Tag Archives: URBAN FANTASY

CIRCLE OF THE MOON – Blog Tour

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About the book:
Nell can draw magic from the land around her, and lately she’s been using it to help the Psi-Law Enforcement division, which solves paranormal crimes. Joining the team at PsyLED has allowed her to learn more about her powers and the world she always shunned—and to find true friends.

Head agent Rick LaFleur shifts into a panther when the moon calls him, but this time, something has gone wrong. Rick calls Nell from a riverbank—he’s naked, with no memory of how he came to be there, and there’s a dead black cat, sacrificed in a witch circle and killed by black magic, lying next to him.

Then more animals turn up dead, and the team rushes to investigate. A blood-witch is out to kill. But when it seems as if their leader is involved in the crime, the bonds that hold the team together could shatter at any moment.

ISBN: 0399587942
ISBN-13: 978-0399587948

Purchase at:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Circle-Soulwood-Novel-Faith-Hunter/dp/0399587942
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/circle-of-the-moon-faith-hunter/1128802031?ean=9780399587948#/
Books-a-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Circle-Moon/Faith-Hunter/9780399587948
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/circle-of-the-moon/id1390280167?mt=11
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Circle_of_the_Moon?id=yqJdDwAAQBAJ&hl=en_US

Giveaway:
Five winners will receive the first two Soulwood novels! Contest runs Feb. 11th until Mar. 7th.

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EXCERPT THIRTEEN

“Proper channels means we’ll never know who was suppressing reports to us, because KPD will never share that.”

“Copy that,” I said. I started typing my summation report to Rick. “The sacrifices appear to be evolving, accelerating and decelerating in terms of the focals used and the animals sacrificed.” I stopped typing and looked out the window into the night. “She’s good at killing things.” I put my fingers back on the keyboard and took up where I left off. “The runes in the circles suggest preparation and planning toward a greater black-magic spell. Future human sacrifice cannot be ruled out as an ultimate intent.” That part hadn’t occurred to me until I typed it out, and a chill went through me.

  1. Laine said, “I just pulled up Rick’s schedule. He was hundreds of miles away on some of the older black cat circles. Either he felt a calling from way off and didn’t tell us or the summoning spell has a limited footprint. I’m going with a limited footprint. But we need to talk to him.”

Haltingly, Tandy said, “But—well—I have to tell you both, privately.” We both turned to the empath. “I’ve noticed an increase in anxiety, irritation, and temper from Rick on the waning moon for the last two or three moon cycles.”

“That’s not good,” T. Laine said. “Is it getting worse?”

“No.” Tandy looked puzzled at that. “And it goes away. Coincidence again?”

“Or he’s lonely and that’s the time of the cycle where he feels it most?” I suggested.

“Were-creatures are sensitive to lots of things,” Tandy said, “and I may be the only empath to ever work closely with werecats, so I don’t know what’s normal.”

“Occam acting jumpy?” T. Laine asked.

“Not at all. Rick is . . . different.” The empath stood, went to the coffeepot, and refilled his mug. Black this time.

I held a hand over my own cup. Tandy started pacing and sipping his coffee, his body movements beginning to take on a human version of Rick’s lithe motions. I realized he was drinking coffee the way Rick drank his and I was fascinated at the transformation. T. Laine sat up in her chair, watching the change, her eyebrows up in surprise.

“You felt maggots at one site,” he said. “I think we need to know if Mithrans had been called there. Maybe before Rick got there?”

“Could be. And if so, then the fact that we got to tonight’s circle so fast could mean the vamps arrived but were able to stop approaching the circle before we saw them.” I stopped and drew out the site of that circle on a legal pad, including nearby roads and parking areas. “Yes, there could have been vamps present. I never read with the psy-meter here”—I pointed to a warehouse—“here”—I pointed back to Walmart—“or here”—I pointed to the roads near the creek where a vamp might have parked. “I haven’t been to all the circles, so I don’t know if there were vamps there or not. Why?”

“What if there’s a para hate group with a single witch attached, calling on the undead, trying to capture or kill a vamp, and Rick just got caught up in one of the spells with a black cat,” Tandy said.

