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  THE FALCON TAMES THE PSYCHIC

  A Nocturne Falls Universe Novel

  By

  Candace Colt

  Dear Reader,

  Nocturne Falls has become a magical place for so many people, myself included. Over and over I’ve heard from you that it’s a town you’d love to visit and even live in! I can tell you that writing the books is just as much fun for me.

  With your enthusiasm for the series in mind – and your many requests for more books – the Nocturne Falls Universe was born. It’s a project near and dear to my heart, and one I am very excited about.

  I hope these new, guest-authored books will entertain and delight you. And best of all, I hope they allow you to discover some great new authors! (And if you like this book, be sure to check out the rest of the Nocturne Falls Universe offerings.)

  For more information about the Nocturne Falls Universe, visit http://kristenpainter.com/sugar-skull-books/

  In the meantime, happy reading!

  Kristen Painter

  Dedicated to my fabulous readers.

  THE FALCON TAMES THE PSYCHIC

  A Nocturne Falls Universe Story

  Copyright © 2017 by Candace Colt

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction and was made possible by a special agreement with Sugar Skull Books, but hasn’t been reviewed or edited by Kristen Painter. All characters, events, scenes, plots and associated elements appearing in the original Nocturne Falls series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kristen Painter, Sugar Skull Books and their affiliates or licensors.

  Any similarity to real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or Sugar Skull Books.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Chapter One

  Who on this planet would ever paint a house bubble gum pink?

  Brianna Putnam leaned on her rental car and tapped her sunglasses on her lips. If the GPS was accurate, the three-story Victorian looming in front of her was the Carpe Diem. Though the flying pig weathervane indicated North straight ahead, she knew she faced East.

  Somebody should fix that.

  A pint-sized Jack Sparrow whirled by, but not before jamming his little black boot on Brianna’s sandaled toes. Hopping on one foot, she massaged the other as she sliced a ‘gee-that’s-okay’ grin to the wild child’s apologetic parents.

  No sooner had that troupe gone on their merry way, along ambled two adults dressed in fringy B-western cowboy outfits.

  Wasn’t the first week in October a little early for trick-or-treating?

  She glanced over her shoulder as a tram chugged past and choked back laughter as the guide pointed out highlights.

  Highlights indeed. Brianna had heard nothing but lowlights about Nocturne Falls all her life from her father.

  She doubted tourists would hear his version of a town full of eccentric looney tunes who honestly believed they were supernatural beings passing themselves off as normal humans.

  As children, Brianna and her brother Samuel made their father retell his stories over and over. Awestruck about a town where every scary creature imaginable lived and breathed, they’d begged him to bring them here.

  Each time he vehemently refused. And to this day, he had never explained why.

  If there was more to Nocturne Falls than cute storefronts, then a juicy expos would get her a front-page story. Best of all, she’d graduate from copy editor at La Grande Bouche tabloid to feature article writer. A headline on page one.

  And the raise would give her enough money to get an apartment of her own. She could only dream of the day when she’d have a private bathroom.

  Sharing an LA apartment with four other women had stretched her tolerance to hair thin. One consistently left the sink in chaos. One borrowed anyone’s deodorant. And one always used the closest toothbrush.

  All Brianna had to do was wheedle her way into this town and snoop. But with every step to the Carpe Diem’s front door, her heart raced faster until she thought it would leap from her chest.

  Playing this undercover game seemed easy when she first hatched the idea. But pull it off for a whole month? If she wanted this story, she would. Maybe no one else believed she could do it, but she knew she could. It had taken some high-powered convincing to get this assignment, and she wasn’t about to fail.

  Just one little barrier.

  The owner of this building that looked like it was right out of a Tim Burton movie was Echo Stargazer. The same person her father had warned Brianna and her brother about all their lives.

  His mother. And Brianna’s grandmother.

  She slid her sunglasses on top of her head, smoothed her skirt, and marched up the steps to the front door.

  She gulped, shut her eyes, and gripped the door handle. Then she saw the sign. ‘Temporarily closed. Re-opening on October 20th.’

  This jimmied her plans all to heck. Nothing online said the place was closed. October 20th was three weeks away. Her entry point into the town was meeting Echo. A solid Plan A.

  There was no Plan B.

  Confident a brilliant idea would eventually come to her, Brianna followed the wrap around porch to the side of the old house, every footstep creaking on the weathered wood. Some might say this added charm. To Brianna, this place looked like a house flipper’s dream.

  There was a quaintness to it, though. And a real old-fashioned wooden porch swing.

  She ran her hand up the heavy chain. From how old it looked, no doubt her father had sat here as a kid.

  Who’d notice if she swung in it for a few minutes? For sure, her pirate-stomped foot would be happy. Though her toes barely touched the floor, she managed to rock the swing.

  She relaxed a bit and glanced around the neighborhood, likely the same as when her father lived here.

  Maybe smaller back then, the trees were probably here, too. A sudden gust of wind swirled leaves around her feet. She picked up an amber one that had lifted in the air and landed beside her.

