A Postcard From Hell
The Goblin Dicks Paranormal Detective Agency
Adrienne Blake
Copyright © 2019 by Adrienne Blake
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Permission can be obtained by contacting the author: [email protected]
Contents
Introduction
1. The Dress
2. Wish You Were Here
3. Just Coffee
4. The Apartments
5. Diddles
6. Speeding Gods
7. Harrison
8. The Postcard
9. Settling Accounts
About the Author
Also by Adrienne Blake
Introduction
Gutsy witch, Dionne Cruz has everything she’s ever wanted––or so she thinks. After forming Goblin Dicks—Paranormal Detective Agency, she’s almost killed when a rogue werewolf tries to rip her heart out. Wanting her to take it easy, her partner sends her on what should be a straightforward babysitting assignment.
Detective Liam Wells is haunted by a little girl he couldn’t save. Preferring life on the street to a fast-track promotion, he works hard and lives harder, running through hot women like Kleenex. But he’s always had a twinkle in his eye for his former cadet friend, Dionne, the only girl impervious to his sexiness and charm.
The two friends are reunited when they’re almost blown to bits by a freak gas explosion. When the gas explosion proves to be anything but, they team up to investigate a mystery that could cost them more than their lives—because someone in the shadows is after their souls.
1
The Dress
“That looks amazing on you.”
The young saleswoman with her braided hair and granny clogs was grinning from ear to ear. Anyone who listened would have thought she really meant it. Perhaps she did. In fact, the hot little red dress was nice, and in another time, I would have totally agreed with her and bought it. But I didn’t live in that world anymore. I lived in this one.
My hand went self-consciously to the ragged scar just over my heart. This dress did nothing to hide it.
“I need to think about it,” I said. Her smile flickered but returned when I grabbed the bottle-green dress with the halter neck I’d tried on moments before. “But I’ll take this one.”
“Excellent choice, madam. Will that be everything?”
“I think so.”
“Very good. I’ll have everything ready at the cash register for you.”
“Thank you.”
I went back into the changing room and shuffled out of the loose little number, letting it fall in a puddle of shimmers at my bare feet.
Almost naked, I stared closely at my reflection in the changing room mirror. It had mostly healed now, but the gash where the were had ripped at my skin would forever mar my torso. It would take some powerful magic to remove it. Gingerly, almost reverently, my fingers traced the marks on my body. My sister had told me I could spell them off, and she was right, I could, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to be reminded every day that I was flesh and blood, same as everyone else.
I slipped back into my jeans and tee, thankful at least that he hadn’t touched my face. With a pang of remorse, I returned the beautiful red number to its hanger, and then conscious of the time, went off to pay for the other dress.
“Going anywhere fun?” asked the saleswoman as she scanned the tag on the green dress.
“Umm, fun. Sure, kind of.”
The girl grinned. “You don’t sound convinced.”
I opened my purse and pulled out my credit card, praying this wouldn’t push me over my limit. I’d hit the expense account pretty hard this month.
“Well, it’s sort of a work gig, but it might be fun.”
“Oh?” The girl raised her eyebrows and sounded genuinely interested, no doubt wondering what kind of gig required a five-hundred-dollar green dress.
“I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you.”
The girl’s grin grew even wider, and I wondered how she’d look if she knew I really meant it.
She wrapped the flimsy dress inside some tissue paper, then slipped everything into a plain white bag with “TORSO” embossed in black on the front.
“Thank you,” I said. “Wish me luck.”
The girl never answered, no doubt forgetting me before I reached the automatic doors.
I had parked my Miata on the street, and, checking the time, quickened my pace. If I dashed straight home and showered and dressed, I might just make it—but it was going to be close.
The key had barely turned in the ignition when my iPhone began to beep on my dash. It was Harrison, my senior partner. His human face popped up on the monitor. I rather preferred his more handsome green goblin look, but he said that was unprofessional and I didn’t care enough to argue. Still, green or not, the increased slant of his eyes always gave his heritage away.
“Are you even going to try to be on time for this gig?” he asked, exasperated. “You know I can’t cover this one. I have a hot date with Andres, and nothing is going to make me cancel this time.”
“Sure I will,” I lied, checking the time on the dash and doing a quick calculation in my head. “Got it all covered, don’t you worry.”
Harrison and I had created Goblin Dicks, Paranormal Detective Agency back in 2017. We both had backgrounds in policing, though back then I was still just a lowly patrol woman with the Ordinaries, and he’d been a detective for the Supernatural and Paranormal Detective Services, SAPDS for short. He’d been with them for at least ten years. He’d never really told me why he left the department, and frankly, I didn’t care. This had been a great opportunity for me, and I’d taken it.
The truth was, I’d had a rough time of it with the Ordinaries. Back then, as a rookie, I’d been in love with deduction and crime solving, and I wanted to do it the old-fashioned way—with reason, not magic. But I’d been in trouble from day one. My results were just too good. Magical deduction was inadmissible in court, and it was clear my colleagues distrusted me, thinking I was slipping the odd spell in whenever it suited me. But that wasn’t it at all. I was just damned good at what I did, and anyway, I’d always wanted to be my own boss.
