Fairies in My Fireplace
Monster Haven Book Three
R.L. Naquin
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Carina Press
Date of Publication: Sept. 3, 2013
ISBN: 9781426896279
ASIN: B00CV30XCE
Number of pages: 226
Word Count: 86,000
Cover Artist: Kix by Design
Book Description:
Sometimes it’s the monsters who need to be saved…
A migration of mythical creatures has begun, and
more and more of them are landing on Zoey
Donovan's doorstep. As the only Aegis left in the
country, it falls to her to protect the Hidden and
keep them safe—and her house has become a
sanctuary for water sprites, goblins, harpies, djinn
and more.
Keeping track of her boarders is a full-time job,
and Zoey's already got her hands full trying to run
her wedding planning business. Good thing she has a resident closet monster to
keep her organized, and a hot Reaper boyfriend to help her relax every once in a
while.
But she can't keep up monster-triage indefinitely, and as more Hidden arrive, it
becomes clear that someone—or something—is hunting them. In the midst of
planning an event for a notoriously difficult client, Zoey's got to figure out who's
behind the hunt…and she's got to stop them before there are no Hidden left.
A migration of mythical creatures has begun, and
more and more of them are landing on Zoey
Donovan's doorstep. As the only Aegis left in the
country, it falls to her to protect the Hidden and
keep them safe—and her house has become a
sanctuary for water sprites, goblins, harpies, djinn
and more.
Keeping track of her boarders is a full-time job,
and Zoey's already got her hands full trying to run
her wedding planning business. Good thing she has a resident closet monster to
keep her organized, and a hot Reaper boyfriend to help her relax every once in a
while.
But she can't keep up monster-triage indefinitely, and as more Hidden arrive, it
becomes clear that someone—or something—is hunting them. In the midst of
planning an event for a notoriously difficult client, Zoey's got to figure out who's
behind the hunt…and she's got to stop them before there are no Hidden left.
Thoughts:
Subject of the book is very exciting for me.And that's why I wanna read this book.
Every character is very interenting.Well honestly, I do not like read fairies or dragon's etc. but I'm very curious person I read it.But Mostly I love to watch those things. It was a great book. If you like fairies etc you should read this book.
Every character is very interenting.Well honestly, I do not like read fairies or dragon's etc. but I'm very curious person I read it.But Mostly I love to watch those things. It was a great book. If you like fairies etc you should read this book.
Chapter One
As I inched across the roof of my house, the harpy nestled against my chimney
regarded me with suspicion. I’d have let her stay there, but the mailman could be
coming up the street soon. With all the weird things he’d already caught glimpses of
on my property, I didn’t think he’d go for some half-assed explanation that she was a
Halloween decoration. Especially since it was April.
I drew closer to her, and she pressed herself against the bricks. By human standards,
she couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, though maybe harpies had a
different rate of aging. She was all boobs and hair and feathers. And she stank. She
also clutched my car keys in her sharp, grimy claws.
I stretched my legs out on either side of the roof peak and sat back, straddling it. The
harpy relaxed. I laid my hands on my thighs in as nonthreatening a manner as I
could muster. I kept my voice low and casual—as casual as I could while squatting,
two stories up, with cedar splinters poking me in the ass.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of here,” I said. “Are you okay?”
She frowned. I truly hoped harpies understood English, since my regular translator,
an eight-month-pregnant brownie, was unavailable. The height wasn’t a problem—
brownies don’t fall, they float. The climb was the issue. Molly didn’t need the strain.
Her tiny body was already burdened enough with the thimble- sized life inside her.
The harpy stretched one filthy wing and shook my car keys. Her perky breasts
jiggled. I kept eye contact, afraid to get caught staring. Seriously, though, they were
impressive. I never felt I lacked in boobage until that moment, but if I had what she
had, I’d head straight to Mardi Gras. They’d run out of beads and beer by the time I
left.
An arm I didn’t know she possessed snaked out from under her greasy feathers and
scratched a nipple before folding away.
She shrugged. “I’ve been better.” Her voice had a husky sound to it, like she’d been
gargling with a handful of sand.
At least we could communicate. That was a good start.
“Anything you want to talk about?” I reached out to her with my empathic gift,
opening myself to whatever emotions she might be leaking. Nervous energy pattered
against my skin, tinged with the dark taste of fear.
