FurOut, page 1
FUROUT
SEMI-COZY PARANORMAL FUN
RENEE GEORGE
BARKSIDE OF THE MOON PRESS
FurOut: Witchin’ Impossible Cozy Mysteries Book 5
Copyright © 2024 by Renee George
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the copyright holder.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement by the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and storylines in this book are inspired only by the author’s imagination. The characters are based solely in fiction and are in no relation inspired by anyone bearing the same name or names. Any similarities to real persons, situations, or incidents is purely coincidental.
ISBN Print: 978-1-947177-52-9
Publisher: Barkside of the Moon Press
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Blurb
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
Burning Djinn of Fire - Sneak Peek
Paranormal Mysteries & Romances
About the Author
For my sister Robbin.
You are always there for me.
You are the best, my darling,
even when I’m bratty.
And for the other awesome Robyn in my life,
You are a miracle in friendship.
Thank you for all you do and are.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Also, I must thank the usual suspects, my BFF sister and most fabulous beta reader Robbin, my BFF, and critique partner Robyn Peterman. You guys are like the chocolate to my almonds, the butter to my toast, and the sweetener to my tea. I love you like I love my left leg.
To my Rebels, you all RAWK! You keep me going every day with your support. I love you to the moon and back.
To my fans, I would not be anything without you. Seriously. If you keep reading, I’ll keep writing! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. If I were reviewing you all, you would get five-gazillion stars and a million-gazillion smooches.
Oh! And lest I forget, thank you strong, black coffee. Without you, I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning, let alone write a single word.
Familiar allies. Old magic. New enemies. And a challenge to the death. In Paradise Falls, things have never been hairier.
In Paradise Falls, I’m the law. Since I became the police chief, crime here is about as common as a good hair day in a tornado, and peace between shifters and witches has never been smoother. My familiar, Tizzy the squirrel, keeps me entertained with her acorn-fueled antics, while my bear shifter hubby, Ford, makes me feel like the safest witch on the planet.
I should’ve known bliss never lasts. Like a vegan at a barbecue, trouble rolls into town in the form of a pack of werewolves. These furry interlopers aren’t here for the scenic hikes or the artisanal honey—oh no, they want a piece of Paradise Falls, and they’re not asking politely. When the Witch-Shifter Coalition votes to boot the wolves, the head howler throws down the gauntlet, declaring the sacred Rite of Arphlitian—a ritual fight to the death as ancient as the town’s oldest oak tree.
With no choice, the town must choose a champion. And guess who volunteers? Yep, my honey-bear, Ford. As the new mayor, Ford steps up to the challenge, determined to defend our home.
I’m sure someone in town is conspiring with the newcomers to take down the leadership in Paradise Falls. But who? And to what end?
Unfortunately, in Paradise Falls, the only thing more magical than the town’s charms is this mystery.
CHAPTER 1
The morning sun streamed through the window as I settled into my worn leather chair in my cluttered office. A harsh ray of light crossed my desk, drawing attention to the doom piles of paperwork I’d been avoiding all week. My coffee, a strong brew with a pinch of cinnamon, sat steaming beside a half-eaten donut.
Being Chief meant paperwork, people management, and politics. I’d scheduled a little one-on-one with the new mayor to discuss the police budget. The new guy was handsome and sexy, and it would be the highlight of my day. I looked at the time. Ten in the morning. Ugh. My meeting wasn’t until two. Four long, tedious hours away.
The dispatch radio in my office was on for background noise. This morning there had been reports of a fender bender on Main Street, a noise complaint from Mrs. O’Malley’s familiar again, and Officer Daniels managing traffic near the high school. Mundane, everyday police work in a town that had, in the past, been fraught with horrific murders, shifter-witch conflicts, a gaping tar pit to hell in the middle of Main Street, and enemies from the past rearing their ugly, revengeful heads. It was shaping up to be a typical morning in Paradise Falls.
In other words, I was bored out of my gourd.
I sighed heavily. “What I wouldn’t give for a minor dustup. Nothing too catastrophic, but enough to get me out of this office for a few hours.”
There is an old adage that goes, “Be careful what you wish for.” It’s an adage for a reason.
Our newest rookie officer, Becksy “Bex” Ansel, ran into my office. “Chief Kinsey, you need to hear this.” The other officers started calling her Bex, rationalizing that Becksy was too cutesy of a name for a tough cop. I had full confidence in the young witch. Her skills as a police officer were as impressive as her magic.
“What’s up?” I responded, eager for something mildly interesting to break up the morning.
Her perky nose twitched. “There’s trouble out at the Junkyard Dog.”
Junkyard Dog, an ironic name since the last owner Clayton Driver had been a cat shifter, was down a rough gravel road on the Merry County line. The location also made it a perfect spot for criminal activity. Half the property was on Lister, the county that bordered ours, which made it a nightmare for law enforcement, considering jurisdiction was always in question. Still, it had been closed and unoccupied for eight years. Ever since Driver met his maker after trying to kill my best friend, the property had been about as lively as a sloth on vacation.
