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The Curse of the Soiled Doves
The Curse of the Soiled Doves
The Curse of the Soiled Doves
Ebook35 pages

The Curse of the Soiled Doves

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As California’s Department of Thaumaturgy battles a deepening drought, a mysterious force limits the flow of magic in downtown Sacramento.

Tasked to find an answer, Purvis Klemp—Senior Advisor to the Chief of Staff of the Thaumaturge General of the State of California—must entertain all manner of crackpot theories.

When the latest crackpot offers the most outlandish theory of all, Purvis must struggle to keep his cool… and to keep his job.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJul 1, 2016
ISBN9781632610201
The Curse of the Soiled Doves
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Author

Dale Hartley Emery

Dale Hartley Emery writes fiction in a variety of genres, including fantasy, crime fiction, and mainstream fiction. His stories include Inventory, Marmalade, and The Donation. Dale has worked as a failed shoemaker, reluctant dairy farmer, and ruthless ice cream man. For several years he monitored the nuclear test ban treaty, making sure those pesky commies didn't blow up the planet. (They didn't.) When he isn't writing, Dale advises software teams and leaders about how to play nice together. Colleagues in Dale's industry once created a special award for him for being reasonable. Dale lives in California with his wife.

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    Book preview

    The Curse of the Soiled Doves - Dale Hartley Emery

    Book Cover

    The Curse of the Soiled Doves

    Dale Hartley Emery

    Driscoll Brook Press

    © 2015 Dale Hartley Emery

    Copyright Page

    Contents

    Cover Page

    Title Page

    Dry Erase

    The Chief’s Indulgence

    The Soiled Doves

    Dish, Already

    About the Author

    Special Preview

    Copyright Page

    Dry Erase

    Purvis Klemp pointed at the dry erase marker that James Rendell held poised over the flip chart on the wobbly tripod easel, and sighed. Why was it down to him to help this nitwit learn how to write on flip chart paper?

    But Purvis knew why it was down to him. As the Senior Advisor to the Chief of Staff for the Assistant Deputy Thaumaturge General of the State of California, he was the lowest-ranking person in the room.

    The other staffers, eight of them, four of whom Purvis did not know by name, or even what sub-sub-bureau of the Department of Thaumaturgy they were in, leaned gently back in their swivel chairs around the third-floor conference room, hands in laps. Not a single one of them made the slightest pretense of taking notes. But they all watched Rendell with a practiced—if entirely feigned—air of interest.

    All except for Purvis’s boss, Chief Edwina Wilkenson. She actually seemed to be entertaining his mad theories about what was causing the cap. And Purvis had a duty to listen well enough to advise her.

    Duty or not, Purvis did not want to help Rendell waste any more of their time. He wanted to throw Rendell out. Hadn’t wanted to even let him in the building, for that matter.

    But Chief Wilkenson had insisted. He just needs to be heard, she had said. Then he’ll go away. They always do.

    Yes. And they always came back. Like the seemingly dead serial killer at the false ending of a lame horror flick.

    Purvis said, "Use the other markers. The permanent ones. The ones

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