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Still, I’d been sent to the Hollows in the rain to collar a leprechaun for tax evasion. How much lower, I wondered, could I sink? It must have been from tagging that Seeing Eye dog last week. How was I supposed to know it wasn’t a werewolf? It matched the description I’d been given.
Steve liked this
My eyes traveled up a huge bear of a man. Bouncer material. The name on the shirt said CLIFF. It fit.
His dragonfly wings turned red as he laughed and his circulation increased. Dressed in black silk with a red bandanna, he looked like a miniature Peter Pan posing as an inner city gang member. Four inches of blond bothersome annoyance and quick temper.
She looked younger than I would have expected, but if you’re a hundred fifty years old, you’re bound to pick up a few beauty secrets.
