Glimmer of Hope, page 1
Glimmer of Hope
Other Realm, Book 2
by Heather G Harris
Copyright © 2021 by Heather G. Harris
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Connect with me!
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Content Warning
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Book 3 – Glimmer of Death
Other Works by the Author
About Heather
Heather’s Patreon
Heather’s Shop and YouTube Channel
Stay in Touch
Social Media
Reviews
Connect with me!
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Dedication
For my Husband, my best friend. Wishing you all the best for all of your future endeavours!
Acknowledgements
Thank you so much to my Beta and ARC team who have been so wonderful about supporting me. You have all given me so much time and enthusiasm, it’s been humbling. You guys rock!
Thanks to my sisters, who have beta read all of my books and told me that they loved them. We’ve been through quite the rough patch but they’ve helped me through it all. Love you.
Finally, thanks to all of you, my readers. You make everything possible. Thanks for following me down the rabbit hole.
Content Warning
Please see the full content warnings on Heather’s website if you are concerned about triggers.
All of Heather’s books have occasional poor language and scenes of violence.
Please note that all of Heather’s works are written in British English with British phrases, spellings and grammar being utilised throughout.
If you think you have found a typo, please do let Heather know here.
Chapter 1
It was the hottest sex I had ever seen. Literally. Steam was pouring off the lovers as they came together; apparently that’s what happens when a water elemental and fire elemental get it on. I took a few pictures of the clandestine affair, but the photos weren’t all that good. All that atmospheric steam was screwing with getting a decent shot.
Mr Bridges was going to get quite a shock. He had suspected the affair, but not with whom his wife was getting it on. Well, I was assuming he had no idea that his wife had bisexual leanings, but maybe he was fully aware of her inclinations. I expected he’d still be pleased it wasn’t his best mate and prime suspect, Greg.
I double-checked that the evidence I had was undeniable, even through the fog, and then I scrambled down the tree and back out of Leanne Symes’ garden. Miss Symes was apparently a much closer friend of Mrs Bridges than I’d anticipated. Still, technically I was trespassing, so I didn’t want to outstay my welcome.
I was in Cressington, a suburb of Liverpool: lots of greenery, lots of posh houses and, as it transpired, quite a few affairs. This was my second covert surveillance gig for a cuckolded spouse since I’d moved to Liverpool.
It turns out that Liverpool is the hub of the Other realm, its capital city, if you will. Eight weeks earlier I had accidentally discovered that there are other realms of existence. Along with the Common realm, in which we all exist, there is the Other realm full of magical beings, and the Third realm, which allows you to play with time like it’s a Rubik’s cube.
I put my childhood home up for sale, and it sold subject to contract within two days; it was in a popular area with no ongoing chain, and it was snapped up at an extraordinary price. There was a lightning-fast transaction, and five weeks later I moved to Liverpool without looking back.
I rented a house on the Wirral and Lord Volderiss lent me some temporary office space as a thank you for saving his son Nate’s life. I use the term ‘life’ loosely; Nate Volderiss is an undead vampyr, so he can’t technically be called ‘living’.
I haven’t been part of the Other realm for long, so I’m still fumbling my way through. I only landed this gig because Lord Volderiss recommended me to one of his security guards, who recommended me to his best mate. Business has been a little slow, but I’d expected that after my relocation. It’s still early days.
Following my move to Liverpool, I rebranded my business to Sharp Investigations and Other Services. To make it clear that I’m fully conversant with the Other realm, I’ve even added cute little triangles to dot the i’s because the triangle is its universal symbol. Despite my clear advertisement that I’m good to do all kinds of ‘Other’ work, clients have hardly been beating a path to my door.
My Common realm work is still trickling in, for which I’m thankful. Tracking down debtors and serving documents is my bread and butter at the moment, which is fine if a little dull, but I hadn’t relocated to the Other realm’s capital city simply to continue my Common work.
Now that I knew about the Other realm, I spotted discreet triangles everywhere. I could hardly believe I hadn’t noticed them before my introduction. I’m a PI, for goodness’ sake – I’m supposed to be observant! – but an entire realm had slipped under my radar. It was a little humbling.
I shrugged it off and opened the door to my trusty Ford Focus. Gato, my Great Dane-cum-hell hound, was stretched out across the whole of the back seat. ‘Hey, puppy,’ I greeted him. ‘You want to go to the loo?’
He tapped his tail twice to say yes and heaved himself up. I let him out so he could do what he had to. He didn’t take long, and he gave me an enthusiastic lick as he climbed back into the car.