FaithHunter author pic

Faith Hunter’s Jane Yellowrock series is a dark urban fantasy. Jane is a full blooded Cherokee skinwalker and hunter of rogue-vampires in a world of weres, witches, vampires, and other supernats.

Her Rogue Mage novels—Bloodring, Seraphs, Host, and the RPG Rogue Mage—feature Thorn St. Croix, a stone mage in a post-apocalyptic alternate reality.

The Soulwood series is a dark-urban fantasy / paranormal police procedural /para-thriller series featuring Nell Nicholson Ingram, an earth magic user and Special gent of PsyLED.

Faith writes full-time, tries to keep house, and is a workaholic. She gave up cooking for lent one year and the oven hasn’t been turned on since. Okay – that’s a joke. She does still make cold cereal and sandwiches. Occasionally, she remembers to turn on Roomba (that she named Duma$$ because it fell down the stairs once.)

Faith researches in great detail, and tries most everything her characters do. Research led to her life’s passions – jewelry making, orchids, bones, travel, white-water kayaking, and writing.

Jewelry-making was the occupation of two of her characters: Thorn St. Croix, the Rogue Mage, and the main character of BloodStone, written by her pen name, Gwen Hunter. She fell in love with the art form. Faith makes, wears, and sometimes gives away her jewelry as promo items to fans and as prizes in contests. See her FaceBook Fan Page at https://www.facebook.com/official.faith.hunter for pics. She works with stones, pearls, crystal, and glass, wire wrapping larger, undrilled, focal stones. Labradorite, Amazonite, apatite, aquamarine, and prehnite are her favorite stones.

Faith loves orchids. Her favorite time of year is when several are blooming. Pictures can be seen at her FaceBook page. And yes, she collects bones and skulls. Many of her orchid pics are juxtaposed with bones and skulls —a fox, cat, dog, cow skull, goat, and deer skull, (that is, unfortunately, falling apart) and the jawbone of an ass. She just received a boar skull, and the skull of a mountain lion (legally purchased from a US tannery) killed in the wild.

She and her husband RV, traveling to whitewater rivers all over the Southeast.

And that leads Faith to kayaking – her very favorite sport. Faith discovered whitewater paddling when she was researching her (Gwen Hunter) mystery book, Rapid Descent. She took a lesson and—after a bout of panic attacks from fear of drowning—discovered she loved the sport.

Faith is one of the founders and a participant at the now defunct and archived www.MagicalWords.net, an online writing forum geared to helping writers. And she is a voracious reader.

Under other pen names, notably, Gwen Hunter, she writes action adventure, mysteries, and thrillers. As Gwen, she is a winner of the WH Smith Literary Award for Fresh Talent in 1995 in the UK, and won a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award in 2008. As Faith, her books have been on the New York Times and USA Today Bestseller lists, been nominated for various awards and won an Audie Award with Khristine Hvam. Under all her pen names, she has more than 40 books, anthologies, and complications in print in 30 countries.

For more, including a list of her books, see www.faithhunter.net , www.gwenhunter.com , and www.magicalwords.net. To keep up with her daily, join her fan pages at Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/official.faith.hunter

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NIGHT AND SILENCE – REVIEW

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Now in hardcover, the twelfth installment of the Hugo-nominated, New York Times-bestselling Toby Daye urban fantasy series!

Things are not okay.

In the aftermath of Amandine’s latest betrayal, October “Toby” Daye’s fragile self-made family is on the verge of coming apart at the seams. Jazz can’t sleep, Sylvester doesn’t want to see her, and worst of all, Tybalt has withdrawn from her entirely, retreating into the Court of Cats as he tries to recover from his abduction. Toby is floundering, unable to help the people she loves most heal. She needs a distraction. She needs a quest.

What she doesn’t need is the abduction of her estranged human daughter, Gillian. What she doesn’t need is to be accused of kidnapping her own child by her ex-boyfriend and his new wife, who seems to be harboring secrets of her own. There’s no question of whether she’ll take the case. The only question is whether she’s emotionally prepared to survive it.

Signs of Faerie’s involvement are everywhere, and it’s going to take all Toby’s nerve and all her allies to get her through this web of old secrets, older hatreds, and new deceits. If she can’t find Gillian before time runs out, her own child will pay the price.

