Name of series and book number in
Genre: Urban Fantasy/Detective
Date of Publication: 2019
Someone has found a way to steal
gold from a Leprechaun – leaving a trail of bodies across Corpus Christi,
It’s up to Kat Morales and her
elf partner, Tevis McLeod, to find the thief, stop the killings, restore the
gold to its rightful owner – while keeping themselves from becoming victims to
murder and the curse of a Leprechaun’s gold.
Anderson stared at the object on the countertop. Frowned. Lifted the frown to
the kid on the other side of the counter. “You’re prankin’ me, right? Freakin’
puttin’ me on! A bag? You want me to give you money for a freakin’ bag?”
… money.” The kid stared into Harry’s face. He looked eighteen, might’ve been
in his twenties. Early twenties. Probably been smoking, shooting, snorting
since he was ten or eleven.
stared back. In the old days, he would’ve been suspicious as hell, some kid
coming into his place wanting goods. It was the kind of thing that had sting
written all over it.
this was now, and Harry had paid a Practitioner plenty to set wardings all over
the place to go off – silently, something only Harry could hear – when a cop
entered. Even a cop gone undercover. This kid wasn’t a cop. And …
… never hurt to be cautious. “I run a pawn shop, kid. Money’s all I got,
unless you’re lookin’ to trade for somethin’ else I got around here.” The sweep
of his hand included the jewelry and watches in his cases, old guitars hanging
from the walls, bicycles, lawn mowers … junk. “And that bag ain’t gonna get
got friends who say you have stuff you reserve for … uh …” the kid leaned
forward, lowered his voice, “special customers.”
Harry echoed. Oh hell, this was getting good! What’d the kid want? Weed? Crack?
Cherry? Maybe cherry – yeah. Some of that new stuff finding its way from the
other side of the Portals.
say you sell Dust,” the kid whispered.
Harry blinked at him. “Pixie Dust? You ever used that stuff?”
kid shook his head. “But my friends say it’s awesome!”
Harry agreed drily. “And awesome-damned expensive. You know what that bag’s
worth, kid? Zip. Zero. Nada.”
pawn shop owner grinned. “Yeah, right.” He gave the bag another look: nine, ten
inches long, a little wider than his hand, made of some kind of velvety-looking
material – dark blue. Tied with a silvery-blue cord. Pretty thing – yeah; he’d
go with that.
show you.” The kid snatched the bag off the counter, shoved his hand inside.
kept shoving: into the bag past his wrist … his elbow … up his arm nearly
to his skinny shoulder.
extracted his hand, dropped the bag on the counter. Dropped another object on
the counter beside it: a coin. About the size of a nickel. Harry blinked at the
kid, picked up the coin. It didn’t look like any coin he’d ever seen –
somebody’s face on one side, odd markings on both sides. The metal the coin was
made of … Harry gave it the bite test.
part of him had already known it would be. He gave the kid another look – hard,
eyes narrow. He held the coin between thumb and forefinger. “Where the hell did
you get this?”
kid flicked a hand at the bag. “See for yourself.”
my hand in there.” Harry stared at him.
kid made a face, and stuck his own hand in again. When the hand emerged, it
overflowed with coins. Gold coins. Just like the one he’d pulled out the first
world did a sideways slip under Harry’s feet. Old memories stirring … He
pushed them down. Picked up the bag, shook it. Nothing. Turned it upside down.
Nothing. How the hell … He glowered at the kid; if this was some kind of
trick … This was January, either way too hell early or way too late for
Halloween, and Harry took a dim view of pranksters. He thrust his hand into the
couldn’t feel the bottom. Nothing. Empty space. He jerked his hand out again.
kid gave him a nervous grin. “Yeah, I did that too,” he said. “The first time.”
time? How many times had the kid dipped into this thing? Harry didn’t ask. He
took a breath and shoved his hand in again … to the wrist … the elbow …
up his arm. The bag just kept going.
fingers touched something. Something hard. Cold. Small, round objects … Coins.
Had to be … Lots of coins. Dozens … maybe hundreds. He could feel them under
his fingertips, a pile of coins. He thrust his hand as far into the pile as he
could go – and felt still more coins underneath.
hand came out full, dripping coins onto the counter top, a few escaping into
the bag, but Harry didn’t mind. He knew how to find them. He stared at the gold
in his hand, the coins that’d spilled onto the counter. Gold coins. Just like
the ones he’d already seen. Freakin’ gold coins like some kind of pirate’s
treasure – all high-grade stuff, if Harry knew anything at all about his
business. Which he did.
A native of Tyler, Texas, Pat
Blair – writing as P.L. Blair – has lived in Sheridan, WY, since 1986. She has
a degree in journalism, and has worked first for newspapers and, most recently,
Sheridan Media, an organization of 10 radio stations and a website, since 1970.
But her goal was always to write books. Her first book in her Portals series,
Shadow Path, was published in 2008. When
not writing books, she continues to cover news events for Sheridan Media. She
shares her home in Sheridan with two dogs and a cat – all rescues.
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