Dead Witch Walking
Chapter One
I stood in the shadows of a deserted shop front across from
The Blood and Brew Pub, trying not to be obvious as I tugged
my black leather pants back up where they belonged. This is
pathetic, I thought, eyeing the rain-emptied street. I was way
too good for this.
Apprehending unlicensed and black-art witches was my usual
line of work, as it takes a witch to catch a witch. But the
streets were quieter than usual this week. Everyone who could
make it was at the West Coast for our yearly convention,
leaving me with this gem of a run. A simple snag and drag. It
was just the luck of the Turn that had put me here in the dark
and rain.
"Who am I kidding?" I whispered, pulling the strap of my bag
farther up my shoulder. I hadn't been sent to tag a witch in a
month: unlicensed, white, dark, or otherwise. Bringing the
mayor's son in for Wereing outside of a full moon probably
hadn't been the best idea.
A sleek car turned the corner, looking black in the buzz of
the mercury street lamp. This was its third time around the
block. A grimace tightened my face as it approached, slowing.
"Damn it," I whispered. "I need a darker door front."
"He thinks you're a hooker, Rachel," my backup snickered into
my ear. "I told you the red halter wa ... read full excerpt from Dead Witch Walking ebook
