Roundtable Nights: Druid Detective Agency, #2

By Theophilus Monroe

What if all your nightmares came true?

 

The "mare" used to be contained in people's dreams.

Now, it takes flesh when you wake.

It disappears as soon as it completes its task...

...killing its host.

How can I possibly catch or kill a monster that only emerges from one's sleep?

I can't figure out how it's choosing its victims.

There's not a thread I can follow to figure out who it will strike next.

My only chance to beat the monster will be to lure it into my dreams and kill the damned thing before it gets away.

There's no guarantee the mare will take the bait.

But if I don't kill it soon, more people will die. And it won't stop until it destroys everyone.


Roundtable Nights is the second book in the new Druid Detective Agency urban fantasy series. 

Harry Potter meets Harry Dresden in Druid Detective Agency.

You'll encounter dragons and other mythical creatures. Facing them is nothing compared to fighting with monsters born of the human mind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Theophilus Monroe
• Release date: Apr 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223897682

Book preview

Copyright © 2024 by Theophilus Monroe.

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Cover Design by Christian Bentulan: https://coversbychristian.com/

Proofreading/Editing by Mel: https://getproofreader.co.uk/

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. 

 For information: 

www.theophilusmonroe.com

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Roundtable Nights is also available in audiobook HERE

Contents

PART I

1. Messin' With Sasquatch

2. Toothless

3. Masters of the Universe

4. I See You

5. Mother Nature

6. One Metropolitan Square

7. World Records

INTERLUDES I

I.1.1 Sir Percival

I.1.2 Corvus Blackwood

I.1.3. Merlin

PART II

8. Bestiary

9. Fear and Fangs

10. Vegan Vendettas

11. Shifting Plans

12. Cat Burglars

13. Jailhouse Blues

14. Fight for Flight

INTERLUDES II

I.2.1 Nedley

I.2.2 Stone

I.2.3 Emilie

PART III

15. Re-Resurrected

16. Minions of Mordred

17. Yeah, I can Roar

18. Eat, Drink, and be Mare-y

Also By Theophilus Monroe

About the Author

PART I

1. Messin' With Sasquatch

The phone’s shrill ring cut through the quiet of the office, making me jump. I glanced at Emilie in surprise—we hadn’t gotten a single call in days.

Druid Detective Agency, this is Emilie speaking, my wife said, putting the call on speakerphone. Did you see one of our fliers in Forest Park?

No, I saw your post on Instagram, an anxious female voice replied. I really need your help. The police don’t believe me.

Emilie raised her eyebrows at me. A client from Instagram? That was new.

Before she could respond, a self-adulating cheer erupted from the corner. Merlin sat cross-legged on the floor, attention glued to an iPad.

Merlin! Emilie exclaimed. Are you on social media again, without permission?

I’m just trying to help the business! His wide, innocent eyes blinked up at us behind his curly mop.

Emilie shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. We’ll discuss this later, young man. She turned back to the phone. Sorry about that. You said the police won’t believe you? What seems to be the problem?

It’s my husband… The woman’s voice grew more frantic with each word. He was attacked last night in our bed, while we were sleeping, and now he’s in a coma at the hospital. The police think I’m crazy, but I know what it was.

Sloane leaned forward, her detective instincts kicking in. What did the creature look like, exactly?

I know it sounds impossible, but it was Bigfoot, the woman confessed.

I raised my eyebrows in skepticism. Bigfoot, really? But with the dark ether Mordred released into our atmosphere, I supposed anything was possible. We had encountered nothing so… material… since the days following Mordred’s defeat.

But we’d also been relying on information from a few cases Sloane picked up from the department before the Chief of police forcibly placed her on a leave of absence. A mental health leave was the official excuse he gave her. In truth, the chief knew crazy shit was going down—but Sloane wasn’t willing to explain things away, blame the supernatural on gas leaks and hallucinations. She’d helped us stop Mordred—and defeat a bunch of shadowy monsters.

And once you deal with things like that… there’s no going back.

So she joined us. We formed the Druid Detective Agency. We solved a few cases and then… we had more crickets than an exterminator.

Most likely, crazy shit was still going down all around us, and we just never heard about it. When people see weird things—like Bigfoot—they don’t always talk about it. For good reason. Because only crazy people—or people who eat too much beef jerky—see sasquatch.

