Title: Jak Barley Private Inquisitor,
and the Case of One Damned Thing After Another
Author: Dan Ehl
ISBN: 978-1-62420-299-5
Email: kdanehl@yahoo.com
Genre: fantasy
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 1
REVIEW:
Jak Barley-Private Inquisitor and the
Case of One Damned Thing After Another
Rogue Phoenix Press
Rogue Phoenix Press
Jo Ann Hakola, The Book Faerie
5 Stars out of 5
Jak calls himself a Private
Inquisitor. That's like a private eye in
our day and age. His acquaintances call
him the ferret. I don't think that's so
bad. After all, he does ferret things
out. But he hates it!
Mr. Ehl graciously sent me a
copy of his book so I could read it for review.
It's been published, so you can get a copy now.
I've read this whole series
and always enjoy reading the next one he's conjured. His writing is fantastical, with creatures
out of this world, and Jak just barely getting away from one crisis to another. The story keeps you glued to the pages, there
are puns, jokes, and more in his stories.
I enjoy seeing characters he's met in the past come back to see Jak
again. He needs all the help he can get.
He's got a girlfriend. She's the witch's daughter and that's
dangerous for him. Lorenzo is around and
Jak really needs his skills. Other
characters from the past show up at the right times to keep Jak alive. What more could you want?
How about vampires who are
trying to take over the world? Or wizard
warriors fighting with witches? How
about his girlfriend's mother and father trying to kill each other? It's all here and it's a good read.
If you like fantasy and
enjoy a good fight, you'll love this series.
I've enjoyed each book I've read and look forward to Jak's next
adventure. He just wants an easy life
looking for missing persons or proving whose husband is errant but it's not to
be. Poor Jak...
Jo Ann Hakola
The Book Faerie
4225 Harrison St
Las Cruces, NM 88005
http://bookfaerie.com
http://bkfaerie.blogspot.com
http://shelvedtreasures.blogspot.com
Proud Member of IOBA,
Independent Online Booksellers Association
TAGLINE
Jak Barley, private inquisitor, hates cases involving
damned creatures like vampires and zombies, but that's just what he finds
himself in the middle of.
BLURB
Jak Barley, private inquisitor, hates cases involving
damned creatures like vampires and zombies, but that's just what he finds
himself helplessly in the middle of. Jak has come to hate adventures. He would
prefer the boring cases of his earlier years in the profession when dealing
with errant husbands or minor pilferings. Still, somehow he finds himself
eluding corrupt officials and creatures of the night that want to suck his
blood and eat his brains. He does find help in his friend and publisher of the
Weekly Tattler, as well as his mysterious friend Lorenzo Spasm from a parallel
firmament—one similar to Jak's world in many ways, but devoid of any magic. He
also finds support from his girlfriend, Morgana, an apprentice witch.
EXCERPT
A
guard dressed in the dark blood red of the Shaynee clan was calling to us from
the other side of the iron-barred gate. He wore a helmet that reached past his
ears and with a T-shaped opening in front, as well as a mail tunic, which
seemed like excessive wear for a private guard.
"We
have a special delivery for this address," said Lorenzo as he climbed down
from the wagon. "I have the order right here."
The
guard suspiciously squinted at the parchment and then called to his sergeant.
He probably could not read. The sergeant looked it over.
"I
have no notice of a shipment today," he said. "You will have to come
back after I ask the captain.
"This
be a special overnight delivery," Lorenzo replied in a bored voice.
"We aren't delivering ham and biscuits from the local eatery. Our order
parchment says it has to be delivered within twenty-four hours."
"What
be in it?" the sergeant said as he stood on tiptoes trying to see into the
back of the wagon.
"Count
Dracula."
"What?"
"It
says Count Dracula on our work order."
The
guard opened a small door within the larger gate and walked to the wagon while
cautiously clutching his sword hilt. Our freight was a narrow wooden container
the shape of a coffin, which it was.
"I
know of no Count Dracula to be visiting the Shaynees," said the sergeant
as if it were the most normal thing for company to come calling in a coffin.
"Now
sergeant,'" said Lorenzo in a confidential voice of one insider speaking
to another, "we know we cannot open this in daylight."
He
looked us over. We wore no weapons. The sergeant must have decided the two of
us harmless enough when considering the security at the mansion.
"Bring
him in, then."
He
turned and motioned for the guards to open the gate. We climbed back on the
wagon and urged the pair of horses into the enclosure. The sergeant ordered two
guards to accompany us. The major two requirements for working picket at the
Shaynee estate must have most been size and nastiness. All the guards so far
looked like two humans had been shoved into one skin and they were fighting to
get out.
"Do
not stray from the lane," snickered one of our chaperones. "There are
fire drakes patrolling the grounds during the day and the Shaynees keep them
half famished. Yah should ah seen what they did to the charwoman last
week."
A
circle drive in front of the manor boasted a fountain. In the center was a
bigger than life statue in white marble. It depicted a skeletal figure with a
shrewish grimace and it bore an ancestral resemblance to Bidner Shaynee.
"There's
a certain majesty that runs in the family, don't you think?" Lorenzo
observed to no one in particular. "Look at that heroic vapid gaze and weak
chin that speaks of years of intergenerational breeding that is so common among
our illustrious and anemic royalty."
The
guards about us shifted nervously at any mention of the vampire family and one
seemed relieved when it came time to hop from the wagon and run to the two
massive doors where he rapped on a bronze doorknocker. The doors opened to
reveal several more guards, these armed with crossbows. Behind them stood a
doorman who would have topped seven feet if he had a neck. It looked like
someone had chewed off his nose. The two nostril holes were surrounded by a
crater of scar tissue.
The
doorman belligerently pushed his way through the guards. "What have we here?"
"Count
Dracula," replied Lorenzo.
"Count
Dracula?"
"That
be on the shipping order."
"Who
be Count Dracula?
"Hey,
I'm just the hauler. My job description doesn't include socializing with my
freight. Last week I had to ship Barnabas Collins and let me tell you that was
no picnic."
The
Shaynee house servant walked to the back of the wagon and examined the coffin.
"Bring it in."
Lorenzo
looked affronted. "Hey, we are teamsters, not common laborers. It be
against guild rules for us to unload the cargo."
The
doorman gave a venomous look. "I said bring it in."
"All
right, all right, Lurch. Don't get your nose bent out of shape. Oops, sorry
about that."
The
guards around us froze with fearful looks upon what could be seen of their
faces within the helmets. It was obvious they had never heard such backtalk to
the freakishly mutilated servant. It be one thing to sass a regular doorman in
a fashionable quarter of town such as Vanella's Maxzerum, another to do it at
the creepy domicile of the undead. I felt like smacking Lorenzo.
The
doorman stood impatiently for a dozen heartbeats. "Then get on with
it."
We
slid the casket out of the wagon and Lorenzo took the head while I took the
foot of the coffin. We followed him into a cavernous room so dimly lit that I
could barely make out any details. After several turns through an equally dark
hallway the doorman ordered us to lower and open the coffin. I held my breath
as a guard unlatched the lid and swung it open. I could feel sweat dribbling
from my armpits.
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