The Good Troll Detective (Mantle and Key Paranormal Agency Book 1) by Ramy Vance & Michael Anderle

Author:Ramy Vance & Michael Anderle [Vance, Ramy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2022-01-25T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Maine wiped her mouth on her napkin. “Right down to business, huh?”

Sage dropped his eyes to the desk between them. “Your father was very dear to this town. Not only for what he did for us but for what he represented.”

“Represented?”

Sage ticked two items off his fingers. “Law. And order. There’s a lot of, let’s say, ‘good’ magical beings in this town. Also a lot of ‘bad’ ones.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Now the bad ones usually don’t do bad things—they ordinarily obey the rules of society.” He chewed something over, then lanced her with his eyes. “As long as there’s a peacekeeper in town.”

“Peacekeeper?”

Noff threw his snout up to look at Maine, his mouth full of cake, which he’d smashed all over his lips and teeth. “Sheriff. Lawman. Protector.”

“Wait, I thought my dad was a detective. You’re saying he was its magical equivalent of a sheriff too?”

Sage hedged. “Unofficially. It kept him busy. Really busy. He kept the town safe. A heavy burden and responsibility to hold.”

Maine slowly nodded. Why didn’t her father tell her about his cases and life outside his family? Keeping magical bad guys in check and finding missing magical items. That was cool stuff. Instead, he’d let her think he was an asshole and a bit of a deadbeat.

Sage shifted in his seat. A smile formed on his face. “This one night, it was a full moon—he was here at the Sacred Sourdough, minding his business and eating some chili fries and scrambled eggs when four fully shifted werewolves tried to rob the place.”

Maine’s eyes widened.

“Your father. He sat there as they leaned over the kitchen counter beside him, demanding money. Then he turned an eye up at them and calmly said, ‘Boys, you better get.’ The four werewolves laughed of course and threatened to take a clawed swipe at him. Your father though, without dropping his fork, said, a bit firmer this time, ‘This is your last warning.’”

“Shit. What happened next?”

“I’m guessin’,” Noff said with a mouth full of pie, “Valkious opened a can of whoop-ass.”

With a serious chuckle, Sage continued, “The lead werewolf, the biggest of them, took a swipe at your father still sitting in his chair. Had it connected, it would’ve torn him in two. It didn’t. Before it struck him, your father swiveled out of the chair, placing it between him and the were so the claws clanged against the gold backing. Take a look the next time you’re in the dining room. The claw marks are still there.”

He continued, “Anyway, then they all went for him, swiping and biting at him. He deftly maneuvered away from them, breaking one’s ankle with a well-placed kick and shattering another one’s forearm with a punch. A third he tackled in the lower back, and the werewolf groaned and went slack, saying something about a former back injury.

“The fourth, your father squirted a blast of chili sauce into his eyes, incapacitating him. It was like he was reading each of their weaknesses.

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