  As she ran her finger around its ruffled edge, she considered sending her father a quick photo of the old house.

  What would that accomplish? He had nothing good to say about the town. Besides, he didn’t know she was here. If he found out, he’d go off the rails.

  “It’s not open.”

  Shaken from nostalgia, Brianna searched for the voice’s owner. On the driveway behind her stood a man in a filthy T-shirt and jeans, and a backward ball cap.

  With hands on his hips, he glared at her. Must be the lawn man or caretaker.

  She stood a little too quickly, and the swing slapped the back of her knees sending her wonky-legged.

  “Sorry.” Why was she apologizing to a man who for all she knew was a burglar?

  Cripes. Maybe he was, and she’d interrupted him in the middle of a break-in. “Can I help you?” He asked, a bit more agitated.

  Well, after all, she had taken her sweet time to answer. And would a burglar strike up a conversation?

  “Uh. No. Actually. I was about to leave. I was checking phone messages.” Right. Sure. Sitting on a stranger’s porch swing checking messages. This was not going well.

  He removed the cap and wiped his brow. Maybe he was hired help, but he certainly had a to-die-for body. Those arms were about to burst through his shirt. His tight abs met his waistline like an old friend and his jeans hugged him
in all the right spots.

  Good grief. Pull it together. Long flight from LA and drive from Atlanta. Long day all around.

  “There are more shops downtown.” His voice had the edge of a weary guard-dog.

  “I heard so much about this shop. I’m disappointed,” she said.

  “Sorry. Can’t help you. Like I said, more places up the street.”

  Though he acted like a troll guarding his bridge, he was far from a wart covered hobgoblin.

  She hadn’t traveled this far without at least peeking at the place where her father lived.

  “Okay if I walk around outside?”

  He turned and stared with the most remarkable blue eyes. Sharp eyes that made her feel like a one-inch-high moron.

  “It’s just a yard. Nothing special,” he said. “But I guess it’s okay.”

  She darted her glance along the edge of the driveway and noticed blooming chamomile and lavender. “I love herbs. Are there more in the back?”

  He held his hands open toward her. “Probably. The owner is famous for herb teas. It’s kind of overgrown so stay on the path and be careful.”

  The meandering cobblestones were bordered by an unkempt hedge encroached with leggy plants. Instinctively, she broke off several distressed sections from a rosemary bush, releasing its delightful savory scent.

  A few steps later she spotted a tiny lemon balm sprig strangling in a weed vine. She pulled the invader away from the herb. “Now, that’s better,” she whispered. “Wish I had time for some of your soothing tea.”

  At the end of the path was a small fire pit. Brianna kicked a rotted limb out of the way and dusted leaves from the benches that circled the pit.

  If there was such a thing as an enchanted garden, then this was it. Or, it could be.

  It took weeks for a garden to fall into disarray, and it would take weeks to bring it back to life. But with care and know-how, the place would be spectacular. Just like her mother’s rose and herb garden at home.

  Do roses even grow in this part of Georgia?

  If this was her grandmother’s garden, why would she let it get this bad? Was she ill? Was that why the place was closed?

  She hadn’t come to this town for garden restoration. If nothing else, the brambly mess gave her clues that there was more here than met the eye.

  She wound her way back to the run-down building where backward-cap man had disappeared.

  Brianna poked her head inside. The place was packed to the rafters with boxes, dilapidated furniture; even an old jon boat. Dust drifted like fog.

  Fighting a sneeze, she shouted, “Hello, again.”

  Wearing earbuds and with his back to her, he apparently didn’t hear. “Sir,” she said louder.

  Startled, he swung around and bumped an old dresser. The box he carried dropped from his hands and the contents scattered.

  “Let me help.” Brianna bent over and scooped what she could to refill the box.

  “Don’t bother.” He squatted beside her. “I got this.”

  As they reached at the same time, his long leg connected with hers causing her to fall flat on her butt.

  Hells bells. This was class-A bad.

  The man gripped her forearms and effortlessly brought her to standing as though she was a down pillow.

  "Are you okay?”

  If mortified counted in the ‘okay’ column, then no she wasn’t. Good grief, he was strong. Those arms and pecs weren’t for show.

  Calm down, woman. Not the place or time for desire bumps to show themselves.

  “I’m sorry about the mess,” she said.

  He snuffed a laugh and gestured around the building. “You and me both. Can you tell I’ve been hauling stuff out of here for two days?”

  Not her place to say it, but what did it look like before? Overrun like the garden?

  The sneeze she’d bottled exploded, followed by two more brain rattlers.

  “Bless you,” he said.

  She could use some blessings this month.

  “I’m Brianna.”

  “Connor.”

  He offered her a firm, gentle handshake without a trace of callouses.

  She was a little disappointed when he finally released his grip.

  While Connor went back to work, Brianna’s eye caught on an old photo that had escaped the box and landed on the ground in front of her. She started to toss it back, but something compelled her to take another look at it.