I patted him and wiped his slobber off my face. ‘Thanks,’ I muttered, a touch sarcastically. I’m not sure if he caught the sarcasm. I have no idea how clever hell hounds are, save that Gato is far brighter than a dog and can actually use a human toilet if he feels like it. He can also portal me to any of the realms when necessary – he portals me to the Common every night to recharge my magical batteries ready for a day in the Other. He’s cute, loveable and very useful.
I sat in the car and tapped out a quick report to Mr Bridges, complete with photos and my invoice. Some clients prefer to be told the news in person, but he’d asked for a written report. I got that – it was a bit more private, and he didn’t have to worry about presenting a socially acceptable front while I told him his wife was cheating on him. I finished the report, spell checked it and pressed send.
I automatically looked at my call log. Still no call from Stone, not one in eight long, lousy weeks. Fuck him. I didn’t need him anyway. I tried to pretend the shard of hurt I felt was annoyance, but even I wasn’t buying that.
I forced myself to dismiss Stone from my mind and pulled up Google maps to navigate my way home. I’m still not familiar with driving around Liverpool; I know the main streets like the back of my hand, but I’d mostly walked or taken buses when I spent my teenage years there. Navigating it in a car is all new. Google told me it would take me forty-five minutes to get home, so I’d probably be there in forty. I’m generally a good driver, but I have a naughty side where speed is concerned.
I was making my way through the city’s one-way system when my phone rang. I checked the screen: it was my office number. Lord Volderiss has a rota of receptionists there 24/7; that was one of the perks that had made me accept his offer of office space. Free space, free twenty-four-hour secretary and free security. What’s not to like?
I checked the time. It was close to nine p.m. but I didn’t have much planned for the evening. ‘Jinx,’ I answered on my Bluetooth, so I could talk and drive.
‘Miss Sharp,’ Lord Volderiss’s secretary said frostily, ‘you have a Mrs Evergreen here to see you.’
It took me a moment to place the name. The only Evergreen I’d met was a dryad, a young mum who had been in Rosie’s café when I was introduced to the Other realm.
‘Dryad?’ I asked.
‘Indeed.’
‘Okay, I’m five minutes away. Offer her a drink, please, and tell her I’ll be with her shortly.’ I hung up without waiting for a response. Some of Lord Volderiss’s secretaries like me, but Verona doesn’t. There was no point wasting my time speaking to someo
I haven’t told Verona I’m not human yet, mostly because I’m not exactly sure what I really am. Something else, something Other. My main power in any realm is the ability to distinguish if someone is telling the truth or lying. Being a truth seeker is rare even in the Other, so I keep my skills pretty quiet. I’ve let it be known that I’m a wizard, and I have some skill in the IR, which is a wizard’s magic. There are no Latin spells or magic wands, just ‘intention’ and ‘release’ – IR. I was wiped out the first few times I used it, but these days it comes pretty easily. So far my limits have been imposed by lack of practice and my imagination; the IR comes easily but not naturally. It isn’t my first solution to a problem, but hopefully it will become familiar with time and practice.
I parked in the underground car park at the office and hurried upstairs with Gato at my heels. Joyce Evergreen was sitting in reception looking utterly spent. Her blue eyes no longer looked bright and had dark circles under them, her blonde hair was lank and greasy, and her dark-green skin was several shades paler than it should have been. She was clutching a thin, buff-coloured folder, and her eyes were cast downwards, glazed and unseeing. Joyce was alone, in more ways than one.
When I’d last seen her, she’d had a three-year-old and a baby in tow. I felt a flash of alarm and hoped the kids were all right. She looked up when I walked in, and something like relief filled her eyes. My alarm deepened. I’m a private investigator, not a miracle worker. Whatever was going on, her expectations were high and the trouble was bad.
‘Joyce,’ I said gently, ‘come into my office.’
I guided her to my small office. It had an anteroom where my assistant Hester usually sits and does some typing for me. Hester Sorrell and I have known each other for a couple of months – she was the missing person who catapulted me into discovering the Other realm. It had been a crucible of fire and I felt like we were already fast friends despite the age gap between us. That’s a pretty big deal for me because I’ve been a relatively solitary creature since my parents were murdered. Tonight Hes’s desk was empty; she had gone home hours ago.
I led Joyce into my inner sanctum, switching the lights on as I went. My office is sparse and utilitarian. It had a potted plant in one corner that looked fake. It offered some greenery, but apart from that the office is pretty bare. I have a lovely mahogany desk, courtesy of Lord Volderiss, and a matching chair that is equally grand. My two guest chairs are simple wooden ones designed to encourage clients not to linger.
Gato circled three times and settled down on his bed without a fuss. His eyes were forlorn and serious; he knew something bad had happened and it wasn’t the time for wagging tails and kisses. He was being a good boy. I’d give him a treat later.
