Tempest Michaels is about to have a bad week.
When a newspaper ad typo sends all manner of daft paranormal enquiries his way, P.I. Tempest Michaels has no sense of the trouble and danger heading his way.
In no time at all, he has multiple cases to investigate, but it’s all ridiculous nonsense like minor celebrity Richard Claythorn, who believes he is being stalked by a werewolf and a shopkeeper in a nearby village with an invisible thief.
Solving these cases might be fun if his demanding mother (Why are there no grandchildren, Tempest?) didn’t insist on going with him, but the simple case of celebrity stalking might not be all it seems when he catches a man lurking behind the client’s property just in time to see him step into the moonlight and begin to transform.
All he wanted was a nice easy job where he got to be his own boss and could take his trusty Dachshunds to work. How much trouble can a typo cause?
This is the origin story for a series of books which now number in double figures and are growing. The authors rank on amazon has been in the top 1000 but is currently hovering around the 3000 mark. Sales of this book net circa $500 each month and should continue to improve as the series grows.
‘Greetings,’ he said, ‘Frank Decaux at your service.’ Frank was a mousy little man, with a thin frame and a gaunt face. He was roughly five feet five inches tall and weighed perhaps ninety-five pounds.
‘Good morning,’ I replied. ‘I’m…’
‘Tempest Michaels,’ he answered for me, ‘Paranormal detective,’ Frank was smiling in an excited manner, ‘I cannot tell you how happy I am to have someone fighting the dark forces that threaten our very existence.’ I decided to keep my mouth shut. It was already a strange day and getting no better. My visitor wanted to speak, so I would listen and learn. ‘Tell me, what was your first supernatural encounter? What brought you into this line of work? Are you imbued with magic abilities?’
I held up my hand to stop him out of fear that the torrent of questions might continue unabated if I did not. He lapsed into careful silence, waiting excitedly for my responses.
‘Frank, right?’ He nodded. ‘Frank… Frank why don’t we start with you telling me about your line of work. You already know what my advert says,’ I had crafted my reply to tell him nothing and quite specifically avoid answering the questions he had posed.
‘Yes, yes, of course. Always wary of otherworld spies disguised as humans. You certainly know your stuff. I’ll just prove myself then.’
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Aline Herold
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Marcelo Paz
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