Flipping the Bird (Shift Creek #1) - Carrie Pulkinen Page 0,8
couldn’t behave themselves with computers on social media, much less with an artifact that granted magical abilities. Most of the time, humans couldn’t figure out how they worked, but when they did… The supernatural world was kept secret for a reason, and his business helped keep it that way.
The only magic Donovan had ever wielded himself came from one of the many artifacts he bought and sold, and the amulet promised to allow him to siphon the magic from another, keeping it for himself. Of course, he’d never steal another living being’s magic. That would be something his father would do. But a self-restorative body of water could do without its power until the next full moon, when it could heal itself by reversing flow.
Now, with the amulet MIA, he’d have to hope the creek really was as powerful as the website touted. Otherwise, he’d come all this way for nothing.
No, not nothing. He was the new owner of a vast, pristine piece of property. At the very least, he could put the place up for sale while he was here.
“Human alert. Three o’clock.” Marty dropped to all fours and squeaked like a mundane mongoose as two women approached.
“How cute,” the brunette said. “Can I pet your ferret?”
Marty growled low in his throat, and for a moment, Donovan considered telling her yes to get even with the mongoose for farting inside his satchel. His familiar wasn’t fond of being petted by anyone other than him, but in his current mood, Donovan didn’t want to deal with the whining that would follow.
“Better not. He needs to see the vet soon.”
As if to drive the point home, Marty let another stink bomb rip before scurrying into the satchel to hide. One woman covered her nose, while the other curled her lip in disgust and dragged her away.
Donovan laughed as the women crossed the street, and he sipped his latté, gazing at the art shop across the way. “Shifted Treasures. Functional, quirky home aesthetics and gifts.” He rose to his feet, shielding his eyes from the sun. Sculptures and wall art occupied the display windows. Salvage art. If anyone knew where to find junk that had gone missing, it would be the artist inside.
Chapter Three
Alice padded behind Megan into the storefront, and her shoulders slumped when she found her mom standing by the counter with two Styrofoam cups in her hands. “Hey, Mom.”
“Don’t sound so glum, little chick. I brought you ladies some of our famous sweet tea.” She smiled, deepening her laugh lines. Other than that, Alice’s mom hardly had any wrinkles to speak of. With her deep-green eyes and black hair, Alice was a mirror image of her mother…if the mirror subtracted ten years. Seriously, her mom was twenty-five years older than her, but they could pass for sisters.
Being called her “mini-me” used to ruffle Alice’s feathers, but if she could age as gracefully as her mother, she was glad of it now. Don’t look a gift horse—or great genes—in the mouth.
“Thank you, Janice.” Megan elbowed Alice on her way to take the drinks. “That was so nice of you. How are things going at The Crow’s Nest?”
Alice’s parents, Janice and Edward, ran the town’s most popular—and only—café in the square. Of course, all the supes understood the name for what it was. They lived above the restaurant, so it was literally their nest. But for the humans passing through, the nautical theme implied the place was named after the lookout point attached to the highest mast of a ship.
“Slower than it should be, but rumor has it that’s about the change.” Her eyes brimmed with excitement. “I heard one of the Rainecourt brothers is back.”
Alice pressed the straw to her lips and sucked in a giant gulp of her drink. It was overly sweet, but that was how Texans liked their tea. “I hate to be the one to pluck your tailfeathers, but the man who moved into the manor isn’t a Rainecourt.”
Her mom fisted her hands on her hips. “Are you sure? Patricia is the only real estate agent in town, and she said the house was never for sale.”
“I’m sure. I just got back from city hall.”
“Oh.” Her posture deflated as she slipped her purse strap on her shoulder. “I’m going to have words with Patricia. She ruffled my feathers for nothing. And here I thought I was bringing good news.”
“Sorry, Mom. Thanks for the tea, though.” Alice walked her to the door. “Tell Dad not to work