Flipping the Bird (Shift Creek #1) - Carrie Pulkinen Page 0,1

barrel rolls before crash landing on the creek bank. With a pained squawk, she righted herself, shaking the pebbles from her feathers before returning to human form once again.

Fresh blood streamed down her leg, and she kicked off her shoe, sliding her sock off her swelling foot. “Mother ducker. That’s the last time I help you search for rusty farm equipment. I don’t care how much of a commission you’re getting on that sculpture, it’s not worth this.” She gestured at her wound.

“Come on.” Megan appeared from the bushes and helped her stand. “Let’s get your foot into the water, and then you can berate me for trying to keep our business afloat.”

She let Megan absorb most of her weight as she hobbled down to the creek and rested her foot in the shallow stream. The moment the enchanted water washed over her skin, the wound tingled, sparkling magic surrounding the injury as the swelling subsided. Slowly, the gashes from the trap’s jaws stitched themselves back together, and within minutes, no trace of the wound remained.

“Ahhh….” The tension in her muscles eased as the pain finally vamoosed. “That’s more like it.” Alice scooted back onto the bank and slipped on her blood-stained sock and shoe.

Starlight glittered on the surface of the creek, and a cool spring breeze carried the sweet fragrance of wildflowers and honeysuckle.

Megan stared out wistfully over the water. “I remember when it wouldn’t have taken more than two seconds to heal a gash like that. How much longer do you think we have?”

“I don’t know.” Rising to her feet, Alice draped an arm around her best friend’s shoulders and gazed at the creek. Once vast and wide, the shallow stream now meandered along the narrow, rocky path, no more than two inches deep in some places. This section of the creek, nearest the bubbling springs from which it originated, would reach her waist if she waded into the center. Fifteen years ago, no one could touch bottom.

She wiggled her foot. What would they do when the creek dried up? How would the town survive? “The full moon is next week.”

Megan sighed. “It hasn’t reversed flow in the past six months. Can we even call ourselves Shift Creek anymore?”

“It is the official name of the town, and it had that name before the creek got its magic.” Once nothing more than forest and farmland nestled in the Texas Hill Country, the town was founded by a motley crew of shifters. No, not the band. A sleuth of bears, a gaze of raccoons, a clutter of bobcats, and a murder of crows all joined together to live in harmony in Shift Creek.

Back in the 1800s, a powerful warlock blessed the creek, giving it healing powers for supernatural beings. Every full moon, the stream reversed flow, rejuvenating the magic and creating a great marketing gimmick for drawing tourists to the town.

The springs that sourced the creek filled it with tons of minerals and junk that the mundies—AKA humans—thought were good for them, so the townsfolk capitalized on it, creating a spa that catered to both the supes and mundies. The water didn’t do much more for the mundane than any other hot springs would, but for the supes…it was a lifesaver. Literally.

The town prospered for almost two hundred years, until the last ancestors of their beloved warlock moved away, taking their magic with them. Apparently, the blessing spell was contingent on someone from the Rainecourt bloodline living in the town because, when Marcus Rainecourt packed up his kids and skedaddled to New York thirty-something years ago, that was when the trouble started.

Well, not on the exact day. It took several years for the townsfolk to realize there was a problem. With the drought that hit the Hill Country and the construction of a highway a few miles away, the lowering water level seemed like it was due to natural—or mundy—causes in the beginning. They didn’t realize the magical source of the problem until the torrential rains that flooded the area did nothing to restore their namesake creek. And the slew of witches and warlocks they’d called in to revive the spell hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to fix it.

“Has the supe committee had any luck contacting the warlock?” Megan asked.

“Didn’t I tell you? Mr. hoity-toity Marcus, who thought he was too rich and fancy for our town, ticked off the wrong sleuth of bear shifters. Last month, they found him mauled outside his cabin upstate. Something about

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