Following an accusation of being a necromancer with no way to prove her innocence, Detective Kirani Kinsley Ramons turns in her badge and flees to Dragon Heights, Wyoming for a fresh start.
In Miami, few understand the difference between a necromancer and the descendant of dragons.
In Dragon Heights, nobody cares.
With weekly rains of unusual composition, dragon-kin and human alike vying for the right to become the next dragon in town, and magic lurking around every turn, there is no better place for Kinsley to hide her skills and history.
But when the local brothel workers are attacked and the bodies of would-be dragons begin showing up with alarming frequency, Kinsley revisits her past and makes the painful decision to hunt the hunter for the sake of her neighbors and new friends.
With her trusty carbunclo kitten at her side, she delves into the dark world of dragons and the city they call home to catch those behind the attacks before they can strike again.
What she doesn’t know may awaken the sleeping beast, forever changing her destiny.
Grave Affairs is the first book of the Grave Affairs series.
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From Chapter One…
Friday, April 17, 2167
The Gray Ward
Dragon Heights, Wyoming
It took a rain of lemurs to finally convince me that moving to Dragon Heights, Wyoming had been a mistake. Last week, it had been toads, some of which could inconvenience those who didn’t take them seriously. I hadn’t minded the toads.
A pair of gloves and a little care had bagged me ten dollars per dead head, fifteen dollars per living croaker, and twenty for the endangered ones, living or dead. The head honchos preferred them alive, but the dead ones would make themselves useful in a lab for study.
I’d gotten fifty for one of my toads, a rather nasty little shit determined to eat the world. At six inches long, it hadn’t accomplished all that much, but it had tried to take my hand off at the wrist.
It had taken a rather amused titanium dragon to pry the blighter off, and I’d been observed for two hours to make certain I wouldn’t fall over dead on them.
My gloves, which went up to my elbows, had saved the day.
Gloves wouldn’t save me from the wretchedly adorable lemurs. Without fail, they’d dig their tiny claws into my soul and refuse to let go. Their oversized, imploring eyes would do me in.
Endangered species, like the lemurs, went to the dragons for care and enrollment in their various conservatories and menageries unless they were released back into the wild. The origin of the animals determined their fate. With the ongoing weekly trials to unlock draconic powers in the petitioners, it could go any which way.
Some lemurs might be real, translocated because of the power surge associated with draconic petitioners working their rituals. Some of the lemurs would be conjured, with most of them dissolving away to ash, goo, or smoke, leaving the rest to rot. The final few would be true creations, a new species brought to life through the determination of a petitioner wishing to rise through the ranks and become a dragon.
When a dragon-kin came calling as a petitioner, the dragons took care. Sometimes, they bit off more than they could chew.
For a rain of lemurs to fall on the Gray Ward, the dragons had either forgotten to contain the dragon-kin’s power or they’d gotten an unpleasant surprise. Or both.
For the most part, the dragons did try to avoid the unwanted surprises.
It cost them a fortune in bounties.
Resigned to paying the remainder of my rent through bounty collection, I rummaged through my backpack for the canvas sack I kept just in case opportunity knocked. At the size of a large garbage bag, I’d be able to gather a bunch of the obviously dead lemurs for a decent check. I’d have to handle one injured animal at a time, however, a task destined to take up the rest of the day.
As I liked getting paid, I always made certain to keep Fridays free.
Just in case.
I put on my gloves and went to work, wondering what other insanity the rulers of Dragon Heights would inflict upon us in their quest to wake more of their kind.