Less eagerly, I asked, “What kind of trouble?”
“Detective Edger called in on a private channel. He says there is a large group of unknown and dangerous-looking shifters with what looks like moving trucks heading to the Junkyard Dog,” Bex answered, looking flustered.
I frowned. Patrick Edger, a weremongoose I had appointed the head of special investigations, had his nose and ears to the ground in Paradise Falls. If he said the group was unknown and dangerous, I believed him.
I got up and moved to the front of my desk. “Not good.” Newcomers to Paradise Falls were rare, and anyone showing up without an invitation was immediately suspicious.
“He wants to know how you want him to handle the situation,” Bex said.
My first impulse was to send a patrol car to investigate the strangers, but shifters could be unpredictable when challenged, even when you knew them well. I wouldn’t send any of my officers into the potentially volatile situation until I had more information.
“Let’s hold off on doing anything for a minute. Ask Patrick to observe from a distance. No direct contact with the strangers,” I instructed. “I need to make a call.”
She nodded and hurried back to her desk. I picked up my cell phone and dialed the mayor’s number. He answered on the second ring.
“Hey, hot stuff.” The newly appointed mayor, who also happened to be my dear husband, Ford Baylor, said in a low and seductive voice. “What’re you wearing?”
I grinned at my mate’s welcome audacity. “A nine-millimeter.”
“Mmm,” he growled. “And nothing else?”
I choked on a laugh. “As much as I want to finish this conversation,” I replied, “and I do plan to finish it later, we’ve got a situation at the Junkyard Dog, and since my best officer up and quit on me...”
“I didn’t just quit, Haze,” he said gently,
“I know,” I conceded. “I just miss having you around all the time.” Being mated was more than just a signature on a piece of paper. It meant I always wanted to be wherever he was, holding on and loving him for the rest of our lives. Since Ford was a shifter, the feelings were even more intense for him.
“I miss you too.” His tone was tender and reassuring. “Tell me about this situation. What’s been reported?”
I sighed. Back to the business of business. “There’s a report of new shifters in town. A whole group of them, apparently.” I kept my voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at me.
“New shifters?” Ford’s surprise was palpable. “This is the first I’m hearing of it. They should’ve petitioned the coalition for an invitation before entering town. What are they up to?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” I told him. “Patrick Edger says they have moving trucks. It makes me think they plan to stick around. Whatever their intent, they’re trespassing on property that has been abandoned for a long time, making me even more nervous. Who owns the Junkyard Dog now?”
“I’ll call down to records and find out whose name is on the deed.” Ford was silent momentarily, and I could almost hear the gears turning in his mind. “Haze, we need to approach this carefully. I don’t want a confrontation without knowing more about them.”
“I agree. But we need to find out who they are and why they’re here.” My witchy senses were tingling. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“I do, too,” he agreed. “But let’s not rush into anything. I’ll call a meeting with the Witch-Shifter Coalition. Maybe someone knows something about these new arrivals. In the meantime, I want you to hold off on approaching them directly. Let’s see if we can gather some information first.”
“Maybe,” I agreed reluctantly. “But we can’t just sit back and do nothing.”
“I know,” Ford said. “We need to play this smart and safe.”
“Understood,” I said, feeling itchy. “If they’re playing by shifter rules, they’ll be expecting someone to show up and ask questions.”
“If they were playing by shifter rules, they wouldn’t have shown up unannounced,” he countered.
“True.” Still, I couldn’t let the incursion into our town go unanswered. “I’ll be the picture of diplomacy.”
“Uh-huh,” Ford said, unconvinced. “Don’t go alone. Take a few of your witch officers as backup. Leave the shifters far enough away that the interlopers don’t see it as a challenge.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Good tip.”
I could hear the rasp of his breath for a few seconds before he added, “Just promise you’ll be careful.”
“You got it,” I assured him. “Let me know as soon as you find anything out, and I’ll keep you updated on my end.”
“Check in often,” Ford said, his voice softening.
I looked out the window at our sleepy town and across the street at the three-story courthouse. The building’s dark, rough stone walls were centered by a tall square tower. When I was a kid, I always thought the arched windows framed by thick, carved columns made the building seem spooky. But since my sweetie became the big hunky-mucky-muck, I’d started seeing the beauty in the old building.
A small smile tugged at my lips when I saw Ford in his second-story office looking out of his window at me.
I waved at him. “I promise to check in.”
He placed his large palm on the window. “I love you.”
Like a double-barrel shotgun, my heart double-pumped. Our mate bond was locked and loaded. “I love you, too.” After the call ended, I slipped my phone back into my pocket. When I turned around, I let out a little yip, sparks of magic shooting from my fingertips.
Sitting atop one of the paperwork piles, a large red, flying squirrel cracked an acorn as she stared at me.
“Don’t sneak up on me.”
