Fantasy Detective Novels Novels & Stories

Yamiko asked. "Yura, but he insisted he has seen no one." Yamiko's face twitched, a sign of skepticism. "Do you speculate he has something to do with this?" "I dare not say," Merko responded. Yura had this good guy effect to anyone who had been associated with him. I couldn't think of him plotting something evil. But now, everything had probabilities of happening whether we like it or not. "However, it is implicit that the culprit belongs to Faro. No residuum of magic could be felt in the area. Not a single trace. No matter what we do, we are left with nothing. It is like the book just vanished then appeared again," he added.

No. The department must be trusted. And the agency should send reliable people to work there. He closed all the windows with his mouse. - All open... you are a detective and you leave evidence like this? Maybe I do need a break. Without realizing it, he missed the slip of a criminal.

Copyright ©️ 2021. PETILLANT ALBA. All rights are reserved. This is a fantasy novel . All the characters,places ,names and events are all extracted from my imagination. Any resemblance to the real characters,places incidents etc. are coincidental. Since this story is all my creativity so the story will be in consonance with my imaginations. WARNING: It's a dark romantic novel, so there will be mature scenes in it which might be triggering for some of you so read at your own risk.

My hands were shaking, my heart pounding, and for the first time since this nightmare started, I felt the full impact of what we were up against. We weren’t just fighting terrorists. We were fighting ghosts—people who moved in the shadows, orchestrating chaos with deadly precision. And Kareem… what was he really? Who was he? I sat down on the edge of a worn couch, my mind racing. Every time I looked at him, I felt a pull—an attraction that was impossible to deny. But there was something more beneath the surface. Something darker. The door creaked open, and Kareem stepped back inside, his expression unreadable.

He was grossly outnumbered and the odds were in the favor of Nikjin and his army. She wondered what had become of her father; of Monah, the head warrior, of Seisa, and the other servants. How many werewolves have already lost their lives in this cursed place? How many more would have to die before this nightmare was over? Tears ran down her muzzle from her closed eyes. A silly thought occurred to her that nearly made her giggle out loud. If she’d known that she was coming to an era of civil war, she should have probably gone to bed with the dream stone and her father’s hunting rifle that was stashed in their attic back in Fairbanks. That would have surely tipped this fight in the werewolves'

“We’ll have to come into an appropriate negotiation. No matter how traditional they are, the capo of Outfit is still a proprietor at heart. He’ll know what’s best and I intend to give him deals he can’t and won’t refuse.” Dom sighed in defeat. “You say you know what you’re doing, but I’m not so sure.” I jogged out of the mansion, grinning. The sound of the birds chirping and the sight of the empty roads brought me the peace I desired most. After dealing with blood and proving what people claimed me to be—a fucking monster—sleep was the only thing that made me feel less like it. Now, even sleep had become something distant. Every time I closed my eyes, blood was all I fucking saw.

nHis mother’s eyes met his, “Your father left this with me the night before he disappeared.” Corey stared at the box, what is inside? She held it tightly. “Something he wanted you to have when the time was right.” Corey’s pulse quickened. His mother slowly extended it toward him and for the first time that evening, the warmth of the family dinner disappeared. Because Corey suddenly realized something. Morgan hadn’t simply disappeared, he had left pieces of himself behind, pieces that were still waiting to be found.

It had a snake and a skull and looked kind of epic, definitely something fantasy related. Flipping the cover over, I scanned the blurb on the back. It sounded pretty good. And the author? L.F. Welsh. The F had to stand for Ford, and though I didn’t know his last name, I would’ve put money on it being Welsh. Damn. Human Ford was an author. A fantasy author. With many books published, if the paperbacks were anything to go off of. And a successful fantasy author, if I was judging his house and car and whatnot.

I retaliated quickly. "You just got lucky with that missing kid and with Danilo Proctuso, remember that." Guzman tried to act tough. "Yeah? How about you? The self-proclaimed golden boy. What have you done so far? Well, aside from doing inventory at the evidence room, huh?" Chris was about to turn his back on Guzman when he speaks. "I don't do inventory; I'm the newest detective of this station. You got that?" Guzman said, full of pride.

“Oh, it’s just books.” I’m not listening to her, though. My blood is thundering in excitement. “These are—How did these—” I can’t even form a coherent sentence, just staring at the hardcover books. They are a fictional detective series from a foreign author who doesn’t sell his novels outside his country. I’ve only managed to read his books online, from no legitimate sources. I never dreamed I could ever own actual copies of his work, including his new releases. “Are you crying?!” Jazz looks horrified.