Free Leashing the Tempest by Jenn Bennett Page A

boardwalk parking lot onto Ocean Avenue. Everything around was closed and dark, apart from the lights crowning the walls of Brentano Gardens Amusement Park across the street.
    â€œOkay, lay it on me,” Jupe said from the backseat. “How much trouble am I in?”
    â€œI haven’t decided yet,” Lon said as headlights from a passing car beamed slices of light across his face. “But it’s probably going to involve manual labor and all of your weekends until Christmas spent indoors.”
    Jupe sighed dramatically. “I thought so. I bet Kar Yee never wants to spend time with us again.” Oh, he was probably right about that. He blew out a long breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “I wish we’d never gone.”
    Dammit. Even though he’d acted like an asshat today, I hated seeing him all dejected and mopey. He was a hot mess, sure, and I knew his dad was secretly fantasizing about dumping him on the side of the road, but I just couldn’t help it: the kid turned me into Silly Putty.
    â€œLook on the bright side,” I said. “We did learn a few things today.”
    â€œLike that I was right about the mermaid ghost?”
    God help us, we’d never hear the end of that.
    â€œLike that your knack doesn’t last forever,” I said. “And you might not be able to correct a command once you’ve given it.”
    â€œIn other words, never tell someone they’re brainless when I’m using my knack.”
    â€œNo,” Lon corrected. “Never use it in anger.”
    â€œOr carelessly,” I added.
    â€œJust don’t use it at all,” Lon said gruffly.
    Jupe grimaced. “I’m actually okay with that. But I do have one request.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” Lon asked.
    â€œLet’s forget about buying a boat.”
    â€œForgotten.”
    Jupe stuck his head between our seats. “Instead, I think we should bring the water to us. How ’bout a swimming pool in the backyard? You know, like Jack’s? An infinity pool.”
    â€œNot a chance,” Lon said.
    â€œHot tub?”
    â€œHow about we just go home, light a fire in the fireplace, and watch a movie?” I said.
    â€œWine,” Lon added. “Lots and lots of wine.”
    Jupe raised his hand. “Only if I can pick the movie.”
    â€œFine,” I said, reaching back to twine my fingers around his. “Which movie?”
    â€œIt’s an Italian horror flick from 1973. It’s about a photographer who falls under the spell of a witch.” He waggled his eyebrows.
    â€œSounds familiar,” Lon said, darting his eyes toward mine.
    â€œWhat’s it called?” I asked.
    â€œ Baba Yaga, ” Jupe said with a grin.
    I groaned as Lon slowly shook his head at Jupe in the rearview mirror. “I should’ve sold you to the Russians when I had the chance.”

Check out where it all began with an excerpt from the first Arcadia Bell Novel
    Kindling the Moon

I knew better than to be preoccupied when Tambuku Tiki Lounge was overcapacity. Crowds are ugly; it doesn’t matter if they’re human or demon.
    Our bar held a maximum of sixty-five people per California fire code. My business partner treated this rule as more of a suggestion on Thursday nights, when Paranormal Patrol made us a midtown hot spot. Easy for her; all she had to do was sweet-talk the county inspector out of a citation. She wasn’t the one being expected to break up drunken, demonic brawls.
    â€œHey!” My eyes zeroed in on a college kid stealing a drink off the bar. “Did you pay for that? No, you didn’t. Get your grubby paws off.”
    â€œThat woman left it,” he argued. “Possession’s two-thirds of the law.”
    â€œNine-tenths, jackass,” I corrected, snatching the ceramic Suffering Bastard mug out of his hand. An anguished face was molded into the side of the classic black tiki mug, half