“I’ve been here for like two minutes,” she informed me, her voice high and feminine. “I can’t help it if you got the observational skills of a blind mole.”
“I haven’t been on the phone for two minutes.”
“You’ve been moon-eyed staring across the road at Fozzie Bear since I popped in,” she begged to differ. “You know you’re time blind where that man is involved.”
She wasn’t wrong. It was one of the many reasons he decided to run for mayor. Since our wedding, neither of us was worth a damn at our jobs when the other was around. I raised a brow at my uninvited visitor. “Don’t you have a restaurant to run? Won’t Lupita be short-handed without you?”
Lupita, a pearl-gray Persian familiar that Tizzy had fallen in love with, had inherited her ex-witch Romy Quinn’s restaurant after Romy went to jail for dabbling in dark magic and nearly destroying the whole town. Lupita was now my dad’s familiar, but she and Tizzy had their own tiny house together on my property. Ford and I had a few acres surrounding our Victorian home, and setting up a tiny house so we could all have some needed privacy was a small sacrifice.
“Lupita has it handled.”
“I have a lot going on today, Tiz. Tell me what you need and make it quick.”
“I need you to tell me what you’re going to do about the pack of werewolves setting up territory in our area.”
I narrowed my gaze at her. “Werewolves? What makes you think they’re wolves? Or a pack?”
“I dated a pack bitch once,” she said. “When they group like that, they take on a distinct scent.”
“Mitzy Thomas is a wolf shifter, and she’s great,” I said.
“Mitzy is a lone wolf,” Tizzy countered. “Besides, she was adopted and raised by cougar shifter parents, so it’s not the same thing.” Her whiskers fluttered as she sniffed. “When werewolves are in a pack, they’re real jerks. They try to run everything. Trust me when I say you don’t want their kind here.”
“When did you date a wolf shifter?” I asked. “That seems like something I would’ve remembered. And how in the world? Logistically, it seems like a sizing nightmare.”
“I’ve been around longer than you, Haze,” she chittered. “I had a life before you. Several of them.” She gave me a withering stare. “And I haven’t always had this form, not that it’s any of your business.”
I put up my hands. “Fair enough.” I often forgot that my familiar had a long, long history. It was easy to assume that she came into existence at the same time as I had, but that’s not how it worked for her kind.
I gave her a go-ahead nod. “Okay, Ms. Werewolf Pack Expert, if you had to take a guess as to why they’re here, what would it be?”
She shrugged her tiny shoulders. “Secret shifterology cult? New age yoga retreat? Alien invasion?”
I chuckled. “Let’s hope it’s not aliens, Tiz. I don’t want to have to explain to the coalition why crop circles are showing up in town.”
“Whatever the reason, it’s for sure going to be terrible,” she quipped ominously.
It made me wonder just how badly her werewolf girlfriend had jilted her. It was a story for another time. Right now, I had a pack to check out.
“Bex!” I hollered. The young witch, work boots thudding against the linoleum floor, came running into my office.
“What’s the plan, Chief?”
“I need every available witch officer to meet us at the Junkyard Dog.”
“Us?” Bex asked. “As in you and me?”
“Yes, us,” I told her. “I could use a strong witch in the field, and it will be good experience.”
Bex hadn’t been assigned a patrol partner yet, but I thought the girl had the makings of a good detective. Her years as a waitress at Lolo’s Diner had given Bex a keen insight into shifters and witches and what motivated their behavior, whether it was food or crime.
Her back straightened. I could see she was pleased. “Got it, Chief. I’ll radio all available units.”
“Witches only,” I reiterated. “We’re going to see werewolves, and I don’t want anyone accidentally starting a war.”
She clicked her heels together, her arms rigid at her sides as she pivoted and raced back down the hall.
“Goddess in a pair of orange Uggs,” Tizzy hissed. “For a minute, I thought she was going to salute.”
“Leave the poor girl alone. She’s excited.”
“So was the Donner party when it started snowing,” Tiz said.
I didn’t love the picture the squirrel was painting. “We’re not really worried about cannibalism, right??”
“Is it cannibalism when shifters eat you? Or do werewolves just call that dinner?”
“Don’t invite them to a barbecue. Got it.” I took my weapon from my office gun safe. “
“Be careful,” warned Tiz. “Whatever they want, it’s not gonna be good.”
With those ominous words ringing in my ears, I strapped on my gun and left the office.
CHAPTER 2
We pulled up to the Junkyard Dog, just me and my witches. Seven of them, to be exact, counting Bex, who’d ridden shotgun with me. Some of my shifter officers had grumbled about waiting out of scenting distance, but the smart ones had known it was the right play. These newcomers weren’t just any shifters. They were werewolves and total strangers. Both were things that we rarely if ever encountered in Paradise Falls. Other than the occasional human guest, our people had no experiences with any being or creature not native to our little town. The anxiety rolling off my officers as we parked and exited our vehicles was palpable.
