The Dream Thief: The Netherweird Chronicles, Book Five - paranormal urban fantasy, where history and mythology collide by Violet Fenn

Author:Violet Fenn [Fenn, Violet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harker House Publishing
Published: 2024-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

I loped across Aigburth Drive and headed past the obelisk dedicated to Samuel Smith—the liberal politician with distinctly puritanical views—into the darkness of Sefton Park. Made up of over two hundred acres of land bought from the Earl of Sefton in the late eighteen-hundreds, the park is an impressively natural landscape containing endless quiet corners and secret shadows, and is the perfect hiding place for shape-shifters who’d rather not be spotted by the local dog warden. It was late enough for it to be fully dark, but I still spotted a couple of overenthusiastic joggers running ahead of me in the gloom. As I walked slowly in the direction of Sefton’s famous Palm House, I wondered—not for the first time—just how many varieties of paranormal creature might actually be real, after all. I’d grown up with a love of creepy stories as a little kid, once spending several weeks wearing a green ribbon tied around my neck and answering only to ‘Jenny’. With hindsight, it was no wonder I’d struggled to maintain friendships until Izzy came along.

And now here I was—undead and loving it, as the movie said. Although I’d love it more if the immortal lifestyle came with marginally less drama. The cats were actually one of the least weird things out there. Everyone’s heard tales of big cats living in the British countryside, and anyone living in or near said countryside knows they’re mostly true. “Finn!” I hissed at a shadowy bush. “You in there?”

“Why are you shouting at a shrubbery?” said a voice. I spun around to find Finn standing behind me. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but his feet were bare.

“I was trying to find you,” I said. “If that wasn’t obvious.”

“As it happens,” he said, “no, it wasn’t obvious. Because I only go into the bushes when I’m a cat. And when I’m a cat, I can’t talk to you, can I?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” I admitted. “What happens to your voice box?” Finn looked confused. “When you change,” I went on. “What happens to your voice box when you change into your cat form?”

“How should I know?” he shrugged. “I’m just a cat.”

“Anyway,” I said, determined not to get sidetracked, “I’ve found you now.”

“I found you, more like.”

“Whatever,” I sighed. “We’re both here, and I need to ask you some questions.”

“Wasn’t me,” said Finn.

“What wasn’t you?”

“Whatever it is you’re asking about.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” I said, “so how can you be sure it wasn’t you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Still wasn’t me.”

“Will you shut up and just bloody listen to me?” I said. “This isn’t about anything you might have done. Or didn’t do,” I went on, “before you say it. I just wanted to ask you about what happened on the night Katja was killed.”

“That definitely wasn’t me.”

“I know it wasn’t! Fucking hell Finn, will you at least let me speak?”

“I ain’t stopping you,” he said. He was grinning now, and I could see why Finn was popular with his customers.

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