  Faded after years stored away, it was unmistakably a little boy eight or nine years old with a flat-top buzzed haircut, wearing baggy shorts and a plaid shirt.

  So much like the few pictures her father had saved. This had to be him.

  She waited until Connor turned away, then she stuffed it into her pocket to study later.

  She wiped a sweat bead from her temple. This building was stifling.

  “Couldn’t you find someone to help you?” Argh. She’d done it again. She’d lifted the filter between her big mouth and nosy monkey mind.

  “It’s not that hard, and I don’t have anything else to do. I may go home and throw out everything I own. That minimalist thing sounds good to me right now. Like this, for instance.” He tossed a tennis ball-sized snow globe up in the air and caught it. “Why would anybody keep this?”

  Brianna loved snow globes and at last count, she had twenty-two. Most were in her parent’s basement in Oregon, but she’d brought a few with her to LA.

  Watching the swirling snow always calmed her, but wasn’t nearly as much fun as shaking the daylights out of it first.

  “May I see it?” She asked.

  He shrugged and handed it to her. “Keep it if you want. Next stop is the dump, anyway.”

  This globe was made with a real glass ball, not cheap plastic. Brianna scraped some unidentified dried crud off the side, then turned it end over end. Once it had been a funky little souvenir that had entertained its owner for a few moments, or perhaps a few years, then joined the legion of the lost.

  Had it belonged to her father? Or maybe it was just something that didn’t sell in this Carpe Diem store. One day she’d settle down in her own place, and this little globe would find a home with all her others.

  Right now, settling down seemed a hundred light years away.

  Connor reached into a cooler and took out two bottles of water. He offered one to Brianna, opened the other and took a long drink.

  On the label: ‘Moonbow Water. Locally Bottled from the Falls.’ Interesting.

  And it tasted like the Oregon mountain water she loved. Almost sweet. Pure and clean. None of that LA chemical tap water brew.

  “I should be leaving. Sorry if I bothered you.” She scanned the building. “Good luck with your project.”

  It seemed he needed more than luck.

  As she walked by his truck, she scratched the head of a huge white cat resting on the hood. “Aren’t you a pretty one. And such a good kitty to stay up there and out of the way. I love your eyes."

  Chapter Two

  Connor Ford halted in his tracks; his eyes glued to the shapely backside of the petite curly-headed blonde walking down the driveway.

  Impossible. Completely and totally. It did not happen. He did not see it. He was exhausted. Overworked. Hallucinating.

  Unimpressed as usual, Crealde the cat stretched and yawned, spun in a circle and went back to sleep.

  Connor had watched Brianna drink at least half the Moonbow water; more than enough to block a human from sensing supernatural beings.

  Then how the heck was she able to see the obese and totally invisible Crealde?

  The woman was a looker, no doubt about it. Those ruby red lips matched her painted toes, and that skimpy red dress barely covered important aspects of her anatomy.

  Maybe she was a tourist dressing like Marilyn Monroe. He’d seen a few of those around here, though none pulled it off quite this well.

  He’d squelched a laugh when sh
e dropped to the floor like a stringless marionette. She was so light that he almost pulled her into his arms as he lifted her. Almost would have been absolute for the old Connor Ford.

  Turning a new leaf sucked.

  Connor 2.0 had made huge inroads toward better behavior. He had learned more lessons in the past weeks than in all his four years at the University of Georgia.

  By any standards, those had been the lost years. He’d made terrific friends. Dated knock-down stunning women. Played football; second string but still on the team.

  He’d kept the party going when he moved to Atlanta after college. Then last year, his father died and Connor’s mother, Solange, expected him to come home and take on a larger role in the family business.

  Looming over his head like a Damocles sword had been the understanding that he and his brother Ryan would marry into a high-society family.

  Fortunately, the Ford Financial Group’s senior team kept the company moving forward, though there were rumors of a takeover and an ouster of his mother as a principal partner.

  So, he partied on, until everything changed.

  Connor still couldn’t decide what had surprised him more.

  His brother’s choice of a human mate? His mother’s blessing? Or his future sister-in-law’s decision to marry a falcon-shifter?

  Once his big bro took that leap off the branch, Connor did the unthinkable.

  He backed off from his wild lifestyle, though he was a long way from a rocking chair in front of a roaring fire.

  Dancing all night at the Insomnia bar didn’t appeal to him half as much as it once had. Sleeping until two in the afternoon then pumping iron for two hours didn’t cut it. Getting comfortable with himself had been a new adventure.

  Right now, his priority was learning about Connor.

  He’d wasted years trying to find a mate that met his mother’s standards. In the future when it came time to choose, it might be a shifter. It might not. And on his terms and no one else’s.

  But this Brianna woman who wandered in from nowhere, and who saw Crealde was a mystery. He should have asked more questions, starting with her last name. Why was she so troubled about the Carpe Diem? There were other places to spend money. What was that whole walk around thing about?