St. Patrick's Day Could Be the Most Dangerous Time of the Year...

Name’s Bram Farrell. I’m a PI—well, used to be. Michigan doesn’t think I have the requisites for a license in this world. My experience is nearly all within the pages of a set of fantasy novels written by Calista Amberson, who I thought died shortly after yanking me into the real world but hadn’t. Currently, I rank at the top of her “Erase These Idiots” list. The feeling is mutual.


As St. Patrick’s Day dawned, I thought the only dangerous thing on my social calendar was meeting my secretary-cum-sugarplum Naomie Enright and her family. It wasn’t—though downing green dyed potato salad had taken courage. No, it was finding the Irish goddess Danu waiting for me at the bar of Enright’s Pub. She had a sword for me to find. Someone had nicked The Retaliator, an ancient Tuatha blade that could kill with just a scratch.


Not many of them around in twenty-first-century Detroit.

Except Naomie’s brother happened to have a friend who liked to buckle on some swash and dazzle crowds with sword play. And he’s vanished, only the scents of ghoul and vampire lingering in his wrecked apartment. That’s never good.

And it was headed for even worse. I needed an edge to solve—and survive—this case!


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