She shook her head, and a hank of stringy blond hair dropped across her face. She
peered at me, waiting.
I thought I heard a car and glanced out across the yard. No mailman yet. The
driveway was clear. “Listen, we need to get you somewhere you can’t be seen, okay?
You’re welcome here. Just not, you know, right here.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking, measuring me up through her mat of hair.
When she finally spoke, it was a whisper. “I don’t have anyplace else to go.”
I let out a breath. “Oh, honey, as long as I’m here, you have a safe place to be. You just
can’t camp out on the roof. We’re protected here, but we still have to stay out of
sight, okay? We’ve got trees in the back, if you want to stay in the open. There’s
room in the attic if you want to come inside. No one will bother you there.”
The bird-woman shook her hair from her face and looked at me with surprise. “I can
come inside?”
“Of course you can.” I smiled to reassure her. “And when you’re ready, maybe you
can tell me what’s wrong?”
She nodded. “Maybe.”
I stuck my hand out, palm up. “Unless you were planning on a road trip, I could
really use my keys back.”
She shifted from one foot to the other and eased toward me. A shingle knocked loose
and slid down the sloping roof, crashing to the porch below.
A voice rose up the side of the house where I’d left the ladder. “Zoey! Is everything
okay up there?”
The harpy froze, her face draining of color.
“It’s okay,” I said. “That’s Maurice. He’s a closet monster. You’ll like him. Everybody
does.”
She looked doubtful. “You have a closet monster here?” She shuddered.
I suppressed a giggle. Like Maurice was a threat to anybody. “We have all sorts here.
Maurice helps take care of everybody. I’m Zoey. What should we call you?”
“Viola. Vi, if you want.”
I grinned. “It’s nice to meet you, Vi. If you’ll hand me the keys, we can get down from
here and get you settled.”
Vi scooted closer and dropped the keys in my outstretched hand. “Sorry about that,”
she said. “They were so bright and shiny. Sometimes I act without thinking.”
I managed to climb down the ladder without hurting myself, and Maurice was at the
bottom waiting.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” He frowned. “I was worried. And how much damage
did you do up there? Are we going to have leaks when it rains? I’ve got a lot to do
already.”
My lips curled in a tired smile. “Just a couple of shingles. It should be fine.” A shadow
flitted above us and another chunk of wood dropped to the ground. “I need to run to
the attic and open a window for our latest guest.”
Maurice sighed, his large yellow eyes weary, and his face even more gaunt and pale
than usual. “I’ll take care of it. I need you to call Andrew. We’ve got a hellhound with
some sort of mange or something. I put it in the garage. You’ve also got a pair of
water sprites in your bathroom sink, and a family of gnomes is hiding under the
back porch.”
I ran my hand through my hair and groaned. “All that showed up while I was on the
roof?”
He nodded. “We’re running out of places to put people, Zoey. This is ridiculous.”
regarded me with suspicion. I’d have let her stay there, but the mailman could be
coming up the street soon. With all the weird things he’d already caught glimpses of
on my property, I didn’t think he’d go for some half-assed explanation that she was a
Halloween decoration. Especially since it was April.
I drew closer to her, and she pressed herself against the bricks. By human standards,
she couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, though maybe harpies had a
different rate of aging. She was all boobs and hair and feathers. And she stank. She
also clutched my car keys in her sharp, grimy claws.
I stretched my legs out on either side of the roof peak and sat back, straddling it. The
harpy relaxed. I laid my hands on my thighs in as nonthreatening a manner as I
could muster. I kept my voice low and casual—as casual as I could while squatting,
two stories up, with cedar splinters poking me in the ass.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of here,” I said. “Are you okay?”
She frowned. I truly hoped harpies understood English, since my regular translator,
an eight-month-pregnant brownie, was unavailable. The height wasn’t a problem—
brownies don’t fall, they float. The climb was the issue. Molly didn’t need the strain.
Her tiny body was already burdened enough with the thimble- sized life inside her.
The harpy stretched one filthy wing and shook my car keys. Her perky breasts
jiggled. I kept eye contact, afraid to get caught staring. Seriously, though, they were
impressive. I never felt I lacked in boobage until that moment, but if I had what she
had, I’d head straight to Mardi Gras. They’d run out of beads and beer by the time I
left.
An arm I didn’t know she possessed snaked out from under her greasy feathers and
scratched a nipple before folding away.