“You said that last time and you were an hour late,” Harrison continued testily.
“Have a little faith, partner,” I said, pushing hard on the gas. “I’ve got this one under control.”
“What, like the werewolf?”
I tried not to sigh. Harrison was never going to let me forget the horror of my first assignment. Like I ever could. “Trust me. Relax and enjoy your date. Give my love to Andres.” My voice faltered. I’d never met him, but from the little I’d heard, I didn’t care much for the man.
“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t blow this one, okay? It’s a cash cow—a guaranteed babysitting job for six months of protection. It’ll keep the agency afloat for a year.”
“I won’t, I promise!”
Before he could impart more angst, I hung up. I lived in a small apartment just outside of Philadelphia, overlooking the Delaware River. I liked it there—there were plenty of artsy-fartsy restaurants and awesome clothes shops, although parking was often a challenge and the rent was steep.
Tonight, I was lucky. There was an open, if somewhat tight spot right in front of my door. I eased into it, feeling like a parallel-parking goddess, then grabbed my “TORSO” bag off the passenger seat and dashed up to the second floor as fast as I could.
“Hello, Ms. Dionne.” Mikey grinned. My ridiculously tall, American Chinese landlord occupied the apartment below me. He was a pleasant enough man but had the annoying habit of taking my mail from my mailbox using his master key and reading the sender addresses on the envelopes before handing them over to me.
“Anything exciting?” I asked, my voice hurried, conveying no time for a chat.
“Maybe,” he said, putting the letters into my hand. “The top one is from PPL electric, but the other one is handwritten, maybe a lover?”
“Probably so.”
Mikey grinned, exposing his overly white veneers, and I grinned back, knowing he had no clue who it was from. Still, if Mikey liked to think I had a secret lover some place, what harm was there in that? The nosey old goat just wanted me to be happy.
“Can’t stop, Mikey,” I called over my shoulder. “Things to do, places to be.”
I bounded up the stairs, two at a time, conscious of the ticking clock. As soon as I was in my apartment, I ran straight to turn on the shower. I almost tripped over Scratchpoop, my long-haired, silver Maine Coon. She meowed and her tail went rigid in the air, angry.
“Sorry, Scratch,” I cried, dashing into my kitchen. I snatched a tin of Kitty Kins from the fridge and scraped what was left into a fresh bowl for her. As a thanks, she rewarded me with a full view of her butt, reminding me why I named her—goddamn cat always had a dangler hanging off her hairy ass.
Cat sorted, I tore off my clothes, leaving a trail on my way to the shower and dove under the hot jets. Damn Harrison. It wasn’t my fault things were in such chaos today—this had been his gig and he’d mercilessly thrust it on me just hours ago. And all because lover boy Andres had changed his shift at the hospital.
Sure, I owed Harrison one or two. He’d had to cancel his last date to come bail me out of jail. I mean, c’mon—how was I supposed to know that the gorgeous man I’d shackled myself to for a three-legged bar crawl was an elven assassin? There was no way I could know he was only using me as cover to take out the head of the Goblin Mob. Anyone could have made that mistake.
All right, and maybe it wasn’t a good idea to invite manically depressed demons to a self-help seminar in our downtown office. The place had reeked of sulfur for a whole month after that, and I’d personally been sick for a week. Demons, even reforming ones, left my skin clammy and made my stomach turn to goop. Still, I’d gotten rid of them without any help from another soul. It had just taken me a while to figure out which salt to toss on which demon. The really evil ones could only be returned to Hell with sea salt. Of course, if I’d had half a brain, I’d remembered to tie a vial of the stuff around my neck for emergencies. They said, it took a witch to control a demon. But then I didn’t have half a brain.
One good thing about being part-human, part-witch, and part-goblin was I had the most amazing jet-black hair. It did whatever I wanted it to, like, I could fix an elaborate updo in seconds and it would always look good. After slipping into my figure-hugging green halter neck and nearly new, four-inch Jimmy Choos, I clicked my fingers, and a whizz and a wee swish later, I looked like a million dollars.
“Not bad,” I said aloud, shifting the neck of my halter to hide a tiny bit of exposed scar. I looked good enough to eat, if I didn’t mind saying so myself. Scratch was sitting dutifully on the back of my couch, looking out onto the street. I tickled the back of her neck, grabbed my keys, and dashed out to my car. I’d done well, and if the roads were clear, I’d probably make it to the gig on time. Feeling good about that, I jumped into my arrest-me-red Miata and floored it.
I handed the valet a twenty and waited as my baby disappeared from sight. I rarely let anyone else drive it, but since the alternative was walking a block and a half in these shoes, I really had no choice.
It was a beautiful, breezeless evening, and it felt good to be alive. I stared up at the thirty-something story building on Walnut, knowing this little gathering was being hosted in the penthouse. We didn’t pull a lot of babysitting jobs at the agency, but Harrison had taken this one for a friend of a friend. I didn’t care. It was an elegant affair, calling for elegant attire, and I’d gotten a free dress out of the deal. What was not to like?