Two questions remain: Who in Faerie remembered Gillian existed? And what do they stand to gain?

No matter how this ends, Toby’s life will never be the same.

Book Description Courtesy of Amazon

I was given a copy of this book by Netgalley for an honest review.

I love Seanan McGuire’s writing. She brings the words to life. It is like I am actually there, and sharing in the adventure with them. Toby’s relationship has been strained after what her mother, Amandine, did to Tybalt. She hasn’t seen him in a while, for he has withdrawn to the Court of Cats. Now just as we think she has a chance catch her breath and process everything that has happened, her ex-husband is at her door telling her that her daughter Gillian is missing from College.  I swear, Toby cannot catch a break. It is like she is a magnet for trouble. This was a great book to read, and cannot wait to read the next installment. I give Night and Silence (October Daye) 5/5 stars.

 

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A CURSED MOON – Cover Reveal

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A CURSED MOON

by Cecy Robson
Weird Girls, #2.5
Publication Date: January 30, 2019
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy, Romance

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#PREORDER NOW!

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SYNOPSIS

Meet the furry big brother that the Wird sisters never had…

Bren is a cocky, brash hound of a werewolf who loathes the idea of belonging to Aric’s pack—much less finding a mate. But Bren’s hotheaded behavior lands him in the doghouse when he defies Aric’s authority in front of his pack, bringing up a sore subject that’s bound to make the Alpha wolf’s blood boil…

Luckily for him, no one can stay mad at Bren and his wild charm for long. And when some frightening ghosts launch a hostile paranormal takeover, Bren will team up with Celia to take down the evil ghouls before they hurt someone they both love…

A CURSED MOON teaser

EXCLUSIVE REVEAL EXCERPT

“Damn it, Bren—wake up!”

“Hmmph?” Someone with a death wish was shaking me. You don’t disturb a werewolf’s sleep; that’s just common fucking sense. The breeze shot through the cracked opened window, bringing a strong whiff of Tahoe’s magic. I grinned and inhaled. That shit was better than witch ganja, and it lulled me back to sleep.

But then Dan flipped on the leg lamp on my nightstand and opened his yap again. “Wake up, I mean it.”

“Grrrrr.”

“You can take that werewolf shit and shove it up your ass.”

That made me chuckle into my pillow. Dan swearing was damn funnier than Elmo dropping the “F” bomb. He shook me again, this time harder. I flipped over and tried to get comfortable.

“For crying out loud, put some pants on! I don’t need to see your . . . stuff.”

“It’s my goddamn room. I can sleep naked if I want. And what the hell do you mean by ‘stuff’? What are you, ten?”

Dan ignored me. “Bren, your stupid one-night stand stole all our food, our DVDs, and our laundry detergent.”

I half-opened one eye. “Wendy wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“Her name was Natasha.”

“You sure?”

“That’s the name she wrote all over my bathroom with her lipstick.”

I sat abruptly, suddenly panicked. “She didn’t take my porn, did she?”

Dan’s jaw slacked. “Is that all you care about, that she took your porn?”

“No. For shit’s sake I’m hungrier than hell. How are you going to fix me breakfast without any food?”

Dan threw his hands in the air, in that same exaggerated way he always did when I pushed him to his breaking point. He kicked my dirty clothes on the floor and paced like an expectant dad. “You have the audacity to think I’d actually cook you breakfast—after what your one-nighter did?”

I scratched my beard. Damn, I needed a trim. “Well, yeah. It’s your job around here, you’re the woman. You’re supposed to cook, clean, and pay most of the bills. My job is to keep your ass safe from humans, vamps, weres, witches, little old ladies, and pretty much anything else you’re afraid of. It’s part of our deal, along with me getting you laid.”

Dan stomped to the side of my bed, stumbling over a pair of my old jeans. “First of all, it was just that one little old lady. I may be human, but I’m pretty sure she was some kind of spirit―especially given the amount of supernatural activity around here lately. Secondly, I don’t need help getting laid.”

I stared at my beanpole roommate. His messy curly hair hung over his thick black-framed glasses, and he tripped over air on a regular basis. Jesus. There were Girl Scouts more muscular and agile than him. “Yes, you do, Dan.”

