Pet Psychic Mysteries Boxset Books 5-8 (Magic Market Mysteries Book 2) by Erin Johnson (simple ebook reader .txt) 📕

“But it does.” Peter nodded, his deep blue eyes thoughtful. A red flush spread up his neck and ears. “We’ll make this right, Jolene. I promise. He can’t just use you as a test subject for whatever he’s making those potions for.” He heaved an angry sigh through his nose, and I leaned against his side.

“When we arrest him, can Daisy gnaw on him—just a little?”

The grim set to Peter’s mouth softened. “Sure—but just a little.”

I nodded. “Maybe she can bite off a few toes. I doubt he’d miss them.”

Peter chuckled and slipped his hand around mine.

I was only half joking. But first, we had to figure out a crime we could actually pin on the slippery snake. Ludolf had a way of lining up his lackeys to take the fall for his multitude of crimes, which I had a feeling we’d just seen the tip of. In any case, I was more than happy to put my personal problems aside and focus on the case in front of us. It made for a nice distraction from my predicament.

Daisy barked again—over here—and Mark cried out, “Hey!”

Peter banked hard to the right, and I trailed right behind him, still holding his hand. We came to a little clearing filled with a nest made of sticks and mud about the size of a large beanbag chair. Mark had his back against the rough trunk of a palm tree, palms up, while Daisy wagged her bushy tail and panted up at him. She glanced back over her shoulder at Peter and woofed.

I found him!

Mark’s wide eyes darted down to the dog, then back to Peter. “A little help here.”

Peter bent forward and patted his thighs. “Daisy! Come!”

The German shepherd bounded over, smiling widely, and Peter scratched behind her pointy ears. “Good girl.”

“Good?” Mark scoffed as he tugged his white lab coat down. “She nearly bit my head off.” He shot the dog a scathing look, then dug around his pockets till he located his pack of cigarettes and his wand. He used his wand to light the cigarette before stuffing it back in his pocket, then took a drag and blew out a puff of smoke. His shoulders sagged, and his face relaxed.

I frowned at him. What kind of veterinarian got so angry at a dog and smoked in the enclosure of a creature as rare as a phoenix?

Peter straightened, and Daisy circled around until she stood with her side pressed against his leg. “Daisy was just looking for you. Where’d everyone go?” Peter’s eyes dropped to the large nest. “And what are you doing in here alone?”

Mark took another drag of his cigarette, then leveled Peter with a flat look. “Your colleagues took off with the bodies and told me not to go anywhere—so I figured I’d make myself useful and see if I could locate our missing phoenix.” He gestured at the circle of sticks and mud. “This is her nest.” A few fiery red feathers clung to the inside of the nest.

I crinkled my nose. The humid air smelled of sour cigarette smoke, charcoal, and a warm, musky bird smell. I’d noticed it on myself and other owls before when I could still shift. I sniffed again and found it weirdly comforting, though I guessed the burnt smell was unique to phoenixes.

Peter nodded. “I appreciate you sticking around—we actually do have some more questions for you.” He glanced around at the vines, trees, and ferns that crowded close to us. “First up—have you found the phoenix or any clues as to where it might be?”

Mark sniffed and rolled his dark eyes. “None. It’s like she just up and disappeared.”

Peter frowned. “The bird couldn’t have gotten out the open door while you and Quincy were distracted with the victims?”

Mark shook his head and blew out a puff of smoke. “If she was loose anywhere around here and burst into flames, you’d know it.”

Yeesh. I made a face up at Peter. “Nobody’s called in any spontaneous hell fires?”

His lips twitched like he was fighting a grin. “Not yet, at least.”

Mark pointed his cigarette at me. “It’s no joke, from what I understand, when a phoenix combusts and then is born again from the flames.”

I arched a brow. “From what you understand? You haven’t seen it in person?”

The vet shook his head.

Peter cocked his head, the large nest still on the ground between us and Mark. “So you weren’t the sanctuary’s veterinarian for the last phoenix rebirth party?”

Mark scowled at Peter. “That was fifty years ago—how old do I look to you?”

I bit back a smile as my boyfriend’s throat bobbed and his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. The vet looked like he was in his fifties to me, fairly trim, though his stomach stuck out from his lab coat a bit, and only a few lines showed around his eyes. That was probably a fair reaction on his part.

I stepped forward and tried to distract Mark from taking offense. “So you never met Malorie’s first husband, Richard?”

He sniffed. “Nope. She hired me on after he’d already ‘disappeared.’” He made air quotes around the last word. “Worked for her about fourteen years now.”

Interesting how Mark mentioned working for Malorie—not Quincy. It seemed the new widower had been telling the truth when he said his wife didn’t share a lot of the business responsibilities with him.

Peter lifted a thick brow. “You don’t believe Malorie’s husband went missing?”

Mark snorted. “I think someone knows where he is.”

Did he think that someone was his recently deceased boss? “Some people think Malorie dumped his body in the phoenix’s cage during the party fifty years ago. Could the flames from the phoenix’s rebirth have completely destroyed bone and all evidence?”

Mark took a dramatic drag of his cigarette, then leveled me a serious look. “Anything in that cage—bone, cast iron, shell, probably even that volcanic rock—it would have all been completely obliterated by those flames.”

Well, that