Nava Katz traded a lost dream for an impressively cynical attitude. The one thing she does care about? Her hard-working twin brother. Then she interrupts his induction ceremony into a secret supernatural society, accidentally torches his life-long ambition, and steals his destiny. Wait—whaaaat? She expects to be chastised, not thrown into a trial by fire, battling demons to keep humanity safe while she’s learning to master her powers and facing her worst nightmare: a purpose.

When a body is found pulverised beyond recognition, I’m called to investigate. As Chester’s only magical Detective Inspector, it’s my job to handle the cases the Common police can’t. This one has all the hallmarks of the Other Realm—especially when I find a talking bird caged at the scene.

Ofelia Archer is the top witch in New Orlean’s French Quarter, who also owns the premiere supernatural speakeasy in the state, and she’s not to be trifled with. Zach Sully is one of the top detectives with the police department…and one of only a handful of law enforcement representatives in the city who is in on the big paranormal secret. Of course, as a panther-shifter, he’s part of that secret. Together, they make a fearsome duo...who have to learn to trust one another if they’re going to keep the monsters in the Big Easy in check.

Okay, I might be seriously under-qualified for the job of Enforcer, I'll admit. The Enforcer is supposed to be a human, for starters. It's usually an ex-special forces guy with big muscles and even bigger balls, and a knack for sorting out petty squabbles between the witches and vampires and shifters in the city. And I'm just a technically dead nail tech—an animated skeleton with a talent for illusion magic and gold gel manicures. But I've recently discovered that I can manifest some pretty big muscles of my own. I've already got the big balls, so I'm halfway there.

Kit McCafferty's life is quiet, unremarkable, and filled with cat hair. In the magical city of Coldstream, located on the border between Scotland and England, Kit is viewed as little more than mildly eccentric and mostly harmless. She passes her days caring for her family of five cats, feeding the local feral moggies, and maintaining relatively good relations with her neighbors. All that changes, however, when a teenage werewolf shows up at her door in the desperate hope of renting out a nearby vacant flat.

Someone paid the vampire king’s creepy son to turn me into one of the bitey undead. I’m not hanging about to find out who or why. The vampires want me to stay with them for one hundred years of indentured servitude but I have this thing about following orders so I ran from the streets of London to the wilds of Alaska. I have an eidetic memory and a can-do attitude. I can-do anything to get away from the vampire king. So when the Sheriff of Portlock, a hidden paranormal town, invites me to be his assistant, I say sure thing. It beats servitude hands down.

I can turn into a housecat. It’s a fun magic, except in a world filled with vampires and werewolves, it doesn’t exactly make me a powerhouse. Instead, the supernatural community has classified me as an outcast, which means one thing: picking on me is open season all day, every day. The local fae are the worst of all, and it’s during one of their regular “capture the cat-girl” sessions that I shift into my cat form and meet HIM for the first time.

Moving across the country and opening a costume shop was supposed to be my chance for a normal life. What I wanted was a fresh start, one where the biggest danger would be a carelessly wielded sewing needle. What I ended up with was a trail of dead bodies, a power I didn't ask for, and a host of enemies with ties to my twin sister's decade-old murder. Throw in a stony-eyed enforcer I can't seem to shake and a new goat shifter BFF, and I'm knee deep in trouble.

Everyone’s welcome at the Stag—vampire, wolf or human. As long as they don’t make trouble. Or ask too many questions about what we’re selling out of the back room. I keep the beers coming, and in return the town keeps my secret. But when a gang of deadly vampires shows up at the bar, it’s clear they’re not looking for a drink. They want to take my business. Or my blood. But this is more than just a shake down. All over town, people are dropping like flies. Disappearing or attacking their neighbors. It’s like they’re possessed. And someone—or something—is pulling the strings.

Mary Frances Talbot—Frankie—is a necromancer, probably. Hard to say since she never met her parents. She can see the dead, talk to the dead, and a few other things that aren't strictly legal. It's fine. No worries. As long as she doesn't get caught. The whole not getting caught thing was going well until Samuel Harrow blew back into town wearing a Savannah Police Department uniform. He might be a witch, but he hates magic. He's not a fan of Frankie either. Which explains why he's her ex.

Scarlett Prynne is new in town, but that won't stop trouble from finding the young witch. It always does. Before her brother kicked her through a magical portal that eventually landed her in nowhere Tonopah, Nevada, he called her an agent of chaos. But let's be fair. Our Scarlett doesn't create problems. Her magic just attracts it in all shapes and furry sizes. Like her familiar, Runeclaw. The black cat's tongue is as sharp as his nails, and he has a snark that can cut through just about anything. This time though, trouble was already here.

Being a private investigator wasn’t supposed to be complicated. I expected cheating spouses and missing pets like BonBon, a kidnapped ‘pure-bred Schnoodle’ with a ruby-studded collar. What I didn’t expect was a desperate elf on my doorstep, begging for help to find her missing parents. Nor did I think that my search would drag me back into the magical world I’d tried so hard to leave behind.