“I’ve gotten laid a lot lately, all without your help.”

“Ugly girls don’t count, man.”

“Celia’s not ugly.”

I laughed and yanked at my overgrown hair. Damn, I needed a cut, too. But unlike Dan, I did grunge well. “Celia was more than eight years ago.” I chuckled again. Talk about a mercy lay.

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“I still can’t believe you were her first. How’d you talk her into it? Did you promise to tutor her in chemistry or something?”

Dan’s entire face reddened, making him look more like a tomato than a walking piece of broccoli. “Whatever, Bren. I’ll prove to you I can get laid.”

“Sure, sure, you can get laid. Don’t get your thong in a bunch.”

Dan stamped his foot. Shit, I only thought girls did that.

“I mean it, Bren. I have to work late at the lab tonight, but I’ll meet you at eleven at the Watering Hole. I’m going to get a girl so hot your head will spin.”

I yawned. “Sure you will, buddy.”

“Fine. If you don’t believe me, how about we bet on it?”

“Dan, you don’t want to bet me on something like that. You’ll only lose and embarrass yourself.”

“You’re just afraid. I thought you were a wolf, not a chicken.”

My brows furrowed and I snarled. “Did you just call me a chicken?” This time it was Dan’s turn to laugh. I could be pretty damn intimidating, but he knew I’d never hurt him. He was a mothering pain in the ass, but also the best friend I’d ever had.

“You heard me, clucky.”

A slow grin eased across my face. “All right then, name the terms.”

“The loser has to clean and cook for the rest of the year . . .”

“Is that the best you can come up with? Oooh, I’m real scared now.”

“. . . wearing a French maid outfit, regardless of who’s in the apartment.”

My grin widened. The little turd had some balls after all. “You’re on.” I held out my hand. He refused to shake it until after I showered.

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ABOUT CECY ROBSON

Cecy Robson is an author of contemporary and new adult romance, young adult adventure, and award-winning urban fantasy. A double-nominated RITA® Finalist, Winner of the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and published author of more than twenty titles, you can typically find Cecy on her laptop or stumbling blindly in search of caffeine.

Connect with Cecy online:

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Newsletter | Bookbub | Goodreads | Amazon Author Profile

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Shrill Dusk – Blitz

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Urban Fantasy
City of Magic, Book 1
Release Date: January 4, 2018
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Charley is a cleaner by day and a professional gambler by night. She might be haunted by her tragic past but she’s never thought of herself as anything or anyone special. Until, that is, things start to go terribly wrong all across the city of Manchester. Between plagues of rats, firestorms and the gleaming blue eyes of a sexy Scottish werewolf, she might just have landed herself in the middle of a magical apocalypse. She might also be the only person who has the ability to bring order to an utterly chaotic new world.
This is the first book in The City Of Magic series.
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About the Author

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After teaching English literature in the UK, Japan, and Malaysia, Helen Harper left behind the world of education following the worldwide success of her Blood Destiny series of books. She is a professional member of the Alliance of Independent Authors and writes full time, thanking her lucky stars every day that’s she lucky enough to do so!
Helen has always been a book lover, devouring science fiction and fantasy tales when she was a child growing up in Scotland.
She currently lives in Devon in the UK with far too many cats – not to mention the dragons, fairies, demons, wizards, and vampires that seem to keep appearing from nowhere.
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THE WEIRD GIRLS – New Release

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THE WEIRD GIRLS

by Cecy Robson
Weird Girls, #0.5
Re-release Publication Date: December 28, 2018
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Standalone

THE WEIRD GIRLS cover

AVAILABLE NOW! FIRST TIME IN PRINT!

THE WEIRD GIRLS small cover

SYNOPSIS:

Celia Wird and her three sisters are just like other 20-something girls—with one tiny exception: they’re products of a backfired curse that has given each of them unique powers that make them, well, a little weird…

The Wird sisters are different from every race on earth—human and supernatural. When human society is no longer an option for them, they move in among the resident vampires, werebeasts, and witches of the Lake Tahoe region. Could this be the true home they’ve longed for? Um, not quite. After the sisters accidentally strip a witch of her powers in a bar brawl, they soon realize the mistake will cost them. Because to take on a witch means to take on her coven. And losing the battle isn’t an option.

