The Demon Hunter's Wife: A cozy blood bath urban fantasy by C J Powell

Author:C J Powell [Powell, C J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-03-06T00:00:00+00:00

The Bureau

“Come on, you.”

Before Sadie has the chance to take it all in, Devika grabs her by the elbow and leads her across the immense reception area where they now stand.

Iron Bill wrestles in Thelma’s grasp, flapping her wings to get free, but Thelma draws some of the twine Devika had used to bind Sadie’s wrists and wraps it around the duck’s body, holding her fast.

“Be still, Iron Bill,” says Primrose. He looks down at his bonds but doesn’t struggle. “They used the unpleasantness-to-perceived-time conundrum, didn’t they?”

“First-year eldritch physics, apparently,” says Sadie.

“Did we get to where we’re supposed to be?”

“I hope so.”

Devika drags her towards a reception desk manned by what looks like a bad stone carving of a bulky man.

The click-clacking of hundreds of feet reverberates around the room. Sadie watches as a giant, knee-high centipede passes them. It raises a leg and tips a bowler hat towards Thelma and Devika. “Ladies.” Then disappears around the corner segment by segment.

Sadie shivers. Centipedes were worse than spiders.

Waiting at the reception desk is a sort of tall human with butterfly wings. She looks a similar species to the body in the pool back at the Drake’s. A green, tusked fellow, with his arms bound behind his back, waits with her. She grips his arm as if he might run away.

Other creatures come and go. Three other little old people like Thelma and Devika sit in a corner of the room heatedly discussing something over tiny polystyrene cups of steaming black coffee.

A graceful, slender man with pointy ears spots them and approaches. His hair, braided and plaited with coloured beads and small bronze flowers, lies in a tail along his back. He looks like her first celebrity crush, Orlando Bloom.

“Evenin’, girls,” he says with a thick Liverpudlian accent. He stops and folds his arms, like he’s digging in ready for a good chin-wag. “Who you got?” He nods towards Sadie.

“Says she’s just a norm who found a wand,” says Devika. “Pretty cut and dry. Gonna confiscate, then delete her memory.”

“You’re gonna what?”

They ignore her.

“Wait a minute—”

“I reckon there’s a little more to this one.” Thelma bobs her head from side to side. “Found her with this pixie and this duck.” She leans her head, and a small frown dents her brow. “You heard of a Dirk Kilmore, Ther’Per’Fliff’Floff?”

Ther’Per’Fliff’Floff shakes his head. His gently jingling braid swings in stunning slow motion. “Doesn’t he run the potion shop by the pie shop?”

“Aaah,” says Devika, pointing a goading finger at Thelma.

Thelma rolls her eyes. “No, that’s Derek the Kraken.”

“Gork might know.” The elf nods towards the statue behind the reception desk, which now appears to be filling out a form with grinding, precise movements.

The butterfly woman and the green guy stand before the desk, checking in with him as if this were a hotel.

“But I ain’t done nuffin’,” complains the green man around a mouthful of sharp teeth. “That kebab shop was like that when I got there.”

“Good shout,” says Thelma. “We’ll ask.”

There’s an awkward

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