That’s the popular opinion, anyway. I didn’t have a habit of judging people who saw weird things. The strange was my specialty as of late. But I had reason to be skeptical about this case.

Truth was, Emilie, Merlin, and I had lived in the Ozarks for most of a decade. As a druid, I had a deep connection to the land. I knew what lived there and what didn’t.

If this man thought he’d seen Bigfoot in the Ozarks, the better explanation was that he’d seen a hillbilly with a hairy back relieving himself on a tree. And it wasn’t necessarily number one.

Hmm, interesting, I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. And you have no idea why this… Bigfoot… would attack your husband specifically?

The woman hesitated, then said in a small voice, Well, my husband and the creature have a history…

I tried and failed to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Dark ether had only been an issue for a few weeks. If these people had a history with sasquatch, it wasn’t likely our kind of case. More like a case for someone who could write prescriptions.

Before I could blurt out something that would likely betray my skepticism, Sloane butted in. What kind of history?

She was taking this seriously. Probably for the best that one of us was. But what harm was there investigating further? It wasn’t like we were busy. When it came to work, we were beggars, not choosers.

He’s convinced he saw Bigfoot once, years ago, while hiking in Oregon. Then again, recently, in the Ozarks while fishing. He’s been spending a lot of time there ever since, trying to track and hunt one down.

I muted the phone and turned to Emilie, eyebrows raised. Stalking a sasquatch in its natural habitat. What could go wrong there?

Emilie frowned at me. This is serious, Elijah.

I know, I know. But we have to consider the possibility this is some kind of karmic retribution. Maybe Bigfoot got tired of being hunted. I unmuted the phone. Ma’am, did your husband perhaps provoke the creature? Threaten it or its family?

I... I don’t know, she said. He doesn’t tell me much about his hunting trips. But you’re right, he’s obsessed with finding Bigfoot. He wouldn’t stop until he had definitive proof it exists. Do you think maybe it attacked him to protect itself, or its territory?

If it did, you think Bigfoot followed your husband home from one of his hunting trips?

I don’t know… the woman sounded exasperated. I mean, sasquatch migrate. My husband says they do, anyway…

Ma’am, have you two watched Harry and the Hendersons lately?

Emilie shot me a death stare. It was a serious question! I mean, if they had, maybe the idea of a sasquatch showing up at their house—aided by the ether in the air that might manifest the worst of their imaginations—was possible. For a man who was already obsessed with Bigfoot—a movie about one moving in with a family might trigger its appearance in his bedroom at night.

Alright. Don’t buy that explanation? Sure, I was being a smartass. Probably not the best way to win clients. But I couldn’t help myself. Better to be a smartass than a dumbass, I always say.

Sloane stepped forward, tapping her notepad meaningfully. I nodded and handed her the phone. She took it off speaker. She was better equipped for this line of questioning.

As Sloane began gathering details from the distraught woman, I turned to Emilie. You know, this isn’t outside the realm of possibility, I said in a low voice. This woman’s husband clearly has an obsession, the kind that can make someone’s imagination run wild. With the dark ether in the air, manifestations like this could become more common.

Emilie nodded, brow furrowed. If this man’s obsession somehow brought a creature to life, how do we stop it? We can’t tell him to just set aside his fears. That’s worked before, but this man is unconscious.

That doesn’t mean the monster isn’t out there. A person’s mind can still be at work in a coma. The… I coughed into my hand …sasquatch might be out there somewhere hurting people.

Sloane finished writing and looked up. I’ve got her contact info and the details of the attack. She’ll bring any materials related to her husband’s search to our office this afternoon.

Just then, the office phone rang again. What were the chances? Two cases in one day?

Druid Detective Agency, this is Emilie speaking, she said briskly. Oh, you found us on Instagram? Great.

She paused, listening, then frowned. I’m sorry, could you speak up? I’m having trouble understanding you.

Emilie tilted her head, straining to make out the muffled words. Did you say... your dentist attacked you? In the middle of the night? And then he just disappeared into thin air?

She blinked in surprise as the person on the other end kept talking. Meanwhile, I scratched my head in confusion. This was a new one.

Emilie mouthed ‘set an appointment’ at me. I nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

It looked like—for the first time in weeks—we were in for a busy day.

2. Toothless

The scent of cheap perfume assaulted my nostrils when I answered the door. I knew immediately that it was the woman who’d called about the sasquatch attack. There was just something about her appearance that screamed, Bigfoot Believer.

Janet Brownwell stood on the threshold, clutching a manila folder to her chest. Her mousy brown hair was tangled and unkempt, but her face was caked with makeup, her black mascara streaked down her cheeks from her bloodshot and puffy eyes.

Mrs. Brownwell, please come in, Sloane said gently.

Janet shuffled inside, gaze darting around the grand foyer of the mansion as if a monster might leap from the shadows. The DDA headquarters was hardly a sasquatch habitat—but this woman had a traumatic experience. Whether her husband was really attacked by a sasquatch didn’t matter. She’d been through something and was coming apart at the seams.

Sloane led us to the sitting room and bade Janet sit. The woman perched on the edge of an armchair, back ramrod straight.

I know this is difficult, Sloane began, but we need you to walk us through everything that happened the night your husband was attacked. Even the smallest detail could prove vital.

As Janet recounted the events, I flipped through the contents of the folder - sketches, maps, journal entries. Ramblings of a crazed cryptozoology enthusiast. Though one drawing gave me pause—an ape-like beast rendered in remarkable detail. Too remarkable for the fleeting nighttime encounter Harry Brownwell described in Oregon, or the shadowed backside of the creature he claimed he’d spotted in the Ozarks.

The smell was ghastly, Janet was saying through tears. Like a sewer backed up in our bedroom. And the shadow looming over my husband...no animal I’ve ever seen.

I closed the folder and met Sloane’s eyes. Neither of us bought the legitimacy of Brownwell’s so-called research, but if this was a dark ether case, it didn’t matter if Harry Brownwell ever saw a real Bigfoot. That he thought he did, that he’d imagined one and even drew what he supposed one might look like, was enough that it might have become real.

That’s how the dark ether worked. There was no way to track it, to remove it from the world. It was out there and when it latched onto someone, anything they imagined could become real.

Just a few more questions, Sloane said gently. Is there anyone who might have intended to do your husband harm?

Harm Harry? Janet looked bewildered. It was all I could do to bite my tongue and avoid pointing out the irony of her husband’s first name given his obsessions. No one who smelled like that, who has that much fur… you don’t believe me, do you?

Sloane maintained eye contact. She was a real pro at this. That’s not the issue, ma’am. But if someone who intended your husband harm knew about his interest in…

His interest in Bigfoot.

Right, Sloane continued, stumbling over her words for the first time since we’d started the interview. "All I’m saying is that someone who might have resented your husband—for any reason at all—may have tried to stage this to look like a sasquatch attack."

Janet rolled her eyes. That’s what the police said.

Let’s assume the police have that possibility covered then, I said. We’re here to investigate the kinds of cases the police can’t.

Thank you, Mr. Wadsworth. Janet sniffed. I wish I had more I could tell you.

Did you see the way the creature fled after it attacked? Sloane asked.

Janet’s face crumpled. I wasn’t focused on the attacker. I was worried about Harry. But we have a friend who is out looking for the Bigfoot.

Sloane sighed. I suspected she was thinking the same thing I was. Anyone going after the creature that attacked Harry was in danger. This wasn’t a wild animal. If it was what I suspected, it was a supernatural energy that manifested the worst of Harry’s fears. Given his wild imagination, there was no telling how much this Bigfoot might be capable of. Do you have a way to contact this friend?

Harry’s hunting buddy Ned has been combing the woods, but... She trailed off, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

Janet wiped at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. I’m worried about Ned. He went out yesterday to track the Bigfoot and hasn’t come back or answered his phone.

She buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. I exchanged a glance with Sloane. Finding the missing friend had just become our top priority.

When was the last time you spoke to Ned? Sloane asked gently.

Janet lifted her head. Yesterday morning. He called to tell me he picked up a trail and was going after the thing. Said he wouldn’t rest until... She choked back a sob.

Until he found it, I finished. Did he give any indication where he’d be searching?

No. Janet shook her head. Just said he was tracking it. Not sure what that meant, I mean how do you track a Bigfoot in a city? It’s not like it would leave footprints...

I stood up and went to kneel beside her chair. Ms. Brownwell, we’re going to do everything we can to find Ned and get to the bottom of what happened to your husband. You have my word.

She managed a watery smile. "Thank you. Please,