THE WEIRD GIRLS teaser

THE WEIRD GIRLS EXCLUSIVE: CHAPTER ONE

The music pounded hard enough to shake Emme’s fuzzy navel, the umbrella in Shayna’s piña colada, Taran’s martini, and my Corona. I’d shoved pieces of cocktail napkin into my über sensitive ears the moment we sat. But I wasn’t going to complain about the eardrum-busting music or the crowd of young men sitting across from us ogling my sisters. We were there to celebrate.

Two years had passed since we’d left our native New Jersey. Two years of roaming the States as travelling nurses. Two years of searching for a place to settle down. We’d stumbled into the Lake Tahoe region when our agency transferred us to a local hospital on temporary assignment. We’d thought it would be fun to check out the area. We hadn’t expected to fall in love with the lush forests, the breathtaking mountains, or the mysticism of the lake. But we had, and collectively agreed to make it our home sweet home.

Shayna raised her girly drink; her blue eyes and grin sparkled despite the dimness in the booth. “To the Wird Girls finding an awesome place to live,” she hiccupped.

“To a thirty-year mortgage and a shitload of remodeling,” Taran muttered. She tried to complain, but couldn’t hide that siren grin that made males trip over their erections. She was happy to settle down, and she damn well knew it.

“To beautiful Lake Tahoe,” Emme added almost silently. She blushed when I glanced her way. I’d like to say she was just tipsy, but no. Emme blushed as easily as the wind blew fireflies. “W-well it is beautiful here, Celia.”

“I know, sweetie.” I tapped my bottle against her frou-frou drink. “Salud.”

I polished off my beer. It was my sixth round, still no buzz. Then again I could chug a keg. Alcohol had no effect on me. My lightweight sisters already slurred their words after three. In their defense, they didn’t have an inner beast with the metabolism of four linebackers to help them out. The waitress rushed over and slapped another Corona down before I could ask and hurried off. I snagged it before it tipped over. Ordinarily one might think of her as a diligent, fast, hardworking, go-getter―nah, she was just scared I’d eat her. Humans never knew what we were, yet they perceived we weren’t anything like them. They didn’t need the amplified senses of preternaturals to know we were different. Problem was, different didn’t appeal to most. And “weird” just plain terrified.

“Oh my goodness,” Emme said. “You didn’t even peek her way or anything.”

My sisters had definitely received the less-daunting side of our backfired curse. I pushed my long hair from my face and shrugged. After years of being feared, I was almost used to it. Almost. “I don’t think tigers have to necessarily look at their prey to scare them.”

Emme placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. The jarring club lights further lightened her fair skin and blond hair and bleached out most of her freckles. “It’s not you, Celia. It’s these silly humans who never want to give you a chance. You’re beautiful. And so is your inner golden tigress.”

Taran rolled her huge blue eyes. “Tigers are beautiful, Emme. But most people aren’t stupid enough to pet one.” She sipped her martini as she gave me the once-over. “Or piss one off.”

Or date one, I thought to myself, taking in the frat boys on spring break continuing to stare and whisper about my sisters.

“Adriana Lima is mine,” one said of Taran.

“I’ll take the blonde,” the other murmured.

“I’ll go with the cute brunette with the ponytail.”

“Hey, I called dibs on her first,” his friend complained.

There were four of them. Four of us. One of the guys fighting over Shayna had taken an interest in me. That is, until he looked at me. Really looked at me. He smiled, but his scent of anticipation and lust quickly evaporated, replaced by the aroma of fear. He’d seen beyond my green eyes, olive skin, and long wavy hair to spot the predator lurking within. He saw her ready to pounce, ready to shred, ready to kill. Beautiful or not, tigers had that effect on humans.

Taran shimmied out of the booth. An impressive feat in the tiny, curve-hugging yellow dress she wore. If the hem lay an inch shorter, she’d end up on the Internet. “Shit. I have to pee.”

Shayna grinned at Taran as she ambled out, her eyes alternating from sparkly to glassy. So not a good sign. “I think that’s an oxymoron, dude.” She threw in a giggle, just to further clarify she was snockered.

