Page 1 of Ogre on Patrol (Monsters, PI #5)

Chapter 1

Ellie

D ark clouds rolled over Mystic Harbor as I strode toward my smallest greenhouse. The sea breeze tugged at my unbuttoned cardigan, carrying the smell of saltwater and wet earth, but I barely noticed. All I could think about was the faint, suspicious draft I’d felt last night in a room inside my house with all my windows closed, plus the nagging feeling I’d been unable to shake since.

Stepping through the narrow path between hedges and creeping ivy, the row of greenhouses housing my business came into view. My gaze fell on the smallest one, the one I'd had built especially for one particular exclusive plant, and my stomach twisted. I came to a shuddering halt. Cracked glass shimmered on the soil like jagged frost. Every single pane of glass was shattered, shards catching the pale light filtering through the overcast sky .

I rushed forward and unlocked the side door, the only unbroken barrier, and I froze on the threshold, my heart sinking. The warmth and humid air rich with the delicate, lilting music of ordrids in full song that usually greeted me was gone, replaced by a biting chill.

My eyes stung with tears. These particular plants would only flourish under perfect conditions, and I'd worked hard to maintain the right soil, the right temperature, and the exact nutrition they required. Over the past six months, I'd nurtured the seeds I'd started and when the plants had matured, I'd carefully harvested their podlets and planted them. The babies had just started singing…

The pastel-colored ordrids, which should have been swaying and humming in their soft, whimsical way, drooped like wilting weeds. Their multi-arm tendrils hung limp, their faded petals scattered across the dirt floor. The enchanted song that used to fill this space when sunlight hit the leaves was nothing but unbroken silence now.

Stopping beside one of the fallen plants on the long bench marching down the center of the greenhouse, I stroked its bent stem. “I'm sorry.”

Devastation wrenched through me. My business depended on these ordrids. Some of my best clients—collectors, garden enthusiasts, and even the occasional poet—swore by their magical allure. They’d paid good money, waiting months for their plants. And now? Gone. All gone except for a handful of the babies, nestled beneath the dead stalks of their larger parents .

I stepped back, the glass from the panels that used to arch overhead grinding under my sneakers, and surveyed the damage. This wasn't nature taking its toll or some accidental shift in the climate controls. This was deliberate.

And it was the second incident in the past week. Six days ago, someone had knocked over a shelving unit in my propagation room. I’d dismissed it as bad luck. Maybe I’d brushed by it, and it toppled after I’d left the room. Or an unbalanced pot of dirt had finally tumbled, making the rickety structure fall.

But two accidents in a week? No way.

Someone was trying to ruin me.

Clenching my hands to fists, I forced myself to think. Spells flickered faintly on the edge of my mind, tempting me to lash out, to summon anything that might help me identify who was out to get me, but I shoved the temptation down. My hedge magic worked best with plants, not investigative work. If my grandmother was in town, I’d reach out to her, but she was away on council business.

Better to handle this the human way for now.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone and called the police.

Detective Carter showed up about fifteen minutes later, his phone in hand and rain specks clinging to his gray coat. His salt-and-pepper hair complemented the well-worn lines on his forehead, the kind that told you he’d seen it all but was still mildly intrigued with every case.

He glanced at the ruins through squinted eyes. “ Quite a mess.” He stepped past me into the greenhouse. “When did you notice this?”

“A few minutes ago.” I gestured at the plants and the broken glass scattered everywhere. “I needed to check on the ordrids and…”

He nodded, dropping to one knee to examine the shards. Tipping his head up, he squinted around. “Security cameras?”

“No.” When his brows lifted, I spoke quickly. “This part of town has always been quiet. Safe. I never thought I’d need them.”

“I hear that a lot. Quiet’s often temporary.” He took out his phone and snapped a bunch of pictures of the damage from all angles before tapping notes into a document on his phone. “You own the business?”

“Yes.”

“Do you work alone?”

“For now. I had to let my last employee go.”

His gaze flickered my way before returning to his phone. “Name?”

“Valerie Greene. She… I had to fire her.”

“Why?”

“I caught her selling some of my cuttings to sketchy buyers behind my back.”

Carter’s eyes narrowed, then darted back to his phone. “Fired employees don’t make the best friends. You think she’d have a reason to hold a grudge?”

“It’s possible. Let’s just say Valerie didn’t leave with a glowing reference.” I gave him her address .

