At the Behest of the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

asleep and dreaming of demons sent over the cusp, like my little friend from last night. If I knew a cop was coming I would have put on something more malevolent. Sometimes it just came down to appearances, much like the cop standing in front of me. You wanna be a bad ass, start by looking like one.
    “Yep,” I replied. “Phineas Cavanaugh, necromancer to the stars.”
    “So you really do magic and cast spells?”
    “If you’re looking for a parlor magician, try Google. I’m a busy man.”
    She rolled her eyes and looked back at her car.
    “Got an appointment?” The last thing I wanted was a cop showing up asking questions about my nighttime activities , no matter how cute she was. I hadn’t done anything illegal. I was just wary of those in authority. It had been my experience that people in uniforms were the worst. People in uniforms bashed down doors and dragged people into the night.
    “I didn’t know I needed one.” Her eyes roamed over my porch. Maybe she was looking for a dispenser to take a number. She didn’t speak for a few seconds and that was just fine with me. The more uncomfortable she felt the quicker I could get back in bed and nurse my hangover. A lot had changed over the centuries, but one thing remained the same. Drinking absinthe could be a bitch.
    The cop sighed and crossed her arms with a crinkle of rain jacket that dribbled water on my ‘Don’t Piss Off The Warlock’ welcome rug.
    “I’m Detective Andrews from the Seattle police department , and I was hoping for some advice.”
    “Lost love? Wanna win him back with a potion? I can do that for a fee. But you have to pay for the ingredients and my time.” I paused dramatically then leaned so I towered over her. “My time does not come cheap.”
    “You can create a potion to make someone fall in love?” She stared at me. “Where were you in college when I was trying to get my Civics teaching assistant in bed?”
    “It’s not that easy.” I smiled. “I can create an alluring aura so the recipient is enamored toward you , but it fades in a day or two so you have to work fast and impress him or her in other ways.”
    This was true, to a point. We normally don’t talk about our work for obvious reasons. I could make up something that would make a guy think he was madly in love with her for a few weeks at best, but he would wake up from that little honeymoon with a wicked headache and a whole lot of anger.
    It had never worked out for previous male clients because the only thing worse than a woman scorned was a woman fucked with.
    “I’d like to talk to you about some work. We have a special case and I think we need some special help. I don’t want to be here but we’re pretty much out of other options.”
    It’d been a long time since someone in any official capacity asked for my help. They used to, but the Randall case put an end to my steady stream of revenue. No one would have suspected a fifteen-year police veteran of being a serial killer, but I knew differently the moment I met him because he reeked of the dead. After that debacle the jobs just dried up.
    I sighed and opened the door all the way and gestured her inside. The Pomeranian barked twice, probably realized he was in a stranger’s house, and went back to hiding from my tarantula.
    I had the wall that made up the angled stairs removed when I purchased the place and added a wooden stairwell done up in ‘creepy ,’ along with paintings of tortured souls and bas relief demons staring out of the hallway walls. The corners had small shelves mounted with leering demons, angels, and hovering gods. I liked to think that it added to my allure, just like the robe. But just like my raiment, they served no other purpose.
    She followed me into the kitchen, which was connected to a small but unused dining room. Shelves lined the walls and a workspace was built under it, currently covered with a big black velvet cloth. I liked to work at night because some ingredients