I’m Lucy, alpha werewolf of a pack that hates me. I inherited the pack when I mercy-killed the current alpha at his behest. I did the right thing, but it’s left me head of a werewolf pack who resent that I still live and breathe while their old alpha doesn't.

I'm the local bed and breakfast owner who offers extras such as supernatural autopsies and burials, earning me the title of The Undertaker. A string of murders brings the lord of the shifters and the vampire prince to my door. Together we take on the evil lurking in the shadows. But as we draw closer to the truth, they begin to unpick my secrets, which I must protect with my life. Pity they have the best senses in town.

Lorelei Clay isn’t like other people. She isn’t even like other supernaturals. Her specialties are the nightmares of the living, communication with the dead, and cooking bacon until it’s golden brown and perfectly crispy—no magic required.

When Miri was a teen, her parents were murdered by magic assassins. These days, her aggressively normal existence as a law librarian at a boring firm has excellent medical insurance and won't get her daughter killed. But when her bestie, her ride-or-die, gets tangled up with some vampires and goes missing, Miriam unleashes the rare and powerful shadow magic she's kept hidden.

Ashira Cohen takes great pride in the detective agency she’s built from scratch. It may be small, but she has big dreams. None of which involve a stakeout gone wrong. Or finding a mysterious tattoo hidden on her scalp. Or discovering it’s a now-broken ward intended to suppress dangerous supernatural powers that she should not possess. Don’t even get her started on the golem. The only bright spot is that her unruly powers nearly kill her long-time nemesis, Levi, the uptight leader of the magic community. No, right… that’s a bad thing.

Mary Frances Talbot—Frankie—is a necromancer, probably. Hard to say since she never met her parents. She can see the dead, talk to the dead, and a few other things that aren't strictly legal. It's fine. No worries. As long as she doesn't get caught. The whole not getting caught thing was going well until Samuel Harrow blew back into town wearing a Savannah Police Department uniform. He might be a witch, but he hates magic. He's not a fan of Frankie either. Which explains why he's her ex.

A reject—that’s the best way to describe how I’m treated. All because I’m a hybrid. The monarchs of hell revere pure bloodlines and perfection above all else, and in their eyes, I’m a mutt. Good thing dear old Dad, the Grim Reaper, has never once looked at me as anything other than his favorite child. Well, I’m his only child, but semantics. Suddenly, he has tasked me with the job of going to the council summit in his place. An event that happens once every century to determine which royal house will be voted into the supreme position. A position people would kill for.

Nava Katz traded a lost dream for an impressively cynical attitude. The one thing she does care about? Her hard-working twin brother. Then she interrupts his induction ceremony into a secret supernatural society, accidentally torches his life-long ambition, and steals his destiny. Wait—whaaaat? She expects to be chastised, not thrown into a trial by fire, battling demons to keep humanity safe while she’s learning to master her powers and facing her worst nightmare: a purpose.

Following a trail of blood into the woods isn't the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but when I find an injured wolf, I can’t bring myself to leave him behind. That decision might end up being my last, because when a pack of wolves tries to attack us, it looks like we won’t make it out alive. The next day when I wake up in my bed, it all feels like a dream…except for the bite mark on my arm and the fever. When a mysterious guy with searing blue eyes comes into my bar, hovering around me all night, I’m more than a little creeped out. It turns out I'm a newly turned werewolf....

What does divorcing Hollywood’s most powerful jerk get you? In my case, blacklisted and a ticket to rock bottom. A one-time studio executive, I’m now scrabbling as a newly licensed P.I. in the city that popularized noir. And I’ve just landed a job at a shabby downtown agency. Watch out, LA! But that was before I discovered the agency’s specialty—hunting monsters. The actual kind. Suddenly, I’m learning about a side of the city that makes horror seem like a documentary: vampires, werewolves, hostile spirits, and all manner of magic.

When a detective with a penchant for chaos gets saddled with a new partner, a case that doesn’t make sense, and some particularly determined assassins…justice feels out of reach. Logan Blackwell has been a detective for a long time. After all, mages live for centuries. He lost his parents to the Mage Wars and his best friend to organized crime.

Someone paid the vampire king’s creepy son to turn me into one of the bitey undead. I’m not hanging about to find out who or why. The vampires want me to stay with them for one hundred years of indentured servitude but I have this thing about following orders so I ran from the streets of London to the wilds of Alaska. I have an eidetic memory and a can-do attitude. I can-do anything to get away from the vampire king. So when the Sheriff of Portlock, a hidden paranormal town, invites me to be his assistant, I say sure thing. It beats servitude hands down.

Lorelei Clay isn’t like other people. She isn’t even like other supernaturals. Her specialties are the nightmares of the living, communication with the dead, and cooking bacon until it’s golden brown and perfectly crispy—no magic required.