Donovan— I think the dancer looks a little like me. Anyway. We tracked his EMF disturbance to a Soviet-style apartment complex and a room...

Donovan— Credit cards, telephones, security cameras all work against us. All consciousness may reside in the astral plane, but the mage’s...

Donovan— Philosophers believe our souls cross the astral plane on the way to birth and after death. Today’s journey, however, led us to...

Donovan— This morning my cell phone nearly took my head off, so the gargoyle post continues. The technomancers were trying to merge...

Donovan— I’m okay. But e-communications aren’t secure. Gargoyle mail is safer. It seemed a run-of-the-mill pagan ritual. An abandoned...

An empty table. At Riga Hayworth's house. My homework in a recent class on innovative writing was to write a story on the back of five...

Yes, I'm still here! At the beginning of March, I sold my house in California and moved to Colorado. I spent the last few weeks house...

Whew! With all the chocolate and murder, I've had to take a hiatus from posting. But I'm back this week with my top five in paranormal...

Chocolate a la Murder Series: A Perfectly Proper Paranormal Museum Mystery, Book 4 Author: Kirsten Weiss Genre: Cozy Mystery Amazon - ...

PIE HARD Series: A Pie Town Mystery, Book 3 Author: Kirsten Weiss Genre: Cozy Mystery Amazon - iBooks - B&N - Kobo - Google Play -...

A new cozy mystery series is on its way! Book 1 of my new Tea and Tarot series, Steeped in Murder, lands in May, 2019. Fortune Favors the...

The Paranormal Museum is back from hiatus after the Doyle Witches took over the blog. It's hard to compete with, well, that tale. But I'm...

Zoe’s scream sliced through the bookstore. She shrieked and stumbled in the aisle, knocking the travel books to the carpet. The wolf,...

Zoe slid the Necronomicon inside her shiny olive jacket. “Drop the belt.” The sheriff unbuckled her utility belt. Her holstered gun...

“I’ll take that.” With her gun-free hand, Zoe took the book from the counter. She almost looked military in her olive bomber jacket, her...

A glittering carapace of snow covered Main Street’s cars and the old west buildings. Movements jerky, I tugged on cotton gloves and...

Rasputin. I raced downstairs, grabbing the baseball bat in the umbrella stand by the door. My aunt had woven protective wards around the...

My phone rang, jangling me, and I half-fell from the futon. I scrambled across the attic’s rough floorboards to the phone. “Hello?” “It’s...

Frantic, I called Connor. “We’re sorry,” a mechanical voice droned, “you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer...

“Do you have information on the murder?” The sheriff’s voice was flat. I leaned against my tile counter and stared at the lights dangling...