Magic Graves

and a spy with some unusual talents that guarantee him lucrative work. When his latest assignment has him tracking down a stolen item, Kaldar doesn't expect much of a challenge-until Audrey turns up to give him a run for his money.
    But when the missing item falls into the hands of a lethal criminal, Kaldar realizes that in order to finish the job and survive, he's going to need Audrey's help...
    Praise for the Novels of the Edge
    "[An] engaging urban fantasy series opener."-Publishers Weekly
    "A thoroughly entertaining blend of humor, action, misdirection, and romance."-Locus
    "Will leave you breathless."-SF Revu

Prologue

    If she had only one word to describe Dominic Milano, it would be unflappable, Audrey Callahan reflected. Stocky, hard, balding-he looked like he had just walked out of Central Casting after successfully landing the role of "bulldog-jawed older detective." He owned Milano Investigations and under his supervision, the firm ran like clockwork. No emergency rattled Dominic. He never raised his voice. Nothing knocked him off his stride. Before moving to the Pacific Northwest, he'd retired from the Miami police department with over a thousand homicide cases under his belt. He'd been there and done that, so nothing surprised him.
    That's why watching his furry eyebrows creep up on his forehead was so satisfying.
    Dominic plucked the top photograph from the stack on his desk. On it, Spenser "Spense" Bailey jogged down the street. The next shot showed Spense bending over. The next one caught him in a classic baseball pitch pose, right leg raised, leaning back, a tennis ball in his fingers. Which would be fine and dandy, except that according to his doctor, Spense suffered from a herniated disk in his spine. He was restocking a warehouse when a walk-behind forklift got away from him, and the accident caused him constant excruciating pain. He could frequently be seen limping around the neighborhood with a cane or a walker. He needed help to get into a car and he couldn't drive because the injured disk pinched the nerve in his right leg.
    Dominic glanced at Audrey. "These are great. We've been following this guy for weeks and nothing. How did you get these?"
    "A very short tennis skirt. He hobbles past a tennis court every Tuesday and Thursday on the way to his physical therapy sessions." The hardest part was hitting the ball so it would fly over the tall fence. A loud gasp and a run with an extra bounce in her step, and she had him. "Keep looking. It gets better."
    Dominic flipped through the stack. The next photo showed Spense with a goofy grin on his face carrying two cups of coffee, maneuvering between tables at Starbucks with the grace of a deer.
    "You bought him coffee?" Dominic's eyebrows crawled a little higher.
    "Of course not. He bought me coffee. And a fruit salad." Audrey grinned.
    "You really enjoy doing this, don't you?" Dominic reflected.
    She nodded. "He's a liar and a cheat, who's been out of work for months on the company's dime." And he thought he was so smart. He was practically begging to be cut down to size and she had just the right pruning shears. Chop-chop.
    Dominic moved the coffee picture aside and stopped. "Is this what I think this is?"
    The next image showed Spense grasping a man in a warm-up suit from behind and tossing him backward over his head onto a mat.
    "That would be Spense demonstrating a German suplex for me." Audrey gave him a bright smile. "Apparently he's an amateur MMA fighter. He goes to do his physical therapy on the first floor and after the session is over, he walks up the stairs to spar."
    Dominic put his hands together and sighed.
    Something was wrong. She leaned back. "Suddenly you don't seem happy."
    Dominic grimaced. "I look at you and I'm confused. People who do the best in our line of work are unremarkable. They look just like anyone else and they're easily forgettable, so suspects don't pay attention to them. They have some law enforcement experience, usually at least some college. You're too pretty, your hair is too red, your eyes are too big, you laugh too loud, and according to your transcripts, you barely graduated from high school."
    Warning sirens wailed in her head. Dominic required proof of high school graduation before employment, so she brought him both her diploma and her senior year transcript. For some reason he bothered to pull her file and review the contents. Her driver's license was first rate, because it was real. Her birth