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Book Release...Season Of The Witch (Shades Below, #1.5) by L.J.K. Oliva
Something wicked this way comes...well, more wicked than usual.
Georgia Clare needs help, and fast. As the lone survivor of—and witness to—her coven's brutal massacre, she's felt the killer hunting her. There's just one problem: the rest of San Francisco's witching community wants nothing to do with her, and the one man she can turn to doesn't do witches.
Darius deCompostela has done his best to steer clear of subversive affairs. A private investigator and reluctant medium, the last thing he wants is to advertise his existence to the things that go bump in the night. But then Georgia knocks on his door, and try as he might, he can't turn her away.
It's just one case, after all. It's not like it's going to change his life…
Excerpt:
He was fairly sure he'd bruised a rib.
Darius sat perched on the edge of Georgia Clare's faded sofa. In front of him were the shattered remains of what he guessed had once been a coffee table. It was little more than kindling now; a sad, splintery mess. He stared at it, his brain still stuck processing one particular image.
That...thing. He'd never seen anything like it. At first glance, it had vaguely resembled a dog. A dog with yellow eyes. A dog that could walk on its hind legs, that seemed to repel light, that came with a distinctly sulphuric smell...
Right. Not a dog.
Before he could mull over the other possibilities, Georgia straightened from where she'd been crouched in front of the refrigerator. "Here we go. I knew these were in there somewhere." She picked her way around the wreckage in her living room, and passed him a plastic bag.
Darius glanced at it. "Vegetable Medley?"
She shrugged. Her cheeks reddened slightly. "Fiber, right? Anyway, it's all yours."
Darius tugged the hem of his dress shirt out of his slacks and pressed the impromptu ice pack to his side. The cold bit painfully through his undershirt. He hissed.
Georgia watched, arms crossed, forehead knotted. "You seem to be taking this awfully well."
Darius debated ignoring the implied question, finally gave a tiny shrug. "What can I say? You're not the first witch I've dealt with."
Her eyebrows shot up. "How did you know I'm a witch?" Her eyes widened. "Are you part of the demimonde?"
No way was he going to tell her the truth. Darius gave the first plausible excuse he could think of. "MacMillian told me about his last case." Georgia's eyes narrowed. He grasped for something more. "And I've seen some things of my own."
She nodded slowly. "Anything like this?"
"No." That at least, he could be honest about. "Nothing like this."
See you on the other side!
Chevoque