I shook my head. Emme smiled softly. “I’ll go with Taran.” Emme was only five feet tall, and just shy of a hundred pounds soaking wet and bloated. Taran, although only three inches taller, towered over her in those step ladders she affectionately referred to as “shoes.” Me? Nothing said comfy like jeans, Uggs, and a long-sleeved tee.

The minute they disappeared into the hall leading to the ladies room, one of the good ol’ frat boys approached Shayna, careful to avoid eye contact with me. “Hey, hot stuff. How about a dance?”

Shayna’s glee faded when she realized I’d be alone if she went to dance. I smiled as best I could without scaring her potential date for the evening. “It’s okay. I’ll just hang and wait for Emme. Go on,” I urged when she hesitated.

The guy snaked his arm around Shayna and led her onto the dance floor. Her sleek black ponytail whipped behind her as she shot me one more tentative glance. She watched me for a while. At first I thought she might return to hang with her spinster-in-the-making sister until the call of Beyoncé loosened the hesitant muscles of her slender frame. It didn’t take long for Shayna to move like the world’s happiness depended on her booty shakes. It did, however, take a hell of a long time for Emme and Taran to return from the bathroom. The waitress dropped my eighth beer down just as I spotted Emme’s hands waving madly amidst the crowd forming near the ladies’ room. “Celia! Ceeeeeelia!”

What the hell?

I slipped out of the booth and rushed toward the crowd. The throng of horny and drunken patrons parted as I stalked, my hips swinging like a predator staking out her turf. That’s right. Stay back. Scary female approaching.

As I reached Emme, a deep buzzing sound vibrated from the bathroom, followed by a high-pitched squeal, topped off by Taran’s oh-so colorful language. I half-groaned, half-growled. Crap. How much trouble can someone get into in the bathroom?

I froze. Apparently a lot.

A fiery redhead stomped out of the restroom smelling like burnt toast, sporting a spiky new hairdo most porcupines would envy. I swore under my breath. Taran must have struck her with a mini-bolt of lightning. Her tresses stood out like wires, and the singed tips smoked. And God only knew what Taran had done to the rest of her dress. Scorched pieces of fabric barely covered Red’s pricey and fricasseed bra.

Her crazed eyes scanned the crowd. “Who’s with the slutty brunette?”

Emme glanced my way before raising a cautious hand. “Sh-sh-she’s my sister.”

The redhead stormed to Emme and jabbed an irate finger in her face. “Your sister’s a bitch.”

Maybe. But Emme certainly wasn’t. I shoved my way between them. “Leave her alone, and get out of our way.” My raspy voice remained deceptively calm. Yet Red easily picked up on my underlying threat: Mess with her, mess with me.

Red’s finger slowly lowered and her jaw slackened. She stumbled back, tripping over her feet and shoving her way through the crowd and out the exit. The ladies in line quickly followed suit and gave us ample room to pass. Perhaps there was a nice fir tree they could use out back. Emme stayed close to my heels as I shoved opened the door to the bathroom, her meek little voice shaking. “Should I get Shayna?”

“No, I think―”

My first clue should have been that Taran’s swear words had stopped bouncing off the stark white tiles like ping-pong balls. My second? The waft of dry herbs that filtered into my nose and screamed a warning. Witch. Witch magic. Taran was going head-to-head with an official worship-the-earth-talisman-wearing-broom-humper extraordinaire.

Taran’s blue irises blanched to crystal from the gamut of power tingling around a sandy-haired witch’s aura. “Sandy” smiled though it lacked any hint of warmth, friendliness, or love. In fact, if she was going for, “I’ll skin you alive and use your flesh as bedroom slippers,” one might say she pulled it off.

“Silentio. Non vide,” Sandy muttered, all the while smiling and calling forth her bladder-releasing power.

Knowing Spanish helped me translate the Latin words. Silence and . . . don’t look?

Every muscle and tendon in my body tightened. She’d cast a spell to conceal any sound, any image from the club patrons. Jesus, what did she plan to do?

The aroma of crushed thyme thickened the air as her spell accelerated, coating my taste buds with a hint of her power. Yup, definitely not a good sign. My inner tigress circled restlessly, pawing at my ribcage with her claws, demanding out. “Taran,” I warned, “time to go home.”

