Pretty Little Fliers: A Cozy Witch Mystery (Magic Market Mysteries Book 1)

grinned—then immediately grew annoyed with myself and the warm blush creeping up my throat. “I, uh—I don’t mind coming up to the station to help if you want me to—”
“Oh, no.” Peter gave me a kind smile. The glowing aquariums lit up his square jaw and strong nose. “You’ve already done more than enough.”
A pang of disappointment tightened in my chest. “You sure? I really don’t mind.”
As we passed through the kitchen, he gave me a gentle nudge with his shoulder. “Naw. You should get back to your shop. I know you gotta make a living, too. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, and we’ll continue the investigation, then.”
I nodded and fought to plaster on a grin. “Yeah, sounds good. I want to catch up on my sleep, anyway.”
Daisy, who walked in front of Peter, sniffed the air, her nose twitching, then turned to look at me and growled. I don’t know what you said, but it was a lie. Stop lying to my human!
I rolled my eyes at her. Geez, it wasn’t really even a lie. I was just doing this for the money.
And I did want to go back to my shabby apartment and try to sleep while my neighbors clomped around upstairs and not be part of the exciting police work that made me feel a tiny bit like myself again.
I sighed. Who was I kidding? Certainly not Daisy. And now, not even myself.

16


BREW
“Oh, thank the sea goddess.” I groaned as Peter handed me a paper cup of brew.
He chuckled, a deep, pleasant sound, as I leaned against the graffitied wall and cupped both hands around the coffee. I took a deep inhale and savored the rich, earthy aroma—while trying to ignore the more pungent glue stench wafting up from the sewer grate.
I took a few sips and swore I could already feel the caffeine circulating through my veins. I squinted up at Peter. “Is it always this bright?” I shielded my face with one hand.
“The daytime?” He smirked. “Typically.” He stood tall, broad shoulders relaxed, but his and Daisy’s eyes scanned the street.
“Oh, relax.” I waved a hand. “All the scoundrels and troublemakers are in bed by now… where I should be,” I grumbled. It’d been a long time since I’d been up this early. Working nights and being naturally a literal night owl, I usually slept till long past noon.
Peter tipped his head back and downed the last of his coffee, then magicked the cup into thin air. I bit my lip. Man, I missed my powers. Sometimes they were just so handy.
“Ready?” He lifted his brows, and Daisy’s ears pricked.
I rolled my eyes. “As I’ll ever be… so, no.”
Peter grinned and led the way. It was odd to see my street in the gray light of a misty morning. Gulls circled overhead and fog drifted across the dirty cobblestones.
Without the flashing neon lights and bustling crowds, the place looked even shabbier and more tired than normal. Food wrappers and broken bottles littered the ground, and a few ravens the size of chickens fought over a choice spot on the edge of a metal trash can.
Ah, the Darkmoon District. Home, sweet home.
I slogged along beside Peter through the narrow, winding streets of the night market, my head aching with sleep deprivation. After I’d downed about half my coffee, I finally felt witch enough to speak in sentences.
“So how’d it go interrogating Martin Shaw?” I raised the cup to my lips and took another swig of the black, steamy liquid energy.
Daisy, unleashed as usual, led the way a few steps in front of us, her bushy tail swishing.
Peter shoved his hands in the pockets of his navy blue trousers and shrugged. “He’s still our number-one suspect. He doesn’t have an alibi and confessed to being at the crime scene near the time of the murder.”
I shot him a side-eyed glance as we stepped around some broken crates and headed down a dark alley. Lines of laundry crisscrossed overhead and the bacon-y smells of breakfast wafting out through the open kitchen windows made my stomach growl.
“Case closed then, right?” I lifted my free palm. “I mean, the victim, Bim, turned on the light, Martin Shaw wanted it off, and in a fit of rage he spelled her out the window. Crime of passion.” I took another sip, the liquid warming my throat in the cool summer air.
Peter shook his head, eyes far away. “We’ve released him for now.”
I scoffed and spun to face him. “What?!”
Daisy glanced back and glared at me.
“It just doesn’t seem right—in my gut. The guy is odd, but he doesn’t seem violent.” Peter looked at me and I shook my head.
“Softie.”
Peter gave me a half smile. “I know, I know. But Daisy didn’t sense a lie in him, and what’s the motive? You think he’d really kill someone over a neon light?”
“I don’t know.” I hiked up my shoulders. “It was threatening his livelihood. And in my experience, people will surprise you at the lengths and cruelty they’ll go to, to get what they want. Especially if their career or money is involved.” I gritted my teeth. Like, expose you as a shifter and curse you while they’re at it, just to get your job.
Peter cleared his throat and startled me out of my walk down horrible memory lane. I’d wandered into the bad part of my brain town.
“You okay?” His wide eyes took in my face.
I clicked my tongue at him and shook it off. Urg. I could not take him looking at me like that—like I was some poor lost puppy. “So.” My words came out pointed. “Where are we going?”
Peter’s gaze lingered on me a moment more, then he straightened and lifted his chin toward the tall brick building ahead of us. “Bim’s apartment. We got the photos on her camera developed and they were just a bunch of random shots of the interior of the office. I’m hoping her home will offer some