Patrick Thomas 7 CONTENTS INTRODUCTION 999 BRBRBRAAAGGING RITES A Hunt Adventure 131313 AAATTTTTTAAACK OF THE TROUSER SNAKE A Terrorbelle Tale 31 A STITCH IN TIME A Case of the Soul Collector 474747 SPSPSPAAAWN OF LIGHTNING From the World of Agents of the Abyss 595959 NIGHT CRIES A Story Of The Nightcriers 727272 WORKING GIRL A Tale of the Daring 959595 Sample file TESQUE, TESQUE A Story of Fugtown 999999 PPPUT YYUT OUR DEMON ON MY SHOULDER A Little Insanity Featuring Lunay 123123123 CCCARDIAARDIAARDIAC ARREST A DMA Casefile 149149149 BARBARIAN SUMMER A Chronicle of Mog & Mikki 163163163 DDDYSENCHANTED A Hell’s Detective Mystery 170170170 8 MYSTIC INVESTIGATORS Sample file Patrick Thomas 9 INTRODUCTION It was a dark and stormy night when Neal Levin walked into my office. He looked a little nervous. These publisher types usually are. Sales numbers, returns, book buyers, temperamental authors, and the price of paper tends to wear on a man. Personally, I was hoping for a dame in red, but it’s probably for the best. My wife’s tougher than Terrorbelle and the jealous type. Marie’d never believe a lady in a slinky dress was just trying to hire me for a case, particularly since I don’t have a private investigator’s license. Still, I had the hat and the coat, not to mention the office for the day. Luckily for me I saw the real owner heading out on an out of town case and drop his keys. I’d leave them on the desk when I left and maybe water the plants. Back to Levin. He seemed like a nice guy, owned an outfit by the name of Dark Quest Books. I’d heard of them. Nice operation, but it seemed they were having a little problem and needed my help. They had made their mark in the gaming field and were looking for a new challenge by getting into novels and collections of the fantasy and SF variety. “I heard you were the guy to talk to,” said Levin. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” I said. “You interested in taking on a job?” Levin asked. “Depends. What are youSample looking for?” file I asked, taking a bite out of my lollipop. I had never smoked and wasn’t about to start just for a more effective noir atmosphere. I admit I toyed with the idea of lighting the end of the lollipop stick, but it just wouldn’t catch fire, even after I dipped the end in the bottle of whiskey I found in the bottom drawer of my borrowed desk. “Paranormal mystery. Hardboiled, wisecracking guys and gals facing down monsters, invincible mages, zombies, urban legends, maybe some Nazis,” he said, excited to the point where he started jumping up and down. That or maybe he sat on the keys in his chair. I had tossed them on the way in and hadn’t found them, until now. True, I could have switched on the overhead light to look, but that would have ruined the noir atmosphere I was trying for with the glow from the single desk lamp. “Nazis?” I said. He nodded. I had a story about Frankenstein taking on some Nazis, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. Not yet anyway. “What do you want from me?” “You’re the guy, the force behind Dear Cthulhu, the greatest advice column ever.” I blushed, but pulled the fedora down so he wouldn’t notice. “And the insanely funny, yet touching Murphy’s Lore series. People love your 10 MYSTIC INVESTIGATORS stuff,” he gushed. Well, maybe not gushed, but he was enthusiastic. I nodded modestly thinking he really should have gushed, but you can’t force gushing on someone. I know, I’ve tried. “You’ve already got great paranormal mystery characters. Terrorbelle the pixie/ogre hybrid who kicks butt and takes names. Agent Karver of the Department of Mystic Affairs who recovered from being a demon possessed serial killer to redeem himself hunting down bad guys.” I acknowledged that with another nod. Both characters had made the rounds of the anthology and magazine circuit and had amassed a following. I may even have smiled because he looked just about ready to gush and I didn’t want to say anything that might spoil that. “There’s Negrel the forgotten god who became Hell’s Detective. Can’t get more hardboiled than him and all three of them operate in your Murphy’s Lore universe. Great cross marketing there. Then there’s Mog, the barbarian single father and his daughter Mikki. There’s