“What about rivals?” He brushed soil from his fingertips. “Other greenhouses, collectors, competitors?”

“Not many local ones,” I said. “I guess it depends on what you count as competition.”

“Any in particular?”

“Elias Fenwick’s place could be considered competition except he deals exclusively in non-magical plants.” I swept my hand out. “Different clientele. Mine are grown and sold for their magical properties.”

“You’re a witch.”

“Yup.”

He went inside and leaned against the central workbench, glancing over the rows of pots holding plants too far gone to revive. “I’ll file a report, but with no cameras and no witnesses, you’re looking at long odds of discovering who did this.” He paused, his expression showing only professional concern. “I recommend you get security cameras installed. Vandalism like this can escalate.”

“That’s it?”

“What else could there be?”

Cameras weren’t going to cut it. Detective Carter wasn’t part of the magical community, and even the best security system wasn’t going to keep someone from striking again. When my grandmother returned, which she would in a few days, I’d ask her to renew the wards she’d placed a few years ago when I started this business.

The detective left after snapping a few more photos of the wreckage and tapping a final note into his phone. When his cruiser rumbled down the driveway and disappeared around the bend, I stood among what was left of my greenhouse, breathing in the heavy, damp air.

This wasn’t something I could deal with on my own. And after what happened three years ago, I wasn't on the best terms with the witchy community outside of Nana Bea. That wasn't my fault, though some didn’t see it my way. It had been wrong of them to insist I marry… Pain stabbed through my heart, and I shoved the memory aside.

“Time to consult the monster community for help,” I whispered. “I made the call and was told they had an opening now. Good. At least I wouldn’t have to wait to find help.

After stomping glass splinters off my sneakers and donning my cape, I climbed into my car and drove toward the downtown area.

Mist clung to the pavement of Mystic Harbor as my car’s windshield wipers swished away droplets of rain. When the small parking lot on Main Street came into view, I turned in and pulled my car into a spot near the curb.

Getting out, I pulled up the hood of my cape and dashed across the street to the dark brick building with bold white letters emblazoned on the glass paneled door, Monsters, PI . Some would call it overkill, but I found the no-nonsense honesty kind of refreshing. One thing was certain; they weren’t hiding who they were or what they did.

About four years ago, yetis, orcs, ogres, and all their kind stopped lurking in shadows and quietly stepped into the light. Humans woke to monsters striding from the forests, surfacing from the oceans, and casually emerging from tunnels long hidden beneath the earth. The announcement wasn’t exactly news to me, though. As a witch, and not the kind that only comes out at Halloween, I’d known about them all along. Witches, monsters, and other supernatural beings had lived alongside humans in secret for centuries. But as far as the general public was concerned, monsters were as fictional as fire-breathing dragons or flying broomsticks.

I’d been sipping my morning coffee and skimming the local newspaper’s headlines online when the first videos hit the internet: A kraken surfacing from the Pacific coast, waving one of its massive tentacles at a cheering crowd of fishermen. A giant rescuing a lost dog from the river below a bridge in London. And my personal favorite, a vampire flipping through magazine racks at a roadside gas station as if it were the most normal thing in the world. The monsters insisted they came in peace, and humans predictably went wild. Some were terrified, but most seemed intrigued. By the time treaties were hammered out and monsters started opening bank accounts and buying houses, people were practically throwing block parties to welcome their new monsterly neighbors.

Monsters weren’t only settling in; they were thriving. They opened restaurants, taught classes, ran for city council, and some, because why not, started dating humans. I even heard a rumor about a ghoul who’d married a kindergarten teacher in Boise.

Here in Mystic Harbor, our town went all out to make them feel welcome. Shops on Main Street changed their names like it was the hottest trend. Now you could stop into the Salty Fang for a beer or orc-friendly ale, and the local salon, rebranded as Claws & Curls, threw in enchanted nail polish with metallic talons and glow-in-the-dark cuts for pixies. My personal favorite? Mythical Muffin, who made the best lavender scones I’d ever tasted.

Living in Mystic Harbor meant running into a shape-shifting siren at the farmers’ market or chatting with a banshee at the library. Frankly, it was amazing.

Monsters, PI, was just another monster-friendly business in town.

