spell had my teeth grinding all over again.

Let’s nail the cheating werewoman to the wall, Red snarled, and be done with this case.

I would have preferred that myself, but there were no guarantees our client’s wife was going to oblige. What little evidence pack leader Hector Ash presented felt tenuous to me, though I couldn’t argue with his sense of smell, especially coming into a full moon. I’d only agreed because it seemed like a sure thing, but now I was regretting it more than ever. Infidelity cases were the bottom of the job barrel, and I usually left them to the gnome outfit on the outskirts of Midtown. They loved nothing more than uncovering people’s dirty secrets.

I don’t trust them, my client told me earlier this afternoon, already showing patches of fur through the collar of his t-shirt despite the fact the moon wouldn’t rise for another several hours. Hector Ash had scratched at himself almost continually during our conversation, the occasional soft growl and whine escaping him as well. "I trust you. I just need you to prove Nima is cheating so I can have the pack dissolve our mating. He’d slapped a pouch of coins on the counter, the jingle of gold distinctly different from silver and getting my attention. I’m in the running for pack overleader this year. A big deal and meant a shift away from territorial politics and into wider realm responsibilities. Not that being pack leader in Witchrim was a small thing, mind you. But any ambitions outside our corner of Vestoria meant he was up against heavy hitters in other realms. That won’t happen if I’m caught up in a scandal."

I liked to think I wasn’t motivated by such mundane things as gold. And. Bills, Eveline. Money. Lights on and other such necessities. I’d taken his money and assured him I was on the job as he loped off, leaving me to regret instantly stooping to such a level.

At least the curtain spell lent me—us, that was—a certain level of anonymity. Hopefully, if the wife was cheating, the boy(or girl)friend would make an appearance so I could get my evidence and skedaddle without confrontation, no matter what Red wanted.

The street had been quiet for the last twenty minutes, only increasing my partner’s irritability and my reaction to her. So, when the sound of approaching footfalls caught our attention at the same moment, I actually grinned at Red who flashed me a brilliant and charismatic smile back.

Maybe this was going to go to plan after all. Easy money, Evie.

I caught the groan that almost escaped me as the man heading our way at a brisk walk passed under the streetlight, illuminating his face and I realized that there was no such thing as easy. I knew him, recognized him immediately, chest tightening, stomach clenched, while he carried on past us and crossed to the front door of the house.

Evie! Red hissed at me while he knocked. What are you doing?

I broke out of my frozen moment and snapped my fingers twice, the imaging spell capturing his smirk and the coy look flashed at him from the woman who opened the door in response to his presence. Twice more and he was gone inside, though not before kissing Nima Ash on the lips as my spell captured every detail.

I dropped my hand to my side with a thud of defeat, Red’s happy grin turning downward at my attitude. She looked back and forth between me and the now closed front door, before groaning.

Who is he? She already had an idea, because only one thing would make me react with dread.

He’s a Darkmoore, I said. Robbie, to be precise, though Red didn’t need that detail.

Why did I take this job again?

Screw that, Red snapped, echo of her banshee song in the back of her voice. You got him dead to rights. That’s all the evidence the client needs.

She was right, except. You think he’s going to be happy when Hector finds out his wife is cheating with one of the families? I gnawed at my lower lip, knowing how this was going to play out. It had happened before. He’s going to want his money back. No way was he going to make a stink over a Darkmoore, not even for a chance at the overpack leadership. He’d have to make the case public.

Red spluttered, tossing her big hands. It’s not your fault his wife’s sleeping with a Wicked, she said.

I nodded, glum regardless. We’ll give him the evidence, I said. That’s the best we can do. Maybe Hector wouldn’t demand I give his money back. It wasn’t my fault he and his pack wouldn’t go up against the Wicked witches. Except I knew better. The job was to get him evidence he could use to get rid of his mate. This evidence was useless. No one would dare call out a Darkmoore.

Except a Willoughby, but my client was about as Good witch as Red was.

I clenched my jaw for a new reason, heat firing off inside me. You know what? I tossed my head, feeling my blonde braid bounce across my back, magic sizzling as I let the two spells drop. I’m sick of this. Far too often the Goods and the Wickeds got away with the kind of things that meant I didn’t get paid. And I was over it. We did our job.

Red bobbed a nod, her own grin now vicious. This could blow up in your face, she said without a hint of regret.

Would, she meant. So be it. The thing was, if I was going to make this stick, I needed more than a kiss at the door. Entire body tense but determined regardless, I headed across the street to the house in question, Red pacing at my back.

I was suddenly very happy to have her there.

What are you going to do? Now was the time she should have sounded nervous. Why was I unsurprised she was excited instead? Because this wasn’t the first time that she’d urged me to thumb my nose at the families, was it?

My families.

I’m going to get incontrovertible proof, I said, because if I was going to voyeur? I was going all in. You with me?

Her soft and malicious laugh was all the answer I needed.

***

Chapter Two

Why did that sound make me suddenly giddy? I knew why, of course. Banshees. Gotta love them, especially when they loved you. Not so much when they didn’t, of course, since sound was their specialty. I’d seen powerful people fall to their knees and beg Red not to laugh at them, so I knew how lucky I was to be on this side of her heart.

I’d never found out, however, how one of the family responded to banshee song. Was it wrong I felt a now vicious compulsion to find out?

I considered sneaking my way to the house in question, but I’d learned in the early days of my career choice that skulking attracted the kind of attention that it was actually intended to avoid. More often than not, the direct approach was the least obvious. Not that toting a six-and-a-half-foot redhead in my wake made me inconspicuous. Had I been alone, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. My meager five foot four and slim build easily blended in with the rest of Midtown’s human population, which made being a private investigator a relatively easy decision. Red, on the other hand, made an impression wherever she went, so you can bet I was keenly attuned to the possibility of being called out as we strode across the cobbled street to the sidewalk on the target side.

Fortunately for us, it was that time of night when most residents were tucked away inside their homes and traffic was at a minimum. I did pause one moment as a pair of vampires rushed past in bat form, but the fliers were suitably focused on their destination and barely looked at us twice. Good thing, too, because from the sealed wards that had locked in place, we were going to have to get creative if we planned to have a closer look at what the lady of the house was up to.

Red ducked down the side of the client’s home, heading into the darkness toward the backyard, barely squeezing in between the fence and the rough stone of the three-story foursquare. I carried on at a sedate pace until I reached the other side, a whispered spell blending me into the darkness while I whistled a soft call to the breeze. It lifted me without complaint, floating me upward over the rooftop where I hovered a moment. As I expected, the house’s wards were sealed around the entire building, anchored to the foundation. I could see the humming purple aura when I diffused my vision a little bit, though I did note a gap in the protective wrap that had me grinning.

Chimney, I sent to Red, her mind linking immediately to mine as I sank toward the roof. I’m going to take a look.

Found a gap in the basement window, she grunted in my head. Be careful.

I caught a mental