I turned my attention to Joyce and wondered fleetingly if my fake pot plant was offensive to a dryad. I gestured for her to take a chair, and she sank into it without comment. She wasn’t carrying a drink, and I wondered if Verona had been petty enough not to offer her one. ‘Can I get you anything?’ I offered.
Joyce shook her head. When we’d met, she’d been a happy, bright young mum whose sense of humour had really shone through. There was none of that in the woman in front of me.
I sat behind my desk and pulled out my notepad and pen. I often record client conversations if they don’t object, but there is still something preferable in making notes by hand. It gives me a focus away from the client’s eyes if the subject matter is awkward.
‘Do you mind if I record the conversation?’ I enquired.
She shook her head again, and I wondered if there was actually going to be a conversation. I pulled out my smartphone and pressed the record app. ‘Joyce? When you’re ready, tell me how I can help.’
She bit her lip, her eyes still fixed on the floor. ‘I don’t know if you can help – I don’t know if anyone can help. Nothing will ever be right again.’ She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. I could almost hear her giving herself a firm talking to. When she opened her eyes, she met my gaze. ‘Reggie is dead. My husband is dead. He’s been murdered.’
I felt a sharp stab of sympathy, and an echo of the old pain in my heart. I’d lost both my parents when I was eighteen, and I’m familiar with grief and loss. Hell, they’re my best friends. Some say that time heals, but trust me, that’s bullshit. Time doesn’t make it better, nothing does. The loss is there forever, it just becomes part of your existence.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said softly.
She nodded. ‘Everyone’s sorry. They all give me the sympathetic head tilt while they tell me how sorry they are.’
I knew exactly what she meant. I hate the head tilt too, and the emptiness of the platitudes. ‘Can you tell me a little more about what happened?’
Her eyes were fierce now. ‘They said that it was a robbery, that he got stabbed while he was walking home. But Reggie doesn’t walk home, he drives. But our car was in our driveway. I swear to you, he drove to work that day, so it doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.’
I gave her a moment to see if she would offer more information. She didn’t, so I started my questioning as sensitively as I could. ‘When did he die?’
‘A week ago. On the second of December. Around six p.m., they said. It was dark. He wouldn’t walk home in the dark. He grew up street smart, tough, but he wasn’t stupid, and he didn’t take risks.’
I nodded and waited for her to continue.
‘His body…’ She started sobbing then wiped angrily at the tears leaking from her eyes. She clenched her jaw and tried again. ‘His body was barely recognisable, like he’d been stabbed in a frenzy.’ Her voice broke, and she clamped her lips together as she desperately tried to stop herself breaking down. ‘The police are investigating, of course, and the Connection too. One of the crossover cops is handling it.’
‘Crossover?’ I asked, hating my ignorance.
She gave me a watery smile. ‘Right, I forgot you’re still so new. A crossover is someone that does the same job in both realms, so in this case they’re on the Common police force and the Connection. It’s Detective Marley.’
I blinked. ‘Steve Marley?’
She looked relieved. ‘You know him?’
‘We went to school together, and we’ve dealt with each other professionally as well.’ I like Steve, and he’d dated a friend of mine in school. We’re certainly quite friendly these days, having worked together on a few cases. I trust his instincts – he’s a good cop.
‘He seems competent but he’s busy, and I feel like he’s not invested in getting this sorted. Something about his attitude seems … off, like he thinks Reggie is at fault. I don’t know, maybe I’m being too sensitive. All I do know is that the police have decided it’s a robbery gone wrong, and that’s what they’re sticking with. Reggie wouldn’t walk home in the dark. He wouldn’t. But I have no idea why he was where he was.’
‘And you want me to find out what happened?’
She nodded and her eyes fixed fiercely on mine. ‘Yes, Jinx. I want you to find who killed my husband. And then I’m going to bring them to justice, one way or another.’
I had experience of the ‘other’ side of justice. In a moment of kill or be killed, I had killed. It was fresh in my mind and my nightmares.
‘Justice,’ I agreed, because I knew that if I had the choice to rid the world of my parents’ killers, I wouldn’t hesitate to make the same decision again.
Chapter 2
Joyce handed me the buff file she was clinging to, but she looked away when I opened it, so I knew the contents were bad.
It was a brief police report together with photographs of the crime scene. I have a pretty strong stomach, but I braced myself before I spread out the pictures. As I looked at them, a chill ran down my spine. Reggie Evergreen had been in the Other when he was attacked and killed. The stabbings were deep, ruthless and frenzied. There was a lot of blood, not just in pools around Reggie but splatters everywhere. The scene … it was entirely too familiar. It was just like my parents’ crime scene. Just like it. My hair stood on end.