She shrugged. “I’ve been better.” Her voice had a husky sound to it, like she’d been
gargling with a handful of sand.
At least we could communicate. That was a good start.
“Anything you want to talk about?” I reached out to her with my empathic gift,
opening myself to whatever emotions she might be leaking. Nervous energy pattered
against my skin, tinged with the dark taste of fear.
She shook her head, and a hank of stringy blond hair dropped across her face. She
peered at me, waiting.
I thought I heard a car and glanced out across the yard. No mailman yet. The
driveway was clear. “Listen, we need to get you somewhere you can’t be seen, okay?
You’re welcome here. Just not, you know, right here.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking, measuring me up through her mat of hair.
When she finally spoke, it was a whisper. “I don’t have anyplace else to go.”
I let out a breath. “Oh, honey, as long as I’m here, you have a safe place to be. You just
can’t camp out on the roof. We’re protected here, but we still have to stay out of
sight, okay? We’ve got trees in the back, if you want to stay in the open. There’s
room in the attic if you want to come inside. No one will bother you there.”
The bird-woman shook her hair from her face and looked at me with surprise. “I can
come inside?”
“Of course you can.” I smiled to reassure her. “And when you’re ready, maybe you
can tell me what’s wrong?”
She nodded. “Maybe.”
I stuck my hand out, palm up. “Unless you were planning on a road trip, I could
really use my keys back.”
She shifted from one foot to the other and eased toward me. A shingle knocked loose
and slid down the sloping roof, crashing to the porch below.
A voice rose up the side of the house where I’d left the ladder. “Zoey! Is everything
okay up there?”
The harpy froze, her face draining of color.
“It’s okay,” I said. “That’s Maurice. He’s a closet monster. You’ll like him. Everybody
does.”
She looked doubtful. “You have a closet monster here?” She shuddered.
I suppressed a giggle. Like Maurice was a threat to anybody. “We have all sorts here.
Maurice helps take care of everybody. I’m Zoey. What should we call you?”
“Viola. Vi, if you want.”
I grinned. “It’s nice to meet you, Vi. If you’ll hand me the keys, we can get down from
here and get you settled.”
Vi scooted closer and dropped the keys in my outstretched hand. “Sorry about that,”
she said. “They were so bright and shiny. Sometimes I act without thinking.”
I managed to climb down the ladder without hurting myself, and Maurice was at the
bottom waiting.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” He frowned. “I was worried. And how much damage
did you do up there? Are we going to have leaks when it rains? I’ve got a lot to do
already.”
My lips curled in a tired smile. “Just a couple of shingles. It should be fine.” A shadow
flitted above us and another chunk of wood dropped to the ground. “I need to run to
the attic and open a window for our latest guest.”
Maurice sighed, his large yellow eyes weary, and his face even more gaunt and pale
than usual. “I’ll take care of it. I need you to call Andrew. We’ve got a hellhound with
some sort of mange or something. I put it in the garage. You’ve also got a pair of
water sprites in your bathroom sink, and a family of gnomes is hiding under the
back porch.”
I ran my hand through my hair and groaned. “All that showed up while I was on the
roof?”
He nodded. “We’re running out of places to put people, Zoey. This is ridiculous.”
About the Author:
Rachel’s head is packed with an outrageous amount of useless Disney trivia. She is
terrified of thunder, but not of lightning, and tends to recite the Disneyland
dedication speech during storms to keep herself calm. She finds it appalling that
nobody from Disney has called yet with her castle move-in date.
Originally from Northern California, she has a tendency to move every few years,
resulting in a total of seven different states and a six-year stint in England.
Currently, she’s planning her next grand adventure. Rachel has one heroic
husband, two genius kids, a crazy-cat-lady starter kit, and an imaginary dog named
Waffles.
She doesn’t have time for a real dog.
terrified of thunder, but not of lightning, and tends to recite the Disneyland
dedication speech during storms to keep herself calm. She finds it appalling that
nobody from Disney has called yet with her castle move-in date.
Originally from Northern California, she has a tendency to move every few years,
resulting in a total of seven different states and a six-year stint in England.
Currently, she’s planning her next grand adventure. Rachel has one heroic
husband, two genius kids, a crazy-cat-lady starter kit, and an imaginary dog named
Waffles.
She doesn’t have time for a real dog.
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