Evocation (THE SUMMONER’S CIRCLE #1) by S.T. Gibson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: S.T. Gibson
- Language: English
- Genre: Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 10.6 MB
- Price: Free
DAVID
David pulled up to the haunted house ten minutes before he was expected,
because arriving late was for amateurs and getting there too early was for
interns. He used three of those minutes to sit in the Audi and review case
notes for an upcoming deposition on his phone. Technically, it wasn’t six
yet, which meant he was technically still on the clock for his day job. Not
that he ever really clocked out of working as a prosecutor for the city of
Boston. He just spent his nights expanding his vocational horizons.
He had been juggling full-time work and a thriving private occult
practice ever since graduating law school, not to mention weekly secret
Society meetings, and he would rather donate his entire fortune to charity
than walk away from any of it. David was like a diamond, forged under
pressure and bound entirely in hard, cutting edges.
At two till, David straightened his collar in the rearview mirror, ran a
hand through his wavy bronze hair, and locked up his car. Tonight’s client
was an eccentric heiress with a penchant for the occult and a recently dead
husband, which was right up David’s alley. He could be in and out before
eight, with time for a workout and an hour or so answering work emails
before bed.
It was his ideal type of day: packed to the brim with
meaningful, lucrative work and centered entirely around himself. The only
thing that could possibly make it better was a round of athletic sex, which
was off the table for reasons relating to David’s lack of interest in almost all
the men in Boston and his ironclad marriage to his work, or a stiff drink,
which was off the table for reasons related to David’s sanity and general
well-being.
The widow lived in an ivy-covered Brookline brownstone with blackshuttered windows closed tightly to the world. David had to knock three
times to get an answer, and when the door finally opened, it was only an
inch.
“Who’s there?” a reedy voice from inside demanded.
David tried – to no avail – to peer inside the darkness of the house.
“David Aristarkhov. We spoke on the phone?”
“David who?” she pressed.
David flipped open his wallet and thumbed through the glossy cream
business cards work had given him until he came to a few embossed black
cards hidden in the back. He slipped one free and held it out between his
fingertips through the crack in the door. The silver script gleamed like a
knife under the bright spring sunlight.
Spirit Medium and Psychic Intuitive.
“I don’t know,” the woman said after a moment. “I’ve changed my
mind. I don’t know if my Levi would want me to try and contact him after
all this time. Come back tomorrow. We’ll see how I feel then.”
Cold feet, then. Typical. There was no way he was cutting his losses and
driving back to Fenway now, though. Not now that he was wired after a
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