your dark super heroes and anti-heroes from the Daring.” “You’ve done your homework,” I acknowledged. “I’ve done more than that. I had you followed to see if you were the guy I needed. I had to be sure. I know you have stories in the works about a boggart bounty hunter who’s a high school teacher. You have an Agents of the Abyss series that puts a spy spin on classic monsters. Your Nightcrier novella made a big splash in the crypto-zoology community. You’ve got a federal soul collector with no name that hunts down the nearly dead and a gorilla with a human brain that works out of a city full of freaks and genetic mutations called Fugtown. Not to mention the crazy woman Lunay from a comic book that never made it to the public.” “There are reasons for that,” I said. “I’d love to hear them,” heSample said. file “I’m sure you would,” I replied, but there are some things even tough guys don’t talk about. Or me either for that matter. When Levin realized I wasn’t going to volunteer anything, he reached inside his coat pocket. I leapt to my feet, reaching across the desk. A submachine gun would have been the weapon of choice, but I had to make do with what was at hand. I was about to clobber him with a sub sandwich. It would be a real tragedy, mainly because it was supposed to be my lunch, but better unfed than dead. I could get another sandwich, but I was wearing my best fedora. In fact my only fedora and they’re hard to come by these days. Before my chicken parm made the ultimate sacrifice, Levin raised his hand to show he wasn’t pulling a piece. “Easy, I’m not armed,” he said. Turns out he had pulled a piece, but of the paper variety. “I’ve come to make you an offer.” And he said it without trying to do a Brando impersonation. Not often you don’t see that. I was impressed. Patrick Thomas 11 “I don’t do well with strong arm tactics,” I growled. It was true. The last time four guys in pinstripe suits, fedoras and tommy guns cornered me in an alley, I sobbed like a baby. It was embarrassing, especially since they were just selling tickets to a high school production of Guys & Dolls while in costume. I recovered quickly and only bought one ticket instead of the half dozen they were trying to push on me. But I showed them. I ended up heckling their performance. Sad, too. They were good. A little too good if you know what I mean. Maybe they weren’t so much acting, but acting out. Where the singing fit in, I just don’t know, but I digress. “No, this is what I want to offer you to do a book for me. In fact I’d like to hire you to do three,” he said. “Plus maybe a Dear Cthulhu collection.” I opened the paper and looked at the number. It was a nice one. It could have used a few more zeros, but he knew I wasn’t Stephen King and I’d never pass for J.K. Rawlings without major surgery and some intense British diction lessons and there just wasn’t enough time for that. “Of course, that’s my per book rate. You want a deal, you got to pay my rate plus expenses.” That’s what all the PI’s tell their clients. I wasn’t going to be the one to buck almost a century of tradition, especially if it got me more money. Levin looked at me, but my eyes were steely or at least my eyeglass frames were. Steel or titanium. I couldn’t remember and felt it would look pretty silly to start putting magnets up to my face to check. Maybe later after he’d gone and I was alone. I leaned back and put my feet up on the desk. The chair fell over backwards, but my catlike reflexes kicked in and I caught myself before I hit the floor. Levin was probably impressed, but hid it well behind his palm and what sounded like a chuckle, but was probablySample a gasp of file awe. Levin argued a bit about what expenses he would cover, but he was just going through the motions to save face. We both knew I was the best man for the job and a writer, like a PI, needed steady work to pay the bills and survive in this cold world. It was what we did. Tough guys stand up against the malevolence of the world. PI’s did it with their fists and a gun. Me? I did it with a keyboard, a word processing program, most of ten fingers on said keyboard, and the occasional brave chicken parmesan sandwich. And a trench coat and hat for when negotiations got tough.