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    Tales Of The Abysmal Plane: A Zoe Martinique Investigation
    Tales Of The Abysmal Plane: A Zoe Martinique Investigation
    Tales Of The Abysmal Plane: A Zoe Martinique Investigation
    Ebook391 pages5 hours

    Tales Of The Abysmal Plane: A Zoe Martinique Investigation

    By Phaedra Weldon

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Character stories don’t always begin and end with the opening of a book and its closing. There are always tales before we meet our heroes and heroines—and Zoë Martinique is no exception.

    From her first experience with S.P.R.I.T.E. on her first assignment with Maharba, meeting Dags McConnell and becoming the catalyst for his transformation into a Grimoire, to her latest foray into the ordered world of the Ethereal Plane, Zoë will take readers on a ride of laughter and gasps.

    Tales of the Abysmal Plane is a collection of stories about our OOBing heroine before and after her shift to Wraith and beyond. Collected together for the first time, readers of the Zoë Martinique Investigation Series will enjoy these extra tales of the Abysmal Experience.

    :::Contains:::
    Web Ginn House
    Out Of The Dark
    Holly & Ivy
    Beyond The Door
    Walking Shadows
    Soul Cage

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCaldwell Press
    Release dateFeb 1, 2018
    ISBN9781536522426
    Tales Of The Abysmal Plane: A Zoe Martinique Investigation

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      Book preview

      Tales Of The Abysmal Plane - Phaedra Weldon

      Out Of The Dark

      This novella was originally the end of Wraith, until I realized I was waaaay over word count. So I stopped Wraith at Dags’ pants.

      This Novella starts at that scene, at the end of Wraith.

      One

      Nurses are amazing creatures. Especially night shift nurses. Why, you ask? Because they see things no ordinary human should ever see—and they rarely ever question why. They just shake their heads and go on about their jobs of saving lives as well as doctors' asses.

      But by far my favorite are nurses.

      The head nurse. The grand muckity-muck of the graveyard shift. 'Cause let me tell you—this is a force to be reckoned with. These women don't take shit off of anyone, not doctors, not patients, and certainly not half-naked orderlies standing in the middle of the women's bathroom. And I have seen one of these nurses fell an otherwise healthy young man just by yelling.

      I'd been hanging about Daniel's room so much I knew the nurse rotation. As did Mom. Hell, Mom brought cakes and brownies and homemade thigh-swelling sweet tea. She was a popular visitor on the floor—except to those who were trying desperately to keep their girlie figures.

      Yeah, like they're all so flattering in those really loose, upholstery-patterned scrubs. Though there was one lady who had teddy bears on hers. Hrm—now those might make for comfy ice cream-eating evenings.

      Tonight's nurse was Tiarra (yep, you say it just like the crown, Tee-ar-ah) Boudreaux. Now—this lady stood a good foot taller than me. And that's saying a lot. I'm not exactly short. Her hair—sprayed upward into something resembling an ice sculpture—made up a good half-foot of the height.

      Her nails were long and painted white with black spots, and her lips were always colored like McIntosh apples. Never a smudge. And evidently she'd already had it with Mr. Bartender and his shenanigans when she walked in on him and me in the bathroom—

      Wait, lemme back up a minute.

      Where was I the last time I saw you...Oh! Yeah. Mr. Dags the Bartender had his pants down around his ankles. Naked men and all that.

      See, after getting over his shock of me walking in on him with Nancy the Nurse, he just stood there. Not moving. I wasn't doing anything but politely gawking.

      Now—this guy had been cute when I'd first seen him behind the bar at Fadó. And he was still cute as a button with no shirt—or pants—on. I'd never seen a lower body blush before, either.

      Mental note: Awwwww.

      But he kept his hands cupped in a ball over his crotch as we stood there, eyeballing each other. Not that I could actually see the goodies as his orderly's scrub top reached below his hips. He cleared his throat. His voice cracked, and he had to swallow nervously.

      You—you were with Detective Frasier.

      I nodded.

      He was still blushing. Still cute. You were a Ghost—did you know that?

      Nod again.

      He started shifting on his feet. Huh, did he have to go pee pee?

      He ever see you sitting there?

      I nodded again, remembering that Dags had been called away to be manly before I went corporeal before Daniel. But this pretty much proved my hunch that day, that the bartender had noticed me. But why could he see me? Was he like Mom and Rhonda? Or just plain weird?

      There was a long, awkward, strangled pause. Not for me, really. I still had my clothes on. I could stand here all night. I had no idea why he wasn't getting dressed.

      Dags, on the other hand, looked like he was gonna faint.

      Oookay. This was fun. Now, can we chew cardboard for our next trick?

      Can I get dressed?

      I nodded. Hey, I'm not stopping you. I stepped back and motioned for him to come out. He wasn't going to be able to pull his pants up in that tight of an area.

      The first thing I noticed this time, and hadn't noticed in the bar, was how not-tall he was. I guessed the top of his head would smack my nose. Short wasn't a bad thing—I liked short. And Dags made up for his lack of height in several different ways—like his hair. Loved his hair.

      He gulped and shuffled forward, maneuvering around the toilet and paper holder, still keeping those hands at half-mast. Sheesh. Come on dude—have a little pride in the goodies.

      He was looking at everything but me, and I noticed his ponytail reached a good bit down the middle of his back.

      You don't talk much, do you? he finally said as he cleared his throat and fixed me with a pleading look. I shook my head and touched my neck with my right hand, making sawing motions across my throat, hoping to get the idea across that I was mute.

      His face bleached white. "You—you had your throat—sliced? The last word of his question cracked like a pubescent request. Is that how you died?"

      Christ. Just pull your pants up already, you moron.

      That's when Tiarra stepped in. He turned as the door opened. She smiled when she saw me.

      And then she noticed someone standing behind and to her right. Her eyes widened as she took in Dags' obviously embarrassing situation, pants at his ankles. His eyes widened. She put her hands on her more than feminine hips and knitted her eyebrows together until they became

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