Extraits

Chapter 1

It was a gorgeous day. A fucking gorgeous day. It was one of those bright, breezy, unicorn-and-puppy mornings. I mean, the unicorns weren’t out yet. They tend to be more nocturnal to increase the odds of picking up virgins at nightclubs, but there were a couple pegasi kicking it overhead.

I was in a great mood.

My dad was back.

My mom was occupied now that my dad was back.

And after word had gotten out that The Greatest World Walker of Them All (a.k.a. my dad) had escaped an inter-dimensional prison and saved two worlds from collapse, MacKay & MacKay Tracking was back in business nailing the bad guys and getting paid the big bucks to do it. Nothing like a little hero worship to get the dollars rolling in.

My name is Maggie MacKay. I'm a thirty-something gal. Still single. Probably because these Irish eyes smile the most when I've got a gun in my hand or a vampire on my stake. Hobbies include punching things. For my day job, I track magical objects and magical beings and put everything back where it belongs. Second in skillz only to my dad, I can travel dimensions between Earth and my home, The Other Side, with just the wiggle of my itty bitty finger.

About a month ago, I learned my dad was trapped in between worlds, so I took down my evil uncle, found a couple Chinese lion statues which were the key to two worlds’ survival, and managed to piss off an asshole vampire named Vaclav. But I freed my dad and that’s what’s important in the end, isn’t it? Hugs all around.

It had only been a couple weeks, but the fickle eyeballs of Other Side celebrity had kept their focus on MacKay & MacKay Tracking until just a few days ago. Some illicit affair between a politician and a medusa took over the spotlight, but up until then, the media maelstrom had drummed up some new clients and Frank, the one-eyed ogre who handed out the tracking jobs for the police at the Bureau of Records, seemed to have felt some pressure to give us the higher profile gigs (see: hauling back said politician from an overstayed “conference” in the Mediterranean with said medusa).

Life was good.

I skipped up the stairs to our little office, the sound of my Doc Martens thumping on the linoleum. This probably alerted any bad guys staking out the place I was coming, but, eh, fuck it. I fished around in the pocket of my biker jacket and pulled out the keys to the door.

MacKay & MacKay Tracking Other Side HQ was a small, one room affair over a green grocer shop. Dad started renting it probably twenty years ago and never got around to remodeling. Evidently, the previous owner had a thing for 1940’s noir. The two oak desks and matching swivel chairs were old and ratty. A slow ceiling fan and a lame excuse for a window a/c unit tried to keep the summer suns at bay. I loved it.

“Dad?” I called as I pushed the door with my shoulder and flipped on the light. I took my gun out of its holster and walked over to put it in my drawer. There was a note on my desk.