I pushed my way inside the front door, unsure of what awaited me on the other side but hoping they could help me. The bell above the door chimed with a cheerful jingle, and the warm interior contrasted nicely with the damp chill outside. The air smelled faintly of coffee and wood polish, and a desk had been placed on the opposite side of the room, dividing the receptionist area from the cozy section where clients might sit. The place was disarmingly normal, except for the hulking yet welcoming figure behind the counter, a yeti.

Reese, the woman I'd assisted a short time ago, stood nearby with Wolfram, a local vampire I hoped would be able to take my case. I'd known him for years, and I trusted him .

Rainwater dripped from my hood as I paused to get my bearings and quickly scan the room. The clock on the far wall ticked loudly, though it didn’t seem to bother the yeti, who was looking up at my vampire friend.

“Someone said you were looking for me?” Wolfram asked, swishing his cape back so he could retrieve his phone from his back pocket. He scrolled in and frowned. “I don’t see a message.”

“Not a problem,” the yeti male said. “I hadn’t called, but I’d thought of doing it. You vamps know things almost before someone can speak.” He shivered. “Someone else will handle the new case. She called, and we squeezed her in.”

“What new case?” Wolfram asked, glancing my way.

“Mine.” I strode forward. “I’m Ellie Landish.” I kept my attention on the yeti, though I gave Wolfram and Reese a polite nod. My heart still buzzed with the aftershock of seeing my ruined greenhouse. “I’ve got an appointment?”

“Yes, yes, you do. I'm Blake, by the way.” The yeti clicked into his computer. “Our detective is expecting you.” He gestured toward the hallway that branched off from the main area.

“I specifically asked for someone with magical abilities.” I glanced at Wolfram. “Such as his.”

Wolfram grunted. “I’d be happy to help with?—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Blake rose from his chair. “As I said, someone else is going to handle this one.” His brown eyes landed on me. “He’s an ogre .”

My face froze before smoothing. “I don’t… Alright. I ca n deal with this if I must.” It was only recently that ogres and witches had found a way to get along. Prior to that? Sworn enemies. “Can you direct me to his office?” Waiting wasn’t high on my list of things I wanted to do today. Not when my livelihood was currently either dead or barely clinging to life.

I shifted my sneakers as I scanned a cork board to the left of Blake pinned with business cards, scraps of paper, and a few flyers for town events.

“No need to.” Blake’s gaze shot to the hall where someone walked toward us.

I'd recognize the tall, muscular ogre with golden skin and brown eyes anywhere. That dark, thick hair I'd once run my fingers through. His full lips and tusks jutting up from his lower jawline. I’d kissed those lips so many times…

But it was the bark that broke the emotional spell this ogre had placed on me.

Crouton, Thain's black and white terrier, scampered around his owner and raced toward me. When he leaped against my legs, I stooped down to give him lots of love.

Thain and I might be history but that didn't extend to his pet.

“Crouton, how you been?” I asked as he whimpered and jumped, trying to lick my chin.

“He's fine.” That gravelly voice. At one time, just hearing this male speak could melt everything inside me. Until he… wasn't going there. What we had was gone and there was no going back.

I straightened. Stiffened, actually. But I didn't meet his eyes. “You,” was all I could spit out. My hands lifting, I backed away, bumping into Blake's desk.

“Ellie.” Thain strode right up to me. He tilted my chin with an unapologetic familiarity that made me want to snap. “It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough,” I snapped. There would never be enough time to get over this guy. To think we?—

His low laugh rumbled through his chest and damn my heart for flipping over like it used to do way back then. “We need to talk.”

“I want to work with someone else.” Desperation came through in my voice. I turned to Wolfram. “Please handle this. Anyone but him .”

“No vamp,” Thain growled, though he shot a contrite look Wolfram’s way. “No insult intended.”

“None taken,” Wolfram said, his gaze shooting between us. He knew nothing about the past I shared with Thain. After it ended, no one talked about it.

“Come with me, Ellie,” Thain said in a deadly voice, one that told me there was no getting out of this now. “It’s past time we went through this.”

“Very well.” I hadn’t expected to see Thain again in this lifetime, though I wasn’t sure why. He’d been away, but I’d heard he’d moved back to Mystic Harbor.

I’d hoped to avoid him forever.

Now, here he was, standing in front of me. My once-almost-everything. If the way my stomach twisted was anything to go by, he was still an unwanted splinter in my heart.

He latched onto my hand and tugged me down the hall and into his office with Crouton trotting behind us. Once we were inside, he firmly shut the door, closing me inside a tiny space with the male I’d once thought I loved.