Taran met the witch’s smile with one that sent Emme running, hopefully to get Shayna, the car, or both. The heavy door swung shut behind Emme. A loud click told me Sandy locked us in, and anyone who could possibly help us out. Sparks sizzled from the tips of Taran’s elegantly manicured hands as she gathered her magic. “No worries, Ceel. This will only take a minute.”

“Taran,” I warned again. My fangs protruded without my consent. Another sign proclaiming deep shittiness awaited.

The sparks magnified into mini bolts of lightning as Taran stretched out her fingers. A small funnel of wind gathered around Sandy, sending bits of abandoned toilet paper circling around her. The fluorescent lights hummed and flickered just before everything went black.

“Taran!”

I tackled Taran into the handicapped stall as the equivalent of a supernatural cherry bomb took out the wall instead of my sister. The hole, roughly the size of our new dining room table, gave a great view of the dance floor where Shayna continued to shake her tiny, yet obviously shimmy-able butt. The crowd of onlookers had returned to their drunken debauchery, swallowing poor Emme as she jumped up and down trying futilely to get Mini-Shakira’s attention. It might have been funny, had I not feared we were finally about to die that miserable death we’d spent a lifetime avoiding.

Taran rubbed her head. “Son of a bitch.”

A deep growl thundered in my chest. My tigress eyes replaced my own and locked on the witch’s feet. She casually walked across the checkered floor, her red stilettos clicking like the pendulum of a grandfather clock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

She reeled into the black stall where we lay. Time was up.

For her.

“Well, well―”

I kicked the door right in her face.

She flew backwards into the sink and smashed her head into the mirror. Sometimes, I couldn’t control my strength. Fear of dying in a public bathroom will do that to a gal. I hauled Taran up by her elbow while her latest fan seemed down for the count. The cracks in the mirror spiderwebbed from her bleeding skull. I secretly hoped that since it was technically her head that broke the mirror, the bad luck fell on her.

When Sandy lurched from the sink and a second, equally pissed-off version of herself appeared to block the door leading out, I knew I was very much mistaken. Taran’s head whipped back and forth between them. “It’s the same person,” I snarled. She smelled the same, looked the same, and also bled from her forehead the same way. The only difference was she’d divided her magic in two.

Taran gathered her power once more. “I’ll take the bitch at the door. You take the bitch at the sink.”

Sandy―both of them―surprised me by laughing. “Mures,” they both spat.

That one pretty much got lost in translation. I prowled toward her. My claws shot from my fingers like bullets from a chamber. She didn’t move. She didn’t gather her magic. She didn’t blink. She simply laughed. Either she’d hit her head a little too hard or she didn’t fear us. The latter scared the hell out of me. My beast remained sure we could take her. My human half knew something sinister lurked beneath, bubbling with a touch of dark and a spoonful of evil.

A transparent heaviness filled the air, reeking of garbage and festering meat. The ten plastic soap dispensers lining the wall of the mammoth counter exploded one by one, like a row of bottles being shot to bits. Paper towels fluttered in the air around us like birds. The pipes beneath us clanged and a toilet flushed for no reason.

I hated when my human side was right.

I heard the first squeak and the scratch of tiny clawed feet followed by a few more. A lot more. Taran heard it, too. In her panic, she blasted a bolt of lightning into her psycho witch, taking out the obviously evil tampon dispenser in the far wall. Chunks of cardboard and cotton pelted me in the hair and back, and still I heard the squeaks getting louder, getting closer, getting scurrier.

The Sandy Taran attempted to fight had somehow appeared on the sink next to her other half. She sat on the counter with her legs crossed, swinging them merrily as the result of her enchantment reached a creepy crescendo.

The large brass drain near the sinks began to stir. “Taran. We need to get out of here.”

“Damn it, Celia―”

I clutched her arm when the brass drain tipped and a pink whiskered nose poked through. Mures. . . . Rats.

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ABOUT CECY ROBSON

Cecy Robson is an author of contemporary and new adult romance, young adult adventure, and award-winning urban fantasy. A double-nominated RITA® Finalist, Winner of the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and published author of more than twenty titles, you can typically find Cecy on her laptop or stumbling blindly in search of caffeine.

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