I strolled into the lobby, feeling like a million bucks. I hardly ever got the chance to play dress up; typically, I was weighed down with my spell bag and .38 Special, but tonight our client wanted the gentler touch, so I had to satisfy myself with the small .22 in my garter belt and a wand hooked along the side of my bra. I felt good. With a splatter of Devil Red lip gloss on my lips, I looked the total vamp.
“Is that you, Dionne?”
Inside I groaned and a cold shiver ran up my spine. “Detective Wells, how wonderful to hear your manly voice.” My tone inferred anything but wonderful, but his smile didn’t falter one iota.
I turned. Detective Wells and I had gone through the academy together. I thought he was an asshole then, and I saw no reason to change my mind now. He had deep-set, piercing blue eyes that could undress a woman at a hundred paces. And boy did he milk it. While we were cadets, he’d dated countless women right across the paranormal range. From hot dryads, to fun fae, to kinky humans, Liam Wells didn’t discriminate, he’d dated them all.
Yet none of his liaisons had lasted more than a few weeks, at least, not as far as I could tell. Many a morning I’d had to endure a full post-mortem of how the date had gone, what worked, what didn’t, in fact, a full daily dose of blow-by-blow action from pick up to drop off. And every time my eyes would glaze over with full-on “Why the fuck do you think I care?” But he never took the hint.
“You look great,” he gasped, his gaze roaming freely up and down my body as if he owned it.
“Thanks,” I replied, not wanting to blush and failing miserably. Crap. I was here to work, dammit, not get sidetracked by this woman-eating bastard. “What are you doing here?” I was at least in command of my professional voice. “Isn’t it a bit upmarket for you? The Karaoke joints are all on the other side of town.”
Liam’s smile never faltered. “Just making a routine house call.”
“Business or pleasure?” I asked sarcastically.
His smile faded and he assumed a more sober tone. “All business. There was a murder here last week. I was just following up with a witness, routine stuff. What’s with the sparkly green dress? Did the freelance stuff go south? You having to make up a few dollars on the side?”
I didn’t bite, though I knew he would have liked me to. It was always like this with Liam. He was always testing me, pushing me, pressing my buttons, trying to nudge me over the edge.
“Ha-ha, very funny, you’re such a wit.”
His grin broadened. “Yeah, I know, a half-wit. That’s what you called me back at the academy, anyway. So,” he said, his gaze back on my newly-acquired green frock. “When you’re done with the gig, you wanna come over to my place to play find the Beretta?”
It was my turn to grin. “Tempting, but um, no. Look, I gotta job to do. Catch you later, okay?”
A curious look came over him. “You’re going up to the top floor?”
“Um-hm. Why? It’s guests only, lover boy. Cops aren’t invited—it ain’t that kind of a do.”
“Mixed jellybeans, though, right?” He was referring to the mixed species in attendance. It was a slang phrase used by street cops to avoid offense.
“Yes. Why?”
His nose wiggled, and I knew he was mulling something over. I paid attention. Liam was a smart cookie and could’ve gone a lot further in the department were it not for what we collectively referred to as “the incident.” To my knowledge, before this, he’d been offered and turned down a promotion at least four times, perhaps more, but it was unlikely now that management would make the same offer again. But no one was holding him back but himself.
“Be careful,” he said.
“Why?”
“Call it a hunch.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m always careful, as you well know
, but if you’re trying to tell me something, I need a little bit more than just that.”
Liam laughed. “Always careful my ass. I heard about the demon thing.”
“Fuck. Off. All right, I’m usually careful. Now if you’re not going to tell me anything useful, I’m hauling ass up to a party, or my life won’t be worth dick.”
Liam raised his hand to wave goodbye, but then he paused. “You still have my number, right?”
“Dunno, I might have deleted it to make room for the pizza delivery number. I’ll check later. Bye, Liam.” I waved and walked away.
I pushed the elevator button and watched as the light above one car remained resolutely still, but at least the second car was making its way down. I checked my phone. I was just a few minutes late. No biggie.
Boom. What the hell? The whole building shook, and I heard people screaming outside.
Everything was thrown into confusion all around. I heard shouts, and doors suddenly burst open as people came running down the stairs.
“Get out, get out, it’s a bomb,” shouted a teenage goblin as she dashed right by me.
“Fire! Fire, the thirteenth floor’s on fire!” an older elf cried.
The entire lobby was a whirr of confusion. Only Liam and I stood our ground, assessing the situation, determined not to panic. I saw Liam pull his radio out.
“There’s been an explosion in the Crane Building on Walnut.” I heard him shout over the hysteria. “Send ambulances now, there could be fatalities.”
I couldn’t hear the response.
“No idea, too early to tell. But send all the backup you can.”
Liam made a dash for the door and out to the street. I followed him, anxious to learn all that I could. We both looked up to the front of the building. There was smoke coming from one of the windows, not the penthouse as I’d suspected, but about halfway down.
